by Amy DeLuca
“Right,” Hunter said. “But he hasn’t acted in years. He prefers being behind the camera these days. His latest project is a reality show, a competition, and he’s planning to film the pilot at the mansion—kind of a demonstration to shop around to the networks. We’re all happy to help him, but we need a woman.”
Oh no. She was getting a bad feeling about this.
“If it’s anything like The Bachelor or Big Brother, I don’t want to go anywhere near it.”
“This one’s different. Hear me out.”
“Okay fine, but I can’t see being in any kind of reality show.”
“Like I said, this one’s totally different,” he continued, undeterred. “That’s why I think it’ll be a big hit. It’s called Tech House. Groups live together and work on inventing new tech—kind of like what we’ve done with the Chipp software. Then they put the finished products up against each other in front of judges—like a Shark Tank situation. Viewers watch week after week as the work is done and the teams live and work together in the competing houses. Hap’s really talented. I know he can pull this off and make it great. I’m his major backer, so of course I want it to succeed. That means appealing to a wide demographic—which means having mixed-gender teams. You’d only be pretending to work on the software, of course. Really, you’d just need to be there.”
Kristal narrowed her eyes, studying him for signs of duplicity.
“It’s a little hard to believe you couldn’t find any other woman willing to move into a mansion with seven millionaires…”
“Six millionaires and one billionaire,” he corrected with a cocky smile. Why did she find that look a teensy bit appealing on him?
“Exactly,” Kristal said. “So why me? Surely one of you has a girlfriend who’d be willing.”
He gave a casual shrug and lifted his hands to the sides, palms up. “We’re all single at the moment. Filming is supposed to start next week, so we’re running tight on time.”
Hunter offered the same charming grin that had stolen her breath at the party a few months ago.
“Plus… we know you. You wouldn’t steal our code and run off with proprietary information or anything. Wait—would you?”
She laughed at his tease. “No.”
“And you need a place to stay,” he continued reasonably. “While you’re there, maybe you could shoot a few photos for Chipp and maybe for Hap too. I don’t know that much about show production, but they probably need stills from time to time.”
She did need a cheap place to live. Free was even better.
Kristal was familiar with the subdivided mansion they lived in, and it was massive. No doubt there really was plenty of room to spare. And if she was truly helping him and his friends, it wasn’t charity.
And I could stay in Newport.
Everything he said made so much sense—if you put aside the small detail that she’d be living with seven guys.
“It’s just temporary,” Hunter added, “until the show is done, and you’ve saved enough money for your own place.”
That was what sealed the deal for Kristal. It wasn’t forever. She could live there for a few weeks while she got back on her feet. She could still take her winter photographs around Newport.
You could get to know Hunter better.
No. No, that wasn’t a consideration. Hunter was being kind, offering her a mutually beneficial deal. This had nothing to do with what had accidentally happened between them at the Charity Relief Foundation Ball, and she wouldn’t—would not—let her mind go there.
Where it’s gone over and over again since that night.
“If you’re sure it’s not an inconvenience, and it would really be helpful to you…”
“I’m sure,” he said instantly. Then his posture relaxed, and he graced her with that spectacular carefree smile again. “It would be a win-win.”
Kristal pressed a fist against her stomach to quash the sudden quivery feeling. “Then I accept. And I appreciate it. Truly.”
“Don’t mention it. I can send some movers over to Cinda’s house this weekend to pick up your stuff,” he said.
“There’s not that much. Almost everything went in the auction.”
Hunter frowned. “I’ll send a small van then.” In a brilliant flash, the smile returned. “You know of course, you’re going to get a new nickname out of this?”
“How so?” She hoped he didn’t mean it would ruin her reputation in town, though after the house auction and the repossession of her car, she wasn’t sure she had one of those left anyway.
“Well, you know my brother Jack refers to us as the Seven Dwarves.”
“He does?” She giggled. “But you’re all so tall.”
“He does indeed. Which makes you…”
Kristal laughed again. “Snow White.”
“Exactly. So be on the lookout for wicked witches bearing apples,” he teased.
“I just hope a handsome prince doesn’t come along and catch me sleeping. The last thing I need in my life right now is the complication of a relationship. He’d probably demand a refund anyway.” She laughed. “Harry said I was a bad kisser.”
Hunter’s expression had gone rather solemn, the happy smile disappearing.
She shouldn’t have turned the conversation so heavy. This was a good night, and she had a lot to celebrate.
Reaching across the table, she covered one of his hands lightly with hers. “Thanks for this, Hunter. I’m really grateful. You’ve always been a good guy, and I’m glad we’re friends.”
Before Kristal could remove her fingers, Hunter flipped his hand over, squeezing hers gently inside its warmth.
“Harry is an idiot.” His voice was quiet and deadly serious. “And for the record… you deserve a prince. Don’t ever doubt it.”
For a second, they held searing eye contact that made Kristal’s heart do a double somersault in her chest. She hastily extracted her hand, reached for her purse, and stood.
“We should go. I don’t want to get in too late and wake up Cinda.”
Eight
The Pact
I’m glad we’re friends. Friends. Whoopee.
