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My stomach performs an Olympic-level flip. “Yeah. Should be great.”
Back at the resort, the production team swarms around me like ants, preparing me for the dinner portion. Fresh clothes appear. A makeup artist dabs at my forehead, erasing evidence of stress sweat. A producer reminds me of talking points—connection, future, feelings.
“And Hayes?” the producer adds, glancing at his notes. “No repeat of the incident with Serena.”
The “incident.”
“No problem,” I lie smoothly. “That was just something I ate.”
Or something my conscience couldn’t stomach.
Dinner is set up on a private terrace overlooking the ocean, candles flickering in the breeze, champagne chilling in sterling silver buckets. It’s the perfect romantic setting, and right now, it makes me want to run into the sea and keep swimming until I hit another continent.
Luna arrives in a dress so fitted it might qualify as a second skin, red fabric shimmering in the candlelight. She’s stunning, objectively speaking, but my body has zero response to her.
“Hayes.” Luna leans in for a kiss that I convert to a chaste peck at the last second. “This is beyond beautiful.”
We settle into our seats, eat our meals off-camera, then ready ourselves for filming. Servers appear to pour champagne, and Luna launches into an emotion-provoking spiel better for TV—about how she’s never felt like this before. How her past has kept her from truly opening up to someone, that is, until now. Then, after taking a delicate sip of champagne, she says, “I’m falling for you.”
I push zucchini blossoms around my plate, preparing to say what I’d planned ahead of time. I look up, smiling. “I have strong feelings for you, too. And thank you so much for being vulnerable with me.”
She laughs, the sound practiced and melodic. “Of course. With you, it’s easy.”
The main course arrives, and Luna transitions to a story about her parents’ divorce, how tough it was because her mom and dad were so busy fighting, she had to look after her younger sisters. This makes me sad, and I understand more why she does things to push people away. I’m sure she’s protecting herself. I say, “I admire that you stepped in and cared for your sisters. That says a lot about you,” I say, and mean it.
Finally, a production assistant approaches with the dreaded envelope.
Her eyes light up with anticipation as I open the card and read aloud: “Luna, should you choose to forgo your individual rooms, please use this opportunity to spend time together in our fantasy suite. Signed, Skye.”
That reminds me—whereisSkye when I need her most? She knows I’m drowning here.
“I would love to spend this night with you,” Luna says, her voice dropping to a register clearly practiced for maximum seduction. “There’s so much more I want to explore.”
My collar suddenly feels two sizes too small. “Great,” I choke out.
The fantasy suite is a beachfront bungalow with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. Inside, the same rose petals form a path to a king-sized bed, champagne awaits in yet another ice bucket, and ambient lighting that creates another night of atmosphere.
The cameras follow us inside for the same awkward preamble—Luna and me sitting on the edge of the bed, making stilted small talk about the beautiful space and our wonderful day together. We perform our assigned kiss, the producers get their footage, and then the crew backs out.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” the lead producer says with a wink that makes me want to throw myself off the balcony.
The door closes. We’re alone. The magnitude of my predicament crashes over me.
“So,” Luna says, stepping closer. “Should I freshen up?”
“Actually,” I begin, desperately searching for words. “I want to talk first.”
Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rise slightly. “Talk?”
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “About expectations. For tonight.”
“Oh?” A coy smile plays on her lips as she reaches for the zipper of her dress. “I think my expectations are pretty clear.”
“Luna, wait.” I hold up a hand. “I’ve been thinking about what happened with Brielle—”
“Brielle?” Luna’s expression sharpens. “Why are you bringingherup right now?”
Shit. I didn’t mean to say her name. “Just the situation that happened between her and me after the running of the bulls. People got hurt.”