I tried focusing on the ride itself—the white steel bars connecting it all together in my direct view—but it didn’t seem to help much. My mouth was bone dry by the time we got to the very top. That was the worst part—the stop-and-start. I felt like if we were at least in constant motion, I’d feel like we were making progress. It was at that point that Gabe put an arm around me and pointed to the left, saying, “Look at that view, Claire. I bet the city would look amazing at night.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, wondering if it would be any less frightening.

  “And the ocean. Jesus. It just goes on forever.”

  It was a hell of a view—I just had a hard time appreciating it. We began moving down the other side and somehow that scared me more—maybe because there was nothing in front of us but air and a long way down. I could have moved to the other side of the gondola, but that seemed even scarier. Gabe squeezed my shoulders a little tighter, but I didn’t think he could sense my nervousness.

  Or maybe he could.

  “Doing okay?”

  I still couldn’t tell him the truth. “Yeah.”

  Soon, though, we were at the bottom and the last gondola was filled, allowing us to move in a circle unfettered. That didn’t help me relax like I’d thought it would, but I tried to remind myself that this would be over soon.

  “Looking out over the city together, kind of all alone,” he said as we reached the top again. “Kind of romantic, yeah?”

  I forced a smile but feared any words coming out of my mouth would give away that I was scared shitless—and I didn’t want him thinking he’d made a bad choice for a date. I liked that for him it wasn’t just about eating out somewhere. So far, he’d been pretty imaginative. Well, all the guys had, really. After all, I’d never been to an amusement park on a date before. Not even a carnival date in high school. But I’d never played laser tag on a date, either. It made me remember hearing something about the producers giving the guys suggestions when they needed ideas.

  I kept my face looking to the side or in front of me and not at Gabe, because if he tried to kiss me, I’d be a complete disappointment.

  But I made it. A few spins around and then it was time to get off. Ian stood there waiting for us, right next to the camera guy. “What next, folks?”

  Gabe searched my eyes. “How about the roller coaster?”

  Uhhh…my stomach hit the floor.

  “How does the lady feel about that, sir?”

  Oh…that bastard was giving me away. Gabe’s look of boyish excitement faded as he turned to look at me. “Claire, you want to ride the roller coaster, right?”

  I was an actress. I could do this.

  But I didn’t want to. I could see now, after spending a little over a week with Gabe, that he seemed to be a bit of an adrenaline junkie. And I was not. If he wound up becoming my mate, I couldn’t spend our lives lying to him just to make him happy. I had to be happy, too. But I didn’t have to outright burst his bubble. “Can we see what other rides there are?”

  He didn’t try to hide his look of disappointment—but he rallied. “What about that big guy?”

  I glanced over to see a ride I’d seen before at many of these things. A rectangular wall—a tower—that looked as tall as a skyscraper (maybe the shorter ones, but still) had big benches on both sides of the wall attached. People sitting on the benches were lifted up to the top, then dropped quickly to almost the bottom, then lifted up again.

  No, thank you.

  I scrunched my mouth as I shook my head, looking around for something else to ride. “How about that?”

  It was a huge boat, for lack of a better word, that swayed back and forth—a recipe for vomiting, that much I knew. God, I felt like such a wuss. With all the choices available, I might as well try the roller coaster, the one Gabe really wanted to ride. I could do this, right? Put on my big girl panties and all that shit? Before I could stop myself, I looked at Ian and said, “Take us to the roller coaster.”

  But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I was asking myself what had I done?

  Chapter Six

  I SWALLOWED, SUMMONING up what bravery I could find inside, reminding myself that these rides were safe. A healthy, natural fear of heights had crippled my sense of fun. It would just be a few moments, right?

  Gabe’s eyes searched mine. “You afraid of these rides?”

  Time to be honest. “Yeah, a little.”

  “We don’t have to do this. We’ve got games and food still.”

  “No, I want to do it. I don’t want to ruin our date.”

  “It won’t ruin it, Claire.”

  “No, let’s do it.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  I nodded and Ian said, “Please follow me.”

  The ride wasn’t as bad as I’d made it out to be in my mind, and Gabe held my hand throughout. I almost laughed at one point, thinking I much preferred this to the way he’d been driving on the highway. At least I was assured of the safety of the rides at the park.

  So it wracked my nerves and flipped my stomach, but I survived. When we got off, Gabe said, “One more? Or are you ready for the games instead?”

  “Up to you.”

  He wanted to make me happy, and I felt like I’d blown his good time. I got ready to tell him to pick another ride when he said to Ian, “What about all the games? One at a time?”

  “There aren’t long lines for them, but I’d be happy to escort you just the same if you’d like.”

  Gabe smirked. “Actually, I think I’ll take the alone time with my girl. We got this.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. As much as I didn’t know about being his girl, I even less thought we’d be alone. After all, we were surrounded by hundreds of people and the camera that never left. But I knew what Gabe meant, and I suspected we might have more fun now that I could relax.

