by Lauren Layne
Finally the van pulls to a stop, and we all pile out and make our way toward a beachfront restaurant.
I’m prepared for one of the women to try to take me aside for a moment, but I’m a little surprised when it’s Ellie who pulls me to a stop before we can step inside.
“Gage, I need—”
Aware of the cameras, I dip my mouth close to her ear, allowing a smile to play on my lips as I speak. “To go home. I haven’t forgotten.”
She huffs. “Well, yeah, but—”
I walk away.
The entire patio’s been reserved for us, and it’s already set up with lights and umbrellas to account for the fact that the sky’s starting to cloud over a bit.
Raven nods for me to sit at the head of the table, and the women must have been instructed about their seating arrangements beforehand, because Maria and Eden take the seats next to me with minimal dirty looks from the others.
Ellie’s at the far end of the table, and I feel a little jolt when our eyes lock and hold, just for a moment.
In spite of myself, I want to know what she was going to say after the “but.” I do my best to stifle the curiosity.
“All right, ladies, I’ve got a request,” I say, leaning forward and giving my best smile.
“Anything,” Eden says a little too enthusiastically from my right. Maria, not to be outdone, sets a hand on my knee beneath the table. I let it stay. As long as it doesn’t start drifting toward the goods, we’ll be fine.
Adam and Raven gave me a list of preapproved talking points for the meal, so as soon as everyone’s ordered, I throw one out there.
“So, I’m curious,” I say, taking a sip of the champagne that’s been poured for the table. “You all know that I’ve been awfully close to the altar—twice—but what about you? Anyone here been married? Almost married?”
I only half listen as the women start replying. Naomi’s been too busy collecting degrees to have a serious relationship—until now. Aurora thought she was going to marry her college boyfriend, but they broke up when he moved to Melbourne for work. Eden confesses that she’s divorced. Cora, Ivy, and Brooklyn all have had a couple of serious relationships, but none that got to the ring-shopping stage. And Kelsey and Maria both end up on tangents so rambling, I’m not even remotely sure what their status is.
“What about you, Ellie?” Brooklyn asks.
Ellie’s in the process of heaping the tuna poke appetizer onto her plate, and she merely shrugs. “Sure, I’ve had boyfriends.”
“Any serious?” Ivy asks.
She bites her lip, just for a second, but it’s telling. “Yeah, one. I broke up with my ex a few months back. We’d been together for three years.”
“Oh, honey.” Naomi sets a hand on her shoulder. “What happened?”
“He dumped me.”
“Why?” Eden asks, her smug tone implying that she could think of a dozen reasons.
I feel a quick stab of protectiveness toward Ellie, wanting to spare her from having to tell the world why a guy she’d been with for years broke up with her, but she answers before I can think of a good diversion.
“Nothing gossip-worthy. He just…moved on. He had a tech company that took off, and opted to move to Silicon Valley. I wasn’t invited to go along.”
“Did you want to?” Ivy asks curiously.
Ellie stabs a piece of tuna with her fork, then jabs at a piece of pineapple, though I have to think the flavor combination is disgusting. “I wouldn’t have minded being asked.”
She gives a quick blink as she looks up, as though realizing she’s said something she hadn’t meant to. Then she gives a wide smile. “Also, my dad left when I was a kid. We can talk about that too. Or my dead cat? Maybe bring out the tissues?”
There’s a round of nervous laughter, and as I change the subject to tomorrow’s snorkeling trip, my gaze keeps snaking back to Ellie. She’s happily joined the conversation, but there’s a brightness to her tone that I recognize as false.
How do I know?
Because I too play that game. I too know the power of a fake smile and a quick joke. I know that making light of anything potentially painful or personal keeps people at a distance. Because it’s safer.
But for some reason it bugs me that Ellie plays that game. It bugs me that there might be something more to her than her dogged determination to make a success of her business.
Lunch wraps up surprisingly quickly, and maybe Raven and the crew were dead-on about me having more sparks or some shit with this second group, because it wasn’t nearly as miserable as breakfast.
Even better, there’s no filming this afternoon—not until the invitation ceremony this evening.
I’m not off the hook yet, though.
Adam steps in front of the camera and explains that while nine of the women will be going home in the van we drove over in, I will be driving one lady back to the villa in a convertible, just the two of us.
It’s news to me, but not unwelcome. Like most guys, I don’t consider driving a convertible on a tropical island with a beautiful woman a particular hardship.
Adam hands us all a pen and piece of paper. We all write a number from one to a hundred. The woman with the number closest to mine is my driving companion.
“What happens if two of us pick the same number?” Eden asks in a demanding voice.
“Rock, paper, scissors,” I say with a wink as I write on my paper and hand it over my shoulder to Adam. Eden gives me a look as though she can’t decide if I’m joking, followed by a tight smile and shrill laugh. Note to self: send Eden to the breakfast group.
Adam gathers everyone’s scraps of paper, and I finish my champagne as the women watch the host anxiously.
He looks through the papers. Then shuffles through once more, as though double-checking the numbers.
Then he looks up with a smile. “Congratulations, Ellie.”
