Page 71 of Next Time We'll Fall

“Oh, but August hasn’t even met me. How do I know he’ll pick me?”

Jackie starts laughing. “Oh, darling. This is TV. August is not going to make any of the choices. We do. Everything is about production value, and many of the producers and I think you should be one of the top contenders.”

“Oh, but why?”

“Because you’re genuine, unlike a lot of the girls here, and it’s obvious you’re not here for fame. We want the audience to connect with someone. We want them to root for someone, and I think that woman will be you. What a great story. Small-town island girl who owns a romance bookstore, hard on her luck.”

“Wait. Who said I’m hard on my luck?” I blink at her.

She just shrugs. “Then we have August Pitt, successful Hollywood actor who’s never been able to find love. He’s never been able to find someone who truly sees who he is on the inside.” She winks. “And that person will be you. He’ll sweep you off your feet and fly you across the water, and you’ll go jet-skiing and swimming with dolphins, and then your bikini will accidentally fall off.”

“Wait … what?”

“Oops, sorry. We haven’t finalized everything yet, so don’t worry.”

“I don’t understand. I thought this was a dating show, but this sounds like it’s scripted.” I frown and hope I don’t sound naive. How can this be real if they are dictating every move on the show?

“It’s a scripted dating show.” She laughs. “This is your big break, honey.”

“But I don’t want a big break?—”

“Let’s talk tomorrow. Why don’t you go and get some food, and we’ll see you bright and early?” She turns away from me and walks off, cutting off the conversation before I can continue.

I feel slightly nervous and uneasy as I make my way home. I lick my lips nervously. I don’t want to be a top contender. Idon’t want to be the small-town girl. And I certainly don’t want my bikini accidentally falling off. I have to think of something, but I know I can’t be rescued—not again. I already made a rash decision when I signed up for the dating show.

And now …

Well, now I’ve made my bed. I have to lie in it. Like the Royal fool that I am.

I continue walking down the street, allowing my thoughts to crowd my brain when I suddenly realize there’s a car honking at me. I turn to the right and see that it’s Rafe. Of course he would be here. I’m partially happy and partially annoyed. I know I live in a small town, but why is he all of a sudden always there? Everywhere I am.

“Hey,” he says. “Need a ride?” There’s a cocky look on his face that tells me he thinks he’s doing me a favor.

“No,” I say quickly, but I can’t stop myself from walking over to his window as he pulls over. “What are you doing?”

“I thought I would see how your first day went.”

“It went great. I saw you at the beach, watching me earlier.” I want to know why he was there. I want to know if he’s spying on me? If he likes me or is just trying to protect me. Not that I really care. I am not interested in him like that anymore. He could move to Norway and I wouldn’t even notice he no longer lived on the island. Maybe.

“Oh, was that you?” he says, tilting his head to the side. “I thought it might have been, but there were so many girls out there on the beach that I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” I say, not believing him for a second. “Well, you have a nice day.”

“Wait,” he says as he stops the car and jumps out. I watch as he heads over to me, looking strong and serious. The man could be a movie star if he wanted to be one.

“What are you doing?” I fold my arms and glare at him. If he’s about to start bossing me around again then I am going to tell him exactly what I think of him and his stalkerish ways. He couldn’t treat me like some sort of Princess that needed protecting and then act like I was some dumbass when I had questions. Plus, there was the whole physical connection between the two of us. What did it all mean? I felt like I was going crazy. I just wanted answers. Real answers. But I was too scared to ask the real questions.

“I obviously knew that was you. I was checking to see that everything was okay.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and it’s the first time I’ve ever noticed that he looks nervous. “I have a question for you, and feel free to say no, and feel free to say take a hike, and feel free to?—”

“What’s the question, Rafe?” I can hear the irritation in my voice.

“Do you want to possibly … maybe …” He stops and I think for a moment that he’s nervous, but there’s just no way. The Rafe I know is not nervous about anything in life.

“Are you stammering?”

“No, of course not. I just had a question.”

“You already told me you had a question. What’s the question?”