I’d begged Cassie to let me arrive in her 1966 Mustang—the car we’d traveled in most of the way. But the bike had magically appeared at the little inn we’d stayed at the night before. She’d insisted that I take it, saying it would make more of an entrance. She’d said I needed to show up like a boss.
But I didn’t feel like a boss. I felt like someone who was cosplaying bravery. Someone pretending to be bold. I wanted so desperately to hide behind a black muumuu and my job at the Bureau.
This felt like a fool’s errand. I didn’t see how I was going to fulfill this quest and fall in love. Not only fall in love, but fall in love with my true love, the person who could unlock my heart. There were only six men cast per season. The odds of one of them being my true love were slim to none.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, I was about to be thrust into the limelight. I was going to have to tell the world my story. Or at least some version of it. Father and I had curated a tale—sprinkled with just enough truth to be believable. Who he was. Where I’d been. Why I’d disappeared.
But the very worst of it all was that I had to deal with Roman. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d planned to sabotage me and poison the male cast members against me.
My only saving grace was that Father had worked it out so Cassie was a cast member too. Even though we had to pretend we didn’t know each other.
Our plan was simple:
Play it like we instantly hit it off.
Become BFFs on camera.
Let the producers eat it up.
Cassie was about to give this show and Roman a run for their money. Mostly behind the scenes. There would be no stopping her hexes. At least that would be entertaining.
I stopped in front of the main lodge’s entrance, framed by timber beams and stonework, and killed the engine. The lodge itself was rustic, but it felt polished, like it was getting ready for its big premiere. The nearby creek lined with wildflowers rushed in the background, adding a melodic ambience. From what I’d seen of Wyoming, it was wild and beautiful. Untouched and rebellious.
I sat there for a beat, helmet still on, letting the moment settle. Letting the cameras—because I knew they were there—get their shot. Then I swung my leg off the bike, tugged off my helmet, and tried to channel the version of me Cassie insisted I play: Girl boss. Unbothered. Unbreakable.
Inside, I was already cracking.
I tried to remember the girl inside me who lived to perform in front of the cameras and an audience. The girl who knew how to stick a landing every time. But she was nowhere to be found. In her stead was a lost woman who felt as if the only thing she could stick was a fork in her life.
As I ran my fingers through my matted-down hair, trying to tame the helmet head, the front doors of the lodge swung open. A beautiful Black woman sauntered out, sunlight catching the shimmer of her bangles as they clinked softly with each step. She wore a flowy floral dress that moved fluidly with her, and her smile was the kind that made you feel seen—whether you wanted to be or not.
“Hello, Demi,” she sang, voice warm and knowing.
Her eyes swept over me—curve-hugging black jeans, black leather jacket, road dust, and the façade of defiance. I looked like the princess of death. And she looked like spring. Once upon a time, I’d looked like that too.
“Hello,” my voice wavered. “You must be Jazzy.”
I recognized her voice from our conversation over the phone when she congratulated me on being cast for this special season ofLove Unscripted. I told her condolences would be more appropriate, and she’d laughed hysterically and said she’d never been so excited about a cast member.
Jazzy’s eyes sparkled with something I couldn’t quite name. Admiration? Curiosity? Or maybe just the thrill of knowing she was about to witness a slow-motion train wreck.
“I am. I’m so thrilled to meet you in person.” She held out her elegant, manicured hand with soft pink–painted nails.
I took her hand and gave it a polite shake. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I wish I could say the same.”
She spat out a laugh. “If you had said anything else, it would have disappointed me.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I shifted the pack on my back. At the moment, I had Lady Goldy, my golden eagle, tucked securely inside in the form of a statue. The rest of my luggage was being delivered. “I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.”
She looped her arm through mine. “Oh, honey, you are going to be the star this season.”
I cleared my throat. While not unexpected, it was unwelcome news. I didn’t want to be the star. I wanted to be a wallflower. A shadow in some shade of black. A quiet observer who, by some miracle, would find love. Preferably in the form of Jensen Ackles. Of course, time wasn’t on our side,and we would have to forgo rule ten about the appropriate length of time before one could declare love. But with any luck, he’d confess his love, unlock my heart, and then reveal he was secretly a Roman demigod. Which would surprise no one because surely Jensen Ackles was of divine—some might saysupernatural—origin.
And we would live contentedly ever after.
Not happily.
I wasn’t sure I believed in happily ever afters anymore.
