Royal Chase (7 page)

Showtime. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Genesis looked pretty and natural. She’d put her hair up in a ponytail and her face was makeup-free, and she was the kind of woman who looked nice even without it on. She had on a green one-piece bathing suit under a sheer cover-up.

My luggage had been brought over and was at the foot of my bed. Just beyond that were shoe boxes and dress bags hanging up in my closet. I ran over to take a look and was glad that Taylor had such excellent taste. She chose dresses I would have chosen myself.

I had two swimsuits with me, and I knew how much of this show took place poolside. I held my bikini up, and Genesis said, “They have swimsuits downstairs. Apparently we’ll be wearing them a lot. You should probably hurry, because I think you’re the last one up.”

I told her I’d meet her there and to go on without me. I jumped in the shower, dried off, put on sunscreen, and fixed my hair. I put on one of my bikinis, a pair of shorts and sandals, grabbed my sunglasses, and went to inspect what else they were offering.

What they had were barely there suits that would leave little to the imagination. I would have had more coverage if I’d slapped on a couple of Band-Aids.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers. I tried to pick the least offensive ones of the bunch and decided America could get over it if I wore the same bikini more than once.

I came out to the pool where the girls were all sunning themselves, angling their bodies just so to make sure that they didn’t look fat or flabby. I wondered if their backs hurt from arching them like that.

There were bottles of liquor and glasses everywhere. I guessed that production assistant hadn’t been kidding when she said our job was to interact and drink heavily.

I grabbed a lounge chair next to Genesis, who smiled at me as she slathered on more sunscreen. “I have to wear like SPF 9000. I have two shades. Pale white and bright red.”

“Me too,” I told her, putting my sunglasses on. I never liked the way spray tans looked. Although, considering the women surrounding us, I was alone in that sentiment.

We couldn’t wear our mike packs because of the water and the bikinis, so there were several sound guys holding boom microphones over us. There were also cameras everywhere, and I wondered how they all managed to stay out of each other’s shots. They were fixated on the girls in the bathing suits, filming their conversations. I didn’t understand this because presumably the show’s target audience was women between eighteen and thirty-four. Women who weren’t all that interested in watching other women in their swimsuits. Now, shots of a half-naked Dante, on the other hand—that I understood.

There was some giggling and splashing, and I turned to see a bunch of girls getting into the pool. They had deigned to do so because Dante had shown up and, as if he’d read my mind, was taking off his shirt to join them.

His shirt hit the ground, and he flashed his very muscular and defined torso, and I melted. I was so, so shallow and grateful for my sunglasses that allowed me to watch him without him knowing. “I wish I didn’t like that so much,” I murmured to myself.

Fortunately Genesis was distracted by him too, so she didn’t say anything in response. He dove in and everyone squealed in delight. I noticed that all of the girls were careful to keep their heads above water.

I wished so badly for a magazine. Or a computer. Or my phone. Watching Dante flirt with the masses was not my idea of a good time.

He surfaced and waved at me. Then he swam over and came up to the edge, crossing his arms on the side of the pool. Which obscured my view of his perfect chest.

As Pepé Le Pew would say,
le sigh
.

I felt hyperaware of every detail—how his muscles flexed in his forearms, how the water droplets clung to his dark hair, how his smile seemed brighter and more blinding than the sun.

And I was hyperaware of how much I liked it.

“Come in. The water feels nice.” I could actually feel nineteen sets of eyes boring into me.

“I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“Your loss,” he said, flinging some water at me. I refused to be goaded into responding.

Genesis started to say something to me, but we were interrupted by Harris’s voice. “Good afternoon, ladies. I hope you all got a good night’s rest, because this afternoon Dante would like to take everyone out on a group date. You’ll be going horseback riding. Cars will be out front waiting for you in one hour.”

Everyone practically sprinted back in the house, nearly trampling Harris in the process. I wondered if an hour would be long enough for them to get ready. “You’re not going in?” Dante asked.

“You’ve seen me without my makeup. I don’t need to impress you.”

“You don’t,” he agreed.

But Genesis was gathering up her things, so I decided to go inside after all. I didn’t want to be left alone with Dante when we had such little clothing on. Bad things might happen.

And I wanted to kick the part of me that got excited at that prospect.

Chapter 7

Those gorgeous eyes, that amazing body, that incredible brain, that earth-shattering smile . . . but enough about me. How have you been?

“When did he see you without your makeup?”

“What?” I was just delaying for a second until I could think of something. “Oh, last night. After the Heart Celebration. It wasn’t a big deal.”

Technically he had seen me last night without my makeup on because I had cried it all off. But if I told her that, then I’d have to explain everything, and I didn’t know if she could keep a secret and I couldn’t risk my career.

I was still lying to her though, and I did not enjoy it. Another girl might have seen right through me, but Genesis just accepted what I said.

