Maybe I let Natalie talk me into keeping the bad boys because part of me really doesn’t want them to leave so soon.
Johnny approaches the altar in what can only be described as a swagger, looking completely unsurprised that I called his name.
When he’s standing in front of me, I say the lines I’m required to say, the same lines every woman in my position has always said. “Johnny, will you commit to our journey for another week?”
His grin is more of a smirk as he takes the ring from me, slides an arm around my waist, and pulls me close in a brief hug. He’s tall and lean, and his body feels deliciously solid against mine. It would have been so much easier to send him home.
More bad boy temptation comes next when I call Xavier up to the altar. I can’t help but imagine him straddling a custom bike he’s built, and I can picture myself riding behind him, my arms wrapped tightly around his middle.
“Xavier, will you commit to our journey for another week?”
He leans in close, so close I almost think he’s going to kiss me, but he stops just a couple of inches from my face. “Absolutely, Olivia.”
His voice is low and rich with texture, and the look in his eyes leaves me feeling flustered. I have to take a moment before I call the next name. I invite both Brads to stay, the cowboy who turns out to be named Berk not Brock, the fisherman, the chef, and several others.
Even though it’s less than thirty, twenty-two is still a lot of men, and it takes a good bit of time to get through all of them.
When Samuel approaches, his face somehow seems like the most familiar to me, like he’s someone I’m comfortable with, even though I don’t know anything about him except that he’s an inventor and has a good sense of humor. Without thinking, I reach out to hug him after he accepts the ring, something I haven’t done with any of the other men.
Several more men follow, including rancher Caleb, teacher Zack, and when there are only three rings left, the dentist Marcus. As I watch Marcus approach, I decide that he’s really cute. Not my usual type, but in a good way. He’s a man you could take home to your parents without worries.
When I hold out the ring to him, rather than taking it, he takes my hand. “May I kiss you?”
I’m expecting a lot of kissing on the coming dates, but I didn’t think it would be starting here at the first commitment ceremony. I give Marcus a nod as he leans in, and behind him, a few of the other men make noises of surprise when they see what’s happening. I guess they didn’t expect there would be kissing tonight either.
It’s not a long kiss, but it’s not a quick peck, either. His mouth tastes strongly of peppermint, like he chewed a breath mint just before coming up.
After pulling back, he accepts the ring with a satisfied grin. “The first of many, I hope.”
Now there are just two rings left to hand out. The set is quiet, but I know that when the show airs, dramatic music will be added, and they’ll cut between the faces of the ten remaining men.
The name on the next card is Christian. I remember the name, but don’t recall his face until I see him coming toward me. He’s the artist. After we’re done tonight, I’ll ask Natalie if I can get pictures of all of the men, so I can memorize the names and faces.
Next to the cameraman, one of the crew is making a hand gesture, reminding me to pause a long time before I announce the final name. The dramatic delays have always seemed so ridiculous when I watch these ceremonies on TV, but I know it’s a required part of the show. I count in my head as I look out toward the men, and try to put a thoughtful expression on my face, even though the decision has already been made.
When my slow, silent count hits ten, I say, “James.”
The New York finance manager strides quickly to the altar. “You had me worried there,” he says when he reaches me. “But I guess you saved the best for last.”
I don’t respond to his comment, but smile as I hand him the ring. Could he be the best? He’s definitely up there. My tummy flutters and reminds me that he’s one of a handful of men on the sparks list.
As soon as James returns to the lawn, Blake Barrows comes to stand beside me, looking out to the men. “Gentlemen, if Olivia didn’t call your name, please come and say goodbye to her.”
Eight men file up one at a time. None of them look particularly heartbroken, so the goodbyes are fairly easy. After those men exit, trays of champagne are brought in, and the remaining twenty-two men gather around me, each with a glass in hand.