I turn and gaze over the valley again, trying my damnedest not to gawk at her. “I appreciate that, actually. Seems like every other member of the crew is Team Bottom Line.”

Or Team Evelyn. I don’t want her here. I just want to stand beside this woman—one I genuinely enjoy—and soak in the view.

“Most of them are,” she replies with no hint of doubt.

I incline my head toward her. “Show isn’t what you thought it would be?”

She smiles, the painted sky reflecting on her glossy lips. “No.”

“You’re in good company then.”

“Gotta tough it out, though. I need this on my résumé.”

“For what?”

She sighs wistfully. “The next gig.”

“Which is?”

She glances over at me. “Eventually? Major motion pictures. Directing, hopefully.” Her expression turns bashful. “A pie-in-the-sky goal, I guess.”

“You can do it.”

She turns to face me now. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. You’re here at the crack of dawn putting in the hours. You’re the last one to leave at night. It’ll happen.”

She snorts, as though she’s amused by my belief in her. “You sound like my dad.”

Any bull rider in the world would be honored to be compared to Gabriel Silva. “Do I now?”

“When I was little, I asked him what he’d do if he couldn’t be a professional bull rider. And he told me in that lilting Portuguese accent of his that he’d direct action movies. Mission Impossible. Top Gun. Movies with explosions and stunts. But where he didn’t have to put himself at risk. He knew I always worried about him riding, so now I wonder if he only said that to pacify me.”

She chuckles fondly, tongue darting out over her bottom lip. “But that was the same day I told him I wanted to direct movies too. At first, it started out as a little girl’s dad hero worship, but over time, it became… real. He always told me I could make it happen if I worked hard enough. Well, until…”

She hits me with the saddest smile. One that has me rushing in to patch up the wound she’s just revealed to me.

“Wise words from a wise man.”

Lines crop up beside her eyes as she squints to regard me. Like she isn’t sure what to make of me right now.

“He was a good dad.”

I dip my chin in agreement. “I have no doubt.”

She turns away, looking at the rising sun. “Sorry yours sucks. I shouldn’t be waxing poetic about mine knowing what I know.”

A snort lurches from me. “You can talk about him to me any time you want. Mine… well, he is what he is.”

“Do you see him much?”

I give a sharp shake of my head. “No.”

“So you’ve gone no contact?”

I sigh. Fucking Carl. He’s a fucking prickle in my ass. “No, not that either.”

“Why not?”

“I guess…” I grapple with my next words. “I guess after losing one dad, completely cutting out another one—shitty as he might be—feels like a big step. Gonna have to deal with some feelings that I’d rather just gloss over and ignore.”

“Healthy,” Julia deadpans.

And I find myself watching her. Wondering why I am so damn comfortable talking to her. Sharing with her.

It’s fully out of character for me. But when she’s around, I’m like a leaky fucking faucet, dripping my baggage all over the goddamn place.

“Yeah, he can be awful. Yeah, he’s hard on me. But I’m only as good a bull rider as I am thanks to him. He’s a piece of shit, but he’s a hell of a coach. And I’ve learned to endure his tirades and pluck out the useful bits of wisdom he weaves in with all the insults. It’s easier than the drama of cutting him out completely.” I shrug before adding, “Not all of us get Gabriel Silva as a mentor.”

I raise a brow at her, referring to Rhett Eaton, her brother’s friend and coach, who was Gabriel’s lucky chosen one when he first started on the circuit.

“Okay, well, when you’re ready to hate him in solidarity, let me know. I’m game for that too.” She points at her sweater again while tossing me a wink. “Team Brandt, not Bush.”

Team Brandt. Not Bush.

God, no wonder I don’t want to kiss any of the contestants.

Not when she’s everywhere. Just being her. Making me question everything with the most simple sentiments.

I know I’m not after a relationship, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to just… spend time around Julia. Surprisingly, we get along. And there’s nothing wrong with enjoying her company while we’re both stuck here, working on a show that is nothing like we thought it would be.

She might be the only person on this set that I have anything in common with. And I can’t seem to stay away from her, so why keep fighting it?

Like she’s giving her silent agreement, we fall into a companionable silence, watching the sun rise side by side. Birds chirp in the trees, signaling the start of a new day, and the swelter of Emerald Lake’s summer expands over the horizon, heating the air.

“Beautiful,” she murmurs, dark eyes glowing as she soaks it all in. There’s something soothing about her—peaceful.

I swallow and shift on my feet. The sunrise might be even more jaw-dropping than the sunset. Or maybe it’s just the company. “Keep this time of day under wraps or Richard will drag us back up here to film another kiss take,” I joke. Trying to test the waters after last night. Make sure that she’s not… I don’t know.

That she doesn’t hate me. For some reason I can’t stand the thought of Julia Silva hating me.

“Please, he’s going to have to hire a coach for you after last night.” Then she leans toward me, bumping her shoulder against mine in a show of camaraderie. “You were awkward as fuck, Bud.”

My jaw drops in shock. “Are you joking? Kissing is an actual strength of mine. It’s on my résumé. I’m basically a professional at interacting with women.”

A grin tugs up one side of her mouth as she turns to face me, amusement dancing in her eyes. Her arms lift as she moves in jerky mechanical motions. “Why do you act like a virginal robot in front of the camera then?”

I turn to face her head-on, staring at her, agape.

And she laughs in my face.

“A virginal robot?”

“Just calling ’em like I see ’em, Brandt.”

With that, she holds herself rigid, opens her eyes almost comically wide, and leans forward with only her neck while puckering her lips.

She’s laughing. Making an offensive mockery of my kissing abilities.

“Maybe I don’t want to kiss any of these women. And that’s why it looks so ridiculous. Ever think about that?”

She snorts, and it’s completely unladylike. “Well, you better find some motivation because this shit is just getting started.”

Running my tongue over my teeth, I regard her from below furrowed brows. “Very inspiring. Very directorial.” I turn my feet, positioning myself to face her. “Pretend you’re actually my director. Put all that fancy school to work. What would you tell me to do? Imagine everyone naked?”

“I kind of assume you already do that, to be honest. It’s your default setting.”

“Well, what am I, a pervert or a virginal robot?”

She brings me up short when she blurts, “You’re trying too hard.”

“Oh?” I step closer, the rush of a challenge flaring inside of me.

“Yeah. You need to loosen up. Act natural.” She reaches up, gripping my shoulders and maneuvering them—as though that will help.

Before I can think better of it, I crowd her and reach for her waist. She sucks in a startled breath and stares down at my palms covering her hip bones.

“Like this?” I ask, quirking my head.

Not feeling the least bit robotic or virginal with my hands on her.

“Getting there.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, eyes flicking between mine in question.

But I don’t have any answers for my behavior right now.

“And this?” I lower my head slowly, the tip of my nose grazing her hair. It smells fresh, sweet and herbal all at once.

“Sure. Yeah. Better.”