Untamed: Heath & Violet (Beg For It 3)

But it was a means to an end, I kept telling myself. Everyone had to make their way up in the world. I’d been given a great opportunity working at the Fame! Network. I knew people, or at least knew people who knew people, and in a field based on who-knew-who, relationships were gold. At least they’d better be, because I wasn’t paid all that much. And what I did earn I spent on things like lingerie.

Like the panties Heath had ripped clean off me last night.

OK, time to force myself out of bed. Otherwise, I’d spend the entire day lounging around dreaming about the Scottish highlands warrior I’d met masquerading as a Vermont local in a dive bar. My fantasy life knew no bounds, particularly when given such delicious fuel.

Padding into the main room of the condo, I noticed an envelope on the floor by the front door. It looked like it had been pushed through the mail slot. Was Gary already billing me for the condo? Opening it up, I discovered a car rental agreement and a set of keys. To an SUV.

I opened the door and immediately closed it. Rookie mistake! I was wearing a T-shirt that ended mid-thigh and it had to be about 70 degrees below zero out there with a vicious, blustery wind. Choosing more wisely, I peeked out the kitchen window. Parked right in front of the door was a huge SUV, the kind of behemoth you could probably enter in a monster truck rally and win. Inside the envelope was a short note:

Got you an upgrade. The circus needed its clown car back.

That was all. No signature, but no signature was required. Who else would have done such a thing? Against my better judgment, a smile snuck its way along my lips, tugging at my indignation and pulling it along into a little laughter and, honestly, relief. That tiny convertible had been a disaster. In an SUV like the one sitting outside, I’d be golden. I could knock right into a tree and the tree would probably apologize before it fell right over.

But Heath shouldn’t have done it. And how had he done it? Had he called the rental agency and pretended to be me? I should probably refuse the gesture.

But I didn’t have his phone number. He hadn’t even signed the note, so there was no way of actually pinning it to him. He’d made it practically impossible to refuse.

Even with the SUV, I didn’t leave the condo the entire day. It was too cold, and I needed to catch up on my reading. Relying on a protein bar and an apple from my purse, I settled on the couch and learned all the facts and figures and local history of Watson, Vermont. I had to admit, I got more into it than I would have guessed, and soon dusk was settling and my co-worker Sam arrived.

“Where the hell are we!?!” He burst through my door, pushing in before I’d even had time to fully open it myself. He looked pale and shaken, like he’d just seen a ghost.

“It’s so cold outside!” I shut the door with perhaps more force than required, but I didn’t like the looks of things out there. No one had proven the existence of Bigfoot yet, but if the creature were real he’d surely be living in the woods surrounding this condo. Actually, if we could get Bigfoot on tape? Could you say ratings through the roof?

“What do you have to drink?!?” Sam frequently spoke in catty exclamations back in L.A. I guessed in Vermont he still made exclamations, they just sounded more desperate.

“I think there are some Lipton tea bags in one of the cabinets.”

His eyebrows rose, so appalled at my response he couldn’t even form words. Speechlessness was new for Sam. He’d made me spit out a drink more than once with his endless supply of snarky observations. He was always fun to have around. I just hoped I never ended up on the receiving end of his sharp wit. I bet it could cut like a knife.

Disgusted, he satisfied himself with pouring a glass of water from the tap, then set it down untouched on a coffee table.

“Will we survive?” he asked, and I wasn’t even sure if he was playing up the drama. He might really be wondering. He was a city boy through and through. Fame! probably should have sent someone with us, like a Sherpa with a compass and a backpack of supplies to help us navigate.

“We’ll make it,” I reassured him, grateful he was along for the ride. He was an amazing talent scout. He’d picked out more hot models and actors from malls and fast food joints than you could count. Cheekbones, he’d explained to me, were like a poker player’s tell. They gave it all away. With the right set of high, well-defined cheekbones, everything else could fall into place.

What would he think of Heath’s cheekbones? I felt a sudden rush of protectiveness, like I wanted to growl and guard what was mine. Over our stay in Watson, Sam and I were bound to run into that hotter-than-hell mountain man, and I could already see it. Sam’s eyes would light up like he was hearing a winner’s “ding ding ding” on a game show. Heath would make the network a whole lot of money. He was just the right kind of man-meat viewers would tune in to see week after week in action. And judging by Heath’s skills last night, he really would deliver. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want to share him with anyone else, never mind millions of viewers.

Sam perched on the couch, seeming distrustful of the fabric. It probably hadn’t been properly cleaned between rentals. But it was comfy. I sat next to him and picked up the packet that had been prepared for me.

We’d been given a whole bunch of information on the town, our projected budget, and some character sketch ideas. Because even though it was a reality show, we were still casting characters, or at least character types.

“So. Nine a.m. tomorrow. The Mayor of Hicksville.” Sam glanced at our itinerary, which had us kicking off our week meeting with the mayor of Watson. “Get ready for a hard sell.”

“You think?” I’d prepared myself with some talking points, including all of the ways in which a show in their town would help their local economy, but I didn’t know about a hard sell. Did he think they’d be so resistant?

“They’re going to sell us!” Sam clarified, throwing up his hands theatrically. “A show here would be the best thing that’s ever happened to them. It’d put them on the map! Flood them with tourism! This mayor is going to beg us to come here, just you wait.”

Hmm. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t even sure we wanted to film there yet. “First let’s make sure we want to do a show in Watson.”

“I know, right?” Sam snorted. “Who are we going find here to cast? They’ll all need shave-downs and a month-long juice fast before they go anywhere near a camera.”

Sighing, I looked at the list our boss had drafted on a potential cast of characters:

1. Firefighter

That was a no-brainer. Firefighters had to stay fit. They were young and hot and heroic. A hunky firefighter shouldn’t be too hard to find.

2. Coach (hockey)?

I guessed hockey must be big in Vermont. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a hockey game in my life. They played with sticks, right?

3. Teacher

Maybe.

4. Ski dude—Mad Mountain

Apparently there was a local ski place with all kinds of unique, distinctive Vermont characters. I didn’t understand what that was yet, but I could see it being a good type to cast.

5. Restaurateur

I had a difficult time wrapping my mind around that one. What kind of restaurateur would we find out in the middle of nowhere? But, supposedly, there were a couple of locally-sourced thriving restaurants in Watson. We just had to find out if any of the owners were hot enough for TV.

6. Farmer—organic?

That I could picture. And it would be perfect if we could find some big, burly guy or his flower power female equivalent, all dreamy-eyed and save the earth. With good teeth.

7. Craftsman