  So the rest of our date was pretty enjoyable. Trying to win me a large stuffed animal—no doubt, thanks to the movies always showing the guy winning the girl the biggest one available—we spent more time than we should have at the game where we had to throw rings on water bottles. But I beat him in the horserace game. We wound up having so much fun at the games that we only had fifteen minutes for food. Fortunately, Ian came to the rescue again, only this time, he took our orders and went inside the food booths himself, emerging a few minutes later with our requests. We also didn’t have to rely on the usual amusement park menu. Even though we could have asked for cotton candy, corn dogs, soft pretzels, and funnel cakes, we were also able to order a cheeseburger and fries (or onion rings, in Gabe’s case). And I expected the food to be subpar, but it tasted pretty good.

  “You survived the date, Claire.”

  I chuckled a little, dragging my fry through a hill of ketchup. “I swear I didn’t try to ruin it.”

  “I know. Are you happy?”

  After swallowing my fry, I said, “Yeah. I had fun.”

  “Even on the roller coaster?”

  I wanted to see if Gabe had a good sense of humor or not, and this was my perfect chance. “Your driving prepared me for it.”

  His face was like stone at first, making me think I’d need to be more careful, but then he smiled wide. “You know I wasn’t doing that to freak you out, right?”

  “Yes.” But I was relieved that the producers took control. “And we wound up having a great date.”

  “A fair date. That’s all I wanted.”

  I wanted to change the subject, because I didn’t know what all the guys’ decisions entailed, but I was curious as to why Gabe chose a date so far away, knowing travel time counted as part of the whole date. After all, up until two hours ago, those had been the rules. It was only thanks to Gabe’s reckless driving, endangering not just my life and the cameraman’s but his own, that the rules changed.

  Of course, I needed to get used to that, because it seemed to be the way the show was going to go. Cat made no bones about “learning as they went.” I just hated feeling like a guinea pig, knowing they could change things at any moment.

  “Guys, I hate to be the alarm clock, but we gotta go in five minutes.”

  The poor camera guy had had to stand in the hot sun filming mostly boring stuff, watching us have fun and stuff our faces, while he got nothing. Well, he had a bottle of water, but he had to watch us gorge on cheeseburgers and milkshakes—and now he had to be the messenger with bad news, too.

  It didn’t bother me. I knew we were getting close to time’s up. Gabe, though—the guy was volatile. “Man, I know. I don’t need you tellin’ me.”

  The camera guy just shrugged, not saying another word.

  “Besides, what will they do if we don’t leave on time? Will they dock me on my next date?”

  “Gabe,” I said, reaching over and touching his hand. Finally, he broke eye contact with the camera and looked at me. “He’s just doing his job—but do you want to take the chance of the producers deciding to change something else just because we didn’t leave on time?” I saw his facial muscles soften, so I forged ahead. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want them deciding we can only have dates at the mansion from now on—or dates within a five-mile radius from the mansion or whatever. If we piss them off, who knows what they’ll do?”

  Sighing, he said, “Fine. You’re right.” He stood then and asked, “You done with that?”

  There was a little food left, but I had eaten enough. He slid my trash onto the tray and dumped it all in the big receptacle nearby as I stood and sucked down what was left of my drink. Soon, we were walking toward the exit—and, even if we were a couple of minutes late, the camera guy recorded that we left when asked.

  Ian stood by the front gates and wished us farewell, asking us to come back again sometime. I was sure, at this point, he saw it as the perfect free opportunity for advertising. Couldn’t blame the guy. And he actually had done a great job. I doubted we could have enjoyed even half the things we had if he hadn’t stepped in and put us at the front of the line.

  Once at the car, Gabe moved like he was going to open my door, but before he did, he pulled me into his arms and held me close. Before I could suck down another breath, he planted a kiss on me that I felt clear to my toes. Unlike our first kissing session, this one felt more passionate if that was possible, and—aside from everything else—I was pretty sure Gabe was the best kisser out of the men. Kissing was important. I wanted and needed a guy who was good with his mouth, so Gabe erased multiple sins with his mouth action in a short span of time.

  And, wisely, he left me wanting more. Leaning his forehead into mine, he said, “You are so sexy, Claire. I’ve got to win the next challenge so we can spend the night together.”

  I grinned, but he wiped that smile off my face with another kiss.

  Fortunately, we were heading back to the mansion before the cameraman could tell us we were running behind again…

  * * *

  For some reason, dinner that night was tense. Something unspoken hung in the air, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. And every time I tried to start a conversation, it dwindled off, because I was mostly talking to myself.

  At one point, I looked around the table, assessing the face of each man sitting there, trying to puzzle out what was going on behind the masks they wore. But their faces were like steel. I did manage to get them all to smile at me, but as soon as their faces returned to their food or away from me, that on-the-verge-of-anger look froze their expressions.

  Each. Guy.

  What was going on?

  Finally, at the end of the meal, I asked. “What’s up, guys? I sense something tense and strange among the four of you.”

  Gabe grinned then, the first genuine smile I’d seen all evening. “I wouldn’t worry about it, babe.”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Thomas said, easing between us before walking farther down the hall. Darius and Grayson stood beside us, indicating they weren’t going to shove their way between us like Thomas had—but I had the feeling there was more going on there.

