Pick Me (15 page)

“Then what are these for?”

Tell him.

Cupping his face, she raised her head and brushed her lips against his. “I...care about you so much. Don’t stop. Not now.”

He rocked his hips, ever so slightly, while the cords of muscle lining his neck strained, as if it took everything inside him to hold back. “I care about you, too,” he murmured against her lips, his warm breath mingling with her own. “So damn much.” He pulled out of her, then, whispering those same words over and over, he drove deeper, harder.

With each thrust, with each whispered promise, she came again, wrapping her legs around his back, drawing him deeper, wishing she could make this moment last a lifetime. She snared his gaze. Wanting, hoping he knew, understood the total depth of her emotions. How much he truly meant to her.

He held her eyes as he ground his hips into her and then with a fierce grunt released himself. She clung to his back, to his clenched ass as the last shudders of his orgasm ripped through his body. Deep-seated satisfaction suddenly took hold of her and made her grow limp beneath his weight. As she was about to hug him, cradle his head to her chest, he lifted her to the center of the bed, then he snuggled next to her. One strong arm moved her entire body next to his. He spooned her. Pressed kisses along her shoulder, then released a long, deep sigh. 

Nestling her bottom against his half-arousal, she released a sigh of her own. “What time do you have to get up in the morning?”

He groaned, then turned away to fiddle with her alarm clock. “Too early.”

“And you’ll be back—”

“Before you know it,” he said, and snuggled against her.

Minutes passed, then he kissed the curve of her neck and whispered, “I meant what I said.”

She smiled against the pillow. “Me too.”

His breathing suddenly changed and she realized he’d fallen asleep. Her smile faded. She should have told him the truth tonight. Burrowing deeper against his warmth, she decided she would. When he came back from Miami. No, that wouldn’t work. After two days without him, she wouldn’t want to ruin his homecoming. She’d tell him the day after that. No that wouldn’t work, either, she and all the bachelor’s had a photo shoot to promote the show. Her mind wandered as she sought to come up with the ideal time to make her confession, and came up empty. Yawning, she burrowed deeper into the blankets and Colt’s heat. She’d tell him, eventually...

*

The limo, courtesy of
Pick Me,
stopped in front of Trent’s dental practice. “One down, two to go,” she mumbled as she waited for the driver to open the door. Once her foot hit the pavement, the camera crew accosted her. She’d grown so used to having them follow her around they didn’t bother her anymore, and neither did the spy cams considering she only used them with Colt. She’d actually become a walking camera herself. Between Jonas’ spy cams and the camera pen Colt had given her. Unfortunately, she never did have a chance to use the camera pen. She would have loved to have filmed Jonas threatening her and show the footage to Derek.

She, the camera crew, Danny and Jonas, made their way to Trent’s third floor dental practice. As she entered his offices, she couldn’t help laughing. Oh this was so Trent. Sure, he had the usual dental posters lining the waiting room walls, but in between the threats of gum disease and gingivitis were posters of Kiss, Metallica, and Ozzy Osborne. Instead of stark white, the waiting room had been painted eggplant and a dark garnet, and rather than stiff, metal chairs, he’d gifted his waiting patients with several black leather sofas.

The receptionist, a sixty-something woman with a silver bouffant, greeted her, then led her and the rest of the
Pick Me
crew into the back. While the rooms housed the typical equipment of a dental office, they too were painted in various colors—emerald, chocolate, blood red, gold, with more tooth posters as well as tributes to Trent’s favorite bands.

Trent emerged from one of the rooms—looking very dentist-like, despite his tattoos and ponytail—with a woman and a little girl. He bent down and went eye to eye with the kid. “You better keep brushing and flossing. Those cavity creeps like to poop on your teeth at night, and you don’t want that in your mouth, do you?”

“Nuh-uh,” the little girl answered, wide-eyed.

“Good.” He nodded, then winked at the mother. “See you in six months.”

After they left, he offered her a smile. “Hey, Val.”

