I heard him yell out in surprise, and without him moving up with me, my body jerked back down, making our balance go out of whack. We both fell over, hitting the floor hard. I laughed, hugging him from behind. His laughter boomed through the studio as we laid there giggling like teenagers. “How… how are we going to get up now?” I said through my laughter. I was laughing so hard, tears were soaking through the blindfold.
“Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” Neil joked.
I couldn’t remember a time when I laughed this hard and for this long. And even though it felt a little rusty, it felt damn good. So damn good.
Neil gave me a squeeze from where his hands were tied around my body behind him. “Okay Dyker. Come on. We’ve got this.”
In truth… I wasn’t sure if we did have this. But in that moment… it truly didn’t matter. I was having such a good time, I didn’t care if the cupcakes turned out horribly. For this small window of time, I wasn’t worrying about the healthcare clinic or my father or my job or anything. I was just having fun. So… maybe we did have this.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s make some Cookie Monsters.”
Neil tugged the blindfold off my eyes, revealing the finished cupcakes we had worked so hard on for ninety minutes. “Tada!” Savannah said, presenting us our creations with her outstretched palm.
My smile faded into a grimace. “That’s what we ended up with?” I screeched.
They looked less like Cookie Monster and more like some deranged creature that had melted in the sun. Blue icing smeared down the sides, and the cookie that was supposed to be in his mouth was more like where his ear should be. Yikes.
I gave Neil an apologetic look, but he didn’t seem to care. He was grinning from ear to ear, stifling more laughter from behind his palm. “Don’t laugh!” I smacked his arm playfully, and he snorted, throwing his head back, no longer trying to hide his laughter.
“I’m sorry. They’re just the ugliest cupcakes I’ve ever seen.”
Even the judges seemed to loosen up and were laughing with us. Heat burned my cheeks, and I buried my face in my hands. “Ugh, I’m so sorry! They’re awful!”
“Hey.” He wrapped his hulking arm around my waist and tugged me into his body, holding me close, burying his nose in my hair and inhaling deeply. “Don’t be sorry. That’s the most fun I’ve had baking in my entire life.”
I tilted my chin to look up at him and blinked as he regarded me with warm, green eyes. Our laughter faded into the background, as did all the other chitchat and the crew and the cameras, as he bent and lightly brushed his lips to mine. I gasped against the very public display of affection, and my eyes fluttered closed as tingles surged down my body, goosebumps covering every inch of flesh, despite the balmy heat of the lights surrounding us.
“Well,” the British judge said, “Obviously, they’re not the prettiest things. But let’s see how they taste, shall we?”
“The flavor matters more than the style,” the older woman said and bit her lip to stop from laughing. “Although I have to say… it’s sort of adorable, how terrible they are.”
Even the judge who I’d accidentally talked back to smiled at us. “They’re hideous… but Millie is right. They’re sort of endearingly bad.” She paused, glancing at us briefly with her giant, brown, coal-lined eyes. “Or maybe… your love, and watching the joy you two had while baking, makes the product look cuter. It was… refreshing to watch you two work together and have fun.”
My spine stiffened. Love. They think we’re in love? The other judges nodded in agreement as the crew handed them each a plated cupcake. Neil’s hand was resting on my hip, and the weight of it was heavy. Heavy with implication, heavy with meaning and emotion. I felt that touch burning through the layers of my clothes to my skin.
I nuzzled into his body more, holding him tight with anticipation as the judges took their first bites. Millie moaned, adjusting her glasses. “You guys… this cupcake is delicious. It might not look like much, but wow.”
Nigel, as I came to learn the British judge was called, nodded. “Millie’s right. Although, for a kid’s cupcake, I would have preferred milk chocolate chips rather than dark chocolate. They’re a tad bitter for little ones… I know my son prefers milk chocolate everything.”
We nodded, taking the note, and Neil hip checked me. “I tried to get her to take the other bag, but I was worried about time.”
