Page 7 of Catching Coy
“Keep Charlotte,” she said. “She’s the sweet one, and everyone wants to have a bff on the show.”
“Duh, Bells.” Coy laughed at her. “She’s definitely a keeper.”
“I can’t advise you beyond that.” She gave a shrug, hoping she hadn’t shown the pinch of jealousy in her face.
“Bells.”
Sweet cream, he had to stop calling her that. “Who’s your first instinct to cut?”
“Lyra and Cam.” He grimaced, and Bellamy caught herself nodding. She grimaced too. “They’re fun, but I don’t want to lead them on. I like a quirky girl, but I don’t think I could handle them. It’s not a good fit.”
Bellamy glanced around her and lowered her voice. “I’m worried they might make you keep Lyra, you know, for the drama.” She raised her eyebrows.
He smirked. “There’s still enough drama here, trust me.”
“Coy Jones, you don’t need me.” She accidentally put her hand on his knee—in a completely friend-like, reassuring way. Then she snatched it back.
“I…” He pressed his lips together again, which was becoming a very distracting habit of his. “The truth is, I need all the help I can get.”
Chapter Five
Willa, 28
Waitress/Singer
Nashville, Tennessee
“Way back when Taggart Dubois was just starting, we played the same bar and he told me we would make it. So, coming here to his home, it’s like this is all meant to be, you know?”
* * *
Watching Coy “pick his team,”and letting Lyra and Cam go was so much worse when it wasn’t via a TV screen. Bellamy cringed through the whole thing, especially when Lyra started sobbing as she said her goodbyes to Coy. He wrapped his long arms around her and whispered that she would find her perfect someone and that Coy didn’t deserve to take up her time when it wasn’t right. Lyra sobbed harder. Even Bellamy was on the verge of sobbing a little.
The next morning, Bellamy cursed Roxy’s remodel for closing off the kitchen. The women were all in the living room, lounging on the couches there while they waited for breakfast, which Bellamy was preparing, and waited for Portia Hampton to show up. The host was on her own over at the Double A cabin. Bellamy propped the kitchen door open as she worked, listening and silently commenting on the women’s evaluations of the day before. Bristol had declared her and Lucy the obvious top two, and Bellamy would’ve killed to see the other women’s reactions tothatstatement. Especially since she disagreed. Charlotte was in the top, based a lot on how Coy’s expression had softened when he said she was a keeper.
Security cameras! She grabbed her laptop from the nearby counter, where she’d been watching one of her favorite online chefs that morning while making the biscuits. She logged into the Ranch House’s security site, opening up the living room camera in the main screen, watching the women’s reactions as she finished cooking up dinner and silently critiquing their guesses about who would get one-on-one game time with Coy and who would have to settle for “Team Dates,” what the show called the group dates.
“Well, do you agree or disagree?”
Bellamy jumped at the sound of Coy’s voice. “Good gravy, Coy Jones.”
His shoulders shook in silent laughter as he rounded the island. “Good gravy?”
Heat flooded her face at the silly exclamation. “I get that from my mom. Her swear words are all food related.” She lowered her voice. “What are you doing here?Thisis definitely cheating.” She snapped the laptop shut, then waved a spatula at him before running it around the pan of her fluffy scrambled eggs.
“I’m supposed to be here,” he said, affronted. He leaned back against the island. “For breakfast with the ladies.”
“I’ve seen the itinerary. Not until after Portia comes to tell them who gets the dates.” She moved the scrambled eggs off the burner and scooped them into one of her warmers.
Coy glanced down at his watch. “Portia’s not here yet? She was supposed to come down ten minutes ago.”
Bellamy rubbed her hands together. “Oooo, behind the scenes secrets. Portia Hampton is high maintenance!”
Coy took a step closer, looking down at her with contentment written all over his expression. “I love the way you smile, Bells.”
She whirled away, lest he see the color rushing into her cheeks at the soft way he’d said that. “Stop your flirting. We’ve established I am not competing in this show.” She kept her back to him as she pushed the peppers, onions, and spinach around in the sauté pan. “So, whoisgetting that coveted one-on-one game?” she asked.
“Right now, it’s obviously you.”