The phrase echoed through Hunter’s mind all the way home. He’d offered Kristal a ride to Cinda’s house since no way would he let her ride her bike through the streets of Newport this late. But she’d already called an Uber, and it was waiting for her as they’d exited the restaurant.
She seemed kind of eager to get away from him anyway.
He kicked himself for that prince comment. He’d never been much of a poker player. Oh well, the game wasn’t over. He’d have at least a few weeks with Kristal in his house every day to show her he was the right man for her.
They’d parted with a plan for her to move in on Monday. Which meant Hunter had to go home and break it to his housemates that they were getting a new roomie. A new friend. Ugh.
He’d waited on pins and needles for Kristal’s answer to his proposal, and for just a few minutes there, after she’d agreed, it had felt like all his dreams were coming true. His hastily concocted plan had actually worked.
And then she’d slammed him right back into the friend zone with a few words.
It was high school all over again. She’d obviously forgotten all about their “seven minutes in heaven” while Hunter had dwelled on it non-stop since that night a few months ago.
But still… he couldn’t get too down about things. She was moving in with him.
With him and six other roommates, but whatever, it was a start. And she wasn’t moving out of state. So there was still a chance for them
There was also a chance Hap was going to kill him.
He was the first person Hunter sought out when he got home. Hopefully his old friend would still be awake—and be willing to go along with the ruse.
Part of the story he’d told Kristal had been true—Hap was looking for his next big project, and he had mentioned the idea of a reality show.
The rest had been pure inve
ntion. Yeah, we’re going to call it “invention” because “lie” has such an ugly ring to it.
At worst it was a white lie because Hunter had told it for the very best of reasons—to convince Kristal to accept his help.
He found Hap in the kitchen making a midnight snack—an enormous tuna sandwich. As Kristal had declined his offer to send the unfinished bottle of wine home with her, Hunter plunked it onto the counter beside Hap’s plate.
“The sommelier recommends French chardonnay with tuna salad on whole wheat.”
Hap picked up the bottle, checking the label. “Looks fancy.” Pulling out the cork and sniffing the open neck, he said, “Smells expensive.”
“It was,” Hunter said. “Consider it a bribe.”
Hap shot him a suspicious look. “A bribe, huh? What’s going on?”
“You know how you’ve been looking for the right show to produce?”
“Yeah…” Hap took a big bite of his sandwich but kept his eyes on Hunter, paying attention.
“I’ve got an idea.”
Hap swallowed and swiped his mouth with a napkin. “Okay, shoot.”
“It’s a competition. Different teams live and work together, competing to produce the most innovative tech. An expert judging panel picks the winner from the competing houses and helps them market their finished product as the grand prize. Call it Tech House.”
His friend’s eyes brightened. “That’s not half-bad. There’s nothing like it in the market, but it’s not so different that no one would understand what it is. You gotta sell these things with one sentence, you know?”
Hap spread his hands apart in the air like he was visualizing a marquee. “It’s like Big Brother meets Shark Tank meets Robot Wars.”
“I haven’t seen that last one,” Hunter said.
“It’s on BBC. Kinda fun. Nerdy guys building big boy toys.”
“Sounds familiar,” Hunter joked. “So what do you think? Is it something you could pull off?”
Hap leaned back against the counter, lifting the wine bottle and taking a pull. “Whoa.” Giving the label a closer look, he said, “This stuff is good.”
“It should be—that’s a six-thousand-dollar bottle of wine you just swigged like Coca Cola.”
“Sweet.”
He took another drink then focused his attention back on Hunter.
“I can definitely see how it would play out. It’s interesting, might even get picked up by a network. But it would be expensive—film crew, lighting, set decoration, location rental for at least two different houses, wardrobe, makeup, editors. I’m not interested in working on a shoestring budget and turning out a rinky-dink product, so I’d need to find some co-producers and associates to help foot the bill.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“What?” Hap pressed one finger behind his ear and inclined his head toward Hunter. “Not sure I heard you right.”
“I said I’ll pay for it—everything. Whatever you need, just let me know, and I’ll write the check.”
Hap looked around, as if addressing an audience, though it was just the two of them.
“Those, ladies and gentlemen, are the magic words. And… Action!” He slapped his hands together like a film set clapperboard.
“I’m not joking, Hap. I really want to do this. Soon.”
Getting serious again, Hap studied Hunter’s face. “What’s really going on? Why the sudden interest in becoming an executive producer? Does this have anything to do with that debutante you’ve been moping around about? You trying to impress her or something?”
“Not exactly.”
He told Hap about his conversation with Kristal earlier that night, about her need for a place to live and the white lie that had popped, fully formed, out of his mouth when she’d mentioned moving out of state.
“That’s why one of the Tech Houses has to be this one,” Hunter explained.
Hap shook his head, laughing. “Oh man. Most guys, when they want a girl to live with them, buy a ring. You’re gonna underwrite an entire TV show just for the chance to be near her?”
Hunter rubbed his forehead and laughed right along with him. “I know. It sounds a little crazy. But I’ve already told her we’re doing it, and she’s agreed to move in. It would only be for a few weeks. Besides… it’s too soon for a ring. It might scare her off.”
