by Tess Oliver
“You must have missed the precursor to this conversation about not letting it go to your head.”
“Right. Sorry. So where is this assumption leading?”
We were getting closer to the studio. She stopped the cart again. “I think you should stick to your intuition and do what you think will win the hearts and minds of the women in that house and the viewers at home. You’re the bachelor, after all.”
“Unfortunately.” I tapped my temple. “But I will certainly keep your words of wisdom in here. Guess I should get to that meeting.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, the filming crew is almost ready to move out for the day’s shoot. So the meeting won’t be too long.”
“It would only be a consolation if I wasn’t part of the day’s shoot. My heart and mind are not in it today.”
Eliot pointed ahead. “Looks like the meeting might start early. I see Doug outside. With a cigarette. That’s not a good sign.”
Doug was pacing around the exit, taking quick successive puffs on a cigarette. “Why not? Maybe the cigarette will help calm his nerves.”
Eliot looked over at me. As always, it took me a second to get over the impact of her stunning blue eyes. “Doug gave up smoking six months ago.”
“Shit.” I climbed back into the golf cart. “Any chance this thing can crash the security gates and amp up to a hundred? I’m considering a fast getaway.”
Doug took a long draw on his cigarette as he watched us approach. I could see a slight twitch in his eyebrow as he squinted through the wall of smoke curling around his face. He tossed the cigarette on the ground and extinguished it under his shoe as we rolled through the back gate.
Again, I hopped off before Eliot applied the brakes. I was ready to meet this head on. I’d thought about it long and hard last night. This jerk wasn’t my boss. I really could have cared less about anything he had to say. He could toss legal threats around all he wanted. I just didn’t give a shit.
The acrid smell of tobacco smoke surrounded him as he stepped closer but then backed off a bit when he seemed to remember that I was six inches taller and six inches broader and that I could pound him into the fucking asphalt with hardly any effort. Not that I would ever waste my fist on a wormy little asshole like him.
“Rockclyffe, we need to talk.” I noticed that he’d switched from the friendly familiar use of my first name. Using my last name seemed to give him some sense of control.
“No problem. Let’s talk.”
He held his hands out in question. “Explain to me what the hell happened last night.” It seemed he had too much to get off his chest to hold it in until we reached the board room. Or maybe he preferred to have a tantrum out of sight and earshot of the producer.
“Two of the contestants showed up at the bachelor house. One, who was extremely drunk and obviously not thinking clearly, and another, who was thinking quite clearly about that extra little paycheck she’d be getting from the studio this month.”
The twitch in his eyebrow migrated down to his cheek. He turned as if he was going to lead me into the building but then he swung around again. “You know what the fuck I’m asking, Rafe. Don’t play dumb with me. We had that talk earlier in the evening and you said you’d deliver. One of those girls, or hell, both of them should have ended up—”
“What? Naked and in my bed?”
“Or at least close to it. What the hell went wrong, or did we completely underestimate you? Because, frankly, you’re not going to tell me that a guy like you—” He waved his hand in front of me. I wanted to grab it and wrench it behind his back. “A good looking, ex-army ranger with tattoos, who is rich and single, hasn’t fucked every pretty piece of candy on the west coast.”
“That’s what you think?” I laughed. It made the whole side of his face twitch uncontrollably. “Then you have underestimated or, should I say, overestimated me. Because under all this—” I waved my hand around in front of myself, mimicking his obnoxious gesture. “There is also a man with a conscience. Shyla was extremely drunk, and in my codebook, extremely drunk is off-limits because it is always followed with major regret. And, as for Peyton—I don’t need you to send in your fake bachelorettes.”
“Again, you’re telling me how to do my job.” For the first time he seemed to notice that Eliot was still sitting in the parked golf cart. His nostrils flared with rage. “For fucksake, Eliot, don’t you have some place to be?”
“Don’t take this out on her.”
Eliot quickly climbed out of the cart.
“El, if you don’t mind, could you make me up a breakfast plate? Eggs and a bagel?” I asked.
Eliot nodded and scooted past us to the door. She disappeared inside. Her insightful words were still circling my brain.
“Look, Doug, as you so nicely pointed out, I know a little something about women. So trust me in making sure that I do this bachelor thing right. Just don’t expect me to humiliate or hurt anyone in the process. Because if that’s what you’re expecting, you’ve got the wrong man.”
The twitch in his face subsided, and he seemed to be considering everything I was telling him. “All right, here’s the deal. Let’s see how the outing with the other half of the contestants goes today. No scripts. No leading the women or you one way or the other. Just the bachelor and the women vying for his attention.”
“And the women who are planted in that house?”
He held up his hands. “I don’t have anyone else except Peyton on payroll. And she stays, by the way. She is there mostly to keep a watch on the other contestants. Believe it or not, she’s there for safety reasons more than anything else. The first few seasons we had all kinds of shit happen in that house that could have been grounds for lawsuits, including one girl trying to burn another contestant with a flat iron.”
“What’s the other side of that coin? Because this went just a little too smoothly.”
