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“You just don’t seem like the type of woman who can be made to do anything.”
“True. I’m the sort of woman who will do what it takes to make her business a success,” I say, trying to move around him. “I just…went too far with this one.”
He puts up an arm, blocks my way. “Hot and hollow, huh?”
His eyes are oddly intense, as though my answer somehow matters, and I wince, hating that he heard my careless assessment of him.
Still, I’m not out to make this guy like me, and I’d sort of meant it. Any guy who thinks he’s going to find his true love on TV in the span of a month? Hollow.
Or at least really dim.
I step back and look at him steadily. “Look. We both know that I never should have made it to this round. No doubt you were hoping that people would vote me off, but…”
I spread my arms to the sides, intending it to be a self-deprecating gesture to put him at ease. Instead, he rakes his gaze over me and the mood in the tiny closet is anything but easy.
“Interesting,” he says finally, breaking the silence.
“What is?” I look longingly toward the door. Toward escape.
“That you label me hollow, and yet you’re the one openly admitting to using the show—to using me—to sell T-shirts.”
“Oh, come on. Surely you’re not so naive that you don’t know what this show is—what we’re all doing here. The goal is ratings, not happily ever after.”
“That’s the network’s goal. Not mine.”
“Right. You’re here for…what was it again? To find yo
ur one true love?”
I don’t bother to keep the skepticism out of my voice, and he surprises me by grinning. “Why do you think I’m here?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” I say, waving my hand breezily as I start to ease by him.
He reaches out to stop me, his fingers resting lightly against my stomach, his fingers seeming to burn through the thin fabric of my shirt, and I’m embarrassed at the way my breath hitches.
Gage Barrett is touching me.
Marjorie and my mother would die.
Gage grins wider at my reaction, and the cocky response is exactly what I need to get myself together. I push his hand away. “Surely there’s a more willing contestant to go molest in a closet somewhere.”
“No doubt,” he says with a laugh. “Do you have a boyfriend, Ellie?”
“Contestants aren’t allowed to be involved in romantic relationships. It’s in breach of the contest rules.”
“That’s a stupid answer.”
“It was a stupid question,” I toss back. “And not your business.”
“Not my business,” he says under his breath, shaking his head.
“I’m leaving now,” I say, a little impatient, as I realize the other girls will likely be wondering where I am.
He opens his mouth, but before he can respond, voices come from the hallway, and acting on instinct, I place my fingers across his mouth to keep him from talking and giving us away.
Gage’s eyes flare a little at the contact, and my breath does that annoying chopping thing again. His eyes are green. Have I noticed that before? I always thought they were blue, or maybe hazel, but they’re more like…
“Your eyes look like guacamole,” I whisper, once the voices pass without anyone opening the closet door.
