by Amy Harmon
The bracelets clinked again as Jessa hopped up on the counter. “You spent several hours in the same room with twenty-one guys and now you’re worried about ten individual dates? Pshh, you’ll be fine.”
If only Taycee shared her confidence.
“Speaking of which, who do you want the lucky ten to be?” Jessa said.
“So long as it’s not Luke, I really don’t care.” But that wasn’t entirely true. Miles and Jake would probably be her top choices. Greg would be fine also. Sterling and Alec, her last—next to Luke, of course.
“Sorry, girl, but Luke isn’t leaving anytime soon. Based on the voting and discussions going on so far, he’s one of the favorites. Jake’s up there as well. Why do you want him off anyway? You two looked like you got along just fine the other night.”
“He was supposed to be un-charming and try to get voted off,” Taycee muttered.
“He wasn’t.”
“I noticed.”
Jessa pursed her lips as she studied Taycee. “When you two danced, I’m telling you, sparks flew.”
Sparks? As if. Maybe from Taycee, but definitely not from Luke. He was spark-less. For him, the highlight of the night had probably been driving Lumpy to The Barn and back. “It’s all an act, Jess. He likes to be contrary. I told him I hoped he’d get voted off, so he’s doing everything he can to stay on the show—exactly what he used to do when we were younger. It’s like he hasn’t matured at all in the last ten years.”
“He looked pretty mature to me.”
“Trust me,” said Taycee. “He doesn’t care. He never has. I just… want him off.”
Jessa’s expression turned soft. Sympathetic. Possibly even pitying. “He’s an idiot then.”
Taycee would have laughed, but it would have sounded fake. The kind of laugh where you tried to pretend you didn’t care but really did—one Jessa would see right through. Her friend was right about one thing though. Luke was far too likeable and would most likely remain on the show for a while. Not okay.
It was time to get serious and come up with something better than a few yards of manure to get him voted off. But what?
* * *
When the morning sun peeked through the blinds, Taycee’s head pounded from thinking and worrying and stressing over how to get Luke off the show. She mashed a pillow over her face and groaned until her cell phone rang. She’d barely said hello when Jessa’s voice shouted in her ear, making her wince. What had Jessa said? Something about news or an interview or something?
Taycee held the phone away a couple of inches. “Come again? And not so loud this time?”
Jessa slowed her words, but the volume was just as loud. “Both KDVR and 9NEWS want to do an interview about the show and the charity event behind it!” she squealed. “I can’t stop shaking I’m that excited.”
It was enough to get Taycee moving. She sat up and scooted back against the headboard. Wow. Less than a week into the show and already Jessa had managed to scrounge up media coverage. How did she do it? “Jess, that’s awesome. When do they want to interview you?”
“Me?” Jessa laughed. “No, they want to interview you.”
“What?” Suddenly the news didn’t sound so great after all. In fact, it sounded the opposite of great.
“Why would they want me when they could interview the bachelorette?”
Silence fell as Taycee digested this bit of info. Two news programs wanted to interview her. Not Jessa—Taycee. In front of real, professional cameras on real live TV. There would be no do-overs. No take backs. No “Can I rephrase that?” requests allowed. Granted, the bachelorette show really didn’t give her those options either, but this was different somehow. Scarier. Actually, petrifying was a better word.
“Hello? Are you there?” Jessa’s voice came again.
Ever so slowly, Taycee lowered the phone, pushed “end call,” and set it down. Then she got up and walked into her bathroom. When her phone started to ring once again, she closed the door. It was time to get a new phone, along with a new number.
A number she would never, ever, EVER give to Jessa.
