“Hey, if you feel like it, this would be a great opportunity to kiss them good-night,” Lucinda interjected.
Right.
With the cameras rolling, the limo pulled into the driveway and stopped at a point in which the house’s front door was in full view. If he kissed any of the ladies, the rest would be able to see. Probably, Mac was in the limo with the camera rolling, hoping to capture the other prospects’ reactions to the kisses.
God, it was all so fake, so forced. How could people watch this crap?
When he opened the limo door, Winnie was the first to step out. He liked Winnie more with each episode. She was a veterinary student and on the younger side, but she’d shown genuine compassion and interest in the veterans at the VA hospital. He could kiss her tonight and it wouldn’t be a big deal. She was cute and kissable, like they all were. He’d kissed scores of women in his life. Hundreds, probably.
When they stopped at the front door, fully illuminated by the porch light as well as the film crew’s lights, Brandon used his back as a shield and angled Winnie so that the other women in the limo wouldn’t be able to see whether or not he kissed her.
“They’re watching,” he told her.
She giggled. “No doubt.”
In that moment, he felt like his old self again, the smooth operator without a care in the world except making the most out of life. He looked at Winnie’s glossy lips. Not bad. Definitely kissable. “Should we give them something to look at?”
She bit her lower lip, seductive, her big eyes turning saucer-round and beguiling.
His pocket vibrated. Harper had finally bothered to text him back. Took her long enough.
Bending over Winnie, his lips parted as he moved in for the kiss. Then she whimpered, and he couldn’t get it out of his head how eerily familiar the sound was to the whimper that Harper had given the night he’d taken her up against the wall at the Iceplex. Damn it all, he didn’t want to think about Harper right now. He didn’t want to think about how he’d done her wrong that night by hurrying, how it might have changed everything between them if he’d slowed down and made love to her the right way.
He cradled the side of Winnie’s head and brushed a seductive, lingering kiss to her cheek.
This time, she pouted, clearly wanting more from him than that.
His phone vibrated again. Shit.
“Good night, Winnie. Thanks for another amazing day. I’ll see you at the candle ceremony tomorrow.”
With another, more exaggerated pout and a little wave of her fingers, Winnie slipped inside the house and closed the door behind her.
“That was good. Nice touch with the angle,” Lucinda said.
Brandon reached into his pocket for his phone.
“Cameras are still rolling,” she said.
Great. Just great. Brandon walked to the limo again. One after another, he escorted his dates to the door, angled them away from sight of the limo, and kissed their cheeks, keeping everything fair, giving nothing away of whom he favored in the competition out of certainty that all the ladies would go back to the rental house they were sharing and compare notes.
Finally, after all five ladies had been delivered inside, the director called “Cut.”
Brandon allowed his shoulders to sag. His hand shot to his pocket as he walked away in search of privacy away from the cameras and film crew.
“Don’t go far,” Mac called. “We’ve got to get your confessionals done.”
Brandon was halfway to the backside of the auxiliary trailer when Jim Dresdic, the executive producer, stepped out from nowhere, catching Brandon off-guard.
“I’d like a word before you get to that confessional,” Dresdic said.
That didn’t sound promising. Being getting pulled aside by the executive producer was a lot like being called to the principal’s office. “Let me take ten and grab some water first,” Brandon said.
“Fair enough.”
Brandon changed directions and headed back to the craft services table. He grabbed a bottle of water from the ice-filled bucket, but didn’t bother with the pretense of cracking the seal on the bottle before he fished out his phone.
Sorry, Harper had written. You said you weren’t coming back to Destiny Falls after filming ended. I thought that was still your plan.
“Oh, bullshit,” he growled under his breath.
That’s what he’d told her before he’d left that first time, when they’d been little more than failed lovers. But he’d already been back. For five nights surrounding her surgery, he’d spent every waking hour, and most of his sleeping hours, by her side. And after that, they’d connected over the phone or by texting at least once a day, if not more. She had to know his priorities had changed. He’d thought hers had, too. People worked their birthday parties around their best friends’ schedules, didn’t they, damn it?
He waited until that first hot burst of irritation had flared out before he texted her back. I would’ve come to NY for your party. You should have asked.
This time, she responded right away. That’s a long way to travel and big $$$ just for a birthday party.
Another pat answer, but what could he do? The party invitations had been sent, so there was no changing the date of the party now. Nor was there any use staying mad at her. That wouldn’t do either of them any good.
You’re worth that kind of $$$. I miss you. Shaking his head, he deleted the last sentence because it sounded like something a lover would say. Instead he typed, And you’re having too much fun without me.
Like you’re not having a ton of fun down there, she texted back.
Not anymore. Not by a mile. He closed his eyes. How could he explain to her the pervasive loneliness he felt in Miami?
He typed, We can celebrate your birthday down here by skydiving.
This is a really busy month, but I’ll see what I can work out, she wrote.
