“A little bird told me I only have eyes for the homeowner.” I squeezed his hand.
He smiled faintly. “Dangerous words to say on a set where they want you to flirt with another guy.”
“Pretend flirt. For ratings.” I stepped closer. “I know it’s hard, but you can trust me.”
“It is hard.” His thumb brushed across my knuckles. “I’ve not felt this vulnerable in a long time.”
“Me either.” I glanced toward the kitchen. “For now, we’re professional—designer and client. That’s all anyone needs to know. What we do after this is up to us.”
He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles briefly before letting go. “Your daughter was right about that algorithm.”
“Only ninety-eight percent compatible, remember?”
“The other two percent is how complicated our lives just became.”
I laughed despite everything. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“I’ll be leaving now for the meeting with Nicole in Cliffside Bay,” Vance whispered. “Good luck with the rest of your day here.”
“The same to you with your meeting,” I replied.
“Lila.” Carol called from the kitchen. “Can you come look at something?”
I squeezed Vance’s hand once more—smiling my encouragement up into his eyes—then headed toward the kitchen. When I glanced back, he was watching me with an expression that made my heart skip.
This was going to be complicated. Messy. Probably the worst timing possible. But I didn’t care. I wanted him in my life, and I wasn’t going to let anything wreck it—not even a reality television show.
By the second day of filming, the house was buzzing. Cameras, cords, and crew filled every corner, transforming Vance’s quiet cliffside home into a working set. Mia was in heaven—Kenzie had given her a behind-the-scenes tour, and she’d been darting around all morning with a headset far too big for her, chatting with the camera crew like she was part of the team. Vance’s mother, Irene, had stopped by too, curious to see the chaos for herself. I’d heard she was there, and caught glimpses of her earlier, chatting with the sound guys and marveling at the equipment with the wide-eyed delight of someone who’d just stepped into a movie.
The scent of barbecue chicken and roasted vegetables drifted from the craft services table, mixing with the salt air and the low hum of laughter. Crew members lounged wherever they could—stone steps, folding chairs, low patio walls—plates balanced on knees, sunglasses pushed up on heads.
I sat with Beau and Vance at one of the folding tables the crew had set up, a breeze lifting the edges of the paper napkins and rustling the eucalyptus in the distance. I nibbled on some chicken as Beau launched into a story about filming in Baja witha rattlesnake loose on set and a camera operator who refused to stop rolling.
“Swear to God, the guy kept filming while the rest of us were halfway up a rock wall,” Beau said, grinning.
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m really glad we don’t have any snakes on this set.”
Beau turned to Vance. “How you doing? Ready for this to be over?”
“I don’t mind,” Vance said. “But I doubt Hollywood will call any time soon.”
“You were good earlier, man,” Beau said. “Both of you are naturals. You’ll be surprised what they can do in editing. They’ll make it seem like we’re a thing if they think it’ll sell the show.”
“Oh. Well, that’s kind of weird,” I said. “I don’t know if I like that.”
Beau shrugged. “You’ll like the paycheck.”
“I always thought these shows were real,” I said.
“Like I said.” Beau held his hands up as if her were about to break into a jazz routine,” “Editing. It’s our friend.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Vance asked.
Beau shrugged. “Nothing serious. But I get some action.”
“Action?” Vance asked.
“Yep. One of the perks of the job. Wait until this airs. You’ll both be getting marriage proposals in direct messages on social. I’ve met a few ladies that way.” Beau grinned. “You have to be careful, though. There are some real psychos out there.” He stood, grabbing his plate. “Speaking of ladies, I have a few calls to make. I’ll see you after lunch.” He gave a brief wave and headed off.
