Page 10 of The Final Rose

“What?”

“Give me your best smile. The one your friend thinks can melt panties.”

I chuckle, trying to buy time. I know damn well it doesn’t work with her. But I say nothing of such, I simply shake my head. “It’s my normal smile. Maverick is just—”

“But you said it was effective.”

“I was joking.”

“Just show me!” I have the feeling she won’t let this go.

“Why do you want to see me smile so badly?” I challenge her.

“Because you’re on TV and if your smile can melt panties…”

“I never said it can melt panties,” I argue. “That’s speculation.”

“Smile.”

“Not on command.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“Don’t tell that to the audience.”

Our back and forth is so quick, I know no one would follow. I feel alive under my skin, my fingers tingle as I try hard not to open a beaming smile for the woman in front of me. Her eyes dart across my face. Her mouth curves just a little, but quickly she bites her lip and puts a stop to it.

“Sosa, are you done here? Anya wants you inside,” a crew member calls.

Callie’s eyes are still on me as she replies. “Yep, I’m done here.” She turns on her heels and says to no one and everyone, “And someone fix Riggs. He looks like soggy toilet paper.”

This time I can’t hold it. I throw my head back and laugh.

I’m not sure if it’s procedure or not, but I get a little file with all the girls’ names, photos, and bio. Nothing much there to go on, just enough for me to memorize each face and make a brief association of what I was told today.

I look at the pictures from Abby to Vivian trying to find a spark, a miracle, but nothing happens. I feel stupid. Of course, I would not fall in love at first sight, but I wished to at least have a vivid memory of the girls. Besides the fact they are absolutely gorgeous, nothing comes to mind.

And I have to eliminate one.

That’s when I ring Maverick, with no concern about what time it is in London. As he answers, groaning over the phone, I know I called at a bad time. But I don’t ask, I just say:

“I have to eliminate one of them.”

“Already?” His voice sounds thick with sleep.

“Yes.”

“Eliminate the one you care for the least.” He says like it’s that simple.

“I know nothing about them.” I sigh, frustrated. “I met them for a second one-on-one as they arrived, and then we had a quick drink.”

“But no one stood out?”

I place the photos on my bed, looking from one woman to the next. I’m already shaking my head.

“We talked as a group. They were funny and nice, but it’s not like I had the opportunity to really meet them.”

“So be shallow.” My oldest friend suggests. “Eliminate the one you think is less attractive.”

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