There’s no denying that Emmett has been known to get around. But what I’ve learned is that doesn’t preclude him from also being thoughtful and honest and dedicated. And in recent weeks, I’ve made peace with the fact that both versions of him can exist at once.
I’ve also learned that he doesn’t readily share every part of himself. Except with me—or so it would seem. Outwardly, he’s closed off and wrapped up. But when we’re one-on-one, his layers unfurl, and I always look forward to finding out more about who he really is.
That curiosity pulls me closer as I edge along the tree line, eavesdropping on what Richard is saying to him.
“So they’re all going to come up here, right?” Richard’s excitement is palpable, where Emmett’s is… not. His arms are crossed, his tongue popping into his cheek—something I now recognize as a telltale sign that he’s holding back from saying what’s on his mind.
“Right up here, right up the path. And they’re going to come here,” Richard continues, oblivious to the way Emmett’s jaw works as he keeps talking. “And then they’re going to see this beautiful picnic that you’ve set up for one lucky lady.”
“Okay, and what have I set up for them?”
“Pfft. You know. All the stuff chicks love. Champagne, cheese, berries, chocolate—they say it’s an aphrodisiac, you know?” He adds a sleazy wink. “And you just have to sit here and chitchat with this girl like she’s going to be the mother of your children one day.”
Emmett grimaces, and I stifle a laugh.
“Any thoughts on which girl you’re going to choose?”
Emmett’s head tips back and forth in consideration. “I was thinking—”
“Evelyn, right?” Richard provides firmly. It’s phrased as a question, but everyone on set knows he isn’t asking.
I swallow the lump in my throat. Just from reading Emmett’s body language, I can tell Evelyn is not who he was going to say.
“Good call,” Richard says before Emmett can get a word in edgewise. But I don’t miss the way he sighs as his shoulders slump forward slightly. “She’s perfect,” Richard forges ahead, not picking up on his bachelor’s feelings. Or he is, and he just doesn’t care. That seems more likely.
“There’s already tension behind the scenes in the bunkhouse with her and the girls. When they walk up here and see the picnic you laid out? All with Evelyn in mind?Ka-boom!” Dick Wad’s arms go wide as he reenacts an explosion. “Just like that, we’ve got ourselves great TV.”
He slaps Emmett on the shoulder like the friends they are not. And it’s clear he’s not at all in the business of helping people meet each other. He might as well be producing a soap opera as far as I’m concerned.
“Is that… what we want?” Emmett doesn’t sound convinced.
Richard barks out a laugh. “Of course, it’s what we want. We want ratings. We want drama. We want catfights.”
I stifle a groan, because that is not what we want. My recent research on reality dating shows tells me that Richard is an old-school producer, focused on creating trash TV. I knowthere are newer, more progressive sets that encourage healthy communication and let real relationships unfold. Ones where they have psychologists on set. Sometimes, nothing happens in an entire episode except two people getting to know each other. Some of these shows even have a reasonable success rate, with couples who go on to get married, have children, or live whatever their version of happily ever after looks like.
ButRomance Ranchisn’t going to be one of them.
“To be honest with you, Richard, I wasn’t planning on picking Evelyn.”
“Bah,” he waves him off. “It’s just one date. She’ll get the ball rolling. Just think, whichever girl you’re into is going to see Evelyn getting your attention, and she’s going to step up her game. She’s going to want it even more.”
This time, Emmett doesn’t bother hiding the look of distaste on his face. “Are you recommending that I gaslight a girl into liking me more?”
“Call it what you want. I know this strategy works. I’ve used it a few times myself. Solid success rate guaranteed.”
Richard throws his head back in laughter, as if he enjoys messing with people’s lives and sanity. Once he catches his breath, his tone turns serious once more.
“And stop being such a fucking prude, Emmett. When the lighting’s right and the sun’s getting low, do me a solid and kiss the girl, all right?”
Emmett doesn’t respond, but the muscle in his jaw flexes as he stares down his nose at the older man. When Richard leaves him, Emmett’s eyes meet mine.
And then he winces before turning away, as if it hurts to look at me.
He chooses Evelyn.
My stomach sinks hard and fast when I hear him speak her name. And based on the other daters’ reactions, they aren’t impressed either. Akira and Catherine had turned to whisper into each other’s ears. And the look that Jada shot Richard was one of skepticism—one that tells me the other women might be more aware than he’s giving them credit for.
As for me? I’m torn.
