Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

She begins to unwind the bandage, and I force myself not to think about how she looks kneeling in front of me or how many times I've imagined just being near her like this. Hand-to-heaven, I'd change positions with her in a heartbeat.

She unwraps the tape and begins to gently peel the bandage away. "Out at Dockside with your brothers. And once on the boat, when Mom heard you guys were docked."

"Why didn't you say hi?" I ask. We're breaking the rules talking about the show--that sort of circular awareness that we're on television is a little too meta for the producers and, invariably, they cut it. But I love the idea that she's sought me out.

All of this--every second--feels surreal.

"I don't know," she admits, "I guess I wasn't sure you'd even remember who I was."

"You think I wouldn't remember you?" I say, hoping she doesn't notice the embarrassing emphasis to my words.

She nods, pulling the gauze from the puncture wound, and I hiss in a breath.

"Sorry," she says, wincing. "I know it's sore. I've got to clean this out and irrigate it."

"It's all right," I tell her. "Do what you need to do."

I watch as she flushes out the wound, keeping my eyes on her face and not on the grotesque hole in my leg. The injury doesn't seem to faze her in the slightest; she works with gentle but meticulous focus.

Seventeen episodes in and I know the producers want to see something of my off-hours--something personal. Finn and Harlow juggle their marriage in two places, and the audience loves their heat and humor. Colton sleeps with--and inevitably breaks up with--every pretty girl who crosses his path, and viewers eat it up. Matt and Giles have sent models out to talk to me and tried to get some of the cuter girls in town to hang around Dockside when we're filming, but, much to their disappointment, nothing ever happens. The few girls I've been attracted to seemed less interested in me and more interested in when the cameras might be around.

I stare at Emmy only inches away, studying the curve of her mouth, the smooth slope of her cheekbones. Her face is so familiar and twangs some aching, vulnerable string inside me. My brothers think I'm a twenty-four-year-old virgin, and while it isn't true, I don't have a ton of notches on my bedpost, either.

I don't play the game as well, I guess.

But then it hits me. Is this as fake as the rest of it? How much are they paying Emmy to be here? What have they promised her?

She blinks up as she finishes the final piece of tape and smiles proudly. "You're all set."

"Thanks."

She helps me stand, and, in the small space, it feels even more intimate. Always on the tall side, I shot up even more after high school. Emmy isn't small by any stretch, but she only comes up to just below my chin, and now she's standing with barely any space between us. I can feel the heat of her body, can smell her shampoo.

"You okay?" she asks.

I swallow. "Yeah."

"Is there something--?" she says with a small giggle and touches the side of her face. "You're staring."

I blink away. I can't get out of the bathroom until the camera moves, and then Emmy leaves, so I'm trapped. But fuck, the last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

Her fingers brush mine. "It's okay. I wasn't complaining."

We're so close and she's right here. My brain goes fuzzy.

The words are out before I can think better of it: "I was in love with you."

Her eyes go wide, genuinely surprised. "You--what?"

"Yeah. I ..." I look down, embarrassed. "I spent my entire life imagining what it would feel like to say that. I never imagined there'd be cameras around when I did."

I try to smile to take the bite out of what comes next. "So, if you're here for money, Emmy, or to mess with me somehow ... just, go easy, all right?"

I lift my chin to the cameraman, Dave, silently telling him we're done here.

FINN CATCHES MY EYE when I come aboveboard, and I read the question in his face: All good?

It's rhetorical; he knows me well enough to know I'm not thrilled with this entire situation. I've become hyperaware of every interaction I've had since the show started: locals who are suddenly my new best friends, girls from around town who never noticed me and now do, phone calls from distant relatives we haven't heard from in years. These all felt pretty obvious; I knew that kind of shit would happen.