He walked away without looking back.
* * *
The live show still had to happen even if there wasn’t going to be an elimination. Several producers had told them the show would focus on recaps of the first part of the season and a Q&A session between the houseguests and Susan.
Gunner showered and pulled on a blue linen button down that had been purchased to go with a dark suit. He hadn’t worn a suit in more than a year, but there was no point in wasting the shirt. He pulled on his boots and headed to the living room, aware of the nervous titter of the other houseguests. Zola wasn’t among them, but neither was Brian. That made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, so he retraced his steps and hesitated outside the room the two shared, listening for any sign of trouble. It was quiet for a moment, and he was about to leave, but then he heard a string of curses come from a pretty mouth, making him smile.
“Trouble?” he asked, pushing the door open as he knocked.
“I can’t get this damn blouse to button!”
Zola was alone in the room, dressed in a pair of black slacks, heels, and a white sleeveless blouse with a high collar that buttoned at the back of her neck. He walked up behind her and carefully did what she couldn’t, his fingers brushing against her bare neck as she held her hair up out of his way.
She smelled of strawberries and lavender. And her skin was soft as a baby’s ass, and just as supple. He let his fingertips linger for a second, need knocking logic out of the way for just a second.
“Done?” she asked a little breathlessly.
“Done.”
He stepped back and watched her drop her hair, all its curly thickness falling like milk from a bottle down the length of her back. It stopped at the top of her slacks, the tips touching her ass like his fingertips so desperately wanted to do, with a soft, gentle stroke.
“I like that shirt,” she said, turning to survey him. “It’s a good color on you.”
“You look pretty good, too.”
Zola looked down at herself, tugging at the bottom edge of her blouse. “Not really my style, but they said dark, contrasting colors would look best on television.”
“I don’t know about that, but it looks good on you.”
She smiled, a touch of a blush on her pretty cheeks. “Thanks.”
“Nervous?”
She nodded. “I knew there would be interviews and things on here, but knowing it and doing it are two different things.”
“Just be yourself. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’ll try.”
He gestured for her to lead the way. She smiled as she walked past him. Halfway out the door, her ankle turned, and he grabbed her upper arm to keep her from falling. She cursed again, and that made him chuckle.
“What?”
“Such dirty words from such a pretty mouth.”
“You’d be surprised what comes out of this mouth sometimes.”
She pulled away and walked out to the living room, accepting compliments from . . . well, just about everyone. And she did look good. In Gunner’s opinion, she was the prettiest girl in the room. He was not the only one with that opinion. Kirk pulled her down on the couch beside him, whispering something in her ear that caused a sensation of emotions to dance over her face. She quickly got up and moved to the other couch, taking a seat between Michelle and Jessica.
Gunner just shook his head, a little embarrassed to be lumped into a category with Kirk and Brian tonight.
“Hello, Houseguests!” Susan said as the live cameras lit up and the huge monitor on the wall showed her face in front of several hundred audience members.
Gunner saw Zola tense, her hands clenching in her lap. When she focused on him, he touched the underside of his chin, attempting to offer a gesture of strength. Her chin did come up, but then Susan focused on her and Gunner was afraid she was about to lose it.
He was about to be pleasantly surprised.
“Zola, as the newest houseguest in the game, viewers want to know all about you.”
Zola inclined her head. “That’s understandable.”
“Do you mind if I ask you some of the questions viewers have written on Twitter?”
“No, of course not. I’d love to answer their questions.”
“Good.”
Michelle took Zola’s hand, and from Gunner’s point of view, it looked like Zola held on for dear life. Her knees were vibrating, and she was three shades paler. But then Susan began to ask her questions, and Zola slowly relaxed.
“All right. Jean wants to know if you enjoyed your candlelit dinner the other night.”
Zola glanced at Gunner, and he thought, for a second, that she associated that night with warm feelings of him. But it could also be that he happened to be in her line of sight.
“Well, Jean, I really enjoyed the food. It was all very delicious. And the company—my partner, Brian, as well as Gunner and his partner, Lesley—was quite lovely.”
“It did look delicious,” Susan said to the laughter of her live audience. “Okay. Now Cal wants to know if it’s been difficult for you to transition into the house at this late date.”
Zola shook her head. “There is a dynamic here that the other contestants have built in the six weeks the game was going on before I arrived, but they welcomed me with open arms, something for which I am eternally grateful. Especially for the friendship, I’ve developed with Michelle,” she said, raising their intertwined hands. Michelle beamed and hugged Zola for a long second. “And my partner, of course. Without his guidance, I never would have been able to navigate the waters here or assisted in winning the first challenge I participated in.”
Her eyes skated over Gunner again, but he again convinced himself that it was just chance.
“One last question for you, Zola,” Susan said. “Al wants to know if you are developing a crush on Gunner.”