Chapter Twelve
The votes have been tallied and the top ten chosen! In no particular order, they are as follows:
Greg Jones, from Greensboro, North Carolina
Jake Sanford, from Sacramento, California
Sterling Montgomery, from Austin, Texas
Jason Sparks, from Tifton, Georgia
Luke Carney, from Shelter Springs, Colorado
Alec Jamison, from Rutherford, New York
Miles Romney, from Blackfoot, Idaho
Rhett Cox, from Gilbert, Arizona
Kent Burton, from Lafayette, Indiana
Gavin Spencer, from Spokane Washington
Congratulations guys! Now let’s see what our bachelorette has to say about this news:
Taycee’s fingers tapped lightly on the keys as she eyed the list yet again, hoping it had somehow changed, but Luke’s name was still there. As were Alec’s, Sterling’s, and Gavin’s—four people she never would have chosen on her own.
Rats.
Really, she had no one to blame but herself. Jessa had given her the chance to take control and Taycee had turned it down. Why couldn’t the viewers read her mind? C’mon, people. Alec? Really? The guy was flat out conceited. And Gavin? He didn’t like games, small towns, or nature. Hello! Did they not read the profile Jessa had written about Taycee on the site? Apparently not. Either that or there were a lot of people who took the theory that opposites attract to a whole new level.
Oh well, whatever. Taycee could survive a few bad dates, but Luke was a different story. In fact, she’d happily clip another mic to her shirt and answer whatever additional questions Rachel Snyder from 9NEWS threw her way if it meant avoiding a date with Luke. Just thinking about it made her feel like she’d stepped on an ant hill and only just now realized tiny black bugs crawled all over her skin.
Taycee stared at the monitor, feeling completely uninspired. Just write your thoughts, Jessa had said, as if it would be easy. But it wasn’t. Probably because Taycee’s real thoughts would go something like: Playing speed was fun and all, but I’m really not interested in dating anyone right now. And Luke, feel free to head on back to Ohio.
The screen remained blank. Taycee scratched her head. Gnawed on her lower lip. Started to bite a fingernail until the image of Jessa’s glare overrode all else. No biting manicured nails. Fine. Okay. She got it. Taycee sighed and did the only thing left to do. She wrote some truth and combined it with a lot of rubbish.
The ratio of twenty-one guys to one girl is something most girls would be ecstatic about. But not me. The night of the opening event, I was flat-out intimidated and had it pegged for the most uncomfortable night of my life. I’ve never been great at entertaining, nor have I ever been the life of the party, and I worried I’d flop big-time. But, as it turned out, I had nothing to worry about. Each bachelor accepted me for me, which turned an awkward night into one of the most memorable nights of my life. I couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to spend the evening with.
For those bachelors who won’t be staying, I had a blast and wish you all the best in whatever comes your way. To you viewers who watched and voted, THANK YOU!!! I am obviously in good hands because you did a fabulous job picking the top ten. Some great guys are in that group. Rhett, with your mad break-dancing skills. Kent, and that hilarious episode with the punch. (So sorry—hope it comes out!) Miles, and your rodeo stories. Greg’s trusty pen. Jake, and your cards. Sterling. Jason. Luke. Alec. Gavin. You guys all rock.
I’m so looking forward to fun times ahead!
Taycee scanned through the post and clicked “publish” before she second guessed herself. She closed her laptop and pushed it away. There. One more thing to check off her list. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to make Luke look bad so his name wouldn’t appear among the next round of winners.
* * *
The answer came in the f
orm of Missy Green, the former town flirt. Missy had left for California five years before, set on becoming a big-time movie star. Now she was back in all her tank-top, short-shorts, flaming red-haired glory, claiming it was only a coincidence that Shelter Springs was receiving media attention.
Missy first appeared in the background of Taycee’s date with Sterling. He’d picked her up from The Bloom Boutique on Monday afternoon and drove her to a beautiful lake just outside of town. In a pathetic Hail Mary attempt for attention, Missy swam unnoticed to the center of the lake and called out in desperation for rescue during the middle of their picnic.
It was comical, really, considering Missy had always been a terrific swimmer.
But before Taycee could say anything, off came Sterling’s shirt and in he went, executing an impressive freestyle to Missy’s side. Who knew the spitting accountant could swim?