Yes. Good. Seeing Harper would be the anchor to reality that he needed amid all the Meet the Groom insanity. Make the res soon, okay? I need to see you again. Cringing, he deleted that last line and wrote, Anxious to get a jump-start on your birthday celebration.
In reply, she sent an emoji of a dead smiley face with Xs as eyes. Terrible pun.
He let out a snorting laugh through his nose as a firm hand slapped his shoulder. He turned to see Dresdic looking mildly impatient. He tipped his head toward one of the limousines on the premises. “Let’s sit in comfort while we talk, shall we? Don’t know about you, but I could use a cocktail.”
With his confessionals still to film that night, Brandon had at least an hour left of his workday, but declining an executive producer’s offer wasn’t a habit Brandon wanted to start.
In the limo, Dresdic poured each of them a finger of a brown liquid from a decanter as the driver pulled away from the curb.
Dresdic handed him a glass, then settled into the seat across from Brandon. “The driver will take us around the neighborhood for a bit, give us a view while we chat.”
Why did Brandon feel like a poor sucker in a mob movie, about to get whacked?
“I’m going to cut right to it, this season isn’t living up to our investors’ expectations.”
That was news to Brandon. “How, exactly?”
Dresdic slid his elbows forward on his knees, cradling his drink. “Tonight’s a perfect example. Our viewers want romance. They want moments that make them swoon or make them gasp. They would’ve wanted to see you kiss the contestants tonight.”
“I did kiss them.”
“On the lips, son. Like a man.” The ice in his glass rattled. “But you don’t seem to be giving this show your all.”
No, he wasn’t, but he’d thought he’d done a better acting job than that. “I’m sorry it’s coming across that way, sir.”
“We scoured the country for the best women for you.”
“They’re all quite beautiful and accomplished.”
Dresdic leaned forward. “Then what’s the problem?”
They weren’t what he wanted. “No problem.”
“I’m obligated to remind you that you don’t have to propose to either of your finalists. But you should know that if you don’t, there will be millions of disappointed viewers. The other producers and I would vastly prefer you to pick a winner, and there are monetary rewards if you do, as it mentioned in your contract.”
Brandon remembered that clause. He remembered thinking that part sounded a lot like a sports contract paying its players a bonus if the team won the Super Bowl.
“It’s far more satisfying to our investors and viewers if you end the show engaged, even if it doesn’t stick after the finale airs. Just remember, if you got engaged, then you wouldn’t be doing anything that you couldn’t undo off the air later on. We feel like this would be the best way to salvage the season.”
Wow. He was going to have to let that nugget of cynicism sink in later. Meanwhile, Brandon gelled his face into a mask. “Understood.”
He clapped Brandon on the knee. “Excellent. Tomorrow, Lucinda is going to take you to pick out engagement rings.”
“What?”
He chuckled and sipped his drink. “How did you think it happens? We hand you just any random ring as you walk onto the soundstage for the final candle ceremony?”
“I figured that some high-end jeweler is paying the show to feature one of their rings.”
His bark of laughter filled the limo. “Now you’re getting the hang of it. The jeweler we feature on the show paid to have their time in the sun, too. They’ll give you a choice of rings so you can match the rings with the finalists’ personalities. You’ll pick one out for each of the five remaining contestants, then our editing team will slice and dice it into a great segue way piece between your romantic getaways with the finalists and the final ring ceremony.”
How romantic. Actually, now that he was considering it, he should be glad that the romance had been taken out of the equation for him. Saved him the effort of pretending off-camera. This really was the perfect gig for a commitment-averse man like him. He got to experience what it was like to propose, to be engaged, with none of the pesky ball-and-chain expectations.
“We all hope that you take the ring selection seriously. We hope one of those rings makes an appearance on a finalist’s finger. It’s part of the jeweler’s contract, you see. We double our profit from the embedded product placement if you propose.” He held up his drink, winked again, then took a long sip. Smacking his lips, he added, “Among other, more gallant reasons for you to pop the question, of course.”
Of course.
Hollywood is a big business and he was the latest get-rich scheme. That sinking feeling hit his gut again, the one he got slammed by whenever he ruminated on how far over the line to selling out he’d let the show push him.
His phone chimed with Harper’s ringtone.
“Go ahead and get that, son.” He pulled his phone from his jacket. “I’ve got my own messages to return.”
Beneath a text message—I forgot to show you this from today’s adventure—he scrolled to see a photo, a selfie of her standing at the top of what looked like a lighthouse, her one arm extended to take the picture and the other flexing like she was showing off her bicep. Behind her, a lake stretched out in glassy stillness below a brilliant blue sky. But nothing matched the beauty of the light in her eyes, the strength and peace radiating from her smile.
He shut off his phone. He was sick and tired of staring at photographs of all the fun she was having, instead of being there with her. She was making the most of her life, while he was stuck in Miami helping to line the pockets of a bunch of rich Hollywood assholes. When exactly had his and Harper’s roles reverse? Hell, he was the one who’d convinced her to stop hiding in her brick fortress and grab life by the balls. Now, it was his turn to take a lesson from her.