The final judge… Trish… took the tiniest bite of cupcake known to man. After her little nibble, her eyes lit up and she nodded. “The cake is moist. The chocolate chips didn’t completely melt into a goo into the cake—they maintained their integrity. And the buttercream is delicious. Well done, you guys.”
I smiled up at him, and Neil beamed down at me. We did it. Maybe our cupcakes weren’t the prettiest, but we did it and did it well. For the most part. I gulped, realizing that maybe this was a metaphor for us, too. Because on the outside, Neil and I didn’t look like an ideal couple. But for the first time in a decade… I truly wondered if maybe we could make a good team.
We finished filming the challenge at seven o’clock, and I was home by seven-thirty. For the next hour, I tried to distract myself with TV, knowing that Elaina was moving into a cabin right near mine tonight. She was going to be living only a few steps away for the next few weeks. I rolled my head from side to side in an effort to release the tension there.
After an hour or so of mindless television, there was a knock at my door. I grabbed the remote and switched it off, before pushing to my feet and padding down the short hallway. It wasn’t like TV was helping me all that much anyway. Especially not since we were currently filming our own TV show. Literally everything was reminding me of her, and it just wasn’t fair.
I swung the door open and startled, surprised to see Elliott standing there with Ben beside him, the camera propped on his shoulder. Savannah Newport stood beside them in full hair and makeup. A small, beady red light shone in the dark night, alerting me to the fact that he was already filming. “Uh… hi?”
Elliott barged in. “We’re removing the stationary cameras from your bedroom as you asked,” Elliott stated, clearly not happy about it.
“Good,” I snapped. I didn’t like this kid. Sure, he was Ash and Jude’s protégé, but he was just a little too eager. He was cutthroat in a way that the three of us never were, not even when we were poor, starving artists with something to prove. Earning trust and keeping it was always my top priority, even when I was just starting out. Something he had yet to learn, it seemed.
He pointed to the shelf outside of my bedroom. “We’re leaving this one though. So, we will still see if you two go into the bedroom together. We just won’t see you once you’re in there.”
I grimaced. “Fine. Where are the other cameras, so that I’m aware?”
I thought I had known where they all were, but as Elliott walked me around my own home, pointing out where the crew had set up the small cameras, I clearly hadn’t. There were three I never realized were there.
“You guys are… thorough,” I said. “Been collecting a lot of footage of me watching TV shirtless and brewing coffee, huh?”
Ben chuckled silently from behind the camera, that was still filming, and I gestured at him. “Why the hell are you filming this?” I asked.
“We are trying to capture everything.”
“Uh-huh.” Something felt off. Film everything… sure. But with the hostess of the show holding her microphone? It spelled SETUP with all caps. “And I shouldn’t have to say this… but I will. You’ll do this walk-through in Elaina’s apartment, too, right? No cameras in her bedrooms or bathrooms?”
Elliott’s grin wobbled momentarily before steadying back into his sly smile. “Funny you bring that up…”
There was another knock at the door, and my head whipped around as the host rushed to answer it for me. That in itself was weird. What the hell was Elliott up to? Why were they opening my door?
As she opened the door, I
found Elaina standing on the other side with two large rolling suitcases next to her. Her cell phone was cradled against her ear. “Six weeks?” I watched as she swallowed. “Okay, Mr. Levy. I can work with that. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get you an answer about the mill within six weeks.”
I crossed toward her and tilted my head, unable to stop the smile curving on my face. It was a surprise to see her tonight. But a pleasant one. “What are you doing here?”
“Elliott said to meet him here so he could show me to my cabin.”
She tucked her cell phone into her back pocket and waited, looking expectantly at Elliott. But it was our hostess who spoke first. “Come on in, Elaina.”
She glanced at me, lifting her brows, and I shrugged, stepping aside and helping her with her bags into the foyer. Though I use the word foyer loosely. It was more like a mudroom.
