When I can’t delay my answer any longer without her noticing, I give her a casual shrug and a soft smile. “Pretty good.”
Because that is what this first week at the show has been. Pretty good. Not great. Not exceptional. Not terrible. Highs and lows. My boss is a douchebag, and I got prickles in the ass. But I’ve realized that Emmett might not be as bad as I’ve always thought he was, which is strangely satisfying. It’s like he’s slowly restoring my faith in humanity.
Or my faith in men.
“Just pretty good?” she asks, head tilting as she lifts her cup of tea to her lips, eyes narrowing inquisitively.
“Yeah, you know how it is. Nothing in life is perfect. You’ve always told me that.”
She grins now and shoots me a wink. “That’s a guarantee, baby girl.”
“The executive producer told me that if I keep up the good work, he’ll write me a letter of reference, which would be huge. This show on my résumé, plus an endorsement from the head honcho, would push my foot in the door in Hollywood. I’m already eyeing job listings for scripted TV with major streamers.”
My mom’s head tilts. “Which is where you wanted to end up eventually.”
I point at her. “Exactly. So this would be huge. Especially so early in my career.”
“Does that mean he could also hurt your job prospects if this doesn’t go well?”
“I suppose so. But you know me. I’m a hard worker. I have a positive attitude. What could go wrong?”
“What indeed…” She trails off with a thoughtful hum.
Leave it to my mom to play devil’s advocate. I chuckle at her predictability and scan my surroundings. Beyond the trees, I can see the edges of what was once my father’s ranchland, purchased when he first moved here from Brazil. Since his passing it’s been sold off in pieces to people who are eager to use the land in the way he would have wanted. My mom interviews every prospective buyer and chooses who to sell to based on “vibes.” And sometimes the vibes don’t match the highest offer, much to her realtor’s dismay.
But that’s Loretta Silva. Practical, but also an incredible judge of character. She always knew that land would keep us afloat, but as a midwife and suddenly single parent to two young children, she was certainly not in a position to manage a ranch. Still, every swath of land found what she refers to as “a good home.”
The small apple orchard that encircles the house that Theo and I grew up in is all that remains, and even that is leased out to someone who takes care of the trees and fruit. It’s the perfect setup because it means our family does zero work, but we still get to enjoy the sweet smell of apple blossoms, the feel of sitting in a forest, and the bright pops of red that dot the trees. It makes this property feel plain magical. It’s why I always come back.
Besides my mom, of course.
I absently wonder how many times I’ve shown up at my mom’s house for morning tea over the past couple of years, just to shoot the shit and not be a hermit who only works and studies.
I’m not sure my mom recognizes how strange the past two years have been for me. She’s been swept up with Theo and grandbabies. And that’s not to say she isn’t there for me. She is. She’s endlessly supportive. Easy to talk to. A goddamn open book.
In this case, it’s me who hasn’t been open with her. But it hasn’t kept me away. In fact, avoiding having a social life has led me to visiting her more than ever. And knowing her, she isn’t oblivious to the changes in me—she just doesn’t demand an explanation. She’s never pushed me to say more than I want to.
“Okay, so it’s not perfect,” she presses. “But are you having fun?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. Surprisingly, this question is easy to answer. “I am totally having fun. Learning a lot. Meeting people. Making connections. No matter what, this is going to look great on the résumé once the show wraps.”
My mother leans forward, her expression mischievous. “Has there been any good drama so far?”
She knows that I’m working on a dating show, and she knows that it’s basically being filmed in her backyard. But aside from that, I’ve kept the details vague and limited to “on a farm to the north” and “I can’t tell you that because NDA.”
It’s kept her at bay, but knowing Loretta Silva, the not knowing has to be killing her.
I let loose a breathy chuckle as I think back on the week. Good drama. I highly doubt that Dick Wad would describe most of what’s happened on camera as good drama. In fact, I heard him complaining to Teri that even with the cameras rolling twenty-four seven, they haven’t caught much. A little gossip between the girls, but nothing groundbreaking.
Maybe if he’d had a camera in Emmett’s kitchen, the prickle extraction experience would have excited him. But I thank the stars above that’s not the case, because Richard finding out about that is the last thing either of us needs.
He’s a loose cannon with very specific ideas about what he wants to unfold. There’s no doubt in my mind that getting that up close and personal with the bachelor when it wasn’t strictly necessary would be enough for him to fire me.
“Bits and pieces,” I say, evasively. “The first elimination ceremony is tonight. And he has to send two women home. So, I’m assuming there will be some exciting revelations in their exit interviews. Or maybe some shots fired, we’ll see. And then tomorrow is a day off. Although there will still be crews on-site and twenty-four-hour camera footage. There are endless opportunities for them to pick something up.”
Mom leans forward, as if she’s trying to draw even closer so she can whisper her next question. “And are you going to tell me who the bachelor is?”
My cheeks pinch as I stare back at my mom. I honestly think if it were anyone else, I might skirt the NDA and figure out a way to tell her.
But I promised Emmett I wouldn’t. And over the past week, he hasn’t done a single thing to make me believe he doesn’t deserve at least a sliver of my loyalty. I want to respect his wishes.
I’m not at all obsessed with him like the girls on the show appear to be when filming their B-roll interviews. But I would be lying to myself if I couldn’t admit that beneath the obnoxiously flirtatious and overly confident exterior that Emmett Brandt is infamous for, there’s a streak of sensitivity—hell, even a virtuousness—that I never expected.
Much like this job, I recognize Emmett is also not perfect. Not all good and not all bad. But certainly a lot kinder than I thought he would be.
Which must be why I take a sip of my tea, look my mom in the eye, and wave her off with a casual flick of my hand before lying to her. “I can’t tell you. But you wouldn’t know him anyway.”
“Bah.” She flops back against the cushions in defeat. “I told Theo you’d never tell me.”
My head tilts. “Theo?”
My mom laughs. “You know how he is. He wants to know everything. That man is like a town crier at the local hairdresser, spreading gossip, digging around for secrets, putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I can’t help but laugh, imagining my brother under a hood dryer at Emerald Lake’s oldest salon, chatting with little white-haired ladies who’ve traded gossip in this valley for the past seventy-plus years.
Knowing him, he’d have a grand ol’ time and win every one of them over within an hour. He is charm personified.
“I can envision that a little too clearly.”
She chuckles her agreement. “Same. Speaking of… he, Winter, and the kids are coming to spend some time here in a couple of weeks. We can do a bunch of activities all together if your schedule works for it. Gonna make all my grandma dreams come true.”
“Oh fun! Definitely keep me posted!”
It comes out just a little too brightly, and I catch a weird look from my mom. But I can never tell if she’s not-so-subtly hinting at me when she waxes poetic about being a grandmother.
