Walk of Shame (8 page)

One of the crewmen barked, which
earned him some odd looks.

"Oh, yes," Troy said.
"A reminder that there is a dog inside the gated area. He belongs to us. Be
nice. Don't kick her. And don't let her outside the gate as you go back and
forth between your rig and the house. The dog is well behaved. She listens,
tell her to sit and stay and she will."

"What's her name?" Mike
called out.

"Goldie. And if she doesn't
listen the first time, snap your fingers when you repeat the command." Troy
turned to me and lifted his elbow for me to take. "I'll walk you back over
to your cottage so you don't get lost in the bushes, Princess."

I stepped out of my shoes, bent
down to pick them up, and held them in one hand before I took his arm.

"What is it with you and
shrinking tonight?"

"It's an unlit, uneven path.
I'm not twisting an ankle twelve hours into this."

Troy looked over at the guys,
"I hope you're all looking for a practical and barefoot woman, because if
not, you're out of luck here."

I smiled at the men.
"Goodnight, sundae scoops."

"Goodnight," they
echoed back, ready to disperse into the rest of the house.

"Why is this path not
lit?" I asked Troy on the way back over to the cottage.

"Because, if we made it too
easy for them to figure out they can sneak over to see you, they'd all try to
do it every night. Plus, if they have to think about it and work at it, it
makes them feel like they're getting away with something. It makes them feel
like they're gaining a bit of control in a situation where production and the
girl are calling all the shots."

"You don't see stolen visits
on TV, unless something big is going on," I said.

"No, you don't. You only see
the formal dates and gatherings. You're going to have opportunities to see and
get to know the guys during 'off' times, without the cameras always in your
face. Some people act very differently when they think the cameras are gone, or
when they try to take charge and sneak over to you. You need to be able to see
those sides of the guys as well. Otherwise, you'd have no way of knowing what
you'd be getting yourself into by choosing a gut at the end of this."

"And you guys want a lasting
marriage out of this."

He nodded. "It's what keeps
our ratings going. Every time we get a couple married, our numbers go up."

"Do you pull them to the
side and tell them that the path isn't booby trapped and they can visit?"

"Nope, and you'll learn a
lot about who manages to sneak over and who doesn't, and how soon they start
doing it."

"You've spent more time with
them than I have at this point. Who do you peg for being first?" I asked.

"Trevor. He's been driving
for us for a while. He's heard all the behind the scenes rumors. He's the one
who'll know he can get away with it." We'd reached the door to the cottage
by now. "Here you are, all safe and sound. Go get some rest, process everything
that's happened. The cameras and I won't bug you until sometime towards
evening. They'll spend the afternoon focused on the guys."

"All right. Goodnight."

He chuckled and pointed to the
lightening edge of the sky, "Good morning."

I left him on the doorstep, went
inside, and went straight into the upstairs bathroom.

It took many cotton balls to
remove all the layers of makeup from my face, and I really wished they'd sent
someone over to get all the pins out of my hair. I wiggled out of the dress, took
off the jewelry, and stepped into the bedroom. With a sigh, I drew the curtains
closed because the sun was now up. I threw back the covers, flopped into the
bed, and started gathering the extra pillows around me to snuggle down for the
night.

Right about
now, I was missing my dog and how she'd always snuggle up beside me. And that
made me smile because every time she snuggled up too close, I'd try to nudge
her away.

I let myself sleep until two
o'clock and refused to feel guilty about it. I got up and quickly showered and
dressed before venturing downstairs to see what kind of meal I could put
together from the contents of the fridge.

I'd been half-tempted to sneak
over to the main house and eat off the buffet with the guys. So tempted that I seriously
contemplated it. But Troy had instructed me to leave the guys alone today, to
let them settle in and process their own reactions. Then I could go over and start
getting them all stirred up.

Around four-thirty, Troy showed
up with one cameraman and a makeup artist. The MA spent about fifteen minutes
sweeping my hair back and putting on a layer of makeup to get me presentable
for the camera. We sat down in the small sunroom and Troy asked me a number of
the same questions from last night, asked a few new ones, then shooed the
cameraman away.

"Okay," Troy said, once
the crew had left. "We have a few items of business to take care of."

"What's up?"

"Your flower stunt last
night actually saves you from the first thing, but I'm going to suggest you do
it anyway."

"Okay..."

