Gage

So, Ellie wants me to kiss all the women?

I should.

Damn it, I should, just to give her what she wants. Or what she thinks she wants. Clearly the woman has me all figured out without knowing a damn thing.

But two hours into the latest group date, I realize that not only do I not want to kiss any of these women, I can barely stand to be in their company.

“So, like, what’s the craziest place you’ve ever hooked up with a girl?” Brittany M. squeezes my arm as she asks it, unabashedly pushing her tits against my biceps.

I glance down at her, realizing I haven’t been following her train of conversation at all. How’d we get here? “Sorry, babe, what?”

Brittany B. comes up on my other side, mimicking Brittany M.’s body language, only Brittany B.’s boobs are firmer (probably fake) and her smile a little more brittle. “Brit and I were talking earlier about how we both like to be a little wild.”

She holds my gaze as she says it, the tip of her tongue touching the center of her upper lip in a gesture that I suspect is meant to be sexy but instead feels manufactured and cheap.

“For God’s sake, leave the man alone,” Eden calls from behind us. “You’re monopolizing all his time.”

Brittany B. shoots a death look over her shoulder. “Really. And I’m guessing that you losing your favorite bracelet and asking Gage to go back and help you find it was a total accident, right?”

“Come on, guys, let’s not fight.” This from Kelsey, a smiley art teacher from Nashville who I’ve realized is the resident peacemaker. I reward the pretty brunette by extracting myself from the Brittanys’ clutches and draping my arm casually around Kelsey’s shoulders.

Scott, the main camera guy, dogs my every move, while Sasha keeps her equipment trained on the Brittanys’ reaction, which seems to range between confused blink (Brittany M.) and sneer (Brittany B.). They both drive me crazy—the only reason I haven’t sent them both home yet is that I suspect either one would only be more annoying without the other, and I can’t figure out which one to get rid of first.

“Kels is right,” I say with a smile. “We’re here to enjoy cocktails and the sunset.”

“And each other’s company!” Kelsey chirps.

“Jeeeeeeee-sus, give it a rest,” Eden snipes.

I inhale and try to remember that in less than a month this will all be behind me and I’ll never have to see the majority of them again.

Not the Brittanys, not always-angry Eden, not manipulative Cora, not hyena-laugh Aria…

Not Ellie.

I don’t have to turn around to know that she’s behind me, doing her best to stay out of the catfights, the same as she’s been doing all day.

I know, because I can sense the damn woman. No matter how determinedly she refuses to look at me, no matter how much I try to forget the feel of her mouth on mine, she’s always fucking there.

And it’s starting to piss me off.

“Ellie, Paisley, you ladies like sunsets?” I ask, turning and facing them directly.

There’s a moment of surprised silence at my sudden focus on them, and the cameras hurriedly adjust. I know what the camera will see: Paisley’s look of happy surprise, Ellie’s look of wariness.

As the producers have instructed me, I’ve stopped along the walkway at a spot that gives our group a place to congregate without being in the way of gawking tourists.

We’re in Lahaina, which Adam explained was a historic Maui town, now known mainly for its shops and restaurants. I’m all for the restaurant we’re headed for—and the alcohol.

The shopping? Not so much. I’ve spent the past hour listening to the women pretend to coo over art galleries and jewelry shops, and my nerves are officially frayed.

“Who doesn’t like sunsets?” Paisley asks in a slightly puzzled voice.

Her honesty makes me laugh, and the other women quickly chime in, with a brittle, shrill quality to their giggling.

Adam appears out of nowhere, his hair combed to its usual perfection, looking like an advertisement for a travel magazine in his khaki shorts, fancy boat shoes, and pressed linen shirt.

“Ladies, Gage…I have a special announcement to make.”

It had better involve some goddamn booze.

“As you all know, we’ve come here to enjoy a sunset cocktail, and we will. But what you don’t know is that only one of you will be enjoying it with Gage at a private oceanfront table for two.”

“Who gets to go?” Eden demands.

Adam’s bland smile never wavers. “Well now, I’d say that’s up to Gage.” He turns to me. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

A decade of acting experience keeps my expression from betraying my annoyance at this announcement. They didn’t fill me in on this—deliberately, I’m guessing, so that my choice would be a spontaneous one.

“Gage?” Adam prompts.

I can feel the group holding its collective breath, a few of the women scoping out the others as though trying to determine who I’ll pick.

The producers are looking for drama—it’s the only reason they’ve sprung this on me. Things have been boring as shit today, and we all know it. They want me to get cozy with one of the women so that they can capture the reaction of the rest of them. They haven’t scheduled any one-on-one time with me and another woman since the drive back from lunch with Ellie a couple of days ago, and they’re still pissed they didn’t get any of that on camera.

Fuck, this is exhausting. I resist the urge to rub my eyes.

Do I pick the woman who will make for the best TV? Eden or Brittany B. would cause a stir—both women have sharp claws. Kelsey would raise eyebrows, since I’ve already singled her out tonight, as would Ivy, since I already had one-on-one time with her the first day. Cora would get them whispering, as the cameras have already seen us kissing.

Or do I pick the woman I want to spend time with? The one I can’t stop thinking about?

Out of the corner of my eye I see Ellie. She’s dressed in a simple white sundress, and unlike the rest of the women, she’s not watching me. She’s leaning on the railing watching the sunset, as though she couldn’t care less who I choose right now, and it…hurts. I mean, I’m not going to go fucking cry about it, but it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted someone who doesn’t want me back, and the memories of when that did happen are far from pleasant.

Ellie’s not Layla, I get that. She’s not going to go marry my brother.

But she is going to walk away from this. Walk away from me.

As though she can sense my thoughts on her, her gaze flicks my way. I’m expecting a little smirk, maybe even a wink, but there’s vulnerability on her face that rocks me backward.

Maybe she’s not as immune as she wants to be.

Damn it, Ellie. Work with me. Quit running from this.

I want to talk to her—hell, I want to hold her. But not like this. Not on camera.

I look at Adam and give him my answer. “Brooklyn.”