Page 30 of Grinch Girl

“Really?” I paused. No other pairings had much of a story so far. Nothing that would generate a definite viewer tilt. “Who?”

Sean swallowed so loud I could hear it. “You and Nate.”

I swiveled. “What? Why?” That didn’t make any sense. In the first episode, there’d been barely any footage of us together, and neither of us had said anything about each other. I hadn’t watched every single minute of the second episode, but I’d edited half the thing myself.

Except I’d allowed Sean to do The Satin Lady parts. I’d only scanned through them on fast-forward. But why should that make such a difference? I’d been in the footage a little, as I talked to Diane and the dancers. Sean had captured me arranging how to approach some of the filming—behind-the-scenes footage that I agreed gave the segment more depth.

“I don’t get it. If we randomly ended up paired but I had similar counts of votes to go with Brian or Tripp, I would understand. But it’s not like that?” I confirmed.

Sean shook his head. “If you look at the mathematical trends and the time we have left, it’s extremely doubtful that enough votes could change the match-up.”

“But why?” Not that I cared one way or the other. I just wanted the mystery solved.

Sean scratched his chin. “I have a theory. Come look at this ten-second clip from The Satin Lady.”

Frowning, I stood behind him at the kitchen table and waited until he found the section of the recording he wanted and hit play. The camera was on Nate as he leaned back on a couch, a drink in his hand, while the distinctive beats opening of “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails filled the sound of the club. He wore his typical, relaxed, slightly sardonic look, nodding his chin to the music.

But then his facial expression changed. His eyes focused on something in the distance, and he went still. Cocked his head in an assessing way. Was that a tiny lick of his lips? The camera drew closer as the angle of his jaw changed and his eyes went dark, his concentration complete.

He looked…carnal.

Like he wanted to devour what he was looking at. Like he was imagining an entire X-rated scenario in his head with the object of his admiring gaze. As if the lyrics of the refrain of “Closer” aligned perfectly with his current thoughts.

Then, the camera scanned the room slowly to catch whatever was in his sights—and settled on me.

I was in my off-shoulder black top and leather pants, instructing the participating dancers on timing to come down the catwalk. Then I half turned and yelled at the cameraman next to me. Grabbed Diane’s shoulder and pointed for her to go do something. Those dang pants did look good on me. I might have looked sexy if I weren’t barking orders at everyone.

Now, I smacked Sean so hard at my kitchen table that he yelped. “So Nate was staring at one of the dancers and you edited it so it seemed like he was looking at me instead? Why?”

Sean looked up and fiercely shook his head. “No! He was looking atyou. No one else. For practically the entire night. Thiswas just one example.” He shrugged. “You’re the one who tells us to find stories in what we’re recording.”

“This is not a story!” I howled. “It was just—” Nothing. It was nothing. “A weird look,” I finished lamely.

Sean put his nose back in his laptop. “Well, the viewers do not agree.”

I thought about that look every instant of my drive into town. It distracted me as I parallel parked on the square. There were so many cars that I had to park two blocks away, and I didn’t even get annoyed. Slowly, I walked to the shop, idly noting that now it was way too cold for my leather coat, and I needed to dig out my parka when I got home.

God, what a stare that was. His eyes were like a black hole. The intensity. The hunger.

For me?

I was so distracted by Nate’s stupid stare that I didn’t immediately order Bella out of the shop, not even when a bunch of browsing customers finally paid for their purchases and wandered into the square, leaving the two of us alone.

“Lots of sales today,” Bella said, jotting notes in Greta’s journal. “If this keeps up, we’ll need to reorder or reprice the inventory.”

Normally, I’d snap back at her so hard she’d blink. I knew ten times as much as she did about how to run this store, and she could keep her damn opinions on how to operate it to herself.

But instead, my stupid mouth said, “Did you watch the latestSingle Bellsepisode?”

She sighed. “Yeah. I’m still cringing at how moronic I looked when Michael kissed my cheek under the mistletoe. I looked like a snow owl having a heart attack.” In another moment, I might have laughed at that comparison. Bella’s big blinking eyes and white feathery coat, the way she looked so startled and stiff whenMichael’s lips touched her cheeks. A snow owl having a heart attack, indeed.

But right now I just stayed silent.

Clearly, I was making way too big a deal about this. No one else had probably even noticed.

Bella put the pen down. “Or are you referring to the moment where Nate eye-fucked you so hard that I started sweating?”

“Bella!” I never got used to her using the F-word. Never. It just sounded wrong coming out of her Disney princess face.

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