Laughter exploded in the live audience, they could hear it not only over the television feed but through the thin wall that separated them from the audience itself. The other contestants didn’t react quite the same way. Brian looked pissed as he stared holes through Zola, as did Lesley. Kirk looked a little put out, and Josh seemed bored. Jessica and Michelle had amusing expressions on their faces, both trying to be neutral, but both suddenly seeing something they hadn’t seen before.
Zola’s eyes came up and focused on Gunner for a third time. He couldn’t explain it away this time. She was definitely looking at him. And there was something in her eyes that made everything below the waist ache like he was transported back to middle school, and the day his biology teacher decided to introduce sex ed to the class, only discovering too late that some jokester had put the centerfold from the latest Playboy magazine on the projector screen.
“Gunner’s a good-looking guy, wouldn’t you say, Susan?” Zola asked.
“I would say so.”
“I don’t think there’s a woman—or a few men—in this house or in the viewing audience who would deny certain appreciation for a man like Gunner.”
“But that doesn’t answer the question, Zola,” Susan pointed out.
“You don’t really think I’d say yes or no to that question right here in front of Gunner, did you, Susan? Or you, Al?”
There was more laughter. Susan herself laughed for a long moment before turning to the audience and working to get them under control. She only had time for two more questions, she said. Gunner almost expected her to ask him the same question he’d asked Zola, but instead, she asked Michelle and Josh a question each, something about what they ate in the house, and what they missed most from home. Stupid questions.
The cameras went down, and the screen went dark. Everyone sighed, climbing off the couch like they’d been stuck there for years.
“That was clever,” Michelle told Zola. “You covered yourself pretty well.”
Zola tilted her head. “It was terrifying. I don’t remember half of what I said.”
“I doubt that,”
Lesley announced. “You pretend to be nervous, but it’s obvious you know exactly what you’re doing.”
Zola was still sitting on the couch while everyone else towered around her, some paying attention, but some not. She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You’re not happy with my answers to those questions, Lesley?”
“I’m not happy that all the attention is always on you. Just because you got lucky enough to be inserted into the game at the last minute—”
“I wouldn’t call that luck,” Michelle interrupted. “She’s already so far behind that it’ll be impossible for her to win.”
“Not really,” Lesley said. “It’s not like this is a points game. And she’s got the looks to catch the attention of the viewers.”
“Lesley.” Brian slid up between his partner and his lover, pushing Lesley back just a few inches. “Why don’t we go get something to eat.”
“Did you see that? All the viewer questions were for this bitch!” But then the camaraderie went out of her eyes as she studied her lover. “But you don’t care, do you? Because she’s your partner.”
A denial touched Brian’s lips, but it was obvious he didn’t mean a word of it.
“You think I’m stupid,” Lesley announced, pounding her fists against Brian’s chest. “You told me we had to cool things because we were getting to the end of the game. You said the viewers would find out, and it would be a black mark against us both. But that’s not the real reason, is it? You’re hot for that bitch!”
“Enough!”
Josh stepped in front of Zola, too, standing beside his pal, Brian. He stared Lesley down just as she stared at him with daggers flying from her eyes. Gunner decided then it was time to intervene.
“Come on, Lesley,” he said softly, gripping her upper arm, “let’s go to the room, talk about this.”
She glared at Brian. “You’re a fucking waste of space!” But she went with Gunner, bursting into tears halfway to their door. Gunner drew her inside, setting her on the edge of her bed and listening to her call Brian every bad word ever invented. He was grateful he’d had a sister because that was the only thing that got him through this.
He didn’t sign up to be a house mother. And he didn’t sign up to lose this game over some war of jealousy.
It was time to change his game up, and he knew exactly how to do it.
Chapter 9
Chicago, Illinois
The Set of Stranger’s Retreat
Zola pushed the big, plastic animal head down on the peg, racing to get the next one. She couldn’t remember where it went, but she could hear the other houseguests cheering on her opponent—Jessica—and that spurred her on, making her hope that she was in the lead. It was a stupid game, moving around animal body parts until they matched a picture on a screen, but she wasn’t about to argue. It was better than crushing her ankle on a belly crawl. She stepped back from the poles to look at what she’d done, realizing later that she probably should have done that after she’d finished the task. She rushed to the red button and slammed her hand on it, gratified by the bells that announced her win.
Brian rushed up and lifted her off her feet, something he’d grown fond of doing this week whenever they finished a comp, whether they finish victorious or not. It annoyed her, but this once she allowed it, aware of how important this particular comp had been.
This comp would be the last one before the viewers, the producers, and the houseguests themselves were allowed to vote on which teams they thought should be put on the block for elimination. It wasn’t a trust exercise or a couple’s quiz, but it would still be fresh in their minds. Maybe a little celebration with her teammate would keep her safe.
She needed to stay in the house at least another week to find the saboteur. And . . . well, it was kind of fun.
“Congratulations, Houseguests,” Susan’s voice called over the speakers on the playing field. “You’ve successfully completed the competition. As you know, the winning team receives a picnic dinner alone in the backyard!”
