Rex rolled his eyes. “You use gestures to show her how you feel.”
“So is the middle finger to her as it is to me?”
“What?” Rex’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Hey, I’m just being cautious. Hand gestures mean different things in different countries, like a thumbs-up can actually mean ‘up yours.’ I don’t want to insult her by being encouraging!”
“Then don’t use gestures,” Rex said in a strained voice.
“But you just said—”
“Max!” Rex barked, and then regained his posture of control. “We’re running out of time and have two dates left after this. Could you please carry on?”
“Fine.” I clenched my fists. “What’s her name?”
Rex groaned. “We’ll edit that out.”
“What?” I roared, “It’s not like they’re wearing name tags and I haven’t spoken to her once!”
The girl gave me a concerned look so I flashed her a smile and wrapped my arm around her while I said in perfect English to Rex, “Look how good I’m doing with positive body language. She probably thinks I’m saying she’s hot and here I don’t even know her name. Point Max.”
“Good Lord.” Rex patted his head with a hanky. “Her name is Ella.”
“Ah, Ella Enchanted. Anne Hathaway, terrible film. Pretty sure it got a few rotten tomatoes on account that she was the only one in the entire damn film that spoke in an American accent. Hashtag stupid Americans.”
“You done?” Rex asked.
“Yup.” I winked and then strolled along the beach with Ella. I pointed at seashells. I picked one up and then handed it to her like she was my queen.
Honestly, it was the perfect date. I got to talk all I wanted about things that were important to me like Hades, golf, football, the Costco hot dogs with green relish, and she had no choice but to smile encouragingly. I imagined this was what it would be like to be married to the perfect woman.
But an hour into the date, I started getting bored.
So I may have, possibly, started getting slightly . . . inappropriate . . . not with my gestures. Nah, my gestures were solid. I held her hand, I smiled, I waved. I was awesome.
My words? Not so much.
“So if I told you I had a secret clown fetish, would that be a deal breaker?” I asked.
She smiled and nodded.
“Oh, good.” I sighed. “Because I have a clown fetish.”
Her smile brightened.
“No? Not scared? Not running in the opposite direction?”
She nodded.
“Last year I ate my best friend’s goldfish. She’d named it and everything, and well, you know about eating pets that have names. It’s basically like stealing their soul, so the soul of Goldy resides right there.” I placed her hand on my heart. “Forever.”
I then made a fish face.
Which she took as an invitation to kiss me.
I pretended to trip over my own feet and managed a solid blush and shrug.
She laughed.
I laughed with her and made a cutting motion with my hand toward Rex. Our date was supposed to be a picnic lunch while riding on horseback.
But we never made it to the horses.
Because I wasn’t going to keep her—and even I wasn’t so heartless as to make her go through with the rest of the date.
“Look,” I said, and sighed. “You’re really pretty, but you gotta go.”
She smiled.
I patted her hand. “Mm-kay, pumpkin? It’s time . . . oh, wow, how do I say this in Portuguese?” Instead I just waved bye-bye.
She waved back.
I groaned and looked at the producer.
Finally she was escorted away from me.
She waved the entire way back to her hut.
“She’s a strong one, didn’t even shed a tear.” I sighed.
Rex rolled his eyes. “She thought you were proposing when you tripped, just FYI, so remember you can’t hold us legally responsible if she sues.”
“I hate you.”
“Next date.” Rex slapped me on the back and walked off.
One more girl.
And I was Becca free.
Not home free.
Becca free.
Way better.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
BECCA
I was on my third mimosa and it was only one in the afternoon. I saw the beginning of each date. Max was a perfect gentleman to each of the girls. I hadn’t been worried about any of them until Colton decided to inform me that he’d actually chosen a girl who was normal.
“You what?” Milo roared, smacking her husband in the shoulder. “You chose a normal?”
“As opposed to . . .” Colton looked at all of us, his brow furrowed in utter confusion as to why he was getting beaten by his wife. Yeah, I was one bad choice away from grabbing a voodoo doll of Colton and poking it with something.
“As opposed to”—Jason slurped his drink; poor champ had had at least seven but was still able to have a complete conversation without slurring. It was impressive—“a cray.”
“Cray?” Colton repeated.
“Or as Max calls them”—Jason took another sip—“a cray cray.”
“Like Jayne,” Milo explained.
“Ohhh.” Colton blinked. “But why would I choose a crazy when it’s all about finding love and—”
“Colt!” Milo shouted. “He likes Becca!”
My body erupted with a fiery sensation—my skin had to be bright red by now.