His first order of business was to honor the contract he’d signed and the commitment he’d made to the show. After all, his true reason for signing on was to inspire veterans and that goal still held true. It was time for him to focus all his energy on that.
He held up his drink and smiled at Dresdic. “I’m a team player, always have been, so whatever you and the other producers think is best, that’s what I plan to do. Sounds like I’ll be getting engaged in two weeks.”
Chapter Sixteen
During an afternoon lull in customers, Harper stole away to her desk to go over some forms from payroll she’d gotten earlier that week. She’d only been at it for a few minutes when a text message came in from Brandon.
Help! I’m supposed to pick out engagement rings and I’m totally clueless. Need you.
“Such a guy,” she said with a laugh, even as a rock settled in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to help him with this. It felt wrong, like a violation of their friend zone rules.
She shoved her misgivings aside, then closed her office door and dialed his phone number.
“Oh, thank goodness,” he said by way of greeting. “I need your help bad.”
It was nice to hear him upbeat and happy to hear from her. She’d detected a note of dissatisfaction in his tone the day before, ever since they’d snipped at each other over her birthday invitation, though he insisted he was fine. “That’s what I’m here for. What’s up?”
“Just be aware that they’re filming me, which means they’re filming this conversation, so keep your words clean and family friendly.”
“Right. As if Meet the Groom is a family show.”
“Harper,” he warned in mock-sternness.
“Geez, okay. I’ll behave.”
“I think this’d be better on video chat, so I can show you the rings. Are you decent?”
She gave herself a once-over. She was still in her workout clothes from that morning’s ice-skating session. “I’m not going to be on TV, am I?”
“I don’t know, maybe. We can have them pixelate your image if you’d rather.”
Yikes. But she’d vowed to give up her ego, so this was a good test. “Fine. Let’s do this.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up so I can call you again on the video chat app.”
This time, she answered on her tablet so his image would be larger and she could prop it up on her desk. Brandon was dressed in a dark suit with the shirt open at the collar. That, along with the professionally styled hair and stage makeup he was wearing, transformed him into an almost cartoonishly idealized man—debonair and flawless in a way that still shocked her every time they’d video chatted on filming days.
“Hi again,” he said. His eyebrows pushed together. “Were you working out?”
Self-consciousness fought for a foothold in her mind, but she battled it back. “Earlier. I was practicing on the ice for my refereeing debut this week.”
“That’s right. I still hate that I’m going to miss that.” God, it was comforting to have her friend back, the clouds and darkness gone from his disposition.
“I hate that you’re going to miss it, too.”
“I asked Gabe to record you for me.”
“Nice.”
He strummed his fingers on the glass display case he was leaning again. “Uh, okay. Cool. Let me show you the rings I have to choose from. I really need a woman’s advice on this.”
Her heart pounding, she braced herself for the sight of the kind of rings she’d given up hoping for, the kinds of rings every woman wished for. This was part of giving up her expectations about life and living in the moment.
She would find the joy in helping Brandon pick out an engagement ring for another woman. She would, and she’d do it with sincere pleasure. Life was too short to be jealous; it was too short to dwell on what would never be. On the contrary, she welcomed the chance to
be there for the friend who’d been there for her in her darkest hours—and she was going to keep telling herself that until she believed it.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s do this thing.”
***
Brandon held his phone out and panned slowly over the line of rings laid out on the glass counter.
“I’m supposed to pick five, one for each of the remaining finalists,” he told her as he happened.
“Five? Oh, that’s right. We haven’t talked about the finalists since the last candle ceremony. So who was the unlucky lady this time? Skinny Winnie?” She gasped. “I’m probably not allowed to talk to you about that, am I?”
“No, it’s fine. Mac’ll edit it out, right, Mac?” Mac gave a thumbs-up. “To answer your question, Winnie redeemed herself at the yacht party they held for us.”
“That’s good. I like her. She sounded perfect for you.”
He turned the camera back on him. “None of them are perfect for me.”
“Ah.”
Irritation tickled the back of his throat. “What does that mean?”
“It means, of course none of them are,” Harper said. “Because if you found the perfect woman for you, then you’d have no choice but to drop her like a hot potato before she threatened everything you stand for.”
With that, she started singing the chorus of a classic rock song about flying free and solo, without chains to hold you down.
Her words filled him with disquiet all over again. They joked all the time about him being a confirmed bachelor, but this one hit too close to home, especially after his conversation with Dresdic.
Harper was right, as usual. If he ever found his perfect match, he’d fight it tooth and nail. He’d reject the woman entirely and probably throw himself into his whole YOLO project with even more vigor, just to prove his dedication to his nine brothers-in-arms who’d died by living a life of freedom and adventure. He might even move thousands of miles away to avoid her.
He shook the thought away. Nope. Not going to go there. “Let’s move on. I’m on a tight filming schedule today.” He shifted the camera back to the line of rings. “Tell me which one you like best.”
Game Changer Page 22
