There’s this part of me that feels like… I don’t know. Like I’m coming up short compared to Theo. He’s vivacious. He’s living life to the fullest. He’s got kids. A wife.
He’s got all the things I feel like I’m supposed to have—things I probably do want. But I keep moving the goalposts on myself for when I’m allowed to make room for them.
When I finish my degree. Once I complete my master’s. As soon as I get this job down on my résumé. Not until I have a secure career.
It almost makes me wonder if I’m avoiding those aspects of life on purpose.
“Well, consider this your first heads-up—he’s far too excited about getting the details on this dating show. You might want to carry a copy of that NDA in your purse to protect yourself against his grand inquisition.”
My stomach flips. Not because I’m nervous to see my brother. Hell, I really do love it when he and his family visit. No, my stomach flips over because I hate the prospect of lying to him too.
I hate dancing around the truth with my mom, but she’s not going to lean into me the same way that my brother will.
I shrug and do my best to take an unaffected sip of my peppermint tea. “Well, Theo can ask me all he wants. I’m used to his antics.”
But the prospect still leaves me unsettled, because I can’t figure out why I am so fiercely determined to protect Emmett’s privacy.
Even through the dim cast of crackling firelight, I can tell that Emmett looks miserable. I set the pit near where he and Brad stand to add to the rustic vibe of the space, but I barely notice it now.
“Emmett,” Brad starts, his smooth, deep voice filling the space. “You have three women before you. Three women who want nothing more than to see where this goes.”
Good lord. Nothing more? I’d like a word with the man they have writing these scripts.
Brad doesn’t seem to find the wording as cringeworthy as I do. He carries on, eyes shining with sincerity, as if this is the most profound decision of Emmett’s life. He squeezes his shoulder in a show of faux support. “Unfortunately, you only have one bolo tie remaining. Which means you’ll need to say farewell to two of these incredible women.”
Rather than roses, each woman receives a bolo tie along with a request for her to stay and continue to “see where this goes.”
To his credit, Emmett makes a show of looking torn over the decision. His shoulders are held stiffly while his calloused fingers fiddle with the thin rope of the final bolo tie in his grip.
Evelyn, Madeline, and Cynthia stand across from Emmett and Brad in the courtyard area next to the bunkhouse with expectant looks on their faces. The setting is perfect.
Large white candles set atop gnarled stumps illuminate their side of the set, and the stars sparkle above us in the clear night sky. It’s idyllic—or at least the set is. I’m brimming with pride as I take in the first elimination ceremony. Reality shows like this aren’t necessarily where I want to end up long term, but damn if this won’t look good on TV and my résumé.
“You have all spent a fun-filled week together,” Brad says, gesturing between parties from his place next to Emmett. “But all good things must come to an end, and in the search for love, it’s important to be as honest and true to yourself as you can be. Isn’t that right, Emmett?”
The search for love.
“Of course. This is an enormous decision,” Emmett echoes, and I hold back a scoff because it’s abundantly clear to almost every person on set that no one is finding love on this show. Especially not the way that Richard produces it.
It’s a strange experience, watching someone make a supposed monumental decision while pretending there isn’t an entire crew on the sidelines watching, filming, and—let’s be honest—judging.
The tendon near Emmett’s jawline flexes as his gaze drops to his hands. Hands that were on me mere days ago. Firm and gentle and capable all at once. His touch has haunted me all week, but I’ve chalked it up to the fact that I haven’t let a man lay a hand on me in over two years.
I’m starved for touch. It could have been anyone. His words apply to me as well. I’m sure my fascination with him has more to do with the way his swagger comes and goes. The way it changes depending on the setting and who he’s around.
He flirts with me.
He’s cranked up the charm for the cameras all week while showing the women around the farm. Now, though, he looks like he wants to dig himself a hole to crawl in and die. The problem is his moodiness will get him into trouble where the show is concerned. Because if it comes off wrong on camera, Richard will lose his ever-loving mind.
“Your time is up,” Brad states with a level of finality. “Who will be staying to”—his voice drops lower for dramatic effect—“court the cowboy?”
Madeline preens, like she believes she’s the chosen one. Cynthia appears smug, like the other two don’t stand a chance. And Evelyn works to cover a scowl, like being in the bottom three is a personal affront to her.
I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from laughing over court the cowboy.
“It’s been incredible spending this week with you all. Truly, each one of you is so special to me in her own way. But there is one woman who just stands out in my mind.”
The humor of the moment shrivels up when Emmett makes his pick.
“Evelyn,” he states to a chorus of gasps from the other women. Relief flashes across Evelyn’s face. “Will you accept this bolo tie?”
She saunters forward while Cynthia and Madeline stand in shock. “Of course I will.”
Evelyn reaches in for a hug from Emmett. She drapes herself around him and whispers something in his ear as her fingers rake through the back of his hair. To my surprise, it irritates me. It’s not that it’s him. It’s just that it seems like an overstep. The way she always touches him denotes a level of familiarity that doesn’t exist between them.
I’m likely just feeling protective of him now that I know about his childhood. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
“That’s my girl,” Richard mumbles from somewhere behind me, and it makes me want to make the sound cats do when they hack up a hairball.
When Emmett draws away, he grips her biceps and holds her at arm’s length to create space between them. For the briefest moment, his eyes flash to mine. It’s too fast for anyone to clock.
Anyone but me.
“Good fucking god. When did this alleged manwhore turn into such a frigid little bitch?” Dick Wad mumbles.
Thankfully, Richard can’t see me roll my eyes from his position behind me.
He’s just so gross. I’m mostly having fun with this job, but the guy makes me feel like I need to bleach my brain to unknow the shit he spews.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” Evelyn coos, hooking her painted fingernail into the space between the buttons on Emmett’s dress shirt. “We both know I’m not a bottom-three type of girl.”
I cringe, and whispers burst out behind us from the other daters. Every woman within earshot heard it, and if Evelyn keeps talking like that, she will not be well-liked in the bunkhouse.
“Is it possible to die of secondhand embarrassment? Asking for me,” I hear Akira whisper not so quietly. Jada, lifts a hand to cover her smile while Catherine snorts a shocked laugh before the three of them share a conspiratorial grin.
One quick glance over my shoulder at the grin on Dick Wad’s face tells me Evelyn’s got at least one person eating out of the palm of her hand though.
Emmett offers her a tight smile and a squeeze, still gripping her arms. I watch his fingers press in, then soften as he steps away.
A harsh sob draws my attention. Madeline, just eliminated, bursts into tears. For a moment, Emmett looks downright stunned as he stares at the woman. The other women rush to console her, but Evelyn only rolls her eyes dramatically.
