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“I know the winning team has to vote, but why make the losing teams stay for that?” I ask.
“They will be voting for one of their own players as well,” Carlton informs me.
“To be eliminated?”
“It is an elimination lunch,” Carlton clarifies.
“Oh, nice.” One more down, and closer to just getting this over with.
“And tomorrow’s fun is pumpkin slingshots.”
“Huh?” I stop to listen to him. What the fuck are pumpkin slingshots?
“We’re bringing in those medieval rock throwing contraptions, and they’re going to fling pumpkins—in their costumes,” he says, and I chuckle.
“And?”
“The winner gets a date with you. No elimination tomorrow.” Carlton continues walking.
“All right.”
“A family date,” he adds.
“Family dinner?” I ask just to clarify.
“Whoever you date has to get past Memphis and the others. So, the date will be like a party. They have to mingle and win over your family.” Carlton rubs his head with a chuckle. “Memphis and everyone will give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. If they get too many thumbs-down, they get a disadvantage in the next task.”
“Oh, yeah, I like that.” I grin. Sucks to be them.
“See you in a bit,” he tells me and takes off toward the tent to get a plate of food.
Shane and Afton are sitting on the porch, where small tables are set up, as it’s a real nice morning. Snow brings out three plates and smiles at me, motioning to the seat between the two men.
“I already ate,” she says when I lift my brows at the three dishes.
“What she means to say is she picked at everything I took out of the oven.” Shane smirks.
“Can’t help it if you’re a great cook.” She shrugs. “Eat up, boys.” With that, she heads back inside.
“She has a session this morning,” Shane reminds me as he picks up his fork.
“Session?” Afton asks after shoveling eggs in his mouth.
“She’s in therapy,” I tell him, taking a bite of toast.
“Oh.” Afton doesn’t ask anything more, but I’m sure he’s thinking it.
“It’s why I said if you talk to her, be gentle,” I reiterate around a mouthful of bacon.
“She’s really sweet. And she’s right: this is really good.” Afton looks up from his dish, directing his gaze at Shane.
“Thank you,” he says. “It’s better when it’s not filming time.”
“He’s lying, it’s great all the time.” I wink, and Shane shakes his head, a tint of pink shading his cheeks.
“That’s a good color on you.” Afton smirks, turning on the charm. I’m not even sure he tasted his food. He ate it like it was his last meal.
“Okay, Romeo,” I elbow him jokingly, “he’s mine and we have to get to the tent.”