"After each
Walk of Shame
,
production is going to ask you to give them a ranking of the guys from your
current front-runner on down to the guy who barely survived the cut. Now you
can get away with just naming your top three to five, and they'll settle for
it. But, in order for you to keep yourself straight, I'd do it anyway, even if
no one else knows the rankings. Just be open to the rankings completely
changing each week, and sometimes, each day. Then as the number of guys
shrinks, and the cutting gets harder, you can see who's been hanging around the
bottom the most. It might help you look at it objectively enough to not agonize
over who has to leave each week."

"Okay, sounds
reasonable."

"Then the next thing is for
you to decide who goes on which date. You get two one-on-ones, and two group
dates."

I sighed, that was going to be
hard. I knew who I wanted for my one-on-ones. It was a matter of divvying the
rest into the two groups and deciding who went where.

"Production has a
request."

I shot him a look.

"It's a request, that's all.
You can override it."

"Okay, let's hear it."

"They suggest that Mike gets
a one-on-one date this week because your group dates are pretty active and they
don't know if he can handle them. And before you go getting in a huff, stop and
think about what this week's group dates are. One would require him to hold
onto someone with his legs and then having him hanging by his legs. The other
might require him to change out leg attachments, but then give him no added
time to do it. Now, it's up to you, you can take him along and see how he
handles it and we might all be blown away. But if it's an issue, is that the
second impression you want him to make on camera?"

I waved my hand at him and shook
my head. "Stop, enough, no more. Their reasons don't really matter. Stephen
and Mike are my two frontrunners right now. I want my one-on-one dates to be
with them so I can figure out if Mike's uniform, or Stephan's cologne and
purple shirt, are clogging my brain or not."

"Okay. Good, my job is
easier if you all agree. I don't care if you all have different reasons for it.
The one-on-ones are active enough in their own right. I don't think it will
bother him. Now, do you want the guys matched to the activities that they'll
feel more comfortable in, or do you want them outside of their comfort
zones?"

"For this week, let's try to
match them up and as best as can be done and give them a chance to stand out
and shine in their element."

He laughed. "I don't know
that all of them are quite that athletic."

"RVing
isn't for the faint of heart when you're doing it on your own."

By seven that evening, I was on
the lawn behind the house, talking on my cell with Chloe.

"You picked your frontrunner
based on what he smells like?"

I'd stretched out on a blanket,
soaking in the weakening rays of the sunlight. "It's not just that. I like
what he does for a living. He's a photographer, he knows how to appreciate
details, you know? His eyes are so intense. You can tell he doesn't miss a
beat. And his assignments change all the time, so it won't be the same old,
same old for him. I like that, too, since I'd have to travel wherever he has to
for his assignments.

"So you have a smell, a nice
shirt, and a job?"

"Shut up. I spent fifteen
minutes with each of them. How much more do you want me to have to go on?"
I scooted down on the blanket to pull at the grass with my toes.

"Who's number two?"

"Mike."

"Was he wearing a pink
shirt?"

"An army uniform with a
purple heart."

"Nice. Still enlisted?"

"No. He's an engineer. He
designs roadways for the National Parks System."

"You do love the National
Parks."

"Yep."

"All right, next?"

I looked through my pack of
labeled headshots that I'd brought out with me. "Hmm, Ardent. He's a
Native American archaeologist."

"Like dinosaurs?"

"No, like digging up old
houses and towns."

"I could see you being
interested."

"I know. Number four is
Liam."

"What does he do?"

"Climbs mountains to study
them and then stands on top and plays the bagpipes."

"You requested a Scotsman,
didn't you?"

"Kind of."

"Did he show up in a
kilt?"

I smiled and let out a dreamy
sigh. "Absolutely."

"Keep him around for the eye
and ear candy for awhile, but figure out if he has anything going for him
besides where he came from."

"Yes, Mommy."

She laughed and imitated our Mom,
"Sass me if you want, young lady." She switched back to own voice,
"I know the thing you have for Scotland. I'm just saying, don't mess this
up just because he looks and sounds good."

"I hear you. He does have a
downside, though."

"What's that?"

"He's freaking
huge
!
I mean tall and big muscles."

"Well you'd have to be, to
climb mountains all day."

"He
is
a
mountain."

"Yeah, but maybe you could
have fun climbing him."

I ignored that. "Number
five-"

Goldie appeared at my side,
slobbering over a Frisbee in her mouth.

"Hold on." I rolled and
stood. Taking the Frisbee from her, I launched it as far out as I could.

She flew after it and ran back
along the rear of the property, going back around bushes and leaving my sight.
"Number five is Phillip."

"And what's got your
attention about him?"

"He's got this whole
maturity thing going on, and he cooks."

"What kind of chef's job
does he have?"

