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“Seriously?” he grunts. “Get out of the way!”
As I stand in front of the house where last season’s episodes were filmed, I read through the lines of the script that were sent to my house earlier in the week. We’d had almost six days to go through the lines and learn the general feel of our living arrangements, but on paper, it just seemed weird. It was a guide, basically, the general theme of the dates expected to go in a certain direction, so I wasn’t required to know the words verbatim, but I suddenly found myself at a total blank.
I’m not an actor. What the hell am I even doing here? I don’t like being on camera.
My eyes trail back toward the house, even though I know Stella isn’t about to emerge from the door beyond the Roman pillars. The studio doesn’t have access to this property for the upcoming season, which means we’ll be filming at a different, undisclosed location, to be announced. But they are using the front for the time being, for continuity. We’ll be filmed outside, I guess.
The intention had been to use the house again, but there had been a mold issue, apparently, throwing matters into a tailspin. The location scouts were working diligently, last I heard, to find a proper location for this season’s housing, but so far, I know nothing about it.
I’ll never tell anyone this aloud, but I loathe this “fly by the seat of your pants” style. I prefer structure and schedules. Again, I ask myself why I agreed to do this. I’d have to call my PR guy and ask him what the hell he’d been thinking when he suggested it in the first place.
“Bennet?”
I spin around, surprised to hear Stella speaking my name behind me. I should have known she wasn’t coming from the other direction.
For a moment, I am speechless, taking in her lovely frame in a low-cut, clinging dress of silvery gray. The spaghetti strapsswoop into a fold neck around the curve of her breasts, her long, shiny hair loose around her smooth, tan shoulders. She’s supposed to be all dressed up, and yet the sight of her like this still shocks me.
“Hey,” I say, finding my voice. “The car’s waiting.”
Her face falls with some disappointment, and I swallow a scowl at my own pathetic response. I should have said something about how beautiful she looked, something clever.
I’m mad at myself for the stupid thought.
What does she want from me? A profession of love and devotion? This is all a game. A ridiculous game. The sooner it’s over, the better it is for everyone.
I move to open the back seat of the stretch Hummer. It’s so tacky, but I know they need the space the SUV offers to be able to film. Stella gasps to see the camera crew already piled in the back. I barely flinch. If she hadn’t noticed them, I probably wouldn’t have, either. They’re as commonplace as the leather interior and crystal decanters in the back of the vehicle.
I allow her inside first, my eyes trailing over the smooth lines of her ass as she climbs in, the line of her thong visible only as she moves.
“Just act naturally, Stella,” one of the directors orders as we climb inside. “Pretend we’re not here. It’s just you and Bennet.”
It dawns on me that this is her inaugural date on the show. A surge of interest swells within me as I recognize I’m about to set the stage for the first episode. Obviously, this isn’t about finding love for me any more than it is for Gabriel or Forrest—or Stella, I assume. We all have our own reasons for being here, and I’m happy to kickstart the charade.
I climb inside after her, and the door closes behind us as I settle onto the comfortable patent leather beside Stella, sneaking a peek at her classically beautiful profile. She sits up stiffly,her dark eyes darting around nervously, as if she doesn’t know where to look.
“Why did we meet at the house if we’re not staying there?” she whispers, her eyes darting toward the cameras.
“That’s the house they used last season and the season before,” I explain. “We’re not using it this season.”
“We’re still scouting a location for this season, but we have it narrowed down,” the director says. “We didn’t expect the mold issue, so we just have to make this work for now.”
Stella visibly swallows. Her nerves are on the outside of her body, and I take pity on her.
“Drink?” I offer, suddenly wanting to take the stricken look from her face.
“Please!” she exhales, her gaze resting gratefully on me and then the minibar as the SUV begins to move.
“What’s your poison?”
She visibly swallows, turning her sleek profile away from the bright light of the camera, and peers at me helplessly.
“Why don’t I surprise you?” I suggest, and more relief falls over her face.
“Thank you, Bennet.”
Inexplicably, I feel a thrill at the way she says my name, and I find myself sneaking a look at her.
She’s not so bad. Tolerable.
