“So, it’s an outdoor campsite from what I understand.”
“We’ve got yurts.”
“Yurts?”
“Picture a tall, circular hut with a cone roof,” he explained.
Some paper rattling ensued. “Oh, yes.You’rethe one we’re interviewing in front of one of the outdoor structures, it says. I guess that’s what they mean. Perfect.”
“I’mthe one?”he echoed. “How many interviews are you doing? Don’t tell me you’re covering all fifty of the finalists.”
She chuckled, but it sounded more like a choke. “Heavens no. Most of the interviews were done earlier in the month. I’ve got just five this time. I’m headed to Arizona to get my second interview.”
“From LA?” he asked, not sure why he was curious.
“From Vegas, actually. A pro gambler,” she said.
“You don’t say? People do that for a living?”
“Apparently.”
He smiled, then remembered that he was supposed to blow the interview, not make friends with the chick interviewing him before they even had the chance to meet.
“You know,” he said, lowering his tone, “we’re supposed to see a real blizzard in the next few days. You might have to camp out in one of the yurts with me over the holiday. But don’t worry, if that happens, I’m sure I can keep you warm somehow.”
If Chantelle was listening to the call, she’dknowhe was trying to blow it. Easton never spoke to women in such a way.
The woman on the other end of the line cleared her throat. “Save it for the contestants, sparky,” she quipped. “I already have a plane ticket to fly home after our interview and I intend to make it there in time for Christmas Eve no matter the weather.”
Huh. Why did he like her response so much? He guessed it was because it’s just how he’d want his sister to reply if some creep was coming onto her. And he had to hand it to this Ivy chick, the play on words with the name she’d called him—his last name was Sparks, after all—showed a good amount of wit. Still, Easton had a first impression to ruin.
“Sounds like you have aninwith Mother Earth, Ms. Ingles. If that’s the case, maybe it’ll be all sunshine and rainbows for you. You’ll fly out on a sunbeam, and once your plane is safely on its way, the storm will descend once more.”
The cricket worthy silence said his comment struck home.
“I’ll see you at twelve o’clock on Monday, Mr. Sparks. Goodbye.”
An odd blend of satisfaction and guilt settled over him as the line shifted back to the call with his sister.
“Was that them?” Chantelle blurted. “Was that the station?”
“Yes,” he said. “It was Ivy Ingles. She’s the one who’s going to interview me. She just finished up with some pro gambler in Vegas and now she’s headed to Arizona to interview heaven knows who.”
“Pro gambling is a thing? Huh.”
His mind drifted back to the way this Ivy put him in his place, telling him to save it for the bachelorettes. Little did she know he had no intention of getting that far.
“So she’s still planning to meet you out at the property?” his sister asked.
Easton tossed some deodorant, his toothbrush, and some toothpaste into the duffel bag next. “Yep.”
“Good. I can’t believe how well the timing worked out too. We don’t have a group in session, but you’ll be up there anyway, getting ready for the winter crew.”
“Yeah, funny how that worked,” he said, heavy on the sarcasm. Shortly after the New Year, they’d welcome a new group of struggling young adults into their winter survival program. Hence, Easton’s four day getaway to secure and prepare the yurts.
“All right then,” he said, zipping up the duffel bag and hiking it onto his shoulder. “I’m heading there now. It’s supposed to storm, so I figure we can just…go inside the main office and do the interview in the commons area of the lodge. Or maybe at my desk.”
“What?” Chantelle screeched. “No.You can’t do it inside. The setting is supposed to represent you in some way. You’re an outdoor survival specialist, not some dork at a desk.”
