“Don’t tell me you watch this drivel?" Sly asks from where he and Jagger are resting on the other bed.
“This isn’t good?” Wren asks, leaning forward to look at him around Pete’s chest.
I pull her back and shake my head. “Don’t listen to him. He probably thinks watching paint dry is entertaining. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Is she dating all of those men?” she asks, returning her gaze to what seems to be a group date with the bachelorette, Laurie, and twelve men.
“This is a reality show—” I stop and tilt my head down to her. “Do you know what that means? Do you know the difference between reality shows and fiction?”
“I think so, most things on TV are fake, but this one is real.”
“Somewhat,” Sly says, answering for me. “They have probably been coached on what to say or how to act, but for the most part, it’s supposed to be unscripted.”
“This show is about the bachelorette trying to find a man to marry. It starts with something like twenty men, and each episode she hands out roses to the ones she wants to keep for another week, and the ones who don’t get any have to leave until it’s down to the final one.”
“And then they get married?” she asks.
“It normally ends in a proposal, yes,” I nod, looking back at the screen.
She’s quiet for a few minutes as we all start to relax. “Dex,” she whispers, as if not to disturb the others. “How does she choose?”
“Choose what?”
“Between them? They all seem so nice.”
“Well…” I start, choosing my words carefully, “she has to figure out who’s being genuine and who isn’t.”
“Some of them are lying?” she asks in surprise.
“Probably. They lie to get on TV,” Pete adds from beside us.
“Would you?” she asks quietly.
“Would we what?” I ask her.
“Would you lie? To get on TV, I mean.”
I glance over her head, my concerned eyes connecting with Pete. He nods, understanding she’s not just asking about the show anymore. I place the ice pack down on the nightstand before grabbing her free hand with mine.
“I have no desire to be on TV, especially since I’m a wanted criminal. And I definitely lie. But not to you, Wren. Never to you.”
“Same here,” Pete says, squeezing her hand. After a few quiet minutes, I ease us down to a lying position, her head tucked against my chest as I stroke her back. Her breathing slows, grows heavy, and then a soft snore escapes her lips.
I grin, fighting a laugh so I don’t wake her.
So fucking cute.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WREN
I’ve decided that cuddling might be my new favorite activity. It sure beats ballet and definitely beats playing the piano or doing cross-stitch.
The way Dex held me through the night is something I’m afraid to get used to. I already know that sleeping alone again would feel incredibly lonely.
Jagger had held me during the car ride and again after I freaked out yesterday. Sly had carried me out of the biker’s den. But I hadn’t really cuddled with Pete yet.
Noticing warm breath on the back of my shoulder, I tilt my head back and realize Pete’s now cuddled up to my back. A smile pulls at my lips. The warm morning sun peeks through the curtains, so I know I’ve been asleep for well over twelve hours.
