“No idea. You’re an avid viewer of the show. What do you think? Dinner and dancing? Horseback-riding, oh wait, that’ll come later in the show. At least that’s my guess.”
She swallowed, using the energy drink to wash it down. “Well, they do try to mix it up a bit. My guess is dinner and dancing with Irina. Lunch means you’re not serious, which tells me the teacher is in danger of going next.”
“Since your ratings were high, my guess is you’ll be a dinner date. Can you dance?” Amusement sparked his eyes, along with another emotion she needed to ignore. The attraction between them hadn’t lessened and it was distracting.
“About as good as you can sing.” The food felt dry in her throat, a sense of dread taking over. She’d earned a huge amount of the audience support and as long as she continued to rake in the likes, she’d remain on the show.
“I’ll be sure to wear my steel-toed shoes.” He winked and finished off the second half of his sandwich.
“That and a hazmat suit.” She might as well resign herself to the fact that she would be on the show for the foreseeable future.
“Okay, question. If you had to describe your dream date, what would it be?” He retrieved an apple and palmed it, rolling it into his fist before he brought it to his mouth. White teeth bit into the red peel, juice glistening on his lips.
“It depends on the guy.” Truth was, she had fantasized about some of the dates the show had in the past. Romantic outings on the lake, the horseback-riding he’d mocked. “If he was low-key, a walk on the waterfront. He’d cook me dinner, followed by a movie…oh God, that sounds so boring, doesn’t it?”
“Not boring necessarily, not if it’s with the right person.” He turned the apple, studying the fruit.
He wasn’t a romantic by his own admission. She loved romance but she wasn’t truly a romantic either, not when it came to her personally. “If I was with someone more adventurous, parasailing or hang-gliding. Then I wouldn’t be alone in being afraid.”
“You’re assuming the guy would be afraid. What if he was a hang-glider expert, or instructor?” He glanced at his watch and exhaled. Time was slipping by.
“Then he’d be able to calm me. Regardless, there is no such thing as a dream date any more than there is a dream date — as in the person you’re dating.”
“Very true. I have to head out. I’ll see you tomorrow I guess?” Reluctance stiffened his features and he dropped his napkin in the garbage can.
“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow.” For their date. Would it be mundane or dynamic? One thing was for sure, it would be fake.
Chapter Eighteen
Erik was nervous for his second date with Belle, more than he should be. They were filming on a farm in Snohomish around a private lake. Belle was at the gazebo, waiting for her cue. The short time he’d had with her on the last show wasn’t what he’d considered to be a date of any sort. They’d have a bit more privacy on this one.
“Okay, camera six is ready,” the director said.
There was a lot more to the show than he’d first anticipated, mostly reviewing footage that he had to comment on. Some of the women’s testimonials were riveting. Belle’s had been surface, not giving much away. Irina’s had been brilliant—and definitely practiced. She was a good actress.
“Just to reiterate, there’s no camera in the guest house?” Erik asked, hands on his hips. The farm had two houses, the main one was huge with floor to ceiling windows and a wraparound deck. He’d be staying in the guest house for the next month for convenience. He wasn’t too keen on being filmed without his knowledge. He would put up with a lot but there had to be boundaries.
“Yes, no cameras in your personal space but there are cameras all over the farm.” Darius continued to type out a text on his phone, head down.
“Thanks,” Erik said. Unlike the previous events, he was wearing casual wear, jeans and button-down. He felt more comfortable than in a suit. It wasn’t really his thing.
“Ready to do this thing?” Darius asked, tucking his phone in his pocket. He wore his typical suit and adjusted the mic on his lapel as he walked down the path to the gazebo.
Belle was sitting on the swing under the wooden structure, the lake in the background. Her hair was down and blowing in the gentle wind. A hint of red showed in the heavy brown mass, brought out by the sun that had decided to peek from behind the clouds. She looked up when he approached, a light pink top hugging her breasts.
“Hi,” he said, pleased to see her. There would be no pressure with Belle, not like the other segments he’d filmed in the past two days. He’d already had a “date” that morning. It was enjoyable simply because he got to meet her students. If he was of a mind to truly find a woman from the eight, he’d have asked the teacher out on a second date in real life. He liked her low-key personality.
“How was your day?” he asked, sitting on the swing next to Belle. Darius and the crew were positioned along the sidelines. Erik could only guess that they were out of camera range.
“Good, and yours?” she asked with a tentative smile. A strand of hair blew across her face and she tucked it back behind her ear. The makeup people had done her makeup, lipstick flawless. What he wouldn’t give to mess it up a bit with his lips.
“Very busy. It’s nice to sit for a while.” The words sounded real but the sentiment wasn’t. He was antsy, needing to move. Foot planted on the gravel, he put the swing into motion. “You never told me where you’re from.”
“Here, in Washington state.” She tucked her pant clad leg under the other, hips turned in his direction. There was an ease about her that he fed off of. “Born and bred. And you?”
“Arkansas. My family owns a garage.” The easier story that didn’t include his Uncle Tank, the family’s bad apple. “Some of my earliest memories are fixing my grandfather’s tractor.”
“You’re a mechanic, as well as an athlete? Which means you’re good with your hands.” She bit her lip, frowning as if she said something wrong. “You know, can catch a football and fix a car. Both things you do with your hands.”