Her head snaps up. “Really?”
“What number did you choose?” Eden asks me.
“God, Eden. What does it matter?” Cora says.
“What number did you choose?” Brooklyn asks Ellie.
“Fourteen,” Ellie replies.
“Me too,” I say, standing to end the conversation. “Shall we, Ellie?”
Knowing that the camera will catch every moment until we can get in the car, I walk toward her, offering my hand with an easy smile.
She takes it after only the slightest beat of hesitation. “Sure.”
“See you ladies back at the house,” I say to the group.
My eyes lock with Adam’s just for a second, and I give the slightest nod.
He nods back, his expression thoughtful.
We both know I didn’t write the number fourteen on that paper. I didn’t write any numbers at all, just letters. Five of them.
E-l-l-i-e.
Gage
I don’t drive as fast as I want to, not because I’m not dying to see what the red BMW can do, but because I’m acutely aware that these could be my last minutes spent with Ellie.
“What’s your last name?” I ask once we’re on the main road and out of sight of both the van and the cameras.
She pulls a hair elastic from her wrist and winds her long dark hair into a messy knot atop her head to protect it from the wind. “Why?”
“Are you always ornery, or is it just with me?”
“I’m not ornery,” she says indignantly. “I’m just wondering why you need my last name. We’re supposed to remain anonymous.”
“We both know I can find out within two minutes of being back at the villa.”
She looks out at the ocean, then back at me. “Wright. With a W. But don’t go stalking me when the show is over.”
“I’ll try to contain myself.”
She studies me. “Did you write my name on that piece of paper?”
“Yes.” No point in denying it.
“Why?”
“Because for someone who hates my guts, you seemed mighty keen to talk to m
e. I got curious.”
“First of all, ‘mighty keen’? Did you get cast in some historical period piece I don’t know about? And second of all, I never said I hated your guts.”
“No. Just that you couldn’t wait to go home at the first possible moment.”
“Don’t sulk,” she says, shifting in her seat to face me more fully. “We both know you’d be out of here ASAP if you could.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because I’ve seen almost all of your movies. I know when you’re playing a character. And the Gage Barrett that shows up every time the cameras roll? That’s acting.”
“Says the girl who’s known me for all of two days.”
“Fine,” she says, throwing her hands up. “I’m wrong. You really are here looking for your one true love. Tell me, should I get you a crystal vase or china off your registry?”
I grin at her prickly tone. “Depends on what china my bride-to-be selects.”
“You mean your wife,” Ellie says. “Don’t forget, this ends in a wedding, not a proposal.”
Thanks for the reminder.
Glancing up at the rearview mirror to verify that nobody from the show’s on our tail, I act on impulse and pull into the left-turn lane of the highway.
Ellie says nothing as I pull into a parking spot at one of the many public beaches. “If you’re planning to bury my body, there are witnesses.”
I punch the button of her seatbelt. “Take a walk with me, Wright.”
“Why?” she asks. But she climbs out of the car when I do, and I sense that she appreciates the reprieve from all things Jilted as much as I do.
We walk toward the water, and I kick off my flip-flops in the shade of a tree before looking pointedly at her feet.
“I’ll keep them on.”
“I thought you said you were from San Diego. At what point did you miss the part where high heels and soft sand aren’t compatible?”
“They’re platforms, not stilettos. And they weren’t cheap. What if—”
Impatient, I bend down and haul her right foot toward me, throwing her off balance, so she has no choice but to put her hands on my shoulders.
I grin up at her as my fingers find the fragile buckle near her ankle, feeling her glare through the sunglasses.
“I didn’t shave my legs,” she says with a touch of defiance. “Serves you right for getting handsy.”
I shake my head as I toss one shoe aside and reach for her other foot. “Not like the other girls.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Once she’s barefoot, I stand up and turn away and walk toward the water without bothering to see if she’ll follow.
But I smile when she does.
“If my shoes get stolen, you have to replace them.”
“Deal,” I say, tilting my head up toward the sun, which has started to peek through the afternoon clouds.
“Why are we here?” she asks as we start to walk side by side.
“Thought you wanted to talk to me.”
“I do, but we could have done it in the car.”
“Damn it, Ellie.” I stop and turn toward her. “Am I that bad? I get why you want to go home so you don’t have to be a part of the show, but am I such tedious company that you can’t stand five minutes with me so I can breathe without a camera on me?”
She tilts her head slightly. “Shouldn’t you be used to cameras on you by now? This is your life.”
I feel a stab of disappointment. “Sure. Right. We actors knew what we were getting into, right? So we don’t get to complain?”
“No, wait—”
I don’t wait. I turn and walk away, stopping only when her fingers grab my arm and tug me to a stop.
I turn back to her, and she shoves her sunglasses to the top of her head so I can see her hazel eyes. Then she huffs out an impatient sigh and, going up on her toes, shoves mine to the top of my head as well.
“I’m sorry,” she says simply. “It was wrong of me to assume that you want to be under the spotlight all the time.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, not really,” she acknowledges. “It must get old.”
