by Tess Oliver
The vague outline of a smile formed on her lips. She seemed pleased to know I’d been looking for her. “From what Jackson told me this morning and last night when he called me at midnight—” She rolled her eyes. “All you have to do is stand around and look good. And, of course, narrow down the bevy of beauties to one lucky girl.” She held up the cards. “At least you’re down to just sixteen. Have you already singled out a few?” she asked and then shook her head. “No, you don’t have to answer that. I don’t want to—I don’t need to know. That’s all part of the mystique of being the bachelor. Only you know who you’ll actually end up with.”
“With the director and producer putting their hands on the scale now and then,” I added. “The truth is, El, I tend to have a short attention span when it comes to relationships. I’ve been with more than my share of fantastic women, but handing my heart over to one just isn’t in my nature.”
Sometimes the way Eliot looked at me it was as if she was trying to figure me out. Or it was possible she just felt bad for the big idiot who’d gotten himself into a giant fucking mess by trying out for a show he knew nothing about.
Eliot fisted me on the shoulder. Her eyes rounded as she glanced at her knuckles. “Holy shit, that’s like hitting a wall of bricks.” She peered back up at me with that incredibly intelligent blue gaze. “From what I’ve heard about the reaction online to the new bachelor, all you have to do is show up on set. Be yourself. I haven’t known you long, but I sense that you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t have to try hard to make friends . . . or steal hearts. Stay true to who you are, and let things happen naturally.” She touched her chest. “Work from here. Something tells me that under those well-defined pecs, there is big heart just waiting for the right person to come along and snatch it away from you.”
“I love your optimism. I’ll keep all that advice in mind. To answer your earlier question, no one’s been singled out. They were all beautiful, mostly likeable women, but no one stood out.” I held back a smile thinking that the one woman who had stood out as different was the one sitting in front of me. Eliot was so easy to talk to, I felt as if I’d already known her for years.
“I heard you picked horseback riding for the first activity with half of the girls. Are you trying to find the adventurous type? The women all had to agree to do whatever activity, no matter how scary, was asked of them. One year, the bachelor, some heir to a frozen food kingdom and a guy who was about as stiff and bland as frozen peas, decided he wanted to take four of the contestants skydiving. Three of the four girls broke down in tears, and the fourth, well, she was just—” Eliot twirled her finger around her temple. “One of the craziest yet, and we’ve seen a few who were several bells short in the bell tower, trust me.” She sucked in a breath as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have. “Not that you have to worry. I’ve heard they are screening them better now.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “I will shut up now,” she said and then continued. “Are you a good rider?”
“Pretty good. I spent some of my teen years growing up on my grandfather’s Pennsylvania farm. I was a military brat. My dad was an army officer, and we moved from place to place. The more schools I went to, the more times I got into trouble. I needed stability, so they sent me to Pennsylvania.”
Eliot looked at the tattoo on my arm. “Is that why they called you Outlaw? Because you were a trouble making cowboy?”
“Nope, but, shit, that would be cool. The nickname came from my ability to steal vehicles from the enemy. No wheels in the desert makes it kind of hard to get from one place to another.”
“I did not see that coming. So, what you’re saying is, you’re a skilled car thief.”
“Actually, they were usually old trucks and even some abandoned army vehicles, but yep, gone in sixty seconds and all that.”
She smiled as she seemed to be absorbing what I’d just told her. “I guess we should probably keep that little piece of information to ourselves. But, in my opinion, it’s a cool way to earn the nickname Outlaw.”
“Thank you. Glad it meets with your approval.”
“Guess we should get started on these.” Eliot scooted back to the far corner of the couch and lifted the cards in front of her face. “I’ll say a name, and you tell me a brief description.”
I rested back on the opposite corner. “Great. Fire away.”
“Roxanne.”
I tapped my chin and then pointed Eliot’s direction. “Blonde?”
Eliot shook her head.
“Brunette?”
“Nope.”
“Black?”
She raised a brow to assure me I was still way off.
“Red,” I blurted.
“Right.”
“Yes,” I said triumphantly.
Eliot lowered the cards and tilted her head. “Really? What else was left? Purple?” The curl had come loose from the headband and it swung to the side like a pendulum.
I laughed. “No, purple I would have remembered. I’m bad with names and faces. But now that I’m picturing red hair, Roxanne is the med student from Ohio and she plays golf.”
“Golf?” Eliot turned the card around and read it. “Huh, guess it’s a requirement if you’re going to be a doctor. Are you a golfer as well?”
I held out my arms. “Is there anything about me that says collared shirt and khaki trousers?”
“No, nothing at all.” She moved that card to the back. “Janelle.”
“Blonde lingerie model.”
Eliot blinked at me and twisted her mouth in annoyance.
“What? Is that wrong?”
“Nope. You nailed that one pretty fast.” She looked at the picture on the card and sighed. “No surprise there.” She moved on to the next card.
“Guess I’m pretty damn textbook when it comes to being a guy.”
