Wylde (Arizona Vengeance 7)

Didn’t think it was possible, but Aaron’s eyebrows draw even closer together. “You know, it’s not lost on me that exactly describes you and me… not that I would consider you ‘common’ in any way, but I get what you’re saying about what this show tries to do.”

I nod, twisting my fingers around one another. “Exactly. At any rate, I was invited to be on the show. My friend Veronica and I auditioned on a lark, and I really thought she’d get picked because even though I said these women are common and average, they really aren’t. They’re the most beautiful and gorgeous regular American women they can find.”

“You’re beautiful and gorgeous,” he points out. “Granted… in a nonconventional, stand-out-in-a-crowd kind of way.”

Aaron doesn’t realize he’s pretty much hitting the nail on the head on why I was chosen, and subsequently humiliated, but I’m too flattered by the fact he finds me beautiful to call him on it.

“At any rate, I was young, stupid, and totally taken in by the producers when they invited me to be on the show. I was hesitant at first, but then easily seduced by their promises it would be the experience of a lifetime and true love always wins, etc. I was quite the romantic then.”

If Aaron can’t tell by the bitterness in my voice, I’m not that romantic woman anymore.

“So you went on the show?” he guesses.

“Yeah,” I mutter, looking at my hands. “It was basically ten women, and we all lived in a house together. The celebrity single took us out on group dates, then single dates, and each week, he cut one woman from the show.”

Aaron winces. “Ouch.”

A laugh bubbles out. “Yeah… I thought I’d be one of the first to go. I didn’t look like the other women. Didn’t act like them. Was quiet. Didn’t demand attention. Wanted to discuss politics, not fashion. I didn’t fit in at all.”

“I’m going to guess you didn’t get cut right away.” I can hear the slight bit of dread in his voice. He knows something bad happened, just not how bad.

“I made it down to the final four,” I murmur, once again not able to hold his gaze. “And when you make it to that point, you go on an ‘overnight’ date where, as the producers told us, things might get… um… intimate… which was good for ratings, so we shouldn’t hold back.”

Aaron shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but there’s no turning back for me. I have to tell him the rest of the ugly.

I lift my head, locking eyes with him. “Just so you know, it wasn’t a game. I had real feelings for this guy, and I thought he returned them. It truly felt that way.”

“Let me save you some pain in retelling this,” Aaron offers. “I’m going to guess you two got intimate, then it didn’t work out.”

Oh, if only it were that simple. “I gave him my virginity.”

Aaron stiffens, his frown turning downright scary.

“And, as you might guess, he cut me from the show. But that’s not even the humiliating part.”

“Not sure I want to know anymore,” Aaron growls.

Too bad. He needs to understand. “The very night I was cut from the show, he went out with friends. Got drunk and told them all about our evening together. That I was a virgin, didn’t know what I was doing, and was so awful there was no way he could keep me around. He even told them he never wanted to keep me past the first round… that I would have been the first cut, but the producers pressured him to keep me so the below-average women would stay involved with the show. That I was good for ratings.”

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Aaron snarls. “But how do you know he did all that?”

“Because one of his friends recorded him. After the show concluded, it hit all the celebrity news gossip rags. And even though he chose another one of the women—actually proposed and married her later—I became the big news story from that season of Celebrity Proposal. There’s even an awful meme someone made using my picture floating around. It’s a still shot of when he announced he was cutting me. I’d made this terrible face… and they captioned it: It could be worse. You could have had an overnight with Clarke.”

“That is the sickest shit I’ve ever heard,” Aaron exclaims hotly. “Who is this fucking douche we’re talking about?”

“Tripp Horschen,” I mutter.

“Who?” he demands.

I shake my head. “He was a soap-opera actor. Did a few movies.”

“Can’t be all that famous,” Aaron mutters.

“I’d never heard of you,” I point out, and he snorts. “The fact is, he became far more famous after that. For being the guy who bagged the awful virgin. I became a cautionary tale to men all over the world, warning them virgins were totally overrated and lousy lays. I became a freaking meme.”