  I once more looked at their faces—except for Thomas’s, whose back was to me—but they weren’t going to let me in on this secret. “Well, good night then.”

  The guys nodded and, as I stepped backward a bit, I watched all four of them move down the hall. This was one of those nights where I wished we had a group activity, but during the dating phase, the producers either wanted us on a date or in a group activity like dinner. Equal access, equal time, all that jazz.

  Unfortunately, that meant I had several hours of waking time where I had to wonder what the hell was going on among the men of the house—and there was only so much confessional time I could put in. And, if I had to be honest with myself, I realized I was finding myself bored a lot. Yes, I had plenty of books to read and I could have taken a walk outside anytime I wanted, but without my usual routine, my friends, my freedom, it was easy for a sense of ennui to take over—and I had no cure for it except to get through this show. I understood why they didn’t let me freely interact with the guys constantly—it would be easier to build relationships that way, but it wouldn’t be realistic, because who spends that much time with a person you just started dating?

  But just as I started feeling glum and ready to turn into bed early (again), my phone rang.

  Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten about that.

  This red monstrosity on my dresser—it was like an old-fashioned telephone, and there was no caller ID. I just had to pick it up and take my chances. “Hello?”

  “Claire, this is Darius.”

  I’d know his smooth voice anywhere. He hadn’t had to identify himself—but I wasn’t going to tell him that. No sense inflating his ego when he needed to be vying for me like the other men. “Hey, Darius. How are you?”

  “Doing all right. What about you?”

  “Honestly, I’m a little bored.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you know I can’t really help with that—at least for tonight. But I wanted to ask you about going to lunch with me on Monday.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Is there anything you’d like to do?”

  “As long as I’m with you, I won’t care what we do.”

  I could hear the warm smile in his voice then. “I might keep it simple then. I don’t want to keep trying to outdo these guys—I don’t think that’s the point of the show.”

  Oh, it might have been, but I liked the way he thought. “Fantastic. When will you be by to get me?”

  “Eleven-thirty sound good?”

  Anything sounded good coming out of his mouth. I could have sat there all night talking with him, but I could tell chatting on the phone wasn’t his thing. Really, though, Darius was much like a closed book. He held his cards close to his vest. But I liked that about him. I got the feeling that the more we got to know each other, the more he’d share.

  And I could wait.

  I decided to get ready for bed and started rifling through one of my drawers to find the nightie I wanted to wear when the phone rang again, making me jump. It was a good thing the men used the phones, because they’d been the last thing on my mind. If I were one of the guys, I might have forgotten that task.

  Talking to the guys on the phone, though, could potentially alleviate the sense of listlessness I’d been feeling—and that thought alone made me eager to pick up the receiver.

  When I answered, the person on the other end began talking immediately. “Claire, this is Thomas. I want you to know I think this is bullshit.”

  What was he saying?

  Chapter Seven

  THE INTENSITY OF his words shook me. Thomas had seemed a little abrupt on occasion, but his tone and verbiage threw me off guard. “What do you mean?”

  I heard a small chuckle then—typical Thomas. Make me edgy and then make a joke out of it. “This whole calling-you-for-a-date thing—it’s idiotic. The producers are inventing ways to build tension into this show when there’s already plenty there.”

  This was news to me. I knew they’d been striving for drama. “There is?”

  His pause was slight but there nonetheless. “Sweetheart, you got a lot to learn.” I felt a little ire rising in my chest. “But that’s not why I called, as you know. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be picking you up around noon for our date tomorrow.”

  That wasn’t an ask—but, then again, he’d already kind of asked in person before.

  “Sound all right?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Before he could dismiss me and hang up, I asked, “Do you think I’m naïve or stupid?”

  “No. I just don’t think you read people very well.”

  There went the ire, straight from my heart to my mouth before I could stop it. “No, I think I do—and you’re an asshole, Thomas. See you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone before he could say more.

  And, even though I mostly didn’t want to talk with him again that night, I had a hard time falling asleep as part of me waited for the phone to ring again—because, despite being allotted only one phone call per night, that was the kind of thing rebellious Thomas might have done.

  Once I fell asleep, though, morning seemed to come far too soon. Breakfast was less strained than our meal the night before. When I got up to go to my room, Thomas pulled me aside and said, “You’ll want to wear a bathing suit under your clothes. Or just wear a bathing suit if you want.”

  Being outside for our date sounded heavenly. “Okay. See you in a while.”

  Something he didn’t know about was the crazy wardrobe I had access to. I had not one, not two or three, but four bathing suits. The question was if I wanted to wear a one-piece or a bikini. I didn’t care that Thomas would probably like the bikini more; knowing I’d be on film, I wanted to make sure I wore something that would show off my best assets. After all, I still hoped to be seen by Hollywood types.

  The two-piece then—I had a string bikini in hot pink that would look nice up against my skin, even though I didn’t have a tan. I was going to need plenty of sunscreen. That was a reason to use my one phone call of the day.

 

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