Oh.That. He thinks I’m being weird because he’s in the FBI, not because he’s got just the right amount of stubble on his face or because the color combination on his shirt makes his eyes look super green.
On the one hand, it’s much less embarrassing for me if he thinks I’m knocking things off tables because I’m intimidated by the investigation. On the other hand ... I don’t want to be uninvolved. I’m surprised, honestly, to find how much I want to be involved. This is by far the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me—well, except for that time I was in the middle of a prison riot. Wes was there then, too, come to think of it.
I stammer, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for why I am so jumpy. “No, I want to help! I do. You just startled me, that’s all.” I dare a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one else is paying too much attention. “How will I be helping, exactly?”
Wes glances around, too, before responding. “After your clearance comes through, we’ll mostly ask you for information about our person of interest. Day-to-day activities. Habits, preferences, things like that.”
Oh. I’m half relieved, half disappointed. I thought being an FBI informant would be much more proactive—rifling through the suspect’s belongings, hacking into computers, beating up bad guys who are trying to destroy the world. Come to think of it, I think I’m just imagining scenarios fromKim Possible.
The way Wes describes it, I’m not going to be in any danger whatsoever. It’ll be like I’m the FBI’s official gossip. Which is fine, I just thought that maybe ...
If you were more involved, you’d get to spend more time with Wes.As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I reproach myself for it. How stupid can one person be? Wes is being as professional with me as possible, because this is his job. But a part of me keeps expectingCassto be somewhere in there—the guy who couldn’t keep his eyes off me, who drew me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Who kissed me like ...
Stop it, Nina. That wasn’t Wes. Or maybe it was, that part of it, but not all of it? I think? The whole identity of Cass was just a part he was playing, as much as Nate R. is a role he’s taking on for the show. The truth is, I have no idea who this man is, not really, and I need to stop hoping for anything more. I need to officially and completely moveon.
It’s just like Grady always says—“You’ll never plow a field by turnin’ it over in your mind.” And okay, I know that doesn’t exactly apply here, because in this case the field shouldn’t be plowed ... Wait, am I the field? No. What I mean to say is, I need to stop going in circles, stuck on an endless loop of thinking about Wes and Cass and wishing they were the same. Wishing won’t make it so.
The entire war that just played out in my head must have also played out on my face because when I blink back at Wes, he’s looking at me with clear concern. “Where’d you go just now?”
I obviously am not going to tell him that. “I was just thinking. About my friend. My friend Grady. Back in Chicago.”
The gentleness on Wes’s face immediately hardens. “Ah.”
Ah? What ah? Why ah? He rises back up to his feet and I follow after him, confused, clutching the beanies I gathered in my hands. He drops the rest on the table, but does so with just a little too much force, sending the remaining pile scattering onto the floor.
“Shit,” he says, dropping down to gather them.
A few of the other contestants are turning to look now. “Now, I’ll take care of it,” I whisper to him, motioning for him to leave.
He seems caught up in a wave of frustration, though, and continues to bunch up and toss the beanies onto the table like they’ve done something to personally offend him. His movements are so erratic and jerky that half the beanies he tosses on the table end up overshooting and falling back off again.
Finally, with a frustrated harrumphing noise, he stands and kicks one of the beanies lying on the floor. He just stands there, hands clenched. “I should get back,” he says abruptly, then pivots and stalks over to rejoin the other contestants.
Chapter 14
Nina
Once all the men’s costumes have been sorted, Deja invites me to watch them film the “meet-cute,” the scene in which the Mountainettes will meet all the Mountain Men for the first time.
“Technically,” Deja tells me, “we’ll be there in case anything goes wrong with wardrobe, but really, it’s just fun to see all the hormonal chaos.”
Deja has worked on other reality dating shows, so I’ll take her word for it. Although I’m intrigued to see the contestants interact with each other, I also feel a little sick to my stomach. And not just because I’ll be watching Wes flirt with a bunch of women. I’m also vicariously nervous for all the Mountainettes. I can’t help but imagine myself as one of them, how anxious I would be meeting so many big, imposing men, with all the lights on me, the cameras tracking my every move.
All of the men have seemed nice enough in my brief interactions with them, but I know if I were in the show, I’d worry they were only talking to me because a producer was making them. My anxiety would insist that no matter how pleasant they were being, they’d be wishing they could talk to one of the other Mountainettes instead of me.
I voice a carefully pared-down version of this concern to Deja. “It would be so hard to try to juggle so many men at once.”
“Two tops,” Deja agrees, nodding sagely. “Three gets complicated. Four is just plain messy.”
Something about her tone makes me think I better not ask any follow-up questions. I’m relieved when I see various producers positioning the Mountainettes into place in front of the log cabin being used for shooting. “Cabin”is a bit misleading, since the structure is huge, easily big enough to house all the Mountain Men who make it past the first round. Although it’s more rustic than the Lodge, where my family is staying, it has all the basics the men will need, along with an absolutely breathtaking view of the Smoky Mountains.
The Mountainettes have all been styled in different colors of cute flannels, with beanies to match their chosen shade. Jeans and boots complete the ensemble. I see Harmony was assigned pink, which should thrill her. Pink is her signature color, after all.
I notice, with a pang I try my best to squash, that each Mountainette looks beautiful, polished, and confident. “They look so pretty,” I tell Deja, trying my best to smile. “You all did a great job.”
There. See how magnanimous I am? You would never guess I’m about to watch them all flirt with the only man I’ve ever loved. (Envy.) But I’m fine with it. It’s fine! (Dishonesty.)
Deja points to where the road comes around the bend. “That’s where the men will be arriving. Production found four old DeKalb Lumberjack trucks, the kind from the 1950s, and refurbished them. Each one will carry in eight men.”
