and brushed her bangs off her face. The gesture brought my mind back to Eliot. I took a quick glance around at the crew members standing in the shadows of the tents and trucks. No Eliot. I wasn’t completely sure why, but I always felt better when she was in my line of vision. She was my familiar face, my friend, in a situation where I felt completely out of place.
“Some of us found the whole scene with Janelle pretty amusing,” Peyton piped up. I’d almost forgotten we were on camera.
“You found a woman almost being thrown from a horse amusing?” I’d already sensed that the heat of competition between the contestants had begun, and it seemed it was starting to really flare up. I had no doubt that it was being encouraged by the people behind the cameras.
“Well, of course not,” Peyton continued with another forced laugh, a grating sound to say the least. “If that was truly the case. It just seemed as if, maybe, she—you know—staged the whole thing. It was just a little too reminiscent of every western romance novel ever written, you know?”
“Not in the habit of reading them, but I do know horses and that horse was startled into a run. The handler in charge of the animals made a bad decision putting her on that particular horse. So, unless she’s some secret stunt rider, that wasn’t staged.”
Peyton’s lips jutted out and she sat forward, apparently deciding she’d said the wrong thing. “No, of course, you’re right. Poor thing. I hope she’s all right.” She tried to sweep away the damage that had already been done, but it was a little late. Of course, it was entirely possible that she’d been told to mention it, just to start conflict. That was when it occurred to me that I would never really get to know any of these women because so much of the conversations would be scripted or at least pointed in an unnatural direction just for the sake of ratings. I decided to give Peyton the benefit of the doubt and let her comment go.
“Did you enjoy the ride?” I asked.
Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. “I did.” She sighed. “There’s just something about watching a gorgeous man riding a horse.”
I smiled. “Guess that’s because of all those western romance novels.”
“Yes, I chew those things up in my spare time. I love to read.” The invented laugh returned, and I wondered if she actually had a real one or if she lacked humor enough that she’d had to create one.
As Peyton continued about her reading habits, I caught a glimpse of Eliot sitting at a table under a tree. It took me completely out of the conversation, and I watched as my assistant pored over a textbook and sipped on a soda.
“Do you like books, Rafe?” Peyton’s question pulled my attention back to her.
“Yes. Yes I do. And there’s just something about a woman reading,” I said quietly as my gaze drifted back to Eliot.
“Cut! That’s a wrap for today,” the director shouted. “The flies are eating us alive. Something tells me there’s going to be a run on bookstores after this show,” he muttered from the sidelines.
I stood and Peyton reached her hand up for me to take. I popped her to her feet. She took the opportunity to fall against me. “Oops,” she said. “Just wanted to see what it felt like, and it wasn’t the least bit disappointing.” She winked and sashayed away.
The director was an idiot for trying to script and lead all the conversations in a particular direction. It seemed to me that there would be plenty of interesting scenes if they just let things happen naturally. Unscripted, like my time with Eliot.
Without a second thought, I pressed my hat on my head and walked across the grass toward the tree where she was sitting.
I could hear the last drops of her soda stutter up the straw as she took a drink. She shook the ice in the cup and took off the lid. She brought the cup to her wide open mouth just as she noticed me lumbering toward her.
Her cheeks were rounded as she
“Some of us found the whole scene with Janelle pretty amusing,” Peyton piped up. I’d almost forgotten we were on camera.
“You found a woman almost being thrown from a horse amusing?” I’d already sensed that the heat of competition between the contestants had begun, and it seemed it was starting to really flare up. I had no doubt that it was being encouraged by the people behind the cameras.
“Well, of course not,” Peyton continued with another forced laugh, a grating sound to say the least. “If that was truly the case. It just seemed as if, maybe, she—you know—staged the whole thing. It was just a little too reminiscent of every western romance novel ever written, you know?”
“Not in the habit of reading them, but I do know horses and that horse was startled into a run. The handler in charge of the animals made a bad decision putting her on that particular horse. So, unless she’s some secret stunt rider, that wasn’t staged.”
Peyton’s lips jutted out and she sat forward, apparently deciding she’d said the wrong thing. “No, of course, you’re right. Poor thing. I hope she’s all right.” She tried to sweep away the damage that had already been done, but it was a little late. Of course, it was entirely possible that she’d been told to mention it, just to start conflict. That was when it occurred to me that I would never really get to know any of these women because so much of the conversations would be scripted or at least pointed in an unnatural direction just for the sake of ratings. I decided to give Peyton the benefit of the doubt and let her comment go.
“Did you enjoy the ride?” I asked.
Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. “I did.” She sighed. “There’s just something about watching a gorgeous man riding a horse.”
I smiled. “Guess that’s because of all those western romance novels.”
“Yes, I chew those things up in my spare time. I love to read.” The invented laugh returned, and I wondered if she actually had a real one or if she lacked humor enough that she’d had to create one.
As Peyton continued about her reading habits, I caught a glimpse of Eliot sitting at a table under a tree. It took me completely out of the conversation, and I watched as my assistant pored over a textbook and sipped on a soda.
“Do you like books, Rafe?” Peyton’s question pulled my attention back to her.
“Yes. Yes I do. And there’s just something about a woman reading,” I said quietly as my gaze drifted back to Eliot.
“Cut! That’s a wrap for today,” the director shouted. “The flies are eating us alive. Something tells me there’s going to be a run on bookstores after this show,” he muttered from the sidelines.
I stood and Peyton reached her hand up for me to take. I popped her to her feet. She took the opportunity to fall against me. “Oops,” she said. “Just wanted to see what it felt like, and it wasn’t the least bit disappointing.” She winked and sashayed away.
The director was an idiot for trying to script and lead all the conversations in a particular direction. It seemed to me that there would be plenty of interesting scenes if they just let things happen naturally. Unscripted, like my time with Eliot.
Without a second thought, I pressed my hat on my head and walked across the grass toward the tree where she was sitting.
I could hear the last drops of her soda stutter up the straw as she took a drink. She shook the ice in the cup and took off the lid. She brought the cup to her wide open mouth just as she noticed me lumbering toward her.
Her cheeks were rounded as she
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