Savannah took a deep breath. “After chatting with the producers, they decided they wanted contestants not only living on the same premises as each other… but in the same home. Literally all of the other contestants are living together during their filming. So, Elaina—welcome home—for the next few weeks.”
“You want me to live here. With Neil?” She looked beyond the hostess and stared at Elliott.
Elliott shrugged as though this was nothing. “During the filming of the show, yes. It’s just a few weeks.”
I fully expected Elaina to turn red and storm out. Or, at the very least, protest. But instead, she sighed and lifted a brow, still directed at Elliott standing off camera behind the hostess. “I suppose this is some sort of fine print in the contract I signed?”
His smirk was slipperier than wet tarmac. “It is.”
“And therefore, there is no use in me arguing?”
Elliott’s smirk grew.
“You’re a fast learner,” Savannah said, clapping her hands together. “Well, we want you two to enjoy your night together. There is a bottle of champagne, courtesy of the show, chilling in the fridge for you as well as some brie and strawberries. Have a great night.”
“Cut” Elliott called out, even though it was literally just five of us.
Ben dropped the camera from his shoulder, setting it down on my small four-seat kitchen table, and rolled out his arm. I glanced at Elaina. “Now that the cameras are off, you do not have to stay here if you don’t want to.” I glared at Elliott. I knew these contracts from Silhouette pretty well and had no doubt that there was a loophole in there somewhere.
“All the other couples are already living together,” Elliott explained.
Elaina sighed, glancing at me. “Do you have a guest bedroom?”
I shook my head no. “But I can take the couch. It’s very comfortable.”
Elaina glanced between Elliott, Ben, and me. “Are we more likely to win if we share this cabin?”
Elliott nodded. “You are so much more likely to win if you’re in the same home. Statistically speaking, of course.”
He probably wasn’t wrong, from what little I knew. But instead, I looked to Ben. I trusted him so much more than Elliott and frankly, he had a ton more experience than Elliott did. “Is that true?”
Ben winced while nodding. “I mean, no guarantees of course. But audiences like seeing intimacy between couples.” He paused, seeming to realize how that sounded, and held a palm out to us. “Not like sex intimacy, but just closeness. Viewers like that. Seeing you two make coffee for each other in the mornings and come home from work to talk about your day. They feel like they’re getting a glimpse into how your life together will look if you win.”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes closed. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. Of course, I wanted Elaina here. I wanted her here with me almost more than anything. But I wanted it to be her choice. Not because of some prospect of winning a million dollars. It felt… cheap.
“Well,” Elaina said. Her outstretched hands fell softly to the outsides of her thighs. “As long as you’re okay with this, I suppose I am, too.”
Her eyes were bright even in the dim light of the evening with my one, lone lamp on in the hallway. Her blonde hair had a soft glow surrounding it, and at the risk of sounding cheesy, even in my own head, she looked angelic. “I think I’ll survive having a beautiful woman staying with me for a month.”
A week ago? That was the kind of statement that would have had her scowling at me and stomping away. But something had shifted between us recently. Maybe she was trusting me again. Maybe she understood I wasn’t being a sarcastic asshole. Or maybe, those old feelings were resurfacing for real for her, just like they were for me.
Instead, a blush warmed her cheekbones, and she smiled. Just the slightest twitch of the corners of her mouth—but it was there all the same, and I saw it. Even as she tried to hide it, ducking her head and tucking a stray hair behind her ear. And a spiral of warmth surged down from my chest to the bottom of my gut, heating my whole body.
“All right then,” I nodded once at Elaina, then looked over to Elliott. “Now, everyone get out. Elaina and I have to work tomorrow.”
I ushered them out the door, sighing in relief as I closed the door behind them. We didn’t have to officially film anything for a few days when we have our next official ‘date’ night. And until then, I could go back to life as usual.
