Page 10 of Ex Marks the Spot

Whatever. I don’t care.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he continues. “I won’t sabotage this for you as long as you don’t sabotage it for me as a method of revenge.”

I cross my arms and match his stance. “You think I’d willingly give up my share of the prize money just to make sure you don’t win either?”

“Would you pay for a chance to get back at me? Possibly. Especially considering you wouldn’t be giving up your own money and you’d get to add more countries to your passport while you’re at it.”

Okay, so he has a point. But still. “I came here to win. Being forced to work with you doesn’t change that.”

“Good.” He unfurls his arms and extends a hand. “Let’s make a pact. No sabotaging each other.”

I breathe out a harsh laugh. “You might as well put that thing away. Your promises mean nothing to me.”

“Just do what comes natural,” Shanna says from behind her video camera.

I turn to her, eyebrows raised, and smile brightly. “I can knee him in the balls?”

The handful of crew members milling around us chuckle as Court puts another foot of Astroturf between us.

“I like the enthusiasm, but I don’t think the network would go for that. How about a back-to-back shot instead?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Physical contact is a no-go.”

Mack, the photographer, gestures to where Court and I were standing moments ago. “What about repeating that little face-off y’all did with your arms crossed?”

Shanna’s mouth ratchets into a sly grin. “Oh, I like that.”

In the spirit of compromise, but mostly because my other ideas also include violence, I give in. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

Shanna and Mack briefly demonstrate their idea and then Court and I take our respective places on the artificial lawn. It takes us a few tries to get the timing down, but we manage to get several clips of us walking toward each other, crossing our arms, then turning our heads toward the camera.

The still photos are another story.

Mack stations us a few feet apart and tells us to cross our arms again. “Now hold it right there.” He steps back and fires off several shots. “Court, you’re perfect. Hartley, I need you to look up.”

I slide my gaze from the letters spanning Court’s chest to the top hem of his T-shirt.

“I meant look in his eyes.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.That’s the last place I want to be looking.

“Good, now a little less murderous please.”

“The quicker you cooperate, the quicker we’ll be done,” Court murmurs.

“Shut up,” I mutter back. Not the most mature or eloquent response, but it’s hard to think straight when he uses his Sexy Voice. Or when I’m required to stare into those beach-glass eyes that have captivated me from day one.There are a few more lines around them now, forged in the years I thought we’d spend together, and isn’t that a punch in the damn gut?

“You’re scowling again.”

“You’re scowling again,” I parrot.

“I’m just trying to help you out.”

“You could drop out,” I simper. “I’m sure they have backup contestants on standby.”

“So youarecapable of smiling at me.”

“Only when I’m imagining your demise.”

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