“Relationships. I know.”
Do you though?That’s what I want to ask her, because in the wake of our hookup she certainly got the wrong idea about where we were headed. It was a lapse in judgment that taught me a lot of harsh realities.
But I don’t have the energy to console her while she cries about how good we could have been together. Or to endureseveral months of being snubbed by someone who is supposed to be working on boosting my public image.
No, if the Georgia experience taught me anything it’s that setting expectations is very, very important.
Now I make sure I tell women first thing what they’re signing up for.
It’sveryromantic.
“You deserve better than what I have to offer, Georgia. We have a good working relationship now, let’s not—”
She barks out a laugh, shaking her head in amusement as she turns to leave. “God, you are just as dead inside as ever.” Her hand wraps around the door handle as she goes to strut out of the locker room. But not before she glances back over her shoulder and tosses out, “They’re offering you five hundred K and your family a very generous additional daily rental fee so maybe get over yourself and think it through.”
The door clicks shut behind her but I continue staring at where she stood just moments before.
Five hundred K.Five hundredthousand?
Before I can think better of it I stride across the room and rip the door open, projecting my voice down the hallway to her back, “Okay, fine. One call!”
Because for that kind of money, my boundaries can be adjusted.
“You fuckingwhat?”
Five sets of eyes stare at me, varying degrees of horror shining in their depths, as I wait for something more than my sister’s disbelieving reaction.
As usual, the farmhouse smells like bacon, syrup, and cinnamon, but where the table is usually full of chatter andlaughter, it is currently dead quiet. It would appear that I’ve plunged our New Year’s Day breakfast into utter silence.
My oma and opa, Tina and Leon, lookespeciallyshaken. From across the massive rectangular table, they gape in my direction. Oma’s eyes, the same blue as mine, are wide and unblinking while my opa’s brown ones pierce straight through me.
Still not a word, so I turn to my sister Parker, seated on the bench beside me. She’s the responsible sibling; she’ll understand. Her hazel eyes look more concerned than anything, especially with the way she’s worrying her lip between her teeth.
From the head of the table, my brother, Evan, opens his mouth like he’s about to say something. But he clearly decides better and closes it, instead offering me a stunned shake of his head.
It’s only when I finally brave looking to the opposite end of the table at my youngest sister, Riley—the wild child—that I get any elaboration on her initial question.
Her green eyes sparkle with amusement from beneath her signature ball cap, and she… bursts out laughing.
I groan and close my eyes for a beat. Then I repeat what I’d announced to them mere moments ago. “I got asked to be the bachelor on a dating show, and I want to say yes. But I need your permission to host it here on the farm. They’ll pay you to rent it.”
My clarification only causes Riley to laugh harder, garnering a stern look from our oma before my sister makes any attempt to pull herself together.
To be fair, my photo probably pops up if you google the termineligible bachelor.
But I decided with that much money on the line it would be worth at least hearing them out. They told me they wanted a well-known professional bull rider from the World Bull Riding Federation with a “face for TV.”
Apparently, Georgia had immediately recommended me. And once they did a little digging on me, they were relentless in their pursuit. They told me I’m perfect for this gig. They even felt the Canadian setting lent an “exotic air” to the show.
And now here I am, a WBRF cowboy with a decent face ready to pretend I’m looking to settle down with a carefully curated contestant.
Riley daintily wipes at her damp eyes and takes a deep, overdramatic breath before speaking again. Her face morphs into an expression of care and concern, and her voice is one you’d use when explaining something serious to a small child. “Em, I’m not sure that anyone has explained this to you, but when you go on a dating show, you actually have todatepeople. Not just fuck ’em and chuck ’em.”
My eyes roll, and Evan snickers from his spot before he adds, “You and your skill set may be more suited to sex work if you want to make extra money.”
“Evan Brandt!” Oma admonishes him to a round of snickers. We all know it’s for show. Tina Brandt may be in her seventies, but she’s no prude. In fact, she might be the spiciest one sitting at this table. She’s all fun and games, where Opa is all grumbly with a big, soft heart under his stoic exterior.
Raising us has kept her young. But running a farm has given her a weathered edge—her hair is snow white, and her skin has a leathery quality to it from hours spent outdoors. Her blue eyes, though? Theysmile.
