Page 96 of Most Eligible
“I told them to leave that one out!” She marches forward andsnatches the white bodysuit out of my hands. “Sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I told them you’d never wear that one. Honestly, you’d need an army just to get into this thing. I thought this was more your style—for later.” She rummages through the remaining lingerie and pulls out a sleek red satin bralette and matching pajama shorts. “I know it’s awkward,” she adds. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”
“Wanna have sex with Roland for me?” I joke, then clamp my mouth shut. “Just kidding,” I stammer. “Totally joking, obviously.”
Jules cackles. “No chance.” She pulls out a bathing suit. “Lainey suggested this one. She says it’ll go with Roland’s suit. Want some help?”
I nod and undress, then let her untangle me from the body mic. She switches it off, and then pulls down her own headset. “Seriously,” she says quietly. “Can I do anything to help?”
I look at her, feeling pitiful in my underwear that’s nowhere near as fancy as the ones now festooning the bed.
“No.” I shake my head. If she could turn back time, I might take her up on it. “Just make sure I don’t look ridiculous out there.”
“Noted.” She grins and turns around briefly while I pull on the navy-blue monokini. “But I don’t think I’ll need to do much. This is hot,” she says, looking me up and down. “We should give the wardrobe department a raise.”
“Do they get paid more for providing less fabric?” I look down at my barely covered body, twisting around to see just how much of my ass is exposed. A lot.
“I’m just going to…” Jules reaches into her fanny pack and pulls out a tube of concealer, matched precisely to my skin tone. She starts dabbing it on my neck and looks at me apologetically. “Sorry—Lainey’s orders.”
“No problem,” I mutter. “Wouldn’t want Lainey to be displeased.”
She frowns. “I know she can be… a lot,” she says. “But I hope you know I don’t always agree with her.”
“So why do you do it?” It comes out more accusatory than I intend, so I try to soften my tone. “I just mean—I’m sure there are a ton of jobs you could get with less… abusive bosses.”
She shrugs, putting the concealer away, then tucks a stray lock of purple hair behind her ear. “Believe it or not, working onLove Shacklooks really good on a résumé,” she says. “And I thought—well, it’s kind of silly, but I thought maybe if I worked here, rose up a bit, I could actually help change things. Make sure contestants are treated well, help increase diversity in casting, that kind of thing. But I think all I’ve helped with is propping up a horrible system.”
She grabs a designer silk robe and hands it to me.
“You helped me,” I tell her. “Seriously. Thank you.”
She smiles a little shyly and leads me outside to the large in-ground pool surrounded by orange trees.
Naturally, Roland is already shirtless, and when he sees me, he does a double take. I glance at the cameras to make sure they’re running (not because I care, but because I don’t want to do this twice) and step barefoot onto the hot concrete. Slowly, I pull the robe from my shoulders and drop it onto the lounge chair beside me. Roland lets out a low whistle, gathers me up in his arms, and tangles his fingers in my hair. Even if it doesn’t make it on TV, now there’s footage of him grabbing my ass.Save that for my funeral.
We swim in the cool water and redo kisses over and over until our fingers are puckered and our skin is covered in goosebumps. We kiss so many times that my lips stop tingling, my legs go numb, and I don’t feel anything at all.
When his fingers brush the tattoo on my hip, I get a jolt up my spine. I wish it were Rhett here with me now, swimming until our limbs hurt, flopping onto the hot pavement when we’re finally allowed out of the water. But just as quickly, I realize it can never again be Rhett. We’ve both made sure of that.
Later, dried off and dressed up, Roland and I eat Margherita pizza on the deck and then sit in front of a fussy seafood dinner for the cameras. As the food sits untouched, Roland takes my hand. He looks at the sunset, then to me.
“Georgia, you’re so beautiful,” he says. I liked it better on Rhett’s lips:You’re fucking beautiful. The words were harsh enough to wrench their way into my heart—but it hurts even more to let them go.
Roland runs his eyes up and down my (or ratherLove Shack’s) mint-green satin dress. His gaze flickers momentarily but returns with a burning intensity. “Will you do me the honor of spending the night with me?”
My stomach drops. I can tell myself it’s the right thing to do a million times, but I’ll never be anywhere near wanting to do this.
I nod at Roland, my head moving entirely of its own accord. “Of course,” I say. I lean forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.
“Sit on his lap,” Lainey orders, startling me. I’d nearly forgotten she was there. Gritting my teeth, I slide off my chair and onto Roland’s lap, snaking my arms around his neck. He brushes a kiss against my lips but doesn’t take it further than a closed-lip peck.
“We’ll be staying here,” he says. “We have the whole place to ourselves.”
I gape at him. “Seriously?”
“Yup, only the best and biggest for you, Georgia Peach,” he says, winking.
The joke isn’t lost on me, especially since I can feel his best and biggest beneath my legs, but I barely laugh. He winks again, and this time it lands over my shoulder, but perfectly placed for the cameras to catch it.
“But first,” he says, helping me to my feet, “I have a surprise.”