The houseguests cheered, including Zola. These little rewards were the only time the contestants were allowed alcohol. Zola would really like a nice glass of wine right about now. It’d been six days in the house, six days trying to keep Brian’s, Josh’s, and Kirk’s hands where they belonged and off her ass. Funny, how the only guy she wouldn’t mind touching her was the only one who never tried.
“The winning couple is Gunner and Lesley!”
Brian groaned behind Zola, and she completely agreed. They’d won four out of the last five competitions. It was frustrating as all hell.
“Fuck this!” Brian grumbled before storming off.
Zola threw herself down on the grass and closed her eyes. It was a little before midnight, too late to be engaging in this sort of activity. She’d been watching the other contestants closely these past few days of comps, but none of them had ever gone close to the props. No one even showed interest in them beyond wondering what they would have to do next. And no one had been hurt. She was beginning to wonder if Felicity and Cillian were just panicking after a short stretch of bad luck.
Or was it her growing affection for all the people in this house—with the exception of Lesley and Brian, of course. They both annoyed the shit out of her. And Lesley . . . If her jealousy wasn’t obvious, she had no idea what was.
“Time to head out,” someone said, blocking the bright fluorescents that shone down on her. Zola opened her eyes, pleased to see Durango’s handsome features gazing down on her.
“Hey,” she said as he pulled her to her feet.
“Hey, yourself. How’s it going?”
Zola looked around, reassuring herself that most of the other houseguests were far enough away to avoid overhearing anything she might say to Durango. “Quiet. Nothing suspicious in the house.”
“Yeah, not much going on outside of it, either. A few little things, but nothing that’s panned out.”
“Do you think that maybe there wasn’t a saboteur at all? Or that whoever it was has already left the house?”
Durango shrugged. “Anything’s possible.” He stopped and turned to her, pushing her back just a little bit from the contestants gathered to board the little shuttle bus. “Are you ready to get out? Now’s the time to let me know.”
She shook her head immediately, her eyes skating over the back of Gunner’s head. “Not yet.”
“Okay.” He tilted his head to one side slightly. “You were pretty awesome the other night, answering those questions. If I didn’t know the truth, I never would have guessed.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and Axel came back with some information on Gunner.” He glanced over his shoulder, then stepped into her, whispering close to her ear. “His sister, Gretchen, committed suicide a little over a year ago. Her suicide note suggested that she’d recently learned of some sort of betrayal. We couldn’t figure out what that meant, but Axel’s still working on it.”
Zola’s heart twisted in her chest, memories of her mother and bottles of pills and ambulances in the middle of the night rushing through her head. She lowered her head, inadvertently resting her forehead on Durango’s shoulder.
“It’s rough, I know,” he said, lifting her chin with his fingertips so that he could look her in the eye, “but we all have dark baggage, don’t we?”
She nodded.
“Stay strong, and if you need to get out—”
“I’ll let you know.”
He smiled, but there was concern in his eyes. He didn’t know about her mother or had forgotten. Either way, he was worried about her reaction. She straightened her spine and walked away, joining her housemates as the last of them boarded the shuttle, aware of several pairs of eyes on her. She threw herself into a seat toward the middle, resting her head against the cool of the window pane.
“That your boyfriend, Zola?” Josh demanded.
There were cameras on the bus, too, but it was unlikely the footage would be
used. Felicity had explained that they wanted the feeling of isolation on the show, so showing the contestants traveling from one place to another was counterproductive. But she was aware of them, just the same.
“Mind your business, Josh.”
“You seemed really cozy with him. And I’ve seen you talk to him before.”
Zola sat up, aware that Josh wasn’t the only one watching her with naked curiosity. “Like none of the rest of you have ever interacted with the production staff! He was just asking if I was feeling okay.”
“Why? You look fine to me,” Kirk said, having to put his two cents in.
“You really want to know?” She looked at him with defiance written all over her face. “That time of the month, Kirk. You know, cramps and headaches and—”
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands in a sign of peace. “I’m sorry.”
“You’d be even sorrier if you had to experience it,” Jessica informed him.
Michelle moved into the seat beside Zola and took her hand. “I have some Midol back at the house if you need it.”
“Thanks,” Zola mumbled, even though, in reality, she wouldn’t need it for another two weeks or more.
The house was quiet but lit like a television studio when they walked in. Zola went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, deciding to snack on a bunch of grapes, too. She turned, one grape halfway to her mouth when she realized Lesley was directly behind her.
“Get out of the way, bitch!”
It had been four days since the live show. Lesley had gone one direction, and Zola went the other, trying to stay out of each other’s way. This was the first time they’d come face to face since that evening.
“Move over a little and I will,” Zola said, indicating the tight space between Lesley and the kitchen island beside her.
“Why should I have to do anything to accommodate you? You’re the one who came into this game so late!”
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