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Gage Barrett is touching me.
Marjorie and my mother would die.
Gage grins wider at my response, and the cocky reaction 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.
I step back. “Is it true you left two women at the altar?”
He meets my gaze dead-on. “Yes.”
“Why—”
“Why are you so dead set on leaving?” he interrupts. “Got someone at home that doesn’t like his girl flirting on camera?”
“I’m not flirting. Contestants aren’t allowed to be involved in romantic relationships. It’d be in breach of contract.”
“That’s a stupid answer. Do you have a boyfriend or not?”
“It was a stupid question,” I toss back. “And not your business.”
“Not my business,” he says under his breath, shaking his head. “I could potentially marry you, but no, your love life is absolutely not my business.”
“I’m not marrying you. I am leaving now,” I say, a little impatiently, 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. 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.
He chuckles, his breath warm on my fingers, and I snatch my hand back. “Are you going to say this stuff on camera?”
“Probably,” I admit. “Which is why it’s in both of our interests if you send me home first thing.”
“I don’t know about that. The producers have told me in as vague a way as possible that I should keep the contestants that make for good TV for as long as possible.”
I’m disgusted but not surprised. We contestants were basically told that we’re welcome to make a spectacle of ourselves in the name of entertainment.
“Ah, yes, above all we must entertain the people,” I say, reaching for the doorknob. “It’s a wonder they don’t just set up a tent in the front yard, dress us in something sparkly, and have us walk around in a slow circle to creepy circus music.”
“We talked about it,” he says, stepping closer, his breath warm on my neck. “Decided that dressing you all up in bikinis and having you splash around in the pool would be even better.”
“Gross,” I mutter. I turn my head slightly to meet his eyes. “Send me home, Gage. Please. It’ll be better for both of us.”
He studies me. “You really want that?”
“I’m a businesswoman, not a groupie.”
He’s silent for a moment. “True. You did compare my eyes to avocados.”
“Exactly. You usually get, what…moss?”
His lips twitch, although the smile doesn’t reach his mossy eyes. “Emeralds, mostly.”
I turn away with a snort, opening the door slowly, listening for voices. When I’m met with only silence, I stick my head out.
The hallway’s empty.