Fortunately, I had my red cowgirl boots with me, and some comfortable black leggings. I put on a soft T-shirt, one I wouldn’t mind the horses chewing on if they got affectionate. I hadn’t packed a hat, not knowing there’d be a need for one. The show had given us bathing suits; maybe they’d give us some hats so we didn’t burn.

Genesis put on a similar outfit, including well-worn boots. That surprised me. “Where are you from?” I asked her.

“Iowa,” she said. “Farm girl.” Which explained it.

There were indeed hats downstairs by the front door, and we picked up a couple.

We were also the first ones down. There were two twelve-passenger vans waiting. We climbed into the first one, where I asked Genesis more about where she grew up.

Just as it was time for us to leave, the other women arrived en masse. And most of them were wearing Daisy Dukes, tank tops, and high heels. They all had cowgirl hats on as well, and a couple had even tied bandannas around their throats. Like they were doing their own slutty interpretation of what a real cowgirl would dress like.

They were going to be sorry later when the inside of their legs had been rubbed raw from saddle burn. The high heels were the stupidest part though. They would be sinking into the ground left and right, and they would slip in the stirrups.

It wasn’t my job to babysit them though. Just to find out which one was the least vain and the least stupid and point Dante in her direction.

When we got to the ranch, Dante was already there, and everyone spilled out of the vans, racing toward him. And, as I’d predicted, they very nearly broke their ankles on the way. One of the ranchers called everyone over and asked who knew how to ride a horse. Genesis and I were the only ones who raised our hands. He told us a couple of basic commands that they used, and then sent us over to the stables to choose a steed while he taught the other girls how to control their horses.

A ranch hand showed me the horses, and I saw a beautiful caramel-colored palomino in one stall that made me homesick. I saw the name “Butterscotch” on the door. “Hello, Butterscotch.” I petted her on the nose, and she whinnied at me. I let myself in and saddled her, cinching it tight, making sure I left two fingers between the girth and her side. I adjusted the stirrups to the right length.

As I led her out, Dante came up behind me with a large black stallion. “Who’s this handsome fellow?” I asked.

“Dante.” He winked.

And, against my better inclination, I laughed. “I meant the horse.”

“This is Prince, believe it or not.”

“So why did you choose horseback riding?” I had wondered if he chose it because of me. I had told him once how much I loved my horse Honey back home.

“Genesis grew upon a farm and is studying to be a veterinarian. We thought she would like it. The show originally wanted to have you all mud wrestling in order to win a date. I vetoed it.”

Why did that make my heart sink faster than a lead balloon?

“That’s nice,” I said. The lady in question came out of the stables with a white mare, and she mounted her horse quickly and easily. I went to Butterscotch’s left side and did the same. Dante followed suit.

We rode the horses over to the rest of the group, where they were passing out riding helmets. I heard several of the women complain about how it would ruin their hair. I thought of telling them that if they fell on their head, ruining their brain would be worse, but in some cases that probably wouldn’t be true.

Several mounting blocks were brought out to help them get on top of their horses. The head rancher went down a path and told everyone to follow. There were multiple handlers who stayed off camera. They were necessary because it was like herding cats. Apparently nobody had listened to their instructions, and now the horses were meandering off in different directions.

And even that wasn’t enough to keep them safe, because Genesis had to race off after a girl whose horse was trotting toward a small creek.

“Want to race?” Dante asked me, once it looked like the chaos had been contained.

“You’re on,” I said. Momma always said I was too competitive for my own good.

I kicked Butterscotch lightly with my heels and yelled “Yah!” and she was off. I heard Dante laugh behind me as Prince galloped to catch up. I leaned close to Butterscotch’s neck, crouching above the saddle to
encourage her to go faster.

But it didn’t matter. Dante easily caught me and surpassed me, win
ning the race. I admired him as he left me in the dust. There was something unbelievably appealing about a man who knew how to handle a horse. I
called out “Whoa,” and Butterscotch instantly and obediently slowed down,
coming to a complete stop. I led her over to where Dante waited for us.

“About time you got here,” he said.

“I don’t think that was very chivalrous of you.” I actually liked that he didn’t let me win. That he made me fight hard to get what I wanted. Because if I ever beat him at something, I would know that I had earned the win.

He took me seriously. Very few people did that.

“You wound me to the quick, my lady! I am always the master of chivalry. I actually wanted to be a knight-errant when I was younger.”

He led Prince over to the creek to let him drink. I urged Butterscotch to do the same. It was so beautiful where we were. Flowing water, wild, high grass, and bright green trees surrounding us.

“Poor you. Born a prince instead of a knight. It must have been a terrible burden to bear.”

