Page 22 of His Choice

I had feared I wouldn’t be interested in anyone, but so far, all the contestants seemed like they had potential.

The next gentleman might have been the one who attracted me the least. He introduced himself as Dani. Unlike the others, he was anything but tailored. Based on his outfit, he must have thought there was a rave party inside the house. Dani was a twink—blond, slender, and over-the-top flirtatious. I was sure there would be many viewers who would think he was the best choice, as there was a delicate, sensuous beauty about him. Unless he impressed me with his personality, though, I struggled to envision him coming out on top. Dani just wasn’t the type that turned me on sexually.

To my relief, the last limo arrived. Out stepped a guy who, like Daryl, reminded me of a college jock. I was surprised how young most of the contestants were, considering I had indicated to the producers I liked men around my age. Still, I couldn’t argue that some of them were stunning, including this guy. Unlike Daryl, this man exuded friendliness.

“I’m Aaron,” the young man stated, holding out his hand.

It was warm, just like Aaron’s smile. “Nice to meet you. Where are you from?”

“Los Angeles,” he answered. Figured. Though his hair was a very light brown—almost ash blond—he still looked like a lifeguard who’d walked out of a suntan lotion commercial. He had a very nice build, striking green-blue eyes, and a face that likely had viewers perking up in their seats. “But I live in White Pines now.”

“Oh? That’s funny. I just met another man from town,” I answered.

“Mikey, yeah,” Aaron said. “He’s my roommate.”

“You mean, here in the house during the filming?” I asked, confused.

Aaron nodded. “Yes, here, too. But we both share an apartment on Spruce Street.”

“Ah.” That felt like the producers had set up a competitive situation for the sake of drama, and I wondered how many other surprises they had in store. Though Aaron’s smile remained, mine had fallen.

Chapter Eight

Mikey

All the contestants but Aaron had gathered in the parlor, chit-chatting about their meeting with Cliff Walker. The British man was as ignored as I was, glancing around the room seemingly seeking an ally. I mustered the courage to approach him, but the talkative platinum-haired twink latched on to him before I could. British guy appeared to be tolerating the conversation as opposed to enjoying it.

“Champagne?” James, Cliff’s butler, asked, holding out a tray with multiple fluted glasses.

I had already downed three of them since coming inside, which was a lot considering I didn’t drink. I didn’t know what to do with my hands otherwise, though. I grabbed another glass and thanked him. I nearly begged him to stay to talk to me so I wouldn’t appear lame, but I didn’t. He had a job to do, and he continued circling the room to ensure everyone had what they needed. I chugged down the champagne, hoping it would give me the fortitude to make it through the evening.

“Being antisocial?” It was Aaron’s voice booming from behind me.

I spun around, relieved to see his smiling face. “Why did they have you meet Cliff Walker last? I’ve been dying here without you.”

He wrapped an arm over my shoulders. “Awe, pookie, you missed me?”

More than he knew.

“They all hate me already,” I muttered. “Or they know I’m the one with the least chance of winning and they don’t want the loser stench to soil them.”

Aaron chuckled. “You’re being dopey. You’re just giving that bug-off vibe.”

I blinked a few times. “I am? What do I do? I’m not trying to.”

“Try smiling,” Aaron suggested. I forced a grin. He frowned. “Okay, don’t.”

I flushed. “See? I can’t fit in with all these…attractive men.”

Aaron sighed. “They’re not that great.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you kidding me? I feel like I just stumbled onto the set of some gay Mr. America contest.”

“Impossible,” Aaron replied. “One of the guys is British.”

I scowled. “Fine. A gay Mr. Universe pageant.”

“Yeah? For the swimsuit contest, would you wear trunks or Speedos?”