By the time he dragged her from the lake, Taycee fought the urge to thank Missy. Her theatrics had worked in everyone’s favor. Missy got her two minutes of fame, Sterling proved himself the hero of the hour, and Taycee had a few moments free from a spittle shower.
The cherry on top? Taycee finally figured out how to get Luke voted off. Halle-freaking-lujah.
Later that night, she phoned Missy, got some much needed sleep, went to work, and then mentally geared up for date #2. Alec. Next to Luke, he was the most dreaded of all her dates.
A knock sounded on her apartment door as she swiped some lip gloss across her lips. Bracing herself for a long night ahead, she plodded to her door and pulled it open. Immediately, her gaze moved beyond Alec and to the Razor UTV nestled in the bed of his truck. Okay, so maybe the date wouldn’t be as awful as she’d imagined.
“Ready?” In a fitted Tee and some khaki shorts, Alec looked great. Casual. The type of clothes you’d wear when romping on around the mountains in a UTV. Taycee, on the other hand, wore white capris and one of her new dressier shirts. Hmm.
“You didn’t tell me to dress for that.” Taycee pointed at the Mule. “Let me go and change real quick.”
“You look great to me.”
Taycee headed toward her room anyway. “I’ll just be a sec.” Did he have any idea how much this outfit had cost? No way was she about to climb in that thing wearing this. She threw on a dark T-shirt and denim shorts, and then pulled her hair back into her favorite navy Broncos baseball cap.
When she returned, Alec was still on her porch. “Now are you ready?” The annoyed way he said it made Taycee want to say “No” and shut the door in his face. It had taken her less than five minutes to change—something she wouldn’t have had to do if he’d told her what to wear in the first place. Did he not know anything about tact?
Apparently not, because he gave her an un-impressed once-over. Taycee suddenly wished she’d changed into frumpy sweats instead—which she would have done, had he not turned and headed for his truck. Taycee followed. “Do I get to drive, too?“ she asked, pointing to the Razor.
Alec’s head shook. “Sorry, but it’s my name listed on the rental agreement—not yours.” With an insincere apologetic look, he opened the door and jumped in.
Taycee blinked. Wow. She turned in search of the camera. Was Burt getting all of this? She felt like grabbing the camera and saying, “Did you see that people? Not only is Alec NOT a gentleman, but he won’t even let me drive the UTV. I don’t care how handsome he is, if any of you vote for him again, you’re idiots.”
Burt had his cameral rolling, so Taycee walked around and opened her own door. Megan was already in back with her camera light on, so Burt climbed in beside her. Alec drove to some nearby mountain trails and backed the Razor off the truck while Burt and Megan set up the cameras. Then Megan stayed on the ground while Burt jumped in the back.
Normally, Taycee would have loved romping around in an awesome UTV, but by the time Alec pulled to a stop, she couldn’t wait to get out. Not only did he really not let her drive, but he’d done nothing but talk about himself the entire ride. As far as Taycee was concerned, Alec could catch the nearest plane back to New York—assuming there was room for his enormous ego.
Her head pounded as she climbed from the vehicle and forced a smile. “Great ride.”
Alec patted the hood. “Yeah, I think I’ll have to get me one of these when I get back to New York. It’s not nearly as exciting as motocross, but it’s pretty cool.”
Yeah, yeah, she got it already. He was a motocross fanatic. He’d also played baseball in high school, preferred to make money rather than get a higher education, was a connoisseur of fine wines (or so he claimed), and thought he was God’s gift to women. Okay, so maybe he didn’t really say that last bit, but he sure acted like he thought it.
“How about some dessert?” Alec said during the drive back. “We could stop at that diner in town—not that it will have much to offer.”
“Actually, Maris’s apple pie is amazing.”
“I’m sure it is.” His voice dripped with condescension, and Taycee fought the urge to tell him to stick it.
“I’m really not that hungry though,” she said. If this was a chance to end the date a little early, she’d take it.
Alec tapped his hand against the wheel as they drove back toward town. He glanced lazily around as if bored. “Do you know of any good motocross races nearby? I was thinking we could check one out on our next date.”
