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Snow fidgeted and tried not to glance at Hunter who had positioned himself near the door. She was mildly worn out after letting down the others. But they had no more time. “You and I never got that run in.”
“I’m down if you are. Want to head to the beach?”
Snow inhaled. She longed for that, actually. To run, to let adrenaline course through her, to feel the wind swirl through her hair and on her face. Perhaps once this was over. “I’m not entirely sure how to say what I need to say.”
Clayton’s face fell. “I see. You’ve made your decision, haven’t you?”
She had. This was the time to bring it up, she supposed. “Yes. So much of this show hasn’t gone the way I hoped it would. I haven’t been able to date all my bachelors and make a fair decision. I've been attacked and threatened.” And the one man she was falling for, she couldn’t have.
But she would do what needed to be done. Just like she’d had to with her diet in order to remain healthy, she would deny herself what she really wanted and settle for what worked best.
“You definitely deserved to have a better experience,” he said.
“That’s just it. I’ve had a great experience otherwise. I only regret that I haven’t been able to have as much time to get to know you as I wanted.”
“It’s been hard waiting for you,” he admitted.
He was far too understanding. That made this a little easier somehow. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I have some good news in all of this.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve made an impression on me, Clay. Even though we haven’t had the time we both wanted, I’ve still been struck by you more than any of the others.”
His brows lifted. The rest of his expression gradually did too as realization dawned. “You—you’re serious, aren’t you?”
Snow’s lips stretched in response to the delight dawning over him. “One hundred percent.”
Clayton laughed and wrapped his arms around her, luring her to him in the most familiar gesture, as though holding her like this was comfortable for him, as though it was natural. She’d told Juliet he was the best fit for her of the seven bachelors—and she’d meant it. Snow could see it. She could see being with Clayton, workouts, dinners, rock climbing, bike riding, life-ing. Waking every morning, having him by her side. The thread of connection she’d been waiting for began to niggle its head, to stir the dirt and allow a fledgling plant to poke its head out.
Clayton seemed to sense the same thing. His eyes skated across hers, and his hand went to her neck, stroking her skin. Each touch ignited a trembling flame in her low belly. Clayton’s hand moved to her jaw, and he stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, staring as though entranced by her face.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Snow.”
Her stomach fluttered. In spite of herself, her gaze flicked in Hunter’s direction. His head was bowed, but he watched her through his lashes. Could he hear their conversation? She wished he was the one she was kissing. She was aware of him watching her near the door, but she couldn’t tell Clayton no. He was the one she needed to choose. He was the one who would help her end the show before anyone else got hurt.
“Fine by me,” she said, her voice breathy. Trembling and feeling every part of every movement, she lifted her chin and smiled until his lips gave hers a different occupation. Snow gripped Clayton’s muscular shoulders and kissed him.
The magic she’d been hoping for didn’t consume her, though. This kiss was just that. A kiss. She couldn’t lose herself in it, not like she wanted to. As his mouth melded with hers, she attempted to figure out why. Any other time, a man like Clayton would have swept her off the planet. If things were different, she might have felt something more for him. If there wasn’t someone holding a threat over her head for the show later. If there wasn’t a handsome bodyguard who’d already bewitched her.
Clayton broke away, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “Why do I get the feeling you’re somewhere else?”
She dipped her head, resting her forehead against his chest. He smelled so good. Why couldn’t she feel more for him? Why wouldn’t this work? “I’m sorry—I’m a little distracted.”
He rubbed a hand on her back. Noise from the sports channel on the TV carried on in the gym. Hector’s camera, Hunter and the world watching ricocheted through the space, and they stood in the center of it. “Want to talk about it?”
Snow fisted his shirt. “I want this to work with you,” she said. “You are the one I pick, Clayton. Do you want that with me? At the ceremony tonight, when we do the show, I’m going to choose you. We can see if a life together might be possible.”
Clayton rubbed his hands along the backs of her arms. His face angled away as he considered her words. “I’m flattered,” he said. “But part of me feels like you don’t really mean that. Along with being a dietician, that kind of makes me a therapist too, Snow. I read people. You don’t want this, do you?”
She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. He would undoubtedly realize the conflict raging there if she did.
Clayton tilted his head and attempted to meet her eyes. “I know it’s the last show—but is that what you want? Did the upper hands tell you to pick someone? Does this have to do with the people who attacked you?”
She probably should have confessed as much to him sooner, the way she had with Carter and Marcos. In the moment, she hadn’t thought of what to say. She’d wanted this to be a regular date, just like anyone else had the privilege of having.
“I’m going to have to,” she said. She hesitated to confess the truth of why to Clayton. He had been kind and supportive. He’d been there for her the night of the drowning attack, just like all the other men had, but there was something else about him too. Something she couldn’t pinpoint.
She hurried to give him what she hoped was a believable answer. “With so much drama and contention going on, it might as well be sooner than later. You and I have such similar interests, and I think you’re fun to be with and great to talk to.”