“It does, but we don’t need to have a therapy session about it,” I grumble. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Ellie blows out a long breath. “Right, okay. So, while you were out with the breakfast girls today, the rest of us ate our breakfast out by the pool.”
“Fascinating,” I drawl.
She looks toward the water as though debating something, then back at me. “Maria’s going to sneak into your bedroom tonight,” she blurts out.
It takes me a second to absorb this. “Okay.”
Ellie’s mouth drops open. “That’s it? That’s what you have to say?”
I shrug. “They warned me that at least one of the women would try it. I admit I thought one of the Brittanys would be the first, but you don’t need to be so scandalized on my behalf. Though I’m glad you’re concerned for my virtue.”
Her nose wrinkles just the slightest bit. Not at the women, but at me—at my response to this news. “So, what’s your plan? To have sex with anyone who crawls between your sheets?”
“Depends who’s doing the crawling,” I say with a grin.
She raises her voice. “I just told you! Maria!”
I have no intention of sleeping with Maria—or any of the contestants, at least at this point. I’ve no interest in trapping myself. But I confess I’m enjoying how riled up Ellie’s getting about the very idea of it.
I take a step closer to her. “Are you jealous, Ms. Wright?”
“I don’t even know why I tried to warn you,” she mutters. “You deserve whatever comes your way.”
“I can handle it,” I say quietly. “You think this is the first time someone’s tried to worm her way into my bed uninvited?”
“No, but she might be the first pregnant woman.”
I still. “What?”
“Maria’s pregnant,” she says plainly. “The baby’s her ex’s, but he’s not in the picture. She’s planning to pass the kid off as yours.”
I give an incredulous laugh. “That’s absurd. Has she never heard of paternity tests?”
“I don’t think she’s really thought past the scandal of it all. You could sort it out eventually, but she’s counting on getting you down the aisle first.”
I drag a hand over my face. “And here I thought I’d successfully dodged being part of the soap opera scene. She told you this?”
“Yeah.” Ellie crossed her arms. “She mentioned it this morning when she was warning me away from you. Told me I didn’t stand a chance against what she had planned. Didn’t take much coaxing to get her to brag about the whole tacky plan.”
I let out a short laugh. “Bet she’s freaking out that you and I are alone right now.”
“Yeah, you should have seen the death glare she gave me as we were leaving. It’s going to be very thorny if we both stick around.”
“Not if one of you goes home, though.”
“No,” she confirms, lifting a hand to slide her glasses back onto her face.
I reach out and push the glasses back up, wanting to see her eyes. “Ellie—”
“I know,” she says with a little sigh. “Maria needs to go.”
“Tonight,” I say. “Before she has a chance to carry out her seduction plan.”
Ellie shrugs. “I get it.”
“Do you?” I step closer. “Or is this only going to reaffirm every negative thought you have about Hollywood?”
“Maybe the fact that Maria’s being sent home rather than allowed to play tacky games makes me have a little more respect for…Hollywood.”
I smile, and it feels like my first real one all day. Before I can think better of it, I slip a hand behind her neck, noting the way her breath skips before she seems to force her expression into nonchalance.
“Really?” she says dryly. “I do you one tiny favor and you think I wa
nt to make out with you? And you are sending me home tomorrow, right?”
I lift my eyebrows. “Who said anything about making out?” And I deliberately dodge the question about sending her home after Maria’s gone.
“Again, I’ve seen the Killboy movies, where you seduce anything with boobs. I know your pre-kiss moves, Barrett.”
I smile wider, enjoying her. Enjoying us. “Well, here’s the thing. The producers are on my ass about the fact that I haven’t kissed any of the contestants yet.”
“Huh. Well, you’d better get on that,” she says huskily.
I step closer, my head dipping toward her. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But Hollywood…?” Ellie says on a whisper as her eyes flick up to mine, and now it’s my breath that catches, because for all her T-shirts and straight talk, Ellie Wright can be alluring as hell when she wants to be.
“Hmm?” I ask, already fantasizing about what she’ll taste like.
She lifts herself on tiptoe until her mouth is inches from mine, her hand rising to my cheek…which she gives a sisterly pat before slipping away. “You really should save it for the camera,” she calls over her shoulder as she heads back toward the car. “And one of the other girls.”
I don’t want any of the other girls.
The thought hits me hard, but there it is…an inconvenient truth if there ever was one.
I rock back on my heels as I watch Ellie walk away. I’ll let her go. For now. Because while kissing Ellie Wright on the beach sounds like a little slice of heaven, I’ve got something even better planned.
Invitation Ceremony #2
Dear Maria—
You are cordially invited to celebrate the wedding of Gage Barrett and his future bride on Saturday, May 21, at two o’clock in the afternoon. Dinner and dancing to follow.
*
The Runaway Groom on why he jilted Maria: “I got the sense Maria wanted something I couldn’t give her.”
*
Dear Ellie—
You are cordially invited to stay on at the villa as Gage Barrett continues his quest for his future bride.
*
Text message from Gage to Ellie: Sorry, love. Can’t meet you in the closet today.