“Not really, but she’s very pretty. Can’t fault you for noticing her. How about Shyla?”
“I’ve got it. I remember her because her name is Shyla, and she’s anything but shy. Practically climbed into my lap when we were sitting out on the patio. And she can down the booze. Dark brown hair and fake boobs.”
Eliot raised her brows as she peered over the cards at me.
“Told you she practically climbed into my lap. And she made sure to brush her double Ds against my arm . . . a lot.”
Eliot moved the card to the back of the deck. “She’s not your type. I can tell just by looking at her.”
“Good eye. She’s one I tried to send home, but Dougie boy made me keep her. You sure know me well already. I’ll bet in high school you were that girl who was every guy’s best buddy.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized how stupid they sounded.
Eliot’s lashes dropped, and her mouth turned down. “I should get you breakfast. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.” She tossed the cards on the table and got up from the couch.
I followed her to the kitchen and to the refrigerator. “Eliot, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just that—”
She stood up from the refrigerator with the carton of eggs and faced me. “I’m the type guys like to be chummy with, a good buddy and all that. I get it.”
“No, you’re twisting my words.”
“Am I?” She placed the carton of eggs on the counter.
“No, well, you’re embellishing my words.”
She held up an egg. “How many?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m just going to have cereal.”
She turned back to the carton and put the egg away. I took hold of her hand. She stared down at the eggs instead of looking at me. “It’s all right, Rafe. You’re not the first guy to tell me that I’m the chum type. It’s fine.”
I tugged her hand to encourage her to face me. Her brilliant blue eyes were lik
e sapphires in the sunlight streaming through the window. They caused me to forget my words. I knew I was in the middle of a groveling apology, but I couldn’t remember what I was going to say.
She pulled her hand away. “You’ve got a big day ahead. Why don’t you get ready, and I’ll get that cereal.”
I stood looking at her for a long moment. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been knocked senseless by a woman, but it sure as hell had happened standing there in the kitchen of the bachelor’s house. I knew the moment for apologizing had passed. I had no idea why I’d said such a stupid ass thing in the first place. She wasn’t every guy’s best friend. Somewhere underneath the oversized t-shirts, messy hair and the heavy duty effort not to be noticed was the girl that every guy dreamed of.
Chapter 7
Eliot
“Why so glum, chum?” Jackson chirped as he joined me under the easy-up, sipping an energy drink, the last thing my hummingbird style friend needed.
“Shit, not you too,” I grumbled.
“Not me too what? What did I do?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m just feeling down.”
“Yep.” He sipped the drink. “Saw that from all the way across the grounds. I thought, uh oh, shoulders drooping, posture worse than usual and stray curl just chillin’ on the forehead, my buddy, El, is bummed about something.”
“Must you use the word buddy? I’m a buddy and a chum and a wingman and—” I released a sound that mimicked exactly how I felt. Miserable. “And worst of all”—I looked pointedly at Jackson—“As you so eloquently pointed out, I’m safe.”
Jackson put his drink down on the lunch table and took hold of both of my hands. I dragged my gaze away from my feet and looked at him. I was either in for a Jackson lecture or a pep talk. I wasn’t really in the mood for either.
“Eliot, you wanted this. You’ve told me yourself you have priorities other than flirting, love and courtship.”
“I never said courtship, Jackson. I would remember if I’d said the word courtship. It would be like me referring to my bra as a corset.”
“El.” His tone hardened, and the lecture was on its way. “You’re avoiding the point. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve told me more than once, and especially after I mention the whole un-pretty effort, that you have too much else in your life to worry about without having to worry about having your heart broken.”
“Exactly and I’m sticking to that rule.”
I could hear the female contestants in the nearby dressing tent. We were on location at a ranch that was sometimes rented by the studio for shows and movies. Today it was the place where the bachelor, or as I sometimes thought of him, my bachelor, was going to take a trail ride with eight bachelorettes. Jackson and Blake, the set designer, had created a beautiful picnic scene in the center of the nearby pasture, but the food was not to be eaten on camera. The contestants and Rafe were fed ahead of time. The picnic was more of a prop or backdrop for the bachelor to have intimate chats with the women after their ride.
“A couple of the women are nervous about riding horses.” Jackson lowered his voice, although I doubted he could be heard over the clamor of excited voices inside the tent. “But from what I’m hearing, they are willing to do anything to win the bachelor’s attention. The fighting and sabotage inside the house have already begun. This is going to be a fierce competition. The fans are going nuts. I heard Doug and Kiley went out last night to celebrate the explosive start to the season.”
“How has it been explosive?”
Jackson lifted his chin to look over my shoulder. “Well, sweetie, I guess I have to spell it out for you—”
I turned to follow the direction of his gaze. Rafe was walking toward us wearing jeans, a flannel shirt and a black cowboy hat and boots. He was every bit outlaw and every bit dreamy cowboy. Tricia had been right. The man made pinching oneself a necessity.
