So that will be thirty-two men total, all competing for four Mountainettes. Sounds complicated. “How many will they eliminate this week?” I ask her.
“Each woman will get to choose six men she wants to keep on for this first round. Every week, one more will be eliminated, until each woman only has one man left—or decides to leave the show single.”
I must be a horrible person, because my immediate, unfiltered hope is that Wes gets cut in the first round. That he decides to go back to wherever it is he really comes from. That way, I won’t have to watch him flirt with anyone.
Then again, if he leaves in the first round, I’ll probably never see him again. My dumb heart can’t decide which prospect would be worse.
Deja and I are positioned across the dirt driveway from the Mountainettes, where we’ll be able to see the Mountain Men arrive but stay out of the shot.Between the cast and the production crew, there are so many people on set, I don’t expect Harmony to take any notice of me. To my surprise, she spots me right away and gives me a happy wave, motioning excitedly to her hat.Pink!she mouths.
I give her a double thumbs-up to show how happy I am for her.
Her attention is drawn away by Lyle, who seems to be giving her some last-minute instructions, so I let my gaze drift around the group gathered to watch the filming. I never realized there would be so many people on film sets. I recognize Lyle, of course, and Sienna and Raquel, though all of them look far too busy for me to approach. Everyone seems occupied and determined, focused on whatever their job is on set.
Everyone but Morrie. I’ve been put under firm instruction not to acknowledge him in person unless strictly necessary, so I’m surprised to find that he’s staring at me intently, looking back and forth between Harmony and me with a furrowed brow.
My attention is snagged away by Deja, who nudges me and points toward the first truck rounding the bend. The Mountainettes snap to attention as the cameras start rolling, trying to capture their reactions to the first group of men. As the vehicle approaches, I see the Mountain Men are thrumming with excitement, buoyed by the adventure and the cameras and the pretty women waiting for them.
I scan their faces and am relieved that I don’t see Wes yet, then annoyed at myself for feeling relieved. Before either emotion can get too carried away, my attention gets snagged by Morrie again. He’s still staring at me.
Weird. Though his eyes are fixed on me, I avert my gaze, feeling too awkward and self-conscious to look back and have him catch me watching him in return. (Someone help me make that make sense, please.) Even so, I see him gesturing at me—jerking his head to the side, indicating I should join him.
Frowning, I look at Deja, trying to come up with a good excuse to leave her. “I’m just going to ...”
I trail off when I realize she’s too busy watching the filming to care about what I do.
After sneaking over to Morrie, I look at him questioningly, but he jerks his head at me again. “Don’t look at me. Stand a few feet in front of me. Face forward.”
Without thinking, I do as he commands, even though it’s an extremely strange way to behave. If anyone notices us, we’ll look far more guilty than if we just have a regular conversation with each other. “What’s going on?” I whisper back to him. Well, I think I’m whispering to him, anyway. It’s possible he’s already walked off, since my back is turned to him.
“You know Harmony Miller?” he asks.
Wherever I thought this conversation was going, this wasn’t it. “Y-yes,” I stammer, stupidly.
Morrie’s voice sounds grim. “We need to talk ...”
Chapter 15
Nina
Five Reasons Why I Should Have Suspected Uncle Aaron, but Didn’t:
We moved every few years, right as Uncle Aaron’s church was really starting to take off, just as the money was really starting to roll in. That was the life of a missionary, Uncle Aaron always claimed. We could never stay put for long. But then, we never kept in contact with the people we left behind, either.
The name of the church changed everywhere we went. To reflect God’s new purpose for him, was Uncle Aaron’s excuse.
Uncle Aaron was firm about controlling any mentions of him on social media. If a parishioner tagged him in a photo or caption, the post was removed quickly after his lawyers got in touch. Uncle Aaron preferred to have control over his image, he said; it mattered more to him than others, because he was a representative of God.
