‘Are you prepared to give up your role in your family’s almond business?’
Her sigh was one of exasperation. ‘Why does everyone keep focusing on that? How can you put a price on love, on building a future with someone who shares the same values as you? I wouldn’t be wasting seven weeks wearing clichéd pink workboots, jumping through hoops enduring challenges and God-awful dinner parties if I didn’t think it would be worthwhile.’
Spencer swore softly, backing away.Didhe love farming as much as Emily? Would she be furious when she realised that South Giddi Giddi was just one part of his life, not his whole world?
He squeezed the stainless-steel handle of the smoke can, watching the small clouds of smoke puff from the spout then shift and change, just like his take on this damned experiment.
It wasn’t long before Emily finished her interview, and they were given the green light to head for the hives.
‘Remember,’ Spencer said. ‘If the bees get too much, walk away quietly and regroup. No loud noises, running or yelling, okay?’
‘I’ll save the yelling for when I watch myself back on telly.’ Emily adjusted the bee suit with a grimace. ‘And what’s with this miserable weather? I’m only a few hundred kilometres from home, but your climate feels a lot more wintry than I’m used to.’
Spencer let out a long breath. Whoever he chose at the end of this competition would need to leave their friends, family and home to be with him. And, in Emily’s case, an established family business. Could he really have that on his conscience if he wasn’t feeling a rock-solid connection?
‘Do you still want to do this?’ Spencer asked quietly, watching her as carefully as he could behind the gauze-fronted bee-keeping veil.
‘The bees or the TV show?’
‘Either,’ he said softly. ‘If you’re not feeling it, you know you can always call things off.’
Emily gave a dry laugh and tapped the recording box strapped to the small of her waist. ‘I don’t want to call it off, I want to skip to the good part, where it’s me and you, no cameras, no microphones, no other women.’
She studied his face. ‘What about you? You back away nearly every time I snuggle into you or try to steal a kiss. You never mention your wife but she’s clearly the elephant in the room. I’m putting myself out there, Spencer, and with all these mixed messages, I’ve got no idea where I stand.’
Spencer reached for his tool bucket, not wanting the cameras to document the alarm that had surely skittered across his face. ‘Of course I’m interested, it’s just different to what I expected. Seeing you in that bee suit …’
The words wedged in his throat and he studied the smoke can, wishing it would have the same sedative effect on his pounding chest as it did the bees.
Behind him, Spencer could sense rather than see the cameraman repositioning, and he knew that Dana would be gesturing to the sound guy and the extra camera to ensure they captured every word.
As he’d done so many times these last five years, he turned his attention to the beehive and the colony relying on him to keep them alive.
‘They’re pretty quiet this time of year,’ he said stiffly, easing the clamp and undoing the thin metal strap holding the hives together.
‘Like hibernation?’
He nodded. ‘Exactly. So we’re not collecting honey or moving hives today, just checking the queen bee’s still present.’
He opened the timber box and extracted a frame. ‘We’re also looking for mould, small hive beetle and brood rot.’
‘I’m not hearing much dialogue, guys,’ interrupted Dana. She strode over with her clipboard. ‘We’re already losing key visuals because of these big bee suits, and it’s going to be boring as batshit if we’re just watching you lean over wooden box after box. Can you talk us through things, tell us what you think about the setting, the work, the sight of a strong handsome man being so tender with those delicate little insects? Pretty hot, right, Emily?’
Previously, they’d laughed together about the producer’s prodding and poking, but today, Emily studied the ground before tugging at the zip on the beekeeper’s veil. ‘I’ve got a headache, I need to get out of this suit.’
Dana looked between them and Spencer couldn’t tell if it was dismay or glee on her face as she watched Emily stride towards the marquee, pulling ineffectively at the headgear with her gloved hands.
‘She was a bit on edge when I told her the suit belonged to your late wife,’ Dana said, stepping aside as the cameraman moved closer. ‘Tell me how you’re feeling right now, Spencer? Do you still think she’s the one?’
In the first fortnight of filming, he’d admitted on camera that the chemistry with Emily had felt the strongest, andalthough the producers had taken this angle and run with it every chance they got, it still felt like a loaded question.
Was it the pink bee suit?
Or was it just him?
‘Spencer,’ Dana groaned. ‘There’s only so much footage I can use of you staring off into the cloudy distance, grimacing at the muddy paddocks. I’ll have to start filming the catering lady for some sunny content, in her sunflower dresses and bright lipstick. She’s the only one who seems to be happy about this show.’
Spencer wasn’t sure what exactly it was about the dark-haired Clem Crossley, with her quirky clothes and the aquamarine eyes she’d passed on to her two little girls, but he suddenly appreciated her calm presence and sense of humour.
