“That’s …” Oliver paused, scrubbing his palm over his stubble. “You’re right. There’s nothing’s wrong with it. I just … I guess I just don’t believe in it like you seem to.”
The resignation I detected in his voice gave away more than I think he’d intended. Suddenly I wondered whether Oliver didn’t believe in falling in love through a process like this, or didn’t believe in love altogether. How was that even possible?
“Are you telling me you’ve never been in love?”
Oliver shook his head slowly back and forth. “Never.”
“No high school sweetheart you deflowered after prom?” I purposely ignored the small spike of jealousy I felt at the idea of him bedding some nubile young virgin.
“Nope,” he answered, his lips popping on the p.
“College girlfriend?” I pressed.
He practically snorted. “That’d be a negative.”
“No girlfriends ever?” How did a man like Oliver manage to go his whole life without finding someone? Sure, I’d kissed more frogs than princes (or princesses), but the life he described seemed lonely. At least I’d had some companionship along the way.
“Don’t look at me like you just kicked my puppy. It’s not like I’ve been alone this whole time.”
Belatedly, I realized what he was getting at. “Ah. Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” I hated the words even as they slipped from my lips.
“Yeah, something like that,” Oliver answered under his breath, his cheeks flushing pink. “But it wasn’t just that,” he continued quickly. “Football was my first priority. I didn’t have time for relationships.”
“You’ve been retired for several years,” I pointed out flatly.
I couldn’t say why, but it bothered me that at thirty-two Oliver was a fuck boy. Okay, that was a lie. I knew exactly why it bothered me, but I had to remind myself that Oliver wasn’t my ex, Jeremiah. Just because a man enjoyed an active sex life with an unlimited number of partners he had no intention of settling down with didn’t make him a duplicitious piece of shit.
“I guess I just never found someone I connected with enough to want more,” he said, his expression shuttered.
“Oh, I’m sure you connected with plenty of them,” I joked half-heartedly, the knot in my gut becoming more pronounced.
“Not as many as you’d think.” He leaned forward and set his glass on the table next to mine. His forearms, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose skin dusted with gold, rested on thick, muscular thighs. “Are you going to say anything to Allie?”
I held his gaze for several long seconds while I seriously considered it. Lord knew my warning Allie would make for good television, but I’d watched this show long enough to know that when two guys got into a pissing contest, it usually ended poorly for both of them. Oliver might not care if she sent him packing, but I’d been honest about my reasons for being here. Sue me, but I was ready to find love.
“No. Your secret is safe with me.”
4
Oliver
Matty stood in the center of the room, a crip white envelope in his hand. “Group date!” the youngest contestant proclaimed dramatically, then began announcing the eight men spending the day and evening in the heroine’s company.
When Matty had called out seven names and I still wasn’t among them, I pressed my palms to my knees, ready to push up from my spot on the sofa and head back to my bedroom until dinner. It wasn’t that I was disappointed to not be chosen, but I was becoming bored with the monotony of life in the mansion. While from the outside it might look like we spent the majority of our time trying to win Allie’s affections, in reality, if you added up all the minutes I’d spent speaking with her over the last ten days or so, they maybe added up to an hour. Most of my time had actually been spent working out in the gym with Elijah, watching TV in my room, laying by the pool, or playing video games. Honestly, the whole frat house vibe was beginning to wear on me.
“And last, but certainly not least, is my man Oliver.” Matty reached his hand out for a fist bump, which I cheerfully obliged. He’d played football in college—which, at just twenty-five years old wasn’t all that long ago—so we’d established a pretty good rapport early on. The kid had more energy than anyone had a right to, but he was all right.
“The card says the date starts now, so y’all better head out,” Crosby said, reading over Matty’s shoulder.
Unlike Matty, Crosby was not all right.
If I’d wondered every now and again why Allie kept me around, I had no fucking clue what she saw in him. A nightclub promoter out of Las Vegas, all he talked about were the women he hooked up with and the celebrity parties he attended. When he wasn’t bragging, he was hogging the video game console. To say he didn’t bring much to the table would have been an understatement.
As the group made our way to the door, I linked up with Elijah at the back of the pack. “How’s it going?” he asked, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his low-slung joggers and his head hung forward, eyes cast to his feet.
I took a quick moment to admire his outfit. We’d been told to dress casual in anticipation of today’s surprise activity, but where I looked like I was heading to the gym, Elijah looked like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot for Calvin Klein. I wasn’t a slob or anything, but “casual” obviously meant something different to me than it did him. The way he was dressed was how I’d have looked during press interviews leading up to a game, not playing laser tag or whatever shit they’d have us doing today for Allie’s amusement.
“Good. You?”
He cast a surreptitious glance around as we strolled toward the van. “Shit’s hitting the fan at work,” he said under his breath.
My brows scrunched in confusion. “Work?” One of the rules of being here was that we were to have zero contact with the outside world. That meant surrendering our phones and tablets as we’d checked in on day one.
“Promise not to rat me out?” he whispered.
I nodded. It was the least I could do, since he hadn’t told Allie I’d all but admitted I had zero intention of falling in love with her.
“I know it’s against the rules, but I snuck my watch in. It’s been pinging all night with text messages from my assistant.”
“You’re an art dealer, right?” I asked as we climbed aboard the shuttle and shuffled toward the back.
Elijah dropped into the first empty seat he saw and shook his head. “Not exactly. I work for an auction house specializing in art, yes, but we also deal in antiques, jewelry, and vintage cars. My job is to convince clients to list with us instead of one of the other houses.”
“And that involves what, exactly??” I asked as we buckled up next to one another.
“Basically, I’m a professional ass kisser. Most of my job involves taking extremely rich people out to ridiculously expensive dinners where I … charm them into signing a contract to work exclusively with us.”
Elijah tripping over the word charm wasn’t the only giveaway that something about his job wasn’t entirely on the up and up. As he spoke, his features grew more and more pinched, his eyes wary. I got the impression that whatever went into charming these people didn’t necessarily sit well with him.