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“You think you’re the problem here?” she asks, glancing back toward the vans with the crews, now packing up and ready to move out. “Why are you doing this show?” she asks when she’s sure we’re alone and out of earshot. “This… doesn’t seem to suit you.”
I stiffen, my eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me at all.”
“I know enough to see that you’re not enjoying a second of this,” Stella fires back. “You clearly don’t care about fame?—”
“Look, Stella, you seem like a nice person,” I cut her off, continuing to walk toward her car. “But please don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”
She’s taken aback, but she doesn’t shut down. “That’s the last thing I would ever try to do. What I’m trying to do is connect with the men I’m working with over the next four weeks, going beyond mere surface-level interactions. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I won’t push you. But we are a team now, like it or not.”
She picks up her walking pace toward her car, and I call out to stop her, a smidgen of guilt washing over me.
“You’re right,” I grunt, but I stop short of apologizing.
She slows her steps and turns to face me. “About what?”
“About all of it. We should work together.” She gives me a sidelong look. I exhale. “Every dime I earn here is going toward a new charity I just started. I want this show to help raise awareness of it.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Anothercharity? You have so many.”
I shrug. “I have more money than I can spend in three lifetimes, Stella. My parents did very well for themselves before they died in that plane crash. But some people won’t live through this month while we’re eating caviar in a fancy house and swimming in Olympic-sized pools.”
Shame sweeps over her face, and she hangs her head. Immediately, I’m overcome with contrition. “Not that any of that is your fault. We drew longer straws than other people. That’s not something to feel shame about, but it is something we need to share.”
“Yeah.” She looks down and fumbles with her key fob for her car. “What’s this new charity for?”
“Displaced youth. The number of teens living on the streets right now is…” I shake my head. “Staggering.”
She looks at me again. “You’re a good man, Bennet Huxley. I meant what I said earlier. I really wish there were more men like you in this world.”
Suddenly, I want to kiss her, the words, the moonlight catching her chestnut strands, everything about this moment overwhelming me in the most peculiar way.
Stella cocks her head back to peer at me. “Are you all right?”
I take a step closer to her.Don’t be stupid!a voice in my head snaps at me.This is all fake.
“I should get going.” I pivot sharply, turning away before I do something I’ll regret.
“Did you get that?” I hear someone yell. “That’s perfect!”
“Shit,” Stella groans as we search for the camera crews lurking in the bushes. “I really need to keep my eyes open.”
“Four weeks,” I remind her as anger colors her cheeks, and she storms toward her rusting, pink car parked by the curb.
Is that what she’s driving? That thing looks ready to break down any second!
I push the thought out of my mind and force myself toward my own waiting Porsche, closer to the house.
Stella Crestwood is not my concern. I have more than enough problems of my own without her.
CHAPTER 6
Stella
I’m rife with apprehension after the past three days. Jessie called this meeting with the three bachelors unexpectedly, and I’m the first one in the studio, eying the Danishes and croissants on the table without an appetite as I wait for the others to join us in the conference room.
There’s nothing particularly special about the room. But the high-backed chairs and the huge table that seats twenty make me feel miniscule as I stand, then sit, then stand again. I look around desperately for somewhere to set my eyes, my hands fiddling with my phone as I long to reach out to Chris or Mom for comfort, but I don’t dare.
Are they going to fire me now? Did I fail the original tests? I haven’t even gone on my first dinner dates with Gabriel or Forrest yet. Am I already out after yesterday’s date with Bennet?