"He doesn't. He works to
identify animals going on the endangered species list. He is kind of old
though."

"How many years does he have
on you?"

"Ten."

"That's not horrible."

"He's got the whole patient-wisdom
thing going on, and he's a lean sort of hot."

"Who's number six?"

"I'd have to go with Trevor.
And catch this. I've already met him."

"Where?"

"He was the driver they
assigned to me when I came out for the interview."

"Get out! They just let him
take one of the spots?"

"They made an extra spot for
him. He's ex-marine and showed up in his old uniform."

"So he thinks he's going to
chauffer you around the country instead?"

"No, apparently the chauffer
thing is on the side. He's a graphic designer, all online."

Goldie came running back around
again with the Frisbee. I took it, stood, and launched it back out. Off she
went to chase it down and disappear again.

"What about the number seven
spot?"

"Drake." I ventured
towards the end of the line of bushes.

"What's he like?"

"He's a songwriter. Sells
his songs a little all over, so he RVs to keep himself mobile."

"Anything that we'd have
actually heard?"

"Don't know, yet. He's quite
comfortable with the cameras."

"That'd be a red flag for
me. He might just be there to promote his own stuff."

"I know it. But if he isn't,
I like that he talked about not wanting to live in a city. He RVs because he
chose to. And he could write songs wherever. My location wouldn't constantly be
at the mercy of his career. It'd just be about as often that my career would
dictate his location."

"All right, number
eight."

"That would be Jared. I like
his mannerisms, his actions, and his voice that could seduce me all on its own."

"Then why's he only at
eight?"

"He digs around in the swamp
all day."

"You'll never see The
Rockies again."

"I know. That's my
issue."

"Then why is he still
there?"

"Because. If I can't choose
a guy based on his job, then I can't not choose a guy just because of his job,
either." I peeked around the corner and saw Goldie trying to play a fourth
spot in a Frisbee game with the guys. I had to wonder where they thought she
was disappearing too. Or did they know, and that's why they kept playing, just
to draw me out?

"What about number
nine?"

"I don't know. Numbers nine
through twelve didn't impress me with their fifteen minutes. But they didn't
turn me off, either. So I'm in a wait and see pattern."

"So, you ditched four last
night?"

"I ditched three, the fourth
one ditched himself."

"Ouch."

"No ouch. He was on my wait
and see list anyway."

Goldie caught the Frisbee and made
her way to me at full speed ahead.

"I should go..." I
said.

"I want to know how your
dates go this week."

"You will, don't
worry." I hung up in time to duck back behind the bushes and grab the disc
when she got to me. I launched it up and over the tall bushes as far as I could
make it go and Goldie took off again. I could hear the guys cheer and laugh.

I took back off up to the house
before I could be tempted enough to join them. I decided to go change and swim
laps instead. I had to do something to tire myself out enough to be able to go
back to sleep in a few hours.

I'd only been in the pool a
couple minutes before Goldie had tracked me down. She dropped the Frisbee on
the cement and plopped down.

"Those men are going to run
us both ragged," I told her. "I'd get used to it, if I were
you."

She thumped her tail a couple
times and then yawned.

I got out of the pool and grabbed
a tennis ball that I'd brought over from the RV for her. I shook the ball at
her and she perked up. "Are you hot, girl?"

Her head came up, determined not
to stand unless I was going to make the effort worthwhile.

I tossed it into the other end of
the pool.

She got up and jumped in to swim
after it. For a half hour I tossed it in and she got it and walked out, using
the built-in stairs to then run the ball around to me and shake the water off
all over me again and again. She finally dropped the ball at the pool edge and
went to go roll in the grass.

I went back to swimming from one
end of the pool to the other. Ten minutes later, with the sun now gone, Trevor
showed up on the pathway between the houses, at the edge of the clearing.
"Hey," he said.

"Hey, yourself."

"Can I join you?"

I looked a little closer and saw
he was already wearing trunks. He'd probably spent time around the main house's
pool. "Sure."

He used the stairs to sink into
the water.

"You didn't send me home
last night," he said.

"I didn't see a reason
to."

"Did you see a reason to
have me stay?"

I shrugged and threw his
sentiments back at him. "I enjoy a man who knows the value of a good
bargain."

He chuckled, which broke the ice,
and we began to talk.

We swam and talked for a good
hour before he left to sneak back over to the other house. Trevor was easy to
talk to and get along with. We seemed to have a lot of the same tastes and
values. He also seemed to share my need to stay busy. It was nice, once we cut
through the formal banter and really started talking.