“Hey, yourself. Seriously, Trent, cavity creeps pooping on teeth? That’s just gross.”

“I know, but if it will get the kid to brush her teeth.” He shrugged, then gave her a stern look. “And when was the last time you had your teeth cleaned?”

“Six months,” she lied. With no dental plan, it had been over a year.

“Well, considering this is Career Date,” he said, and made quotation marks with his fingers, “I thought I’d treat you to a thorough check up.”

Fabulous. She hated going to the dentist. Sitting with her mouth open, drool sliding from the corner of her lips while that little mini vacuum sucked the saliva dry. “Great, I’m looking forward to it.”

A petite blonde with long straight hair, several piercings and tattoos moved into the hallway. “Here’s Bridget, she’ll do the cleaning and take care of your x-rays. I’ll be back in a bit to examine your teeth. By the way, Danny,” Trent added. “No cameras in any of these rooms. Take a couple of quick shots, then disappear. I do have a business to run.”

Jonas looked as if he was ready to protest, then ordered the camera people to do as Trent had asked. Minutes later, Valentina reclined in a chair, amidst a blaring bright light, crossing her legs and her arms, waiting for the saliva sucking vacuum to emerge. Only Bridget did. Offering her a warm smile, she then placed a mask over her mouth and went to work—none to gently. As Bridget scraped tartar from Valentina’s teeth, she thankfully didn’t bother to make conversation. She’d rather not discuss the weather or the latest movie with her mouth gaping open, the saliva vacuum busy at work while the poster child for the underground Goth world tortured her teeth. Instead, she focused on the ceiling and what was left of her “Career Date.”

She’d visited Colt’s office first, and confirmed what she’d already known. Colt was not
Pick Me’s
imposter. And when Bridget accidently scraped a little too close to her gum, Valentina almost relished the slight pain, in a way it combated a bit of her guilt. She’d known all along Colt was exactly who he was, a sports agent who loved the land and his horses. Yet she’d kept stalling, pushing the confession she’d planned to give him for over three weeks.

Every time she’d tried to tell him about her part in the show, she’d lost her nerve, making up excuses to herself that now wasn’t the right time, that she’d tell him the next day. But there never seemed to be a
right
time. She’d had too much fun dating him, even on camera, and playing house with him when the cameras weren’t rolling. The next thing she knew, the
next
day had turned into weeks.

Bridget slid her mask under her chin. “Okay, not too bad. You didn’t have that much of a tartar build up and I can tell you floss regularly.”

They can tell that? If she could purse her lips without worrying the saliva sucker didn’t take them with it, she would have. While she brushed twice a day, she only flossed when necessary. Pepper could be a bitch sometimes.

“Now on to the easy stuff. I’m going to polish your teeth. Which do you prefer, mint or cinnamon?”

“Int,” she grunted, unable to work her words around the mini vacuum. 

Bridget smiled. “Mint it is.”

After her teeth were polished shiny clean, Trent came into the room. He checked her x-rays, examined her teeth with the ease of a seasoned profession, then gave her a thumbs up—apparently the cavity creeps hadn’t been pooping on her teeth. Even more apparent—Trent truly was a dentist.

Before she left, he stopped her. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow, but for the record, no matter what happens, I’ve had a great time with you.”

Tomorrow. The season finale.

She sent him a big smile, making certain she showed off her pearly whites considering he’d given her a free visit. “I’ve had a great time, too. You’re a one-of-a-kind kinda guy Trent.” She gave him a peck on the cheek, then left with the camera crew in her wake, and with more confusion and guilt rolling through her mind.

She’d thought for sure Trent was
Pick Me’s
imposter. Every time they’d grabbed something to eat, he’d habitually flossed his teeth after each meal—thankfully not in her presence—and he’d given her freebie toothbrushes, toothpaste and mouth wash. She’d figured those freebies were meant to throw her off, meant to make her believe he was actually a dentist considering he’d made it clear he was a bad boy drummer through and through.

