Page 63 of Hunter

“So, sue us,” says Nat, glancing at his lawyer with a shrug. “I’ll putyourcontract andourlawyers in that brawl any day.”

“Unbelievable,” mutters Hunter. “You have no decency.”

“I do,” says Nat, thoughtfully, “when the ratings are high. Until they aren’t…decency costs too much.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Hunter argues, shooting daggers at Nat with his eyes. He turns to me. “Do you want to quit? If you want to quit, we’ll walk out of here right now.”

I stare at him, and in that second, I realize that my feelings for him, which have been affectionate, but nebulous, are coalescing into something real, something wonderful, something that feels an awful lot like love.

But there’s Beto to think of. He’s my family. My blood. And then there’s me, and the effort I’ve already spent on this race. I don’t want it to have been wasted. I shouldn’t have to give up amillion dollars because of these Hollywood assholes. It’s not fair. It’s not right.

“No,” I say to Hunter, threading my fingers through his and smiling at him. “Thank you so much for that offer, Hunter, but we’re staying. And we’re going to win.”

“About that…” says Nat, cringing at his coffee cup before looking up at us. “We’ve hit a little snag.”

“What. Fucking. Snag?” demands Hunter.

“Well…” says Nat, ignoring Hunter and addressing me. “You’ve been carrying on a relationship with someone on the production crew, my dear. You’ve had an unfair advantage over the other teams, and both Team Brady and Team Newlyweds have already lodged complaints. They want you off the show for violating your contract.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Hunter demands, slapping his palms on the conference table. “She couldsue youfor the way those fucking rapists—”

“Nobody was raped,” hollers Nat. He looks at his lawyer. “There was no rape!”

“There was groping,” says Hunter. “A lot of fucking groping.”

“I already apologized for that.”

“Your apology means shit!”

I place a calming hand on Hunter’s arm and turn back to Nat.

“So that’s it? My cousin and I are disqualified?”

“Not exactly,” says Nat. “We’ve come up with another solution.”

“What?” I demand.

“It’s two-fold,” he says. “First, you give us permission to share the footage of your relationship and give us an exclusive interview.”

“Fuck that!” yells Hunter.

“And second,” says Nat calmly, “Team Primos does a roadblock challenge tomorrow after the detours and prior to the main challenge.”

“What roadblock?” I ask. “There haven’t been any roadblocks on this show yet.”

“We’ve come up with one just for you,” says Nat. “It’ll make the other teams feel appeased but still give you an opportunity to continue with the race.”

“What is it?” asks Hunter.

“In addition to the mushing challenge, Team Primos will also be expected to harness their dogs. The other teams will have their sled dogs harnessed by professional mushers.”

I turn to Hunter, whose eyes have gone wide. He shakes his head back and forth.

“Do you even know what you’re suggesting? Are you fucking kidding me? Not only is that almost impossible to do for someone who doesn’t work with those dogs, it’s fucking dangerous.”

“There will be a professional dog musher on hand to advise and a paramedic nearby.”

“Oh, great. That’s just great.” Hunter turns to me, his expression bleak. “Baby, these dogs—they’re good dogs, of course—but…they’re working dogs, not lap dogs. Before they race…they arebeyondexcited. They are jumping and barking and howling. They can barely contain their excitement. And they’re strong, Bella. Sostrong. Your finger gets caught in the wrong place between two lines, and they’ll snap it off.”

---