And then I’d kissed her. Like that would fix everything. I scrub a hand over my stubble and groan inwardly, because I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I might as well be stumbling around in the dark for how out of my element I am right now.

Dick Wad claps once before striding toward her. “Attagirl,” he says, leering just enough to make me want to rip his fucking head off. Instead, I settle for meandering in their direction.

He takes the folder and flips it open, thumbing through the pages and nodding. “Good. Well, Emmett, you’ve got a date set with Evelyn during the top three week at an art gallery and then another, where you’ll go zip-lining, and you can take whoever you want.”

I cross my arms, growing tired of Richard’s obsession with Evelyn. “Top three week? I haven’t even made my choice for eliminations tonight.”

The showrunner hits me with a smarmy smile. “Well, taking one out of the mix for entertainment value won’t hurt anything. She stays. End of conversation.”

“That’s a bold—”

“Way for you to make a lot of money?” Richard finishes for me, his expression fully loaded with innuendo. Because unfortunately, he knows how badly my family and I need this extra income.

My molars clamp together, and I force myself not to look at Julia.

“It’s been suggested to the girls that they should try to move their relationship with you to the next level,” Dick Wad continues flippantly.

Relationship.

Laughable.

What’s not funny is that for the first time in my life, guaranteed female attention makes me uneasy.

“So do me a solid and lay some pipe or something. Ha!” He laughs so loudly as he slaps my shoulder that Julia flinches beside me.

“All right,” she interjects without sparing me a single glance. “I’m going to go check in with the manager, make sure everything is in line before we get started.”

As she walks away, I watch. Wishing I could talk to her, but not sure what I’d say. I don’t know what to do in this situation. I’m torn between knowing I need to follow through with this show and not wanting to because… I don’t want to hurt her.

When I tear my eyes away, I find Richard regarding me coolly. “Careful with letting that problem get in the way of the show,” he says. “Or I’ll fix it for you.”

Richard’s threat has had me walking on eggshells all night. I dance with each of the women, feeling more like a marionette than a man. I’m dodging stray hands left and right, and I can tell by the scowl on Dick Wad’s face that my lack of enthusiasm is pissing him off.

I can’t bring myself to look at Julia, though I know she’s here.

Because I’m not an actor. I’m just a guy who has always excelled at keeping things casual. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel casual at all.

It’s fucking confusing.

I’m dancing with Cookie now. She’s been detailing her skincare routine for the past several minutes. I’m pretending to pay attention, while wondering how the fuck I—a world-class athlete—ended up getting paid to dance with a woman named Cookie.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

“Then I have to lock it all in to maintain my moisture barrier, so for that I like to use—”

“My turn,” Evelyn—a.k.a., the fucking worst—cuts in out of the blue.

“This song isn’t over,” Cookie says as she’s jostled back by Evelyn’s shove. “You’ve already had one-on-one time during the hiking date.”

“Right. Which is how I know you’re putting the poor guy to sleep.” Evelyn twists her lips into a cruel smile. “He needs someone with a higher IQ than yours to entertain him.”

I stop, slightly shaken by the aggression in her voice.

Cookie steps forward, eyes blazing as she jabs a finger toward Evelyn. “What the fuck did you just say to me, you uppity bitch?”

Evelyn looks pleased as she crosses her arms. “At least you recognize that I’m superior.”

Cookie’s laughs, incredulous. “You strut around the house bragging about kissing Emmett, bragging about your job. Babe, we all know you’re a fake life coach sponsored by Mommy and Daddy.”

Evelyn’s dark eyes narrow, a spiteful expression morphing her features.

I take another step back.

“No one in their right mind would hire you. You can’t even coach yourself into success. You’re just here to be an actress—but you’ll fail at that, too.”

I hold a fist up to my mouth, stifling the disbelieving laugh that threatens to lurch from my lips. Because, fuck, this is vicious.

I take another step away, just in time to avoid Evelyn’s hand darting out to… yank Cookie’s hair. Then it’s a blur of curses and swinging arms.

It reminds me of Parker and Riley as children. Small, wild, annoying children. And I’m in the middle, an active participant in so many ways. A night that already felt embarrassing has tipped straight into humiliating.

“Ladies!” Akira attempts to push her way between them. “Have a little fucking self-respect. You’re both too good for this!”

But they don’t seem to hear her. They just keep at it.

I watch in horror, jaw slack, hands clasped behind my neck. When I move to intervene, I feel Teri’s hand on my arm. “Not yet,” she murmurs, observing them raptly.

I step away from her to take in the scene before me. The chaos. The spectacle. Women fighting, cameras recording, Richard grinning like a kid on Christmas morning—my self-loathing hits an all-time high.

For the first time in weeks, I give in to the instinct to run. I slip off the dance floor, mostly unnoticed—thanks to the chaos erupting around me—and make a beeline for the front door.

I stride into the night air, past the row of cars out front, and around the corner to a shadowed spot. Quiet surrounds me as I lean against the wall, tip my head back, and let my eyes fall shut, drawing long, slow breaths to ease my rising tension.

Within moments, quick footsteps approach, as though someone is jogging in my direction. They round the corner, and I don’t open my eyes. I’m reverting to that thing little kids do, where they seem to believe that if they can’t see you, you can’t see them.

“Emmett,” Julia’s usually smooth voice practically hisses. “What are you doing? You need to be in there, dealing with this in front of the cameras.” She steps closer, and I smell her. Patchouli and green grass. “Look at me.”

I don’t want to open my eyes because I know how fucking hot she looks in that stupid denim dress, and the minute I lay eyes on her, I’m going to do something I shouldn’t.

Trouble.

She steps closer, nudging the toe of my boot with her foot. “I don’t know what kind of meltdown you’re having at the moment, but you can snap out of it anytime now. Richard is breathing down my neck. He’s got his eye on you and on me. You do know that, right?”

I swallow, squeezing my eyes shut tighter. Yes, I know all of this.

And none of it matters. Not as much as—

“Emmett! This is what you signed up for.” Her voice cracks, and the sound splinters my chest. I can hear the hurt in her tone. “Your family is depending on you. You need this money. You need—”

My eyes snap open. “Need? You know what I fucking need?”

I don’t give her a chance to respond. My hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her slender neck as we collide. I swallow her surprised gasp as I take her mouth.

If our first kiss was tentative or careful, this one is chaos. It’s throwing caution to the wind. It’s need and desperation and regret all wrapped up in one rough package.

Her fists twist in my shirt as though she’d like to shove me away, but instead she pulls me closer.

She kisses me back.

Lips working, tongues tangling—we clash. Behind the world’s lamest country bar, under a moonlit sky, I kiss the only girl in the world I actually want.

My free hand slips up the metal buttons of her dress. I cup her breast, thumb the outline of her nipple through the dense material.