My Bachelor (7 page)

Chapter 8

Rafe

Even though we
were supposed to ignore the food on the picnic blanket, Peyton reached for a grape and held it up to my mouth. I ate it but shook my head when she reached for another. I was getting used to the cameras rolling, but I still wasn’t used to having to engage in what seemed like endless conversations with so many different women, women who were still complete strangers. Peyton was one I’d only spoken to for a short time. She was pretty with short dark hair and big green eyes, but I could already tell that she lacked a sense of humor.

“What is it you’re looking for in a wife?” she asked suddenly. It could easily have been a question fed to her by Doug, the director, a guy who was slowly getting on my nerves.

I toyed with the idea of being completely honest and admitting that I wasn’t looking for a wife at all, but I decided there had been more than enough drama for the day. “Honestly, I need someone who I can laugh with. Humor is high on my list.”

Peyton’s top lip twitched a little. Then she laughed. It was a forced laugh. “You can’t tell me a man like you has humor
high
on a priority list.” She shifted her shoulders closer together to give me a clearer view of her not to be ignored cleavage. “I mean there must be other qualities on that list.”

At least the woman knew she lacked a sense of humor. Some would have just jumped on the opportunity and forced themselves to be amusing.

Peyton leaned back on her hands and stretched out her long legs. “My thighs are sore,” she giggled, “almost as if I just had a long weekend of sex.” She laughed again. It was a completely fake laugh.

I’d given her credit too quickly.

I leaned back too. “We weren’t even riding for long.”

She reached up and brushed her bangs off her face. The gesture brought my mind back to Eliot. I took a quick glance around at the crew members standing in the shadows of the tents and trucks. No Eliot. I wasn’t completely sure why, but I always felt better when she was in my line of vision. She was my familiar face, my friend, in a situation where I felt completely out of place.

“Some of us found the whole scene with Janelle pretty amusing,” Peyton piped up. I’d almost forgotten we were on camera.

“You found a woman almost being thrown from a horse amusing?” I’d already sensed that the
heat
of competition between the contestants had begun, and it seemed it was starting to really flare up. I had no doubt that it was being encouraged by the people behind the cameras.

“Well, of course not,” Peyton continued with another forced laugh, a grating sound to say the least. “If
that
was truly the case. It just seemed as if, maybe, she—you know—staged the whole thing. It was just a little too reminiscent of every western romance novel ever written, you know?”

“Not in the habit of reading them, but I do know horses and that horse was startled into a run. The handler in charge of the animals made a bad decision putting her on that particular horse. So, unless she’s some secret stunt rider, that wasn’t staged.”

Peyton’s lips jutted out and she sat forward, apparently deciding she’d said the wrong thing. “No, of course, you’re right. Poor thing. I hope she’s all right.” She tried to sweep away the damage that had already been done, but it was a little late. Of course, it was entirely possible that she’d been told to mention it, just to start conflict. That was when it occurred to me that I would never really get to know any of these women because so much of the conversations would be scripted or at least pointed in an unnatural direction just for the sake of ratings. I decided to give Peyton the benefit of the doubt and let her comment go.

“Did you enjoy the ride?” I asked.

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. “I did.” She sighed. “There’s just something about watching a gorgeous man riding a horse.”

I smiled. “Guess that’s because of all those western romance novels.”

“Yes, I chew those things up in my spare time. I love to read.” The invented laugh returned, and I wondered if she actually had a real one or if she lacked humor enough that she’d had to create one.

As Peyton continued about her reading habits, I caught a glimpse of Eliot sitting at a table under a tree. It took me completely out of the conversation, and I watched as my assistant pored over a textbook and sipped on a soda.

“Do you like books, Rafe?” Peyton’s question pulled my attention back to her.

“Yes. Yes I do. And there’s just something about a woman reading,” I said quietly as my gaze drifted back to Eliot.

“Cut! That’s a wrap for today,” the director shouted. “The flies are eating us alive. Something tells me there’s going to be a run on bookstores after this show,” he muttered from the sidelines.

