collective female sigh roll all around the world. It’s no wonder you’re feeling out of sorts, my friend.”
My face shot toward him. “I’m not. Jackson, if you really want to be my friend , then stop being such an asshole.” It was rare when I spoke sharply to anyone, and most especially to Jackson. And sensitive man that he was, he immediately showed the hurt in his expression.
“Look, Jackson, I know you’re just teasing and that this is what keeps the work day from dragging on, but I’m still just getting used to my new position. That’s all it is. A crush, or whatever you think this is, is the last thing I need or want or have time for. You should know that better than anyone.”
He reached over for a hug and an air kiss. “You’re right. I’m done teasing. I will find another friend to torture.” He winked at me. “I hear Tricia is having a hard time handling the media end of this because people are going nuts about this bachelor. A few of the bachelorettes have their fans now too.” He looked past me. “They’ve stopped filming. Break time. I’m done with my work out here. You want to take off for some lunch? I think there’s a taco place nearby this piece of rural paradise.”
I shot a glance toward my six foot plus charge. His dark head towered above the crowd. He was the center of attention for both the women and the film crew. Doug was practically kneeling at his feet, ready to kiss the cowboy boots. Rafe briefly glanced around as if he was looking for something. Even under the shade of his hat brim, I could tell that his gaze had stopped on me.
I lifted the hem of my shirt and looked down at the pager. It wasn’t blinking or buzzing.
Jackson noticed that Rafe’s attention was on me. “Do you think he needs something? He looks kind of lost standing there amongst all his admirers.”
“Not lost. Just out of place, I think.” I stopped there, not wanting to let out any of the things Rafe had told me about the bet and his lack of enthusiasm for the show. “My pager is silent, and he’ll be occupied, especially when they start filming the one on one chats. Let’s go get those tacos. I’ve had about enough romance for one afternoon.”
Chapter 8
Rafe
Even though we were supposed to ignore the food on the picnic blanket, Peyton reached for a grape and held it up to my mouth. I ate it but shook my head when she reached for another. I was getting used to the cameras rolling, but I still wasn’t used to having to engage in what seemed like endless conversations with so many different women, women who were still complete strangers. Peyton was one I’d only spoken to for a short time. She was pretty with short dark hair and big green eyes, but I could already tell that she lacked a sense of humor.
“What is it you’re looking for in a wife?” she asked suddenly. It could easily have been a question fed to her by Doug, the director, a guy who was slowly getting on my nerves.
I toyed with the idea of being completely honest and admitting that I wasn’t looking for a wife at all, but I decided there had been more than enough drama for the day. “Honestly, I need someone who I can laugh with. Humor is high on my list.”
Peyton’s top lip twitched a little. Then she laughed. It was a forced laugh. “You can’t tell me a man like you has humor high on a priority list.” She shifted her shoulders closer together to give me a clearer view of her not to be ignored cleavage. “I mean there must be other qualities on that list.”
At least the woman knew she lacked a sense of humor. Some would have just jumped on the opportunity and forced themselves to be amusing.
Peyton leaned back on her hands and stretched out her long legs. “My thighs are sore,” she giggled, “almost as if I just had a long weekend of sex.” She laughed again. It was a completely fake laugh.
I’d given her credit too quickly.
I leaned back too. “We weren’t even riding for long.”
She reached up
My face shot toward him. “I’m not. Jackson, if you really want to be my friend , then stop being such an asshole.” It was rare when I spoke sharply to anyone, and most especially to Jackson. And sensitive man that he was, he immediately showed the hurt in his expression.
“Look, Jackson, I know you’re just teasing and that this is what keeps the work day from dragging on, but I’m still just getting used to my new position. That’s all it is. A crush, or whatever you think this is, is the last thing I need or want or have time for. You should know that better than anyone.”
He reached over for a hug and an air kiss. “You’re right. I’m done teasing. I will find another friend to torture.” He winked at me. “I hear Tricia is having a hard time handling the media end of this because people are going nuts about this bachelor. A few of the bachelorettes have their fans now too.” He looked past me. “They’ve stopped filming. Break time. I’m done with my work out here. You want to take off for some lunch? I think there’s a taco place nearby this piece of rural paradise.”
I shot a glance toward my six foot plus charge. His dark head towered above the crowd. He was the center of attention for both the women and the film crew. Doug was practically kneeling at his feet, ready to kiss the cowboy boots. Rafe briefly glanced around as if he was looking for something. Even under the shade of his hat brim, I could tell that his gaze had stopped on me.
I lifted the hem of my shirt and looked down at the pager. It wasn’t blinking or buzzing.
Jackson noticed that Rafe’s attention was on me. “Do you think he needs something? He looks kind of lost standing there amongst all his admirers.”
“Not lost. Just out of place, I think.” I stopped there, not wanting to let out any of the things Rafe had told me about the bet and his lack of enthusiasm for the show. “My pager is silent, and he’ll be occupied, especially when they start filming the one on one chats. Let’s go get those tacos. I’ve had about enough romance for one afternoon.”
Chapter 8
Rafe
Even though we were supposed to ignore the food on the picnic blanket, Peyton reached for a grape and held it up to my mouth. I ate it but shook my head when she reached for another. I was getting used to the cameras rolling, but I still wasn’t used to having to engage in what seemed like endless conversations with so many different women, women who were still complete strangers. Peyton was one I’d only spoken to for a short time. She was pretty with short dark hair and big green eyes, but I could already tell that she lacked a sense of humor.
“What is it you’re looking for in a wife?” she asked suddenly. It could easily have been a question fed to her by Doug, the director, a guy who was slowly getting on my nerves.
I toyed with the idea of being completely honest and admitting that I wasn’t looking for a wife at all, but I decided there had been more than enough drama for the day. “Honestly, I need someone who I can laugh with. Humor is high on my list.”
Peyton’s top lip twitched a little. Then she laughed. It was a forced laugh. “You can’t tell me a man like you has humor high on a priority list.” She shifted her shoulders closer together to give me a clearer view of her not to be ignored cleavage. “I mean there must be other qualities on that list.”
At least the woman knew she lacked a sense of humor. Some would have just jumped on the opportunity and forced themselves to be amusing.
Peyton leaned back on her hands and stretched out her long legs. “My thighs are sore,” she giggled, “almost as if I just had a long weekend of sex.” She laughed again. It was a completely fake laugh.
I’d given her credit too quickly.
I leaned back too. “We weren’t even riding for long.”
She reached up
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