Irrationally annoyed by their silent flirting, I take a step back from the group. “Thanks for the directions,” I tell Gage, trying to convey to the other girls that I was just lost, not hiding out in a coat closet making deals with our very own Runaway Groom. “This place is huge, right?”
“Oh, sweetie, did you get lost?” Hannah says melodramatically. “You poor thing.”
“Just took a wrong turn looking for my room,” I lie, lifting a hand in farewell. “See you all at dinner.”
Cora, Brooklyn, and Hannah all give me a singsongy goodbye, but Gage doesn’t even look my way as he drapes an arm over Cora’s and Brooklyn’s shoulders. “Ladies, care to join me on the patio for a beverage?”
I’m clearly not included in the invitation, and I tell myself it’s a good sign—a show of faith that he’ll stick to his promise to send me home first.
But as they walk away, his manners far more charming than they were when he was talking to me, I stare after them for just a moment, wondering which Gage Barrett is the real version: the silver-tongued charmer out to fall in love for the sake of ratings, or the guy in the cleaning closet whose avocado-colored eyes hinted at dark secrets.