Hap’s laughter increased in volume, and he slapped Hunter on the shoulder. “Boy… you have got it bad. But why the heck not? Let’s do this thing. Maybe we can put the other house in Boston, so I can drive back and forth easily. I’ll make some calls in the morning.”
Tucker wandered into the kitchen, yawning and stretching, clearly having just woken up and ready to embark on his nocturnal workday.
“What’s going on in here? Oh man, you made tuna?” he said, spotting Hap’s half-eaten sandwich and sounding envious until he noticed the wine. “And paired it with a 2014 Domaine de La Romanée-Conti? What are you thinking?”
At his offended glare, the two other guys burst into laughter again. “We’re celebrating,” Hap said.
“Celebrating what? Another Fortune 500 company sign on?” Tucker asked.
“No. Even better,” Hunter said. “We found Snow White.”
The rest of the guys didn’t find it so amusing.
Around the large dining room table the next morning where Hunter had called a company meeting, there were nothing but scowls. Even the donuts and assorted pastries he’d provided instead of the healthful breakfasts he usually insisted on hadn’t sweetened their moods.
“We don’t need another roommate,” Josh said. “Especially a woman. I won’t be able to walk around in my boxers.”
“We’ve lived together nearly a year, and I’ve never seen you walking around in your boxers once,” Hap pointed out.
“Yeah, but I might want to at some point. Now I can’t,” Josh complained.
Hunter hadn’t expected back handsprings and Friday Night Lights cheers from Reid, but his grouchy friend’s annoyance seemed to be more with the show than the prospect of a female housemate.
“There are going to be cameras around all the time. I hate cameras. I like my privacy.”
“I don’t want to be on TV either,” Aiden said, blushing at the idea of it. “You grew up in front of cameras, Hap, but it’s going to be weird for the rest of us.”
His shyness didn’t surprise Hunter. “Look, it’ll probably never make it to TV. It’s nearly impossible to get past all the hurdles to get a show on the networks—even cable or streaming is a longshot. It’s just a pilot.”
“You’ll get used to it in no time,” assured Hap. “The guys I work with are really good. They know how to be unobtrusive.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” said Reid. “We’ll get so comfortable that someone’s going to say the wrong thing while wearing a mic and let out proprietary information.”
“Hap and I will have final say on the edits,” Hunter told him. “There won’t be any leaks.”
“What about my allergies?” Paul sniffled and wiped his nose. “All those people in and out dragging pollen and dust through the house.”
“We’d enforce a strict no shoes policy indoors—or we’ll make the crew wear those little bootie things over their shoes,” Hap said, lifting both arms in a pleading gesture. “Listen guys, it’s just for a few weeks. You’ll be helping me to possibly get a new show off the ground. Tuck gave us the thumbs-up even though you know the production schedule will wreak havoc with his wacky Interview-with-the-Vampire sleep schedule.”
“Not to mention what you’d be doing for Kristal,” Hunter said, pulling out the big guns and going for the sympathy vote. “You remember how nice she was to all of us when the rest of her clique teased us for being geeks or just ignored us entirely. How often did she say hi and ask how your day was back in high school—Paul?”
“Every day,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Josh? Did she ever call you an airhead? No—she called you by
your name, which she took the time to learn, by the way.”
“You guys call me ‘airhead’ all the time when you’re not calling me ‘Dopey,’” Josh complained.
“Yeah, but we’re your friends,” Reid said. “We insult you because we love you.” To Hunter he said, “You’re right. She was super-nice.”
“She still is,” Hunter assured them. “And she’s had the year from hell. Her dad had a stroke, then he died. Her boyfriend broke up with her. Her witch of a stepmom blew through the family fortune in record time and lost their house and cars, and someone apparently wiped out her trust fund. Kristal’s waiting tables, riding a bike to work, and sleeping on a couch at Cinda’s house.”
“Cinda Brown?” Aiden asked, his interest clearly piqued. “Is she still single?”
“Yeah, but she has a kid,” Josh said.
Aiden shrugged. “So?”
“Hey…” Paul’s tone indicated a sudden realization. “Kristal’s single too.”
There were a few nods and looks of interest. Hunter’s hands fisted instantly, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. “No. No way. You heard what I said. She’s been through a lot lately. The last thing she needs is her roommates sniffing around her. Kristal is strictly off-limits.”
Reid’s eyes narrowed in a calculating expression, and an evil grin sneaked across his face. Including you? his challenging gaze seemed to say.
Out loud he said, “I completely agree. Let’s all make a pact right now—Kristal is our friend. We’re doing this to help her out, and none of us…” Here he stared pointedly at Hunter. “… will make a move on her. Everybody got that?”
All the guys made some kind of verbal agreement except for Paul, who nodded and lifted a hand while going into a sneezing fit. When he finished, he asked, “Whose condo will she sleep in, because I don’t think my allergies make mine the best choice... unfortunately. She might wear perfume or something.”
“Mine,” Hunter answered immediately.
At the silence and blank looks, he explained. “Reid and Aiden are already sharing. So are Josh and Tuck. Paul has to have his own. That leaves mine.”
