Page 47 of You're The One
My feet hit the rocky ground the second the doors of the death trap open. By sheer willpower alone, I help Emma out instead of running as far from that sad excuse for an aircraft as possible.
Bodhi is waiting for us, clipboard in one hand, the other keeping a floppy bucket hat from flying off in the wind stirred up by the propellers. “How’d you enjoy the ride over?”
“It was beautiful,” Emma replies, at the same time I mutter, “It was terrible.”
They both laugh.
“This way.” Bodhi walks off without checking if we’re behind him.
We’re brought to an intimate round table. Candles are scattered across the surface, and the sun is setting over the water, painting the sky in shades of rusty pink and hazy blue. It’s picture—or rather, camera—perfect.
“You couldn’t wait for us to get here before serving the food?” I gesture toward the table, where a filet mignon and a fish dish are already plated, and probably ice cold.
Bodhi follows my gaze. “Oh, that’s not for eating. It’s just a prop. You won’t actually be dining. It’s distracting, and it’s a nightmare for the audio engineers.”
My brows pull together. It would’ve been nice if someone had given me a heads-up. I’m starving. “Seems wasteful,” I mutter.
Emma gives me another small smile before taking the seat Bodhi points toward, and I drop into the one across from her. He disappears behind one of the larger cameras, but I hear his voice call out: “All right. Good to go.”
“I’m glad we’re getting to spend this time together,” I say, meaning it.
“Me, too. I couldn’t believe my luck getting one of the first one-on-one dates. You know I didn’t even sign up for the show myself?” She laughs softly, shaking her head. “It was actually my mom. I was totally against it at first, but when I found out you were going to be the bachelor, it didn’t seem so bad.”
“What was it about me?” I ask, not because I need the flattery, but because I’m curious. Emma’s never struck me as someone with an angle.
She takes a sip of her water, buying herself a second. “You’re going to think I’m so weird.”
“Have you met me? I’m pretty strange.”
She smiles. “I’ve gotten into hockey over the last couple of years. I wasn’t going to tell you, but… I’m actually a Dallas fan?—”
I slump back into my chair. “That hurts.”
She groans and buries her face in her hands. “I know, I know. I was a big Jace Knolls fan. But when he got traded, I started watching the Saints.”
“And somehow that made it worse.”
“I’ve since caught on to the bad blood.” She giggles.
“I can neither confirm nor deny.” I lean forward, watching her.
“Guess investigative journalism isn’t in my future.”
She’s cute when she’s like this. Playful, unguarded.
“Anyway, after following the Saints, I started catching your post-game interviews. They were always my favorite. Even after brutal losses?—”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“—you still had this joy about you. This lightness. It made me smile. People always talk about how flirty you are with the interviewers, but I just saw someone who made others feel at ease. Man, woman, older, younger… you’ve got this energy about you. As an introvert, that really stood out. So, when I got offered a spot on the show, I figured, why not take the leap?”
I sense the same quiet hope in her that I have myself—the kind of hope that makes you willing to put everything on the line.
I nod, not sure what to say at first. “I appreciate you sharing that. I’m glad you gave this a shot. I know it’s not exactly a normal dating experience.”
“So far, it’s not bad. The girls are all really great.” She picks up her fork and pushes food around her plate. I’m hungry enough that I almost steal a bite.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, meeting her gaze. Her eyes are bluish green—a shade deeper and a hint more green than Mia’s.
