Veronica looked relieved. She tucked the paper back into her dress and gave a smile before she made her way toward the fire pit where McKenna was waiting.
Before Skye could catch a breath, another woman was already standing in front of her. She wore a hot-pink two-piece and carried an envelope in her hand.
“I’m Charlotte,” she said crisply. “I thought about doing something cute or funny, you know, like all the other contestants, but honestly, a pros and cons list is more my speed.”
Skye raised an eyebrow. “A list?” she asked, not sure if she’d heard correctly.
Charlotte handed over the envelope. “Typed. Double-spaced and color-coded by category. I have what you call aType A personality. In my opinion, organization is the most underrated love language.”
Skye frowned slightly, but then quickly fixed her face before Marla scolded her through the earpiece. “You know this makes you a little terrifying,” Skye said, hoping it would come across as flirting and not literally like she meant it.
Charlotte chuckled. “So I’ve been told.”
Skye glanced down at the sheet. Apparently, Charlotte was emotionally available, great with medium-sized dogs, could parallel park under pressure, and also extremely competitive. On the other hand, she detested the sound of people eating.
The next twenty minutes unfolded in a blur of overly rehearsed greetings, bright smiles, and beautiful women. A woman called Amy serenaded her with a ukulele. Another woman called Vera gave her a rose quartz crystal she’d found on a hike in Sedona, and then another woman called Delilah had gifted her a mason jar of homemade pickled beets that was apparently her grandmother’s recipe. Finally, the introductions were coming to an end, and Skye couldn’t wait to sneak off to the bathroom, kick off her heels, and splash some cold water on her cheeks.
But before Skye could blow out a breath in relief, the final contestant stepped onto the path. She was blonde, but not in the overly bleached, overly styled way that several of the others had been. Her hair looked soft, tousled, pulled into a loose bun like she’d done it quickly and didn’t care if it was perfect. A few wisps clung to her temples from the humidity, and freckles were lightly scattered across her nose like someone had shaken a pepper shaker over her face. Her yellow sundress was simple and loose, but somehow showed off her lovely curves. She was wearing barely any makeup, just a touch of blush and a single swipe of mascara.
After eleven contestants who all appeared perfectly polished, completely camera-ready, it was rather refreshing. Which was why Skye felt her pulse skip, just once, low and annoying in her neck.
“Hi,” the woman said, her voice warm and not forced. “I’m Lucy. And unlike every other woman before me, I didn’t prepare anything.” She glanced toward the fire pit where the other eleven contestants were gathered. “Not because I don’t think you’re worth it, but rather because I haven’t actually watched much of the show and didn’t know it was a thing.”
Skye, who had spoken to eleven gorgeous women tonight, felt completely and inconveniently thrown off. Probably because this was the first time a contestant had come unprepared. No gift. No ukulele, or serenade, or weird crystal that changed color under the light. There was just her. Unapologetic and real.
“Hopefully, a traditional meet and greet will be enough,” Lucy added.
“It’s risky,” Skye said, smiling. She was glad she didn’t have to force another ‘oh how interesting’ or ‘you’re such a good singer’ when clearly, they were not.
“I guess so,” Lucy shrugged. One shoulder rose just enough to shift the dress’s strap. “But I like a little risk, don’t you?”
Skye opened her mouth and closed it again.
“Depends,” Skye managed to say. “Risks can be worth it, or they can totally blow up in your face.”
“Guess we’ll see which one I am,” Lucy said, and for a second, neither of them moved. Not until Toni, the second assistant director, cleared her throat from the sidelines.
Lucy stepped back. “Well, I should probably join the other girls before they start gossiping behind my back.”
“That’s probably a little too late.” Skye glanced over Lucy’s shoulder at the fire pit and at the women whisperingamongst themselves. She knew from experience that the gossip had started the moment the women had stepped onto the boat.
“Fair enough,” Lucy said. She looked like she was about to step away when she added, “You’ll let me know if I’m blowing it, right?”
Skye hesitated, caught off guard once again. “I think you’re doing just fine,” she said, softer than she meant to.
Lucy smiled again and then turned and walked toward the fire pit. And for some reason, Skye completely forgot that urge to run away, that instinct to sprint to the nearest bathroom to escape this bad idea. Which only made the entire thing worse, because if she wasn’t dreading it, if she wasn’t actively hating every second of it… well, then it wasn’t simply a bad idea anymore; it was a dangerous one.
“Amazing,” came Marla’s voice in her earpiece. “We’ve got it. It’s gold. You, my dear Red, did fabulously. I knew we’d chosen the right replacement.”
Skye didn’t agree, but she didn’t say anything. She simply blinked as the moment snapped like a rubber band. She turned to see Toni stepping forward with her clipboard, already motioning the next steps as if they were behind schedule. Which they probably were by a mere few seconds.
“Alright, Red,” Toni said briskly. “We’re resetting for the group shot at the fire pit. I want you to stand center, hold your champagne, and look warm and open. After that, we’ll roll right into your toast. Keep it short and sweet, please. Thirty seconds max, and then you mingle for a bit while we get B-roll. You’ll get your cue when it’s time to step aside for the first one-on-one.”
Skye knew all this. She’d given these exact instructions far too many times when she was behind the camera, clipboard in hand, headset snug against her ear. Hearing it directed at her made her skin crawl. Yet she nodded curtly and did as she was told.
Chapter Four
“Are we supposed to just stand here?” Amy muttered. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wincing. “Do you think it’ll be rude to sit down? My back’s killing me.”
