“Yes, he has. They call it the Robo-Terminator,” she said on a laugh. “He’s obsessed with it.”
The veggies all cut, he used tongs to toss the salad. “Excellent, you’ll have to tell me when he’s fighting it next. I’ve wanted to see a fight live.”
“He’s at an advanced robotics camp for the summer.”
“That sounds like a blast.” Taking down two plates, he split up the salad. He added the nuts and fanned the avocado on the top of each salad. “What kind of dressing do you want? There’s ranch, bleu cheese, vinegar and oil—"
“None for me, thanks. I’m not a big fan of dressing.”
Erik slid the plates onto the breakfast bar and found cutlery and napkins in a drawer. He pulled out forks and napkins and placed them next to the plates. “I thought I was the only weird one.”
Arms lowering, she stood and the skirt fell back into place. She padded barefoot over to the high stool hips swaying. “I’d like to think of myself as the normal one. I mean, it kind of defeats the purpose of eating healthy to drench it in fat-based dressing.”
“Are you a health nut?”
“Not even close.” She slipped onto the stool and picked up her fork. “This looks great.”
“I chopped it up. Nature did all the work.” He leaned across the counter and forked up a piece of avocado. Up close, her skin was flawless. He need simply lift a finger and trace it down her wrist. Nope. Not gonna go there. He rocked back on his heel, distancing himself.
Her phone vibrated on the countertop and a flush showed on her cheeks.
He caught the name of the contact for the person texting, and scowled. “Darius is texting.”
“Are we back to that again?” She raised one arched brow, knuckles whitening on her fork.
“I merely noticed that he texted you. He did ask you out.”
“For drinks. To talk business. I’m your agent and if—if being the operative word—he agreed to date me and it didn’t work out, he’s got a lot of influence in the reality TV lane. I don’t want to jeopardize your career.”
“My reality TV career?” He stabbed at the avocado, annoyed by the inference.
She took a bite and chewed, a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Yes.”
Eyes, narrowed, he pointed the fork at her. “I knew you were judging me.”
She averted her gaze and swallowed, playing with her food. “Does it matter what I think?”
“No, not really.” It mattered a lot but he wouldn’t tell her that.
Chapter Seven
“You’re right. I had no right to judge you.” Crap, Belle shouldn’t have said anything. He was her client; her one and only client. Yes, he was sexy and good in the kitchen. She stabbed a tomato, hiding a smile. He’d chopped vegetables, not made a Baked Alaska. “There are a lot of successful people who do reality TV, otherwise it wouldn’t be so popular.”
“For what it’s worth, being a reality TV star isn’t my career goal. Football is first, then acting. I was a broadcasting major at the University of Arkansas.”
“Then you want to be broadcaster after football is over?”
“No, I want to be an actor. I tried to major in theater but football took precedence, so I changed majors. I did community theater in high school, and a few productions in the past couple of years. Just like a play, there’s nothing real about this show. It has a script—a rough outline—but a script nonetheless.”
“I’d have to push back on that a bit. There might be a script, but the contestants are real people and the show does end in an engagement.” She’d caught the first episode in her freshman year in college. The watch parties were where she’d met her two best friends. It had been a way to get close to people that she’d otherwise have never met. Confidence hadn’t come easy to her. She’d been a shy child, made even more so from her circumstances. But people were more kind than cruel and she’d come out of her shell.
“If you read the contract, it says outright that both parties are aware that the engagement outcome is not a binding contract. Hell, the engagement show is just an infomercial for the sponsors.”
“Cynical much?” she said, aware that she was being naïve. The show had been such a big part of her life, it was hard to face the reality of what she’d suspected to be true a long time ago. It was a fantasy and she’d bought into it.
“You’ve seen the show. Usually one of the last two woman standing is the next bachelorette and then the show circles around. It’s not a new concept.” He stroked his beard, the white-blond mixed with deep gold. What would he look like without it? Baby-faced or even more masculine? She could simply dig deeper into his on-line presence and find a picture with him minus the beard. If she took the time, it meant she was interested in him. And she wasn’t. Well, she shouldn’t be.
“I guess we want to believe the romance of it all because it gives us something to look forward too.” She was a romantic at heart but she’d put all of her focus on getting a good job. At twenty-four, she’d accomplished the first step of her goal, to fulfill the promise she’d made to her mother. To finish college no matter what life threw at her. She’d challenged J.J. to carry on the tradition and he’d exceeded her expectations by getting a scholarship to the University of Washington engineering program.