Just before he reached us, Jackson leaned over and spelled ‘b-o-o-m’ in my ear.
Rafe looked, for the first time, a little tense. “Not sure what I was thinking picking this activity. I guess a few of the women have never even been around horses, let alone ridden on top of one.” He nodded politely at Jackson and then turned back to me. “And I don’t know any of the horses. Hopefully, they’re well broke.”
I glanced across the way to the area where the animals were being saddled. “I’m sure they are. Even though drama and action are good, injury and near death experiences are a little over the top for this show. It’s all about the romance, after all.” I patted his arm. It was like solid rock. “No pressure, though. I see Doug looking frantically around for his star. So, go get ‘em, cowboy.”
Doug grabbed a megaphone and called Rafe, but he ignored the director and stared down at me. “You’re still mad at me about this morning.”
“What? No, I’m not.”
“You wouldn’t let me explain.”
“I’m fine.” I had no idea why but I took hold of his hand. He looked down at it, and instead of pulling it away, he tightened his fingers around mine.
“The words came out all wrong, El. I’m glad you came out here today. I feel better knowing you’re here. Cuz, like I’ve said before, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
Doug was close to screaming into the megaphone, and I was going to be the one to get in trouble for Rafe ignoring him.
Jackson seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Your assistant is going to get her ass handed to her by the red-faced director if you don’t get over to the camera shot.”
Rafe nodded. My hand looked comically small in his as he gave it a final squeeze. Jackson stood shoulder to shoulder with me as we watched Rafe strut, boots, long legs and all, toward Doug. “Now I get the whole damn thing,” Jackson quipped.
I looked over at him. “What whole damn thing?”
“The dreary mood, the sudden anxiety about being safe. My perfectly content to be lonely best friend has met her match.” He dropped his arm around my shoulder. “Solitude looks a little less appealing with a man like that walking around, eh?”
“You’re crazy. Of course, that is nothing new.”
“Uh huh. Well, all I can say, sweetie, is get in line because that tall drink of water in the jeans and black hat has become an overnight sensation. From what Tricia has told me, the marriage proposals are already pouring in for the man.”
I shrugged off his arm. “Uh, that’s what he’s here for, remember?”
“Well, there are going to be a lot of broken hearts after this season is over. Tricia said there’s info floating all around the air waves about how not only was our bachelor an army ranger but there’s rumor that he carried his dying friend six miles in the desert to get him help. Unfortunately the guy didn’t survive, but nonetheless . . .”
“Well, if it’s on the internet, then it must be true.”
Jackson’s face snapped my direction. “Whoa, I just hit another sore spot. I’ve got to watch myself around you this season.”
The women emerged from the tent dressed in skin tight jeans and every manner of sexy western garb. “And enough with the Tricia said this and Tricia said that. I couldn’t care less about any of it.”
“Right,” Jackson said.
“You know what, Jack? Sometimes you’re even more annoying than the curl.” I pushed it off my forehead, grabbed a bottle of water and went off to look for some shade far away from the chaos and my smirking best friend.
I found a tree a good distance away from filming and decided I was in need of a break. I sipped my water and closed my eyes for a few minutes. Then I pulled out my phone and called Georgie. She sounded drowsy as she answered.
“Hey, Eli, everything all right?”
“Did I wake you?”
“Sort of. I was just kind of dozing in an
d out over my boring textbook. The doctor gave me some pain meds for the tingling in my hands, and they make me sleepy. He says it’s just from overuse when I’m rolling my wheelchair around too much.”
“The new automatic chair is close to getting approved by the insurance company. Hopefully that will take care of the fatigue in your hands.”
“Hopefully,” she said without an ounce of enthusiasm.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just that I worry the new chair will make me even less active. At least now my arms are getting a workout.” My sister had been a star soccer player before the accident. Being confined to a wheelchair had been a major adjustment. She was still dealing with the idea of it both mentally and physically. We all were.
“Well, you can still use the manual chair whenever you like. The other one will just be there for when you’re tired.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Eli. It’s fine. Really.” She tried hard to sound cheery as if it was all fine and dandy. But it wasn’t. “By the way, Mom thinks she’s got dementia.”
“I know. She told me. Hey, maybe this weekend we can go see a movie or something. I don’t know about you but I’m tired of studying all the time. And I’ve got Sunday off.”
In the distance, I noticed a cloud of dust. It seemed everyone’s attention was focused on that cloud of dust. The cameras seemed to be rolling, but the set was just a little too quiet.
“I’ll see if I’m up to it. I’ve got a lot of homework. Hey, I saw the new bachelor,” Georgie piped up, pulling my attention back to the phone call. “He is hot. I’ll bet it’s going to be an interesting season. Jackson must be floating around on cloud nine getting to be that guy’s assistant.”
“Actually, I’m the assistant this season.”
She paused. “What? How?”
Something significant was definitely going on in front of the cameras. “It’s not all that exciting of a story. I’ll tell you Sunday if I see you. I’ve got to go, Georgie.”