“Fucking brat bitches,” he mumbles before turning to walk back to his truck.

But Tina doesn’t let him get the last word. “That’s right, loser. Run away from the little brat bitches.”

His face is beet red, contorted with rage when he turns back to look at her. But he doesn’t bother saying another word. He gets into his truck and flees.

Like the little brat bitch I always suspected existed under all that bluster.

When he finally pulls away, I can properly check in with myself.

My heart is racing. My breathing has gone shallow. And when I lift my hand to splay it on my chest, it trembles.

I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder, but one quick look to my right eases that anxiety instantly.

“You did good,” Tina says, gun propped under her arm, a wistful smile on her face. “You didn’t have to do that, but you did good.”

“He’s fucking infuriating.”

She wheezes a laugh. “Don’t I know it. Watching my daughter bring that man home was an exercise in patience. Still is.”

“Yeah,” I reply breathlessly. “That must have been something.”

“It’s hard to watch your kids make mistakes,” Tina says firmly, dropping her hand from my shoulder. “But it has to be done. You interfere too much, they resent you. You let them sink a little while in the deep end, and they reach to you for comfort. And they’ll always come back. You’ve got to let them make their mistakes, even when you know they’re dating a fucking loser.”

I snort out a surprised laugh. Somehow, I didn’t expect Emmett’s oma to be this candid with me when we barely know each other.

“Yeah, I imagine Emmett has given you a run for your money in that department.”

She smiles, kind eyes sparkling in my direction. “Indeed, he has. But you know what? He figured it out. After all, it just took the right girl to bring it out in him. And to see him now? Smitten? Well, it was worth every bump in the road.”

I blink in shock, not knowing whether I should confirm or deny anything she’s just said.

Then she pats me on the back rather roughly. I kind of suspect this is about as sentimental as Tina Brandt gets.

She chuckles as she walks away, hiking the rifle up under her arm. “God, I can’t wait to tell him about you giving Carl a piece of your mind.”

“Thanks for helping. I owe you one,” I call to her, because I have no idea how that would have gone without her interference.

She waves her hand dismissively. “You already brought my boy back to life. You don’t owe me shit.”

She walks away, leaving me speechless. And then with a racing heart and a full head, I head out to pick up my favorite bubble tea.

Because if I thought I was anxious before, I have no idea what I am now.

OceanofPDF.com

OFFICIAL MEMO

To: Richard Wadsworth

From: Teri Baker

Subject: Bachelor Absences

While the bachelor has been very cooperative on set, he has not been spending many nights at his cottage on set as discussed in person.

I am also attaching the images that our contractor has come back with.

Camera was placed as you directed.

Footage has been captured. Breach of contract is all but confirmed.

It appears that one contestant (Catherine) is in on the violation.

Sincerely,

Teri Baker

Story Producer

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 40

Emmett

I FINISH RECORDING A candlelit dinner with Evelyn while Julia stands on the sidelines stone-faced.

I like to think I’m doing a good job of not constantly reorienting back to her, but the truth is I can’t help myself. She’s on my mind twenty-four hours a day. When I’m sleeping, I dream about her. When I wake up, I reach for her. When I go to sleep, I drift off imagining all the things I want to do with her.

All I know is I want her as close to me as possible. I’ve started looking forward to the end of the show more than ever.

My plan is to collect that final check, hand it over to my family, and go find her so I can drop to my knees and beg her to forgive me for putting her through this ordeal.

In the meantime, I just keep reminding myself that she’s still here. She hasn’t left. She’s sticking around. And that’s all I can ask for.

Hell, it’s more than I have any right to ask.

“Emmett! My office,” Dick Wad snipes before I can get off the set.

My plan is to make a beeline straight to Julia’s apartment because as sweet as it is for Catherine to help us, it’s just not worth the risk when the end is in sight.

So with a regretful sigh, I head toward the utility trailer that Richard’s made into his office, hoping I can get this done and out of the way.

He’s already seated behind his desk when I step in, grinning at me in a way that makes my hackles rise.

“Over here, Emmett.” He gestures for me to come around the desk, and when I do, he opens a folder on his computer screen. “I just wanted to show you a few things.”

It takes me a moment to register what I’m seeing. Richard casually scrolls through pictures of Julia.

At my house, bloodied knees, coming inside, then leaving later.

In her car with me outside the diner.

At The Sugar Saloon with me.

Us at the Cactus Club, where she went on her date.

But most troubling of all is the photo of us inside my house.

The angle is from the front door and captures the main entryway. It’s the morning after Catherine helped sneak her in. The photo itself is innocuous enough; she’s only slipping on her shoes at the front closet. But there’s no window for a camera to catch it. Which means there is one inside my cottage. Something I know I didn’t give them permission for.

“So you see,” Richard says, cutting into the shocked silence that hangs between us. “I could easily ruin her career. She was hired to manage locations, not your cock. Yet here she is, and here you are—the star of my show, finding love with a crew member instead of where you’re paid to.” He pauses for effect, dragging the cursor over Julia’s face, underlining the proof. “I’d hate to use this. I’d hate to enforce the part of the contract where you agreed not to see anyone publicly.”

My molars grind and my cheeks sizzle. The threat is obvious, and it does nothing but make me feel trapped. Helpless.

“But now I’ve got photos of you out at a bar. So the moral of the story here, Emmett, is that you’re going to behave yourself. You have one week of the show left, and I want some fucking drama. I’ve had to get artful to keep this from being a total snoozefest. Because you’ve let me down.”

I hate him.

“But this week you will not let me down. You’re going to bring all the angst and all the PG-13 rated sexual activity that you can. Because I’m producing a fucking dating show here. I’m after ratings, not a medal for morality.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

He brushes past my question. “You’ve got your day off tomorrow to think about it. Make the smart choice, Emmett. It’s only one week. In one week, you get paid, and young Julia gets the career she’s always wanted. She’ll move on, work her way up in Hollywood, like her cover letter expressed that she’s always dreamed of. You’ll be but a blip on the radar for her.”

I try not to wince, but Richard reads me too well. He homes in on every worry in my brain like they’re written out on my forehead.

“You can go back to whatever country-bumpkin shit you do while keeping your fucking mouth shut to fulfill your contractual obligations. No public dating for a year, remember?”

He waves a hand through the air with a dismissive flick, and I swallow.