Shit. I feel my own smile falter as the ice-cold bucket of reality is dumped back onto me. Right. Harmony. I recover quickly and smile back at her with a wink. Frankly, the gesture makes me feel gross, but Nate R. is a winker, so what can you do?
Luckily, if Chet Hodgkins’s instructions are anything to go by, today will be more about the competition and less about flirting and conversing with the women. I’ll just have to make Harmony think I’m doing well at the obstacle course for her benefit, and hopefully that will make her feel closer to me.
(Gross. Gross. Gross. I hate it.)
I push the thought from my mind as we gather for the first part of the competition—the rope course. From here, we’ll go on to the wood-chopping station, where we’ll have to successfully split a log in half before we can move on to the final station, archery. Whoever can land a bullseye first wins.
It’ll be like taking candy from a baby. A hungry, angry baby. (Name that reference!)
What any of this has to do with being a mountain man or falling in love, I have no idea, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I focus all my attention on the task ahead as we line up to begin the rope course. “On your marks,” Chet Hodgkins calls out. “Get set—go!”
As has been established, the other guys are bigger and stronger than me. But that isn’t necessarily an advantage on a rope course. My lightness and agility mean I can move faster to grab onto the first rope, and that my body isn’t as heavy as I pull myselfup.
By the time I reach the top of the rope-climbing tower, I’m already a few seconds ahead of the guy behind me, Everett. I tune him out, going to my happy mental place—the score from the BBC’sRobin Hoodby Andy Price (a criminally underrated action/adventure soundtrack, if I may be so bold).
The wood-chopping obstacle is more difficult for two reasons: The first is, although I’m adept enough with an axe, I don’t have the same strength as some of the other guys to split a log cleanly in half. The second is, it takes all of my willpower not to scream,And my axe!the entire time I’m hacking away at my log. Thus, Everett and a guy named Will both gain some ground on me there.
But I more than make up for it once we get to archery. This is my moment. This is the thing I was put on this earth to do. As the other guys scramble to notch their arrows, I easily slide mine into position, take aim, and shoot it at the target.
Bullseye.
That’s right, ladies. I might not be the biggest guy here. I might not have to shop in the Big and Tall section, and okay, I might be five eleven and three-quarters, not a clean six feet, but I can notch an arrow like nobody’s business.
I hope Nina saw my moment of victory. As dorky as my skill set might be, I hope wherever she is, she’s proud that I’m her man. I resist the urge to search for Nina in the crowd, aware that the cameras are on me and everyone’s watching.
Instead, I seek out a safer option in the sea of faces—Morrie. I grin at him ecstatically. He just shakes his head at me.Loser, he mouths, but I know he’s proud of me, somewhere deep, deep,deepdown inside.
Chapter 30
Wes
While the production crew sets up the next shot, Morrie pulls me aside to film a confessional. “Try not to gloat too much,” he mutters. “We don’t want you to look like a dorkanda sore winner.”
Another producer, whose name I’ve now confirmedisLyle, coaches me on the type of sound bites they’re looking for today. “Tell us about how it felt to be victorious, but try to tie it in with Harmony. How you did it all for her, or how you hope she noticed. That sort of thing. Don’t be afraid to get too cheesy. Reality TV is a dairy-friendly environment.”
I’ll try to rely on the trick I used last time, thinking of Nina while I’m talking about Harmony. That definitely strayed into extra-cheesy territory, but it was all from the heart, so it didn’t feel quite so skeevy.
It seems like Morrie is thinking about the last confessional, too, since he gives me a pointed look. “Don’t worry about Wes. He puts the cheese in cheeseball.”
I widen my eyes at Morrie, who definitely just called me the wrong name. “Nate,” I correct him through gritted teeth.
Morrie’s eyes widen back at me, and he grimaces.Sorry, he mouths.
Luckily Lyle seems to be distracted by something on my outfit. “The shirt is sitting on you kinda funny after all that running and climbing and whatnot.” Heturns, calling out, “Can we get someone from wardrobe over here? Oh, Nina! Can you come fix his shirt, Wild Card?”
Wild Card? Although I’m intrigued by the nickname, I’m immediately distracted as Nina approaches. Something in the set of her chin tells me she’s going to try her best to remain professional throughout this entire exchange and not let on that she knows me. It’s pretty freaking adorable, honestly.
I’m the seasoned FBI agent here, so I should be the one making sure no one clocks that we know each other—especially with Lyle and the cameraman observing this entire exchange, not to mention recording it. But I was always that kid—you know, the one whose mom told him, “don’t push that button” and he had to try it, at least one time, just to see what it would do.
I really want to push Nina’s buttons. All of them. I want to find out what each one does.
Ignoring Morrie’s warning look, I give Nina a polite smile as she approaches. “Hey, Nina, right?” As if she hasn’t been the person helping me with my outfits all week, or like I hadn’t just heard Lyle call her name. It might be overkill, but if we’re supposed to be strangers, I’m going to play up the fact that we’re strangers. Hence, pretending I can’t confidently recall her name.
Nina narrows her eyes at me, just a little. It’s probably not something anyone else would notice, but I had a long time in prison to study each and every one of her expressions and learn exactly what they mean. And this one means she’s amused at my dastardly subterfuge but trying not to let on that she finds me impossibly funny and charming. Or something along those lines. “That’s right,” she hedges.
“Did you see me win that obstacle challenge?” I ask her. “Pretty cool, huh?”
