I roll my forehead across his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. “Fuck if I know.”
His arms flex around me in response. And then, “Me neither. But I know I like doing it with you.”
CHAPTER 31
Emmett
TONIGHT I’M SUPPOSEDto eliminate another dater.
But first I get to endure the distinct pleasure of meeting all four women’s families, or friends—whoever they opted to introduce to me. Which is a fucking joke, because why would any of them want to introduce their family to me after my disinterest throughout this entire process.
Richard has arranged for all this to occuratthe local rodeo this weekend, and I swear it’s to inflict maximum embarrassment. Now that someone has leaked the show, he’ll film anywhere with zero regard for my preferences.
I’ll also be doing a bull-riding demo. It wouldn’t be fair for me to compete at this level now. My days of tossing my hat in the ring on the local circuit are far gone, but it’ll make for good TV, or whatever the fuck Dick Wad always says.
I’m sitting at a picnic table, waiting to meet Catherine’s mom and best friend while the crew looks on. When they approach, I stand politely and shake their hands.
If I had to pick a favorite of the girls, it would be Catherine. She’s quirky, interesting, and kind. She’s not the hair-pulling type, either—for that, she gets extra respect.
We sit at the table with a pitcher of iced tea, a red and white umbrella fluttering lightly above us. The cameras surround us, but after this many weeks I’ve grown used to them.
We mostly chat about Catherine’s favorite topics, murder and kidnapping, along with a little light stalking. All in a day’s work when you’re pretending to date someone who’s obsessed with true crime.
Much like me, her mother and her friend seem charmed by her interests, and I find myself relaxing and enjoying their company. The crew must notice because Teri shoots me a double thumbs-up and a big grin, like she’s thrilled about whatever footage they’re getting.
I wonder if it ever leaves them feeling empty, that they’re forever producing the perfect scene.
I get a few questions about my intentions with Catherine, and it’s awkward as fuck. I can’t tell them the truth, that I’m just not interested in her that way.
So I settle on explaining how I’m still getting to know Catherine. I tell them I have a huge amount of respect for her and love how her brain works. I say that I admire the way she conducts herself on the show. It’s not overly flowery, and it’s definitely not some sort of declaration of love, but it is true, which is more than I can say for my next few family meetings.
The crew moves me to the next spot where I meet Jada’s family. I disassociate for most of the conversation and resort to saying things like, “It’s been a pleasure getting to know your daughter. And I can’t wait to see where this takes us.”
I keep it vague and distant, which is exactly how I feel about the whole thing.
When I move on to Akira’s family, I feel like a walking, talking zombie that tries to tell them the things they want to hear, that smiles at the right times, and laughs at their lame jokes.
I’m sure her dad picks up on it. His distaste for me is clear in every facial expression, but I don’t have the grit to rally. By this point in the day, my brain has spiraled into thinking about the only person who seems to hold my attention these days—Julia Silva.
She consumes me. It’s not fair to any of these women or their families. But what am I supposed to do?
I’ve tried to get her out of my head, but it never lasts. It’s a constant battle. While on camera, I try not to search the crew for her, but that’s a challenge.
Time apart combined with the way she stepped in when Carl was reaming me in his typical way has only intensified my attachment to her. His explosions are short-lived if you just grin and bear them, but no one has ever been there to stop them.
Until her. And she did it so effortlessly.
For a minute there, I bought her act. Until she locked the door and hugged me. She squeezed me hard enough that every other thought fled my brain—save for the ones about how good it felt to be held by her.
It made me want to take her back to my cottage and show her how consumed I am with her. Hell, I’d have settled for following her around for the rest of the day.
But I couldn’t.
When we separated, she didn’t prod me about my dad. She didn’t even address the incident, save for jokingly offering to kill him. Instead, we had a quick discussion about which rodeo would be best to set up a demo at and parted ways like true professionals.
We’ve kept our distance since then. Just like we promised over diner omelets and black coffee. Sure, we slipped that afternoon in the tack room.
But we course corrected.
