Colt’s expression changes from one of interest to one of…disgust? “Eeewww,” the former host says. “New contestants on the Time Warp show?” He brings his lifted foot off its pedestal and strides forward, which makes me wonder if there’s a camera on this frame and he can see us in live time.
“Sadly, I won’t be there this season to boss you two around, but I’ve got enough in me to get you started.”
Adrenaline surges through me as I recall some of the crazy stuff the other contestants had to do.
Colt moves his gaze to Dawson, confirming that the screen does contain a two-sided camera as I suspected.
“Because this is some fancy, celebrity edition, we’ll allow you two to get settled into your room and enjoy the lovely gift basket waiting for you on the coffee table. Which is also your lunch, so go—make it count or whatever.”
I nod, but I can’t help but play back something he said—room—singular. Not plural. This isnotthe way it was in the other seasons.
“You saidroom,” Dawson says before I can. “You meantrooms,right?” I glance over and spot something akin to fear in Dawson’s brown eyes.
Colt frowns. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me this colossal, two-story home with a waterfall pool, slate hot tub, and a view that makes grown men cry isn’t good enough for you.”
Dawson’s nostrils flare. “Do you want her to walk right out of here? She needs her own room.”
“Then take the couch, silly. Geez, so spoiled.” Colt waves a shooing hand in our direction. “Go on, scoot, scram. Go get back together and all that. But if you don’t…” Colt’s gaze zooms in on me as he steps closer. His eyes narrow into a smolder. “But if you don’t, Brinley, you know where to find me.” He winks a second before the screen goes black.
The carrier jiggles at my feet, reminding me that I need to find out where the litter box is. “I guess we should check out the rest of the home.”
“Wait,” Dawson says, staying me with a hand. “You’re not pissed about the room situation?”
I shrug. “Not if you’re willing to sleep on the couch,” I say. “Besides, this place looks huge from the outside. I’m sure there are plenty of rooms.”
With that, I regrip the carrier and step around the partition that separates the foyer from the rest of the home.
It takes one glimpse to render me speechless.
Holy gorgeousness and skies of blue. Skies for miles, days,eternities!When Colt said two stories, I had no idea the view would extend to that full height with endless windows as high as the ceiling themselves. I take a moment to bask in its beauty.
The open floor plan has me wondering if there is, in fact, only one private room in this place. Everything is so…visible. And beautiful. Neutral tones of white, beige, and cream, complemented by gold accents and green plants, allow the glistening blue sky to take center stage.
“Wow, this is incredible.” I spin in place and search for signs of cameras. Marsha assured me that, like the homes in prior seasons, this place would have them everywhere except the bathrooms and closets, where we’ve been encouraged to dress. “I wonder where the cameras are.”
“Oh, they’re everywhere,” Dawson assures. He points to a high panel separating the windows. “They’re white, so they blend in better.”
I glance to where he points. And so they are, accompanied by dangling mics. My face goes red as I pull my gaze away. I remind myself that I’m not easily intimidated and that I shouldn’t get in my head. We’re all human—me, Dawson, those editing the content, everyone who’ll be watching at home…
“Should we go check out our bedroom?”
A rush of heat builds in my chest, an unwelcome shot of adrenaline at the mention of sharing a room. No, I didn’t want or anticipate that, but if wearestuck sharing a room, I know Dawson will be a gentleman and take the couch.
“Not that I’d uh, force you to share a room with me, of course,” he adds.
“Whatever the case is, we’ll make it work,” I assure.
I head for the open, circular stairway, guessing the room is up there. With some effort, I’ve avoided holding Dawson’s gaze since I arrived. Sure, I’ve looked at him as politeness demands, but in my experience, looking into Dawson Cain’s eyes is like opening a one-sided window into your mind, and since it’s been years since we’ve spoken face-to-face, I’m not ready to give him that kind of access.
I both hear and feel Dawson as he takes the steps cautiously behind me. The carrier tips this way and that as I lift my gaze to see over the ledge of a half wall and into a massive, beautiful bedroom. It’s not until I’m at the top of the steps that I realize there is no door, just a double-wide walkway leading from a spacious loft area at the top of the stairs to the entry. A lone, white leather chair rests in the corner.
“Guess I could sleep on that thing if I have to,” Dawson mumbles.
I give it a questioning glance. “Do you sleep sitting up?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to.”
We share a laugh that plants a spot of fresh warmth in a long-forgotten space. The space that stores romantic gestures, playful banter, and kisses that—Dawson Dam or not—I never want to forget.