As she slid into the limo’s buttery soft leather seat, she knew in her heart the only true imposter on the show was her. She’d lied more in four weeks than she ever had in her entire life. She’d also fallen in love while managing to maintain her charade as
Pick Me’s
bachelorette, and had kept Jonas at bay.

Leaning her head against the upholstery, she frowned at the overhead mirror. Ever since the night Jonas had come to her apartment, threatening to place a camera on her mantle, he’d never said another vile thing to her. Not once. Maybe he’d gotten it through his thick, bald head that she really would have left the show if he’d continued to push her. Or maybe he was biding his time. Maybe he planned to use the sex tape anyway.

Her stomach tightened at the thought. Damn, she wished Colt’s brother Win could have found something, anything they could use to counter Jonas’ threats.

Minutes later, the limo slowed in front of a large building with two huge biceps, molded in metal, embossing the concrete slabs at the entrance. “Last date,” she mumbled, and grabbed her duffle bag from the opposite seat, along with another water bottle, and headed inside. Danny caught up with her.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked.

“Brad told me to bring my work out clothes. I just hope to God this is for show and that he really doesn’t expect me to work out.”

Famous last words.
Huffing and puffing, sweaty as hell, she ran on the treadmill next to Brad, who barely broke a sweat.

“Work it. Own it.” Brad reached over and cranked the speed and incline on the treadmill.

Before she toppled and slid right off the stupid thing, she hit the bright red emergency stop button. The treadmill came to a screeching halt and she nearly fell off it anyway. “I’ve had enough of this, Brad.”

“It’s never enough if you want to be fit and healthy. Let’s head to the weight room.”

With twenty pound weights in both hands, Brad had her doing an astronomical amount of squats. Every muscle in her body ached. She had to put an end to this torture otherwise she wouldn’t be able to move for a week. Hopefully the island resort offered massages, although Colt could play as her own personal masseuse later tonight. Picturing his big, rough hands kneading her rear and thighs had her breaking into a hot flush that had nothing to do with all the squats Brad had her performing.

As Brad moved her from one machine of torture to the next, she had this niggling feeling she was being watch, and not by just the cameras. While working her triceps in front of the mirror, she zeroed in a woman who had not only been hanging around the treadmills earlier, but the weight room as well. Valentina made eye contact with the tall, slender and incredibly toned redhead, and received a nasty snarl. When Brad turned and saw the woman, they shared a look so intimate and hot, Valentina averted her gaze.

Her mind raced. One person doesn’t give another person a look that screams deep seated sensual desire unless...

“I think you’ve had enough for today,” Brad said, breaking into her thoughts. “Why don’t you go ahead and hit the shower. I’ve got another client scheduled in ten minutes, and I don’t want to push you any further.”

Thank God.
Her legs and arms shook involuntarily, and her stomach was gurgling and cramping, crying out for sustenance. Probably not the kind Brad, the vegan, would recommend, but a mile-high plate of gooey chicken nachos
would so hit the spot right now.

“A shower sounds heavenly,” she said, as sweat trickled down her back and across her forehead.

He smiled, but she noticed he’d shifted his eyes to the mirror. She followed his gaze and realized he was looking at the redhead again. He quickly turned away from the mirror and said, “I hope you had fun here today, and might consider a membership. I’d be happy to offer a few free training sessions if you’re interested.”

“Thanks, I’ll let you know.”

A few seconds passed, then he said, “Um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Because he seemed uncomfortable under the watchful gaze of the redhead, she cut him a break. She wasn’t about to give him the quick kiss on the cheek expected by Jonas, not when Brad appeared to have his heart set elsewhere. She didn’t want Brad. She didn’t want Trent. The only man she wanted, would ever want, was Colt. She’d found love over six months ago, had been given another chance thanks to the show, and she wanted Brad just as happy. He was obviously smitten with the redhead, and knowing she wasn’t going to pick him tomorrow, she wasn’t about to mess his love life up—not even for ratings.