“Yeah, well you can probably thank the cigarette for that. I told my wife I needed those damn things. Of course, if I tell her I started up again—” He shook his head to redirect himself. “You asked about the other side of the coin. The horseback ride and bicycle date air this weekend in the big two hour event. We’ll watch to see the reaction on social media. If it falls flat, then we go back to my way.”
“Fair enough.” I stuck out my hand. He looked at it for a moment before shaking it.
“I’ll let Kiley know we talked this out. She’ll be glad she didn’t have to step in. She doesn’t like conflict.” Doug looked up at me. “Just profit.”
We headed into the building. “The vans will be leaving in an hour. The location manager has chosen a scenic park with a bike trail and lake about fifty miles from here. I’ll see you soon.” Doug broke off at the fork in the hallway that led to the conference room and I headed toward the aroma of food.
Eliot met me with a plate of eggs and a bagel. “I figured you would want the everything bagel because it has garlic.” She grinned up at me. “Kisses and garlic just don’t mix.” She glanced past me to the hallway. “No meeting?”
I took the plate from her hand. “We’ve worked things out for now.” I plowed a forkful of eggs into my mouth and swallowed. “How was Sparkys?”
“The same. Crowded. I waited on a table of women who decided you were a whole new species of man.” She pointed up at me. “But don’t let it go to your head.”
“A new species? Like Neanderthal or something?”
“Nope. I think the ex-husband you were being compared to was the primitive man. Or at least that’s what I gathered from their snippets of wine-soaked conversation. We should get you back up to the house. You need to get ready for your lakeside bike ride.” She winked and an amused smile tilted her lips. Lips that were quite plump and kissable.
I followed her with my plate of food. “You sur
e are taking pleasure in my misery.”
“Not at all, Mr. New Species. I just live a dull life and I’m easily entertained.”
Chapter 15
Eliot
Jackson handed me a bottle of water. “I didn’t realize it would be this hot today. I should have worn shorts to work.” He held up his sketchbook and showed me a pretty vignette he’d drawn of a picnic scene near the lake. “This is the set I created today. And it looks pretty damn good, if I say so myself.”
“Look at you with your official sketchbook and colored pencils. I’m proud of you, Jackson. You had a goal, and you’re working right toward it. Blake must be completely impressed.” I laughed. “Or worried that you might grab his director’s job.”
Jackson sighed. “Wouldn’t that be a dream. But in the meantime, I’m keeping my artwork and taking pictures of my creations. An impressive portfolio is my best ticket to a bigger and better job.”
“Just think, one day I’ll see your name float past on the closing credits of a big blockbuster movie.”
“Damn right you will.”
We sat on the grassy hillside just outside of the caterer’s tent to sip our waters. We were both on downtime while we waited for filming to end. The cameras and action had moved to the far side of the lake. Although lake was a generous term for the manmade, oversized puddle in the center of the park. Still, the location manager had picked a nice setting. The park had plenty of trees, green grass and the small body of water sparkled crystal blue under the hot sky. There was even a flock of ducks floating along the rippling surface. If it weren’t for all the tents, trailers and industrial sized trucks, it would have been worthy of an oil painting.
A pearl of sweat rolled down the side of my face. I pressed the cold water bottle against my forehead and stared down in dismay at my jeans. “You’re right. Shorts would have been a smarter choice today. That lake looks darn inviting right now.”
Jackson leaned back on his elbows. We both stared at the organized chaos across the lake. The camera had been mounted on a dolly to follow the bike ride. There were at least fifteen crew members crowding around the action, but Rafe’s height and shoulders made him easy to spot. “Maybe somewhere, amidst the dangling sound equipment, bulky cameras and stage crew, romance is blooming.” I shook my head. “It really is a silly concept—waiting for two people to find each other as soul mates in front of a dozen people and cameras.”
“Not terribly sexy or romantic. The women all look a little wilted out there. There seems to be a lot of nose powdering going on. The only one who doesn’t seem affected by the heat is the tall, dark and always cool man in the middle. But then I guess the California sun is nothing compared to the sun bearing down on the middle eastern desert.” Jackson sighed. “Bet he looked great in army fatigues.”
“Gee, you think?”
“Ah yes, I forgot that even you aren’t immune to his charms.”
“Here we go again.”
“Nope, new topic. This one makes you all scrunchy faced, which by the way is not a good look for you.” Jackson crossed his ankles and glanced at his bright orange shoes. “Shoot, my new high tops have grass stains.”
“Maybe it will help dim the neon color bouncing off those things.”
“You’re just jealous of my awesome new shoes.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of the high tops. “I better preserve the moment when they were still bright orange.” He returned the phone to his pocket and lifted his face to the sun. “I don’t think anyone was expecting it to be this hot. But I suppose, if the prize is worth the cost . . . You were busy with your nose in a book earlier, but I climbed into the mobile control room and watched some of the earlier feed. It seems the bachelor was sticking close to Nina, the school teacher and Olivia, the lawyer.” He rolled his face my direction. “I knew she was the one to put my money on. Nina is a sweet little thing, but she seems a little meh for someone like Rafe.”
