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Addison
Brooklyn
Chloe
Georgia
Monica
Olie
Philippa
Meet America’s Sexiest Bachelor!Love ShackAnnounces Season 18 Lead
Meet theLove Shackseason 18 lead: Rhett Auburn! If you’re a country music fan, you might already be familiar with Auburn. He released his self-titled debut album six months ago, and it skyrocketed to the top of theBillboardcharts. Described as “country’s hottest new artist, in more ways than one” byNashville Weekly, Auburn brings an old-fashioned, rustic charm to his music that will surely melt the hearts ofLove Shackfans. In our interview, Auburn said his ideal partner would be someone free-spirited, kind, and, of course, a music lover. Sound like you or someone you know? Apply today or nominate a friend onLove Shack’s website!
—Peoplearchives, two years ago
One perk of going onLove Shackis traveling. Usually starting in the third week, the cast will travel either domestically or internationally, to test contestants’ connections with the lead in different environments. Act excited, but not too excited. You don’t want anyone to think you’re only there for a free vacation.
—Shacking Up: The Definitive, Unauthorized Guide to WinningLove Shack
Chapter Twenty-One
Nashville comes into view through the dense clouds below us. The chartered plane lurches lower, and my stomach clenches, hands tightening on my armrests. Next to me, Brooklyn is blissfully asleep, her hair puffed out on her headrest. I take a last gulp of my prosecco.
This will be my fifth visit to Nashville. The first time, I was twenty-two and fresh off college graduation. Back then, Serena and I were inseparable. We got last-minute plane tickets on one of those airlines where the seat belts cost extra and arrived without a plan or a place to stay. Four days later, after seeing dozens of cover bands and drinking more beer than a frat boy on Super Bowl Sunday, we returned to LA, still giddy from the rush of the trip and, in my case, nearly passed out from the amount of Xanax it took to get me back on the plane.
I came back jet-lagged but on fire. For the next few months, I didn’t go more than a few days without going to a concert or dive bar with live music. It was thrilling to me, so many people pressed together, the same current running through all of them. Losing myself in a crowd, hundreds of veins pumping to theband’s heart. Putting it on the page so others could experience it too. It was the ideal cover for my investigative reporting, and somewhere along the way, it became my lifeblood.
The small plane crunches onto the runway with a deafening roar. I let out a long breath. The worst of the flight is over. Getting back on the plane later this week will be a problem for future (and hopefully very sedated) Georgia.
“Welcome to Nashville,” the pilot says, her voice crackly over the speakers. “Also known as Music City, USA.”
“How many times are we gonna have to hear that?” Olie grumbles as she wakes up in the row behind me.
Once the plane rolls to a stop, I stand, itching to get out of this metal death tube. I climb over Brooklyn, offering to get her suitcase down, and walk a few rows up to where our bags are stashed. When I pop open the overhead compartment, my duffel bag falls squarely on top of my head, sending me flying backward into the row opposite.
A pair of strong hands grasps my waist, breaking my fall, but my back jams into the armrest and soon I’m horizontal.
“Whoa there, Georgia Peach,” Roland says. His hands. It’s his hands that are steadying me, laying me across his lap like a goddamn damsel in distress. Again. “You all right there?”
“Yeah,” I groan. I look up at him, realize he’s in the window seat, and then glance down, giving myself an egregious double chin.
Rhett. It’s Rhett’s hands on my waist. Desperately, I try to pull myself up, but my abs are on a break and I fall back, head hitting Roland’s crotch.
He lets out a grunt and twists his face in pain.
“I’m sorry!” I scramble up, using Rhett as a ladder, and try not to think about what my head just touched.
“It’s fine,” Roland says through gritted teeth.
I move to get up and get a faceful of Rhett, whose eyebrowsare so close together they could be connected. After spending the entire flight avoiding even looking at him, this is far too close for comfort. Plus, he smells fantastic. Like cinnamon and whatever lemony drink is in his tiny airplane cup and—
No. I can’t be thinking like that now that we’ve both made it abundantly clear where we stand.
