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Several yards away, Trevor stood beside Crystal on the cement slab of her site, pointing to the places where he’d mounted cameras. “I set up the live feeds to capture what happens here, and we’ll sort through what we want to use.”
Zach set his teeth. Even though their contract specified they couldn’t use any footage of him, the asshats would still be able to see everything he did in the designated area. He was screwed. Easy for Brody and Levi to sign up for shit when their every move wouldn’t be recorded.
Crystal nodded. “So outside of here I’m not on camera?”
“Right. I’ll be shooting film on location for other scenes.”
Trevor focused his camera on Crystal as Sydney held up some sort of whiteboard with words and numbers. Must be what they used at the beginning of each scene, Zach guessed.
He walked to the side of the cement slab and knelt beside the spigot. As he removed the nut to check the valve stem, Crystal strutted across the lot, dragging a hot-pink designer suitcase on freaking wheels. She had one of those fruity, hard-seltzer cans in one hand and stopped to face the camera. With a big grin, she took a sip. Her bright red lips touched the rim, and she tilted her head back, exposing a slender neck.
His mouth went dry. He jerked his gaze back to the fixture, yanked the nut off, and pulled out the stem.
Water fire-hosed him right in the face.
Son of a bitch, he’d forgotten to close the shut-off valve. Crystal had distracted him, and henevergot distracted. That’s how people got hurt or worse. With a string of curses, he raced to the shut-off lever and slammed it down.
A giggle floated through the air, and he turned. Crystal grinned, tipped the frou-frou drink as if to toast him, and took another sip.
His blood pressure spiked, and he gave her his best glare.
Her blue eyes fired lasers at him as she held his gaze.
She wasn’t intimidated. Maybe she had more grit than he’d thought.
Water dripped from his nose, and he cursed again. No way a combat engineer should have forgotten something as simple as shutting off the water. Training, training, training. Safety first. Follow the rules. He wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt in disgust and went back to the spigot.
Crystal and her entourage, be it small, approached. She took another show-off sip of the drink, and her spiked heel sunk into a soft spot in the grass. She teetered and fell to the ground on her side. Her miniskirt rode up, revealing a perfectly-shaped ass framed by a bright-pink thong that matched the color of the luggage.
Sydney’s hand flew to her mouth as she smothered a laugh.
Trevor grinned as he kept the camera focused on Crystal.
Assholes.
Not that Crystal was Zach’s favorite person, but she might be hurt, and all they cared about was the show.
“Stop filming,” he yelled as he jogged to her. She’d managed to flip her skirt back down over her butt. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He offered a hand and helped her up.
Her eyes widened, and she swallowed. “Th-thanks. I didn’t expect…I mean…”
His fingers tingled where her small, soft hand rested. He let go and took a step back. How did she make him buzz like that?
He cleared his throat, taking a quick survey of her. She wasn’t bleeding and didn’t seem to be in pain, so probably nothing to worry about.
She had a splotch of mud on her glittered halter and a smudge of dirt smeared across her nose. He resisted the urge to wipe it because he wasn’t about to touch her again.
It pissed him off they’d kept rolling the cameras, but she had signed up for the reality show, knowing they would film all her mishaps. Not much pride in a person who would trade their dignity for money.
After pulling the broken heel out of the clay soil with her fake, fire-engine-red fingernails, she inspected it. “These shoes cost a fortune. Is there a repair shop anywhere near here?”
Whatever moment they’d just shared was over. He snorted. “Sure, right next to the farm stand.”
She thrust a hand on her hip. “There’s no reason to be—”