I stood and Peyton reached her hand up for me to take. I popped her to her feet. She took the opportunity to fall against me. “Oops,” she said. “Just wanted to see what it felt like, and it wasn’t the least bit disappointing.” She winked and sashayed away.

The director was an idiot for trying to script and lead all the conversations in a particular direction. It seemed to me that there would be plenty of interesting scenes if they just let things happen naturally. Unscripted, like my time with Eliot.

Without a second thought, I pressed my hat on my head and walked across the grass toward the tree where she was sitting.

I could hear the last drops of her soda stutter up the straw as she took a drink. She shook the ice in the cup and took off the lid. She brought the cup to her wide open mouth just as she noticed me lumbering toward her.

Her cheeks were rounded as she quickly crunched the ice and swallowed. “I heard Doug call cut. Are they finished for the day?”

“Guess the crew isn’t loving the country setting.”

She scooted to make room as I threw my leg over the bench and sat down next to her. I lifted up the cover of the book. “Advanced Nutrition,” I read. “Sounds interesting.”

“Riveting. Can’t wait to see how it ends.”

“Well, how should we spend the rest of the day? There are some good flicks in the DVD cabinet. Or we could count the tiles on the kitchen counter. I’ve already counted the ones in the shower. Although I’m always up for a recount.” I smiled and shrugged innocently as she lifted a scolding brow my direction.

“Uh, the cameras are off. And, I might add, you should save shower talk for the contestants. I didn’t see the whole thing, but I guess you swept a girl off the saddle and most likely off her feet with one daring horseback stunt.”

“Damn, you missed that? She might have been overdramatizing things some, but she was genuinely scared.” We both turned to watch as the long trailer of horses waddled along the dirt road and off the property. “I don’t know why they make the women do things that scare them. I picked riding but thickhead that I am, I hadn’t thought that some of the bachelorettes would be afraid. Do you like riding?”

Eliot’s eyes were blue-green under the shade of the tree. She seemed surprised that I’d asked her the question.

“I do love horses. My mom used to take me once a year to a shabby little stable around the corner from our house. They had horses you could rent. Poor guys. Most of them looked one foot—or should I say—one hoof from the grave. So I like to ride but I can’t ride.” She turned her focus back to her reading.

I eyed the paper bag sitting next to her book. It was greasy and the aroma of onions was circling it.

Without looking up from the text, and as if she could read my mind, she grabbed the bag and tossed it my direction. “They’re really good tacos. I ordered three but could only finish two.”

I had the thing unwrapped and halfway to my mouth in seconds. “Are you sure?”

She laughed. “Since you’re already breathing on it, yeah, I’m sure.”

A groan rolled from my throat with the first delicious bite. I swallowed and pointed to my face. “Look. I think there’s a tear in my eye. I’m already bored of the catered food.”

“The caterers make the food bland so that it appeals to everyone’s taste.”

“Except to those of us with taste buds.”

Eliot laughed again, and it was real. Nothing forced or fake or created for the sole purpose of being social.

I finished the taco in three bites and stared wistfully at the empty wrapper.

“I could make a stop at the taco stand on our way out of here.”

“No, I don’t want you to go to any trouble. And you’re busy.”

Eliot closed her textbook. “It’s my job, remember? I’m your assistant. So your wish is my command or something like that. Although, I’m not counting kitchen tiles with you, no matter how bored you are.”

“Command, you say? You do realize how hot that sounds, right?”

“No, it’s not hot. It’s a line from Aladdin. You know, Robin Williams and the giant blue genie. Of course, I will admit that I did have a major crush on Aladdin. You know that these sexual innuendos that come so easily to you are exactly what Doug is waiting for on set. You need to point all that pent up sexual energy in the right direction.” She swept her hand around toward the food tent where some of the contestants had gathered.

“Don’t know what to say except that it has to just happen without me thinking about it, and so far, I’m all clamped up when it comes to the bachelorettes. Then I get around you, and I can just let loose with the real Rafe Rockclyffe. Damn, that really does sound like a made up name, doesn’t it?”