“And how do you know? Besides, he’s supposed to be looking for the marrying type. Nina seems down to earth, the kind of woman you want to take home to your parents.” I had no idea why I was defending her or why I cared. I really didn’t. Or at least that was what I kept telling myself. If nothing else, it was nice to think Rafe had listened to my advice when I pointed Nina out to him.
“Jeesh, all right. Then maybe it will be the teacher. Don’t get all huffy puffy about it. Did your bachelor say anything about his visitors last night, or are you privy to that kind of information?”
“Privy?” I rolled my eyes. “Yes, my top secret security clearance allows me access to such delicate matters as two women visiting the bachelor in the shadow of night. You do remember that half the staff was watching the tape. It was no big secret, and he didn’t have much to say. Or at least nothing I would repeat.”
Jackson opened his mouth to pry further, but I shot him a don’t bother look. “Jackson, you’ve had this position before. Rafe talks to me, but he does it in confidence. You’ve said it yourself. I’m his wingman. And as much as I cringe at the term, I plan to be a loyal sidekick.”
He turned on his side and rested on one elbow. “Well, I’m nobody’s loyal sidekick this season, so I’m free to listen and spread all the damn gossip I want.”
I raised a brow. “You have gossip? What gossip?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know if I want to tell someone with a higher security clearance. It might get me in trouble.”
“Jackson.”
He scooted closer. “The women were all gathered in the food tent earlier and I overheard them talking.”
“You mean you were eavesdropping,” I noted.
“Do you want to hear the gossip or not?”
“Yes, continue.”
“All right. It’s nothing too earth shattering. It’s just about some of the women and their quirks. Rumor has it that Janelle talks in her sleep. A lot. I mean like entire dialogues, and the first night in the house she was telling her roommate, Tanya, that there were spiders crawling all over her.”
“Probably just from the nerves and stress of being on the show. What else do you got?” I had no idea why, but it made me feel better to hear quirky things about the beautiful women in the bachelorette house.
Jackson twisted his mouth in thought. “Right. Here’s a good one. The lawyer, Olivia, likes to walk around the house in her expensive underwear.”
“How does anyone know it’s expensive? Does she leave on the tags? Never mind. Don’t answer that. I live with a woman who watches reruns of Gilmore Girls in the nude. Move on.”
He sat up and brushed the grass off his shoes. “I overheard Stella, the tawny haired coffee shop manager, talking to the woman who I think works in the post office, Ava or Eva, or something like that. They were talking about Linda, who I think works for some newspaper on the east coast.”
I blinked dramatically at him. “Hope this gets better cuz you’re losing me fast.”
“Fine. I’ll speed up and get to the nitty gritty.”
“Yep, nitty gritty is good.”
He peeked around as if anyone nearby could have cared less what we were talking about. “They were talking about what a goody-goody Linda was and how she never drank and she eats these healthy little meals while everyone else is snorting nachos and hamburgers. And here’s the kicker. Apparently, her pious eating habits are just a cover because Stella noticed a tube of cupcake frosting in Linda’s bag.”
I blinked dramatically again, only this time it wasn’t planned. “Frosting? And why is Stella going through another woman’s bags? See that’s the stuff Doug should be putting on the show instead of well-orchestrated sexual trysts.”
Jackson laughed. “You are so right. Brilliant. Frosting in a tube is much more interesting than sex. Anyhow, it all sounds a little strange. Don’t you think?”
I watched the action across the way and was completely aware that Jackson was burning a hole in the side of my face with his gaze.
“Why are you staring at me?” I asked and pretended to be interested in what was happening in front of the cameras.
“I’m just trying to puzzle you out, my very jigsaw-y friend.” He sat up enthusiastically. “Whoa, I almost forgot—what are you doing Saturday? And if you answer studying, I will get up and stomp away on my rockin’ orange shoes.”
I looked at him and paused a moment for dramatic effect. “I’ll be reading textbooks.”
“El—”
“Hey, you said studying.”
“My god, you are such an annoying pain in the ass,” he grunted. “You need to forgo the books for a day. We’re driving to San Diego. Michael and I—and other people—” he interjected quickly so as not to bring attention to the other people part.
“Other people?” I waited for him to explain, but I knew exactly what other people meant.
“Yes, it’s Michael’s brother, Cody. Come on, Eliot, would it be so bad to hang out with him for a day? He likes you a lot. He’s a great guy.”
“Yes, he is. But he’s not my type, Jackson. You’ve got to stop trying to fix me up. I’m fine with the way things are.”
“Fine. Live the rest of your life like a dried shriveled prune who never experienced the rush of being in love.”
“I’ve been in love, and it’s not all that special.”
“Then you haven’t been in love.” He reached over and tucked a wavy strand of hair behind my ear. “You know I love ya, El.”
“I know. I love you too, Jackson. Regardless of your terrible taste in shoes.”