Wishing things were as simple as the wise woman seems to think.

I weave through the long, narrow diner. Emmett’s face lifts to take me in as I draw near.

“Hey,” I say cautiously.

He smiles, but it’s pinched and doesn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t know if you were going to show up.”

“How long have you been waiting here?” I pause near the booth as he shrugs and looks out the window.

“I don’t know. An hour? Maybe two?”

Two hours.

I was sitting at my dad’s gravesite, chatting away, spilling my guts, and Emmett was sitting here waiting. Hoping that maybe—just maybe—I’d show up.

“Why didn’t you call me? Or text me? Or something?”

“Left my phone on the table at the bar after we finished recording for the night. Didn’t feel like going back in once I’d made my way out. I’ll get it tomorrow.” He waves a hand across the air in front of him dismissively. “You going to sit down or just stand there gawking at me like an awkward weirdo?”

I chuckle, because I am standing here like an awkward weirdo. Thrown off by his presence. Confused that he’d wait an hour for me, somewhere he wasn’t even sure I would be.

Honestly, I’m confused that he’s looking for me at all.

I slide into the seat across from him and reach for the menu. Ridiculous, since I know it by heart, but I need something to do with my hands so that I don’t fiddle with my fingers until they knot themselves together.

I’m nervous. Nervous because one kiss can be a mistake. A one-off. But I’ve never heard of a two-off. Which means this might be a bad habit we’re developing.

Martha shows up with a cup of piping hot coffee before I can get a word in edgewise. She refills Emmett’s, and he doesn’t stop her. Which is funny, considering mere weeks ago he thought drinking coffee at night was crazy.

“All right, two Julia omelets for two lovebirds,” she singsongs with a teasing giggle, forcing me to groan and tip my head back in embarrassment. Someone should let Martha know this is just a two-off.

But when I look back up, Emmett has a touch of a smile on his face. He doesn’t correct her. Instead, he just stares at me.

It’s unnerving, so I reach for the coffee, letting the warm liquid bolster my confidence as I prepare to tell Emmett that this cannot become a three-off.

But he beats me to the punch, masking his point with a teasing tone. “Julia, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have to stop kissing me.”

I bark out a laugh and lean back against the red vinyl bench. “Oh, is that how it is? I have to stop kissing you.”

“Yes, it’s absolutely out of control. I understand—I do. You’re obsessed with me. And I can’t blame you.”

I run a hand over the back of my head, grinning like a fool. He has a way of putting me at ease that no one else can accomplish.

“It’s funny how two people can be present at the same event and remember it so differently.”

He shrugs, hitting me with a cocky smile. “All I remember is you shoving your tongue down my throat and riding my leg like I was your favorite pony.”

“Emmett!” I squeal, leaning forward, giving his hand an absolutely flirtatious smack.

I know I shouldn’t do it, but god, he makes it so easy.

He reaches for me, fingers sliding over the top of my outstretched hand. We both stare at the point of contact for several seconds before his fingers flex, drawing my attention back up to his face.

“All jokes aside, Jules, we have to be careful.”

I swipe my tongue over the front of my teeth, hating the taste of what he’s just said and knowing it’s true all at once.

“I’m pretty sure Richard’s producing us at this point, or at the very least blackmailing us. Before tonight, he pulled me aside and told me you were proving more difficult than he expected, but that he noticed how responsive you are to me. And so, he asked me to go out of my way to make sure I keep you on track.”

“What did you say to that?”

“I told him I would—”

“Is that what you were doing outside the bar? Keeping me on track? Because you waltzing around in that little denim dress with your hair all wild and free only makes me want to break the rules.”

A full-body flush sweeps over me. He’s so… direct.

But I don’t let him distract me. “Emmett, I’m serious. He’s on to us. It’s like he’s keeping tabs. And the fact that the crew and producers just happened to show up at The Sugar Saloon when we were there—it’s weird. I tried to throw him off by mentioning going on a date that Riley set up for me. He told me multiple times that he wants me to report back on how it goes. It was unnerving.”

“Like hell—”

“This is my first job out of school,” I cut him off, because we can’t start crossing those lines. Especially considering he still has several weeks of filming left to go. “This is important for my entire future. I’m barely qualified for this gig. I’ve broken the bank to get these degrees under my belt. I’ve worked long hours and won scholarships, all to make it out without crippling debt. If I leave this job with a black mark on my résumé, it could haunt me forever. And you? You need this. I know you do.”

He groans and flops back, but rather than dropping my hand, he stretches his arm, maintaining the contact.

“I know,” he groans, looking utterly tortured by the admission. “I know my oma and opa would never admit it, but they’re counting on that money now. They didn’t ask me for it. I did this to myself. It’s what I signed up for, but now I—”

He cuts off, turning to look out the window, tongue popping into his cheek as he considers his next words. “I regret it,” he says, turning to stare at me.

I can see the desperation in his eyes and wonder if it’s reflected in mine too.

But I don’t give it voice. It won’t make this easier, and it won’t make us feel better. The best thing either of us can do is walk in the opposite direction—and we both know it.

“Well, in that case,” I start, “it’s for the best that we pretend nothing ever happened.”

His brow furrows, and he doesn’t respond.

“Right?” I urge, needing him to agree with me. Because while we both know he’s been the one to kiss me first… I haven’t been fending him off.

I am just as much the problem as he is.

“Emmett? Do you agree?”

He stares at me for several seconds before he speaks again. “I agree it’s too risky, but I’d be lying if I said I thought it was for the best.”

My chest goes hot, and I try not to fixate on his words. There’s a lot left unspoken between Emmett and me. Things that need to stay unspoken if we plan to make it through the remainder of this show unscathed.

I just nod, because anything I say would betray my real feelings and I’d rather gloss over the sentimental parts of this conversation. The alternative might hurt too much.

“You need to keep Evelyn in,” I state bluntly, killing the moment.

His mouth draws back in a grimace of disgust. “Evilyn, you mean?”

I stifle a chuckle, because I feel the same. “Yes, Evilyn.”

“Why? That woman is fucking awful. Did you hear the shit she said to Cookie tonight?”

I arch a brow at him. “It’s not like Cookie had lots of nice things to say either.”

He scoffs. Everyone on set knows that Evelyn is not popular in the bunkhouse.

“Who did you eliminate anyway?”

He gives me a sheepish look. “Cookie. I knew better than to make it Evelyn, and you were right. No grown man can moan that name. But really, it could have been any of them.”

I snort and look away, not wanting to fixate on what he might mean by that.

“Just keep Richard happy. Keep him off your back. And just make it through.”

“So keep Evelyn?” he asks flatly. “Through to the final episode?”

“You don’t have to like her. You just need to pretend like…” I grimace and shift in my seat. For some reason, I can’t stomach finishing that sentence. “I don’t know. Keep Richard happy. That’s the name of the game. And Evelyn’s presence makes Richard happy, so…”