“Hey, if I had to push a ten pound baby into the world, I’d call him Finkelton just for payback.” The clamor of equipment being loaded on trailers scared a bird from the tree branch overhead. “And about the real Rafe Rockclyffe, I’m sure you’re still just getting used to the cameras and everyone standing around watching. It’ll get easier.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I’m going stir crazy in that house. I’m used to being active.” 

The crew dismantled the set. The women were all standing in a huddle around the lunch table, fixing themselves plates and keeping a close eye on me.

Eliot glanced at her phone as it buzzed. She turned and waved to her friend. “Jackson needs me to help him take down the picnic set.” She looked in the direction of the women. “You know, you are allowed to talk to them during down time. It might help you in your decision. It’s sort of hard to meet and fall in love with someone in front of cameras. Not terribly intimate, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” She climbed off the bench.

I stayed seated but swung my legs around to face her. “That makes sense. And yet, I’m just not in the mood to stand with them right now.” I lifted my hat and combed my hair back with my fingers before pressing it on again. “I’m beginning to think it would have been much better if I had just shaved my head.”

Eliot stared down at me and tilted her head in confusion. The curl slid to the side, and I had to fight an urge to reach up and touch it. “You could shave off your hair, but I don’t think that would wipe away the starry eyed gazes from that group down there.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. The bet I told you about—my friend and I were rock climbing, and we started a race to the top. Loser would have to make an honest attempt at being picked as the bachelor on Sealed with a Kiss. But we both had to agree to consequences if the loser didn’t get picked for the show. Noah was going to have to sell his prized vintage Corvette, and I was going to have to shave off my hair.”

Eliot put her hands on her hips and seemed to be considering what I’d just told her. “So your friend agreed that that was an even bet? His car. Your hair.”

“Yep. It’s all about the hair, baby.”

Her slightly lopsided smile was starting to become pleasantly familiar. “Sorry, it’s not. The hair is a bonus, I’ll give you that. But it’s not just the hair. And after the clip of you saving the screaming woman on the runaway horse airs during prime time, it’s going to be about way, way more than the hair.”

I stood up. “Are you saying there’s more about me that you like?”

She peered up at me. “If you’re fishing for a compliment, Sir Galahad, I will remind you about the group of beautiful women across the way who have not taken their eyes off of you since you walked over here. I’m sure you can get all the complimenting you need over there at the refreshment table.” She turned to walk away.

I couldn’t stop myself. I took hold of her hand. Eliot froze and then turned back to me.

“But the hard won compliments are the only ones worth earning.” Again my self control was no match for my urge to touch her. I reached up and brushed away the curl.

Her smile faded and a more stern expression crossed her face. “Rafe, some of those girls are actually here because they want to find the love of their lives. Yes, some are here for their fifteen minutes of fame, and who knows, some might even be here on a bet or because of some twisted truth or dare game, like one of the contestants on season three. She lost, by the way. She had this weird fetish with the bachelor’s moustache. Anyhow, I’m just saying, you need to keep that in mind.”

“I know, El. And you’re right. I will take this more seriously. That’s why I need you to come by the house this afternoon so I can toss some ideas around. You know, like a debriefing. I value your opinion. And since I’ve been cut off from all my friends—” I stopped, reminding myself of the glue I’d stepped in earlier by telling her she was probably every guy’s best friend in school.

“I’m off at four today, and I need to study for a few hours before I head to my second job.”

“Second job? Damn, El, when do you have time to breathe?”

“In between chapters and while the cameras are rolling and my bachelor is busy doing other things.”

“
Your
bachelor?”

She blushed. “You know what I mean.”

“Not really but I sort of like the way it sounds. Where is your second job?”

“I’m a cocktail waitress at a place called Sparky’s.”

“I know it. It’s just a few miles from the studio. Why don’t you study at the house instead of going home? I will make you dinner. I can actually cook.”

“See? And you thought it was all about the hair.” Her phone beeped again. She waved down to her friend, Jackson. “I suppose if you need someone to bounce ideas off of, I could step in as your wall.”

“Great.”