I blinked, seeing Elaina standing uncomfortably in the entryway of where my foyer turned into my kitchen. Well… life as usual… living with Elaina.
Which was far from usual.
The door shut behind Elliott, Ben, and Savannah. Everything was suddenly too small. The hallway I was standing in was too small for the two of us. My blood was too hot, my skin too tight. I swallowed against the dry knot in my throat and flicked the button on my luggage just to give my hands something to fidget with.
“I can sleep on the couch,” I offered, even though I knew it would fall on deaf ears.
Neil leveled me with a look, dropping his ear to his shoulder, and he rolled his eyes at me. Only the playful tilt to his mouth softened the movement. “You don’t actually believe I’m going to let you sleep on the couch, do you?”
I shrugged. “My offer is real and stands for the remainder of the show. If you need a break from the couch, we can switch.”
He nodded, that impish smile still turning up the corners of his mouth. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind. But let’s not forget that I wake up at three o’clock every morning. And I need to make myself some coffee at that ungodly hour. So, me sleeping out here,” he gestured to the TV room, “is for the best, regardless.” He strolled down the small hallway from the front door into the open kitchen and TV room. As he passed by me, I had to press myself against the wall so as not to touch him. And even then, his elbow swept briefly across my skin. His scent—something sweet and masculine with a hint of vanilla—wafted toward me, and I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. His scent was like a balm for my nerves, and I found myself oddly relaxing despite feeling utterly and completely like a fish out of water sharing a home with him.
He crossed into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of coffee beans, poured them into a filter, and filled the machine with a pot of water.
“What are you doing?” He couldn’t be doing what I thought he was. Because coffee? At this hour? How would he ever fall asleep?
“I set the coffee to be made when I wake up. One less thing for me to do in the morning, you know?”
He opened a cabinet above the coffee maker, and inside, there were only two sad, little coffee mugs. One was a sort of speckled tin, the kind that campers used out in the woods, and the other had some gym logo I didn’t recognize. “You only have two coffee mugs?” I asked.
He shrugged. “It’s all I ever needed.” He glanced down at the one in his hand and chuckled, running his hand across the back of his neck. “I guess I never thought it was weird.”
“You never have guests over who might want coffee, too?”
“Rarely.” He sat the mug down on the c
ounter in front of the coffee maker, where it would be ready for him to pour his cup the next morning. The whole scene was endearing, and it warmed my insides to see such an intimate glimpse into his nightly routine.
I folded my arms, grinning at him, and leaned onto the butcher’s block counter. “There’s not enough room here for me,” I teased. “You don’t even have a mug for me to drink from in the morning.”
“Hello,” he said, grabbing the other mug and holding them both out. “One, two. We have just the right number of mugs.”
I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. “Oh no. If I’m going to be living here, I need my own designated mug.”
“Your own mug, huh?” He leaned on the counter as well, his face coming within inches of mine from across the other side.
I nodded. “Uh-huh. And it better be cute, too. Not just some crappy mug that…” I grabbed the ceramic one in his hand and read the logo aloud. “Equinox gives you just because you’re Mr. Universe.”
His grin widened. “Okay, then. A new mug. Just for you. Any more demands?”
Humor glinted in his eyes and his hair was rumpled as though he’d been laying down when we had interrupted his evening. I looked around the kitchen, surprised at how clean it was. Actually, the whole house was clean. “A place to put my clothes for the next month. I don’t want to live out of a suitcase.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. You want a drawer.”
I scoffed and gestured to my very large suitcase. “Have you never lived with a woman before? A drawer will barely hold my underwear.”
His grin widened. “Okay… two drawers and I’ll give you half the closet. What else?”
“Save me some of the coffee you make in the morning.”
His brow lifted. “What if it’s cold by the time you wake up?”
I pointed to the machine. “Did you not just say this has a timer on it?”
“Ah. A fresh pot of coffee. What time do you usually wake up?”
Beefcakes Page 22
