My shoulders sagged with relief as I took in the genuine warmth in her expression. At least not everyone on this show would be cutthroat.
Trace looked like sunshine would, if it were a person. She wore a short pink dress, cowboy boots, and a hat. She was adorable, but also not what I was expecting from an author. Then I felt like a jerk for making any type of assumption simply based on what she was wearing.
“Cute dress,” I said. “That color is great on you.”
“Thank you. I spent hours picking it out.” She beamed at me. “I love your sweater. It’s so cozy.”
“Thanks.” I blushed and played with the hole in my right sleeve. Maybe I should have dressed up more for this after all.
“This is a little nerve-wracking, right?” she said in her subtle Southern drawl.
“I’m so glad you said that.” I was only five feet six inches, but I had at least four inches on Trace.
“I was a bundle of nerves last night. Could hardly sleep.”
“Me either,” I admitted. “Every time I rolled over to check the time, only fifteen minutes had passed.”
“It was the absolute worst, and they took my phone so I couldn’t even distract myself,” she said, before asking me more about Chicago and my flight in.
I answered her questions, grateful to find such a friendly ally so early on. Maybe Piper was right and this experience would be good for me.
“And this lodge is stunning,” Trace continued. “I can’t believe we get to stay here.”
“The views are breathtaking,” I said, staring out the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. Rolling plains stretched out away from us until they dissolved into mountains in the distance. I had never been this far west before, and I doubted I’d ever get sick of staring at that view.
“I wonder where we’ll all be recording,” Trace said, peering down the hall.
“Recording?” Confusion knit my brow. “Like cameras? I’m pretty sure they’re all hidden.”
“No silly.Recording equipment.”
Her emphasis did not help my comprehension.
“Like laptops and notebooks? I’m sure they’ll provide us something to write with.”
“What do you?—”
She stopped talking as we both turned our heads to see a stunning, tall, tanned woman saunter into the room. She wore a black dress with cutouts that instantly made me feel all kinds of inferior. Apparently, I was the dowdiest writer they could find in the continental US.
Trace raced over to hug the new arrival while I hung back and waved, hoping to excuse myself from the obligatory interaction.
“I’m Sofia.” She grabbed my shoulders before giving me two air kisses on either cheek.
“Calla,” I said.
“This place is adorable.” Sofia waved her arms and walked around the room as if already starring in her own personal fashion show.
“Where are you from?” Trace asked.
“I’m in Miami right now.”
“Oh, it’s beautiful there!” Trace exclaimed.
“It is,” Sofia said, turning her face and pursing her lips, almost as if to give the hidden cameras her best angles. Shedidn’t bother asking us any questions. Trace snuck a smile at me and winked.
“So, what do all y’all do for work?” Trace asked.
“I’m a full-time model,” Sofia said with a bored tone.
