He takes my hand. “No, although I often do candid sketches while I’m people watching. But if we were together, I’d want to paint you every day.”
I blush at the compliment. “Thank you.”
“You’re very beautiful, you know.” He stops walking and turns to face me. “Inside and out.”
“You flatter me.” I’m not used to hearing this much praise. It’s got me flustered, but not in a bad way.
“It’s not flattery if it’s true.” His smile is warm, and I can easily imagine getting used to a life with a man who treats me so well.
Blake Barrows opens the commitment ceremony broadcast by talking to the viewers about my journey so far and the decisions I’ve had to make. “Are those choices getting harder, Olivia?”
“Yes, Blake, every time. But I feel good about tonight.”
I announce my names, and the men come forward to collect their rings. As always, the producers choose the order, and when there’s only one ring left, Joey, Berk, and Xavier are still waiting. I wonder why they’ve left Xavier to sweat it out.
After the obligatory long pause, I call his name. He looks both relieved and questioning as he comes forward. Kissing my cheek, he whispers, “You had me worried.”
As always, just being near him makes me respond. My skin tightens, dozens of tiny flashes of heat sparking along my nerve endings. I want to drag him away from the cameras and kiss the breath from him.
There’s no chance to do anything like that, because I have to say goodbye to Berk and Joey. Berk seems genuinely disappointed, and it gives me a pang. This is only going to get harder.
21
Mud-wrestling champion
The next group date, I learn, is taking place at a farm. I immediately wonder what wardrobe has in store for me. They don’t disappoint.
I’m given denim cutoff shorts that barely cover my ass, and a red gingham shirt that knots under my breasts. As if that weren’t enough, the stylist puts my hair into pigtails.
Will this look actually appeal to any of the men? Maybe some of them have a farmer’s daughter fantasy. Once my makeup is done, a crew member leads me from my trailer to a field next to a big red barn.
Eight men are waiting there. Tight jeans; t-shirts and flannel; cowboy hats. I might suddenly have a new cowboy fantasy.
I almost don’t recognize James. He’s wearing a big-brimmed hat that shades his face, but his ready-for-anything smile shines through. Whatever crazy stuff the producers have in store today, he’ll be game.
I spot Xavier next, and my skin flushes as my inner muscles clench. He sure does do it for me, especially in a snug-fitting t-shirt that showcases his muscles. Next to him, Beach Brad’s golden hair shines in the sun.
I look for Brad M., but he’s not here. Gerard, Christian, Marcus, Sean, and Zack make up the rest of the group.
Blake announces that there are games and competitions planned for the men, starting with a horseshoe-throwing contest. It’s a close match, but Zack wins and gets alone time with me. We’re escorted to a table under a big tree, where a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses are waiting.
“My daughter will be proud that I won,” he says with a smile, pouring us each a glass of the lemonade. “She has a book about a cowboy, and now she’ll think her daddy is one.”
“I bet she’ll only ask you to read that book seventy-leven times,” I tease him.
He laughs. “At least.”
My heart warms every time Zack talks about his daughter, but I really should send him home. I’m sure he misses her, and she him, and it’s becoming clear that I don’t have the same kind of extra spark with him that I do with some of the other men.
We return to the main group for a cow-milking contest. It’s hilarious, because really, how many people have ever milked a cow? Most of the men have no idea what they’re doing, and it shows. I hope the cows don’t mind too much.
Marcus, unlike the other men, is dead serious about his task, not stopping to laugh or joke. His focus gets him the win, and he pumps his fist in the air before running over to me and spinning me around, my feet off the ground.
His enthusiasm is infectious, and I’m flattered by his determination to earn extra time with me. The producers lead us to a bench beside a stream, and Marcus wastes no time in putting his arm around me and pulling me close.
“I hope you’re starting to have feelings for me,” he says with his usual directness, “and realize how good we could be together.”
The water burbles gently by, a peaceful counterpoint to his voice. It’s a beautiful, romantic setting. I rest my head on his shoulder as he talks about our future, the trips we’ll take, the moments we’ll share. “Do you want children?” he asks.