Taycee bit her tongue. Hard. It was the only way to keep from shouting, “If you think I’d ever go out with you again you’re one stick short of a bundle!” Miles had used the expression during one of his rodeo stories, and she’d liked it so much she’d committed it to memory. It fit Alec perfectly right now.
“I don’t,” she said. “I’ve never been much for moto-cross.”
That’s all it took for Alec to start talking about the sport yet again, only this time he focused on all the dangers associated with it—as if she couldn’t figure them out on her own. Race a bike around a dirt course riddled with hills, turns, jumps, and several other riders, and what do you get? Lots of opportunities to break bones or kill yourself.
Duh.
When Alec launched into a detailed account of every injury he’d ever received, Taycee tuned him out and made a mental list of the flowers she’d need to pick up tomorrow morning. A rush order had come in right before she’d closed up—too late to call in for the following day’s delivery. Oh well. A funeral in a neighboring town was something she’d never say no to.
By the time Alec dropped her off, forty-five minutes ahead of schedule, Taycee gave him a quick hug goodbye and escaped inside her apartment. She sighed in relief. Never had her apartment felt so good.
No cameras. No guys. No noise. Only blessed silence.
How would she keep this up for six more weeks?
Chapter Thirteen
Luke stopped by Maris’s diner for lunch with Missy Green in tow, clinging to his arm and wearing a bright pink tank top and matching high heels. She was like a yapping dog that had clamped down on his pant leg and wouldn’t let go. He wanted to shake her off.
Missy had spent the last hour at his clinic prattling away while Luke examined her mother’s cat—a perfectly healthy cat, albeit fat and lazy. Missy had snuggled up against him and peered over his shoulder the entire time, asking him to explain every little thing he did. The exam should have taken ten minutes, but Missy wouldn’t shut up. The girl had more to say than the anonymous Shelter’s Bachelorette gossip blog, and that was saying something.
Luke finally explained that he needed to close the clinic for lunch, and what had Missy done? Invited herself along. He could have kicked himself. Why hadn’t he said he had another appointment? Needed to meet with his lawyer? Call his mom? Any excuse that would have sent Missy packing.
The customer in front of Luke moved forward, and Luke followed. “What do you feel like, Missy?” Maybe if she looked at the menu, she’d let go of his arm.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she purred.
“So you want a double cheeseburger, curly fries, and a chocolate shake?” Okay, so maybe Luke really didn’t want that, but unless Missy had the metabolism of a humming-bird, no way would she order the same—not if she wanted to keep her current rail-thin figure.
She frowned. “Don’t they have salads here?”
“I don’t know. The menu is over there if you want to check.” He pointed to a stack of menus next to the register and let out a relieved sigh when she finally relinquished his arm. Maybe he should make a run for it while he had the chance. Luke eyed the door, sorely tempted.
She came back only seconds later, wrapping her arm through his once more. “I’ll take the Caesar salad, with the dressing on the side. They always put way too much when they mix it in on their own.”
Luke tried not to roll his eyes as he placed their orders. Then he found a booth, hoping to hide behind the tall seat backs. But once he’d slid in, he realized his mistake. Instead of sitting across from him, Missy scooted right in next to him, forcing him to slide to the end of the booth. Thigh to thigh, knee to knee, she clung to his side.
Would it be wrong to push her on the floor and step over her on his way out? Maybe he could slide under the table and crawl out like a two-year-old. He didn’t care at this point, not if it would rid him of Missy Green. The girl was like a giant squid with suction cups for hands.
“Luke, if I’d have known you’d be coming back to Shelter, I never would have left.”
He cleared his throat. ”When are you headed back to California?”
“Don’t you worry.” Missy scooted even closer, sand-wiching him against the window. “I’ll be here all summer.”
Luke turned to tell her exactly where she could put those suction cup hands for the rest of the summer, but once again, wrong move. In warp speed, her fingers wound around his neck, and her lips pressed against his.