Dante laughed, patting Prince on the side of his neck. “I got in big trouble when I was eight and I stole a set of armor from the great hall. And then it didn’t even fit and I could barely move or see. But my mother read us fairy tales from countries all around the world, and I loved the idea of finishing quests and tasks like the knights-errant.”

He had that intense look in his eyes again. “A true knight-errant must always finish a series of tasks to prove his chivalry and love.”

I remembered the party the night before, when he’d accepted my “challenge” and said he wouldn’t drink. “Was that what you meant when you said you accepted my task?”

“Something like that.” I could hear the disappointment in his voice. A disappointment that I wanted to soothe and make better, but I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. I wouldn’t.

At some point I really would figure out how to be in control of my feelings and my reactions to him.

“I can’t believe you liked fairy tales.”

“You didn’t?”

“Not so much.” Now I was the one who sounded disappointed. “They’re totally unrealistic. I mean, except for that one time my best friend fell in love with an actual prince and is living a real Cinderella story. But other than that, no.”

His face looked like he was struggling with something, and then he gave me one of those smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Have you had a chance to speak with any of the other women so far?”

“I like Genesis. She seems sweet. Sincere. Normal.”

“She does,” he agreed thoughtfully.

Jealous, stabby pangs.

Voices came up over the ridge behind us, and the high-pitched, excited sounds that followed when the girls caught sight of Dante caused a small frenzy among the horses. It was all the handlers could do to calm the animals down.

I was annoyed that we’d been interrupted.

“You could probably talk to them easier if you weren’t glowering at everyone.”

“I am not glowering. I do not glower.”

“You’re not going to be much of an inside woman if you keep ignoring everybody. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were jealous.”

He very smartly rode off before I had the chance to smack him with my reins.

Before the party started, I would see if I could call Kat. And Sterling. And I would remember why I was here and what I needed to accomplish.

I hoped that getting back in touch with reality would put me in the right headspace.

But I wouldn’t have bet on it.

There would be a nightly cocktail party before each elimination, giving everyone another chance to talk to Dante and make an impression. It would also give everyone another opportunity to get embarrassingly drunk and make a fool of themselves on national television.

Win-win either way for the producers.

Just like I’d thought, several of the girls were complaining about saddle burn, and some medics were brought in to clean their wounds, leaving the women to walk around bowlegged.

It would have been really wrong for me to laugh, right?

But pain didn’t stop anyone from getting ready for the party, which reminded me of my beauty pageant days. There was boob tape, Vaseline, flat irons, makeup, and enough fake eyelashes to outfit a millipede with a whole set of prosthetic legs.

I had just finished putting on a knee-length, dark blue cocktail dress with matching beads that made me shimmer, and applying my dark red lipstick, when Genesis came back into our room.

I gasped.

She had on neon green eye shadow, coral lipstick, and a hot pink shade of blush. Not to mention bronzer that made her face and neck different colors, and mascara tinged with purple that was layered onto false lashes so long and so thick I wasn’t sure how she could see.

“Who did this to you, sugar?” I really, really hoped she hadn’t done it herself. She looked like a cross between a televangelist’s wife and an unskilled drag queen.

“Abigail.” That actress. “She said she knew who I was and wanted to make amends. I’m such a fan that I was flattered, you know?”

I did know, and apparently so did Abigail.

“I don’t really know anything about makeup, and she offered to help.” Yeah, Abigail was going to help Genesis the same way that a snake helped a mouse.

By swallowing it whole.

I wondered if Abigail had unhinged her jaw before she made this mess.

“Do you like it?” She sounded so hopeful.

“Let me just lighten it up a little. You have to remember that Abigail is an actress and they tend to put it on a little heavy for the cameras.” I took out a makeup remover cloth and scrubbed everything off. I started from scratch, putting a pale violet eye shadow on her lids to make her green eyes pop, and using a dark brown eyeliner to give her a soft cat eye. I removed most of the lashes, and put black mascara on those that stayed. After some light powder and a light pink lipstick, she looked gorgeous.

“Much better,” I said. She went over to the mirror. “That does look better! Thank you!” She gave me a giant hug, and I tamped down any residual jealousy and reminded myself that we were friends.

And that I needed to keep a closer eye on Back-Stabigail so that I could make sure Genesis was safe. She was like a newborn fawn being released into a lion’s den. I had thought that once I’d told Dante the truth about each girl I could leave. But now I’d have to stay as long as Genesis did so that I could protect her.

Darn my overdeveloped protective instincts.

We went downstairs together, and I looked for Abigail. I wanted to keep her far away from Genesis. I didn’t see her. I stepped outside to check the pool area, but she wasn’t there. I did find a dark-haired woman staring up at the full moon.

I should get started. “Hi, I’m Lemon.”

“I’m Tiffany.”

“Funny how something made out of a bunch of dusty rocks can be so pretty, don’t you think?”

She turned to look at me. “Are you talking about the moon?”