Julia nods, slowing her steps as we make our way down the gravel road that leads toward the old cottage where I stay when I’m on the farm. It was originally my opa’s—when he moved out of his parents’ house. But now it’s mine. It’s not much, but it’s built at the back of the property toward the far fence line, so it’s private.
The bonus is that it’s walking distance to the set and bunkhouse, but I can’t even see the main barn or farmhouse from here. They’re at the front of the property, and my embarrassing venture is hidden down the road, around the corner, and behind a copse of trees. Which is fine by me.
Julia slows to a stop before turning toward me, a genuine question in her eyes. “But if you’re not…” She trails off, lips pulling from side to side as though she’s chewing over her next question.
I trace her features. Full lips. Slightly wide-set eyes. A smattering of light freckles over her nose from time spent outside, no doubt. Her tan skin shimmers with a subtle sheen of sweat.
“So if you’re not looking for a genuine connection, why did you do this show? I mean, listen. It’s not exactly what I thought it was going to be, either, but I don’t know… stranger things have happened.”
“Really, Julia? You think I’m going to put my personal life and future in the hands of Dick… Wadsworth?” I pivot away from the full Dick Wad moniker, not sure where she stands with him or if I should rag on him so blatantly. Especially when I can’t be certain how trustworthy Julia Silva is.
She snorts but doesn’t address the shortened version of Richard. “I mean, I don’t know. He’s done shows like this before. He must have a track record. Maybe his advice isn’t all bad?”
I finally turn my body to face her, rolling my eyes dramatically. “It’s a rule of mine not to take advice from men who drive Cybertrucks.”
Her lips press together and curl into her mouth as though she’s swallowing her laughter. Eventually, she sucks in a deep breath. And I can’t look away from the fullness of her mouth as she opens it, closes it, and then opens it again to speak.
“He is kind of the worst, isn’t he?”
“He is notkind ofthe worst. Heisthe worst.”
She’s looking up at me now, dark eyes brimming with one singular focus.Me.
If I wasn’t sweating already, I would be now.
“So why are you here? Make it make sense.”
I glance back toward the bunkhouse and the farm beyond it. The home I grew up in, the barn and the horses that make Stal Brandt what it is—that make our family who they are. And with one wistful sigh, I turn my attention back down on Julia and confess, “For the money.”
She looks confused. “For the money?”
“My oma and opa, they need it. Managing this place is running them into the ground. But this is a third-generation farm. This is their legacy. This is my heritage. This is where my mom grew up. If I can save it and one month of lost dignity is the price, well, I can live with that. I’ve survived worse. Richard has already subtly threatened reducing the rental fee if I don’t come to play in his sandbox.”
Several seconds of silence stretch between us. I watch Julia swallow, the slender column of her throat bobbing up and back down as she processes my words.
And then in her very matter-of-fact way, she nods once. “Well, in that case,try. Give these women a chance. You might surprise yourself and meet the girl of your dreams. And even if youdon’t… own it. Go all in. Make this show your bitch. You’ve got everything to gain and nothing to lose.”
Dread creeps up my spine. Could I do what she’s suggesting?
Yes, I want the money. But I don’t want to meet the girl of my dreams. I like my life the way it is. Simple. Easy. Carefree.
Which leaves me with faking it. It means I need to act like I do on the road—no strings attached. Which makes staring into the eyes of someone as hopeful and honest as Julia Silva and admitting what I’m about to do all the worse.
I can’t find the right words or even land a joke, so instead, I nod. “You’re right. I could do that.”
“Good,” she says. “Now for one date they want to send you hiking. Is there a trail in the area where you’d take someone on a hike? Somewhere I can go scout and make sure that we have all the correct permits?”
My mind races to come up with a place.
“Prickle Point,” I say. “One of my favorite spots—Parker, Riley, Evan, and I used to ride the trails there together. But the paths are perfect for hiking on foot too. If you’re here early enough tomorrow morning, I could head up there and show you.”
Emerald Lake has grown exponentially over the years. What started as a popular small town has grown into what many might consider a small city. And I have no doubt that Julia and I have experienced the same valley in very different ways. Where her family acreage has been swallowed by urban sprawl, Stal Brandt is basically still out in the boonies. Where she grew up able to afford meals at some of the more popular places in town, I grew up believing A&W was a fancy meal out because my root beer came in a chilled mug.
I’d bet my left nut she has no idea where I’m talking about.
Julia shakes her head, lifting one hand to wave me off. “Not to worry. It’s my job. You’ve already helped me enough. I’m on it. Prickle Point. I will find the spot.”
She salutes me as a way of bidding me good night and turns to walk back up the road, the silhouette of her toned body highlighted by the floodlights over the driveway.
