Page 12 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“How do you feel about the drama between Jonah and Marcus?” Harry asks me. His head is tilted slightly, his expression serious, and I know—because he’s told me—that he’s practiced this look in the mirror. We’re sitting in that same private conversation room off the ballroom with Nana Mayberry and the cameramen. Originally, they’d set up the Mayberry Matchmakers office for our private interviews, but when the deal with the Labelles was finalized, it was decided we’d be sequestered in this cavernous house for the entirety of shooting, other than a skiing trip we’re taking just before Christmas.

It’s Saturday evening, and I’m only slightly orange now, the tint having mostly washed away with a special body wash Harry and the very apologetic makeup artist were able to procure. I’m dressed in a very uncomfortable though gorgeous emerald green mermaid-style dress, and I’d give anything to be in the sweats Olive gave me for Christmas last year—the ones with “Santa Babe” written across the butt. Or one of the other holiday-themed nightgowns I snuck onto set, knowing that nighttime would be my only opportunity to acknowledge the season. If I were home in Chicago, we’d be watching a Christmas movie marathon with hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies from ourfavorite bakery. Instead, I’m here by myself, dressed like a doll, pretending that I don’t think Jonah is a garbage human being so people won’t suspect we’re only keeping him around for the drama.

I sent Meathead and Deacon packing on Friday, after we painstakingly refilmed the Rolex ceremony.

Even Jonah looked surprised when he was asked to stick around. Deacon, who’d muttered that this was just like the situation with the Washingtons, had agreed to leave without any argument, but Meathead had tried to talk me around.

“You’re givinghimthe Rolex?” he asked, gesturing to Jonah, who’d had to put on the purple robe again so he’d look consistent, even though he was wearing a fresh suit beneath it. “You wanthimto stay?”

“Yes,” I said, “I’d like to get to know him better.”

Deacon glowered at me, as if silently accusing me of lying again.

He’d be right.

“What do you like about him?” Meathead asked in disbelief.

It took me a solid thirty seconds to find anything to say. “His hair,” I finally stuttered out.

Itisnice—slightly longer than you’d expect in someone named Jonah Highbury the Fifth, chestnut brown and as glossy as if he just got a cream rinse.

“That’s shallow,” Meathead told me with a glare.

I was tempted to tell him the only thing I liked about him was his muscles, but I’d already eliminated him from the show and felt no need to drag him down farther.

Jonah’s been a pain ever since. On Friday afternoon, we had a group date at a nearby vineyard, which the owners closed down for us. They’d even taken down their Christmas decorations, something I found disappointing, other than some delightful fairy lights dangling from the awning of the building.

Despite the lovely setting, the wine all tasted like vinegar, but Jonah was the only one who felt the need to say so. And he felt the need to say so at least four times.

Marcus pointed out the obvious—that he was being rude—and Jonah challenged him to drink a full glass of the spice wine. Honestly, no one would want to do that. It tasted like potpourri smells. Marcus took him up on his challenge and then ran to the bathroom to vomit. The owner begged us not to include that detail in the episode, but I saw the look exchanged by Harry and Nana Mayberry. This was another of those rare occasions when they agreed with each other.

Afterward, the feud between the two guys escalated. We had a fondue social earlier this evening, and Jonah flung hot cheese at Marcus. Then Marcus loudly accused Jonah of double-dipping. Worse, there was a hole in one of the fondue pots, and no one realized it had been slowly leaking cheese onto the floor until one of the contestants stepped in it. The look of disgust on his face suggested he’d stepped in something much worse.

While Rowan’s friends took care of the problems with the heating and electricity, there’ve been other strange annoyances—a beeping noise no one could locate until Colton finally found a CO alarm at floor level in a dusty room on the second floor. A howling sound that proved to be a window that was stuck one fourth an inch open in another little used room. A leaking sink on the first floor.

I haven’t seen Rowan, other than a glimpse of him at the fondue social, standing off to the side with a smirk on his face, his hands shoved into the pockets of his work jeans. There was a slight hole below the knee that looked like it got there by actual work, not the design pretensions of a fashionista.

Something tells me he’s not the kind of man who’d dip bread in melted cheese. He’s probably the kind of guy who likes steak and thinks potatoes are vegetables.

Of course, I shouldn’t care about Rowan Mayberry. He’s been very clear about what he thinks of me.Princess.

After Jonah stomped off from the fondue social, Marcus shrugged at me. “Sorry, he gets to me.”

“He gets to all of us,” Colton quipped. “But I’m starting to think this house is cursed.” His eyes gleaming, he added, “Think about it. The lights, the heat, the weird incidents.”

It was a throwaway remark, but it stuck with me, maybe because it’s lonely sleeping in my huge room, without the use of my cell phone. I miss Olive. I miss Tina and Zach. I definitely don’t miss seeing my mother’s daily reminders of what a disappointment I am, but it’s only been a few days, and it’s already so strange being here, sequestered from the outside world with a bunch of people whom someone else chose for me. Worse, it’ll be six days before I’m allowed to send anyone else home. Two more people will leave on Friday, which’ll leave me with four. Then two more will go home the following week. The final two will go on the skiing trip with me. We’ll all be together through Christmas, and then I’ll spend a weekend with each of them individually before making my final selection.

There’s no filming tomorrow, but on Monday morning, I have a horseback riding date with two of the guys. Of course, it’s Marcus and effing Jonah, which brings me back to Harry’s question…andthe cameras are probably documenting my momentary mental break.

What did I think of the drama between Marcus and Jonah? What didn’t I think of it?

“Kennedy,” Harry says softly. “Is this conversation upsetting you?”

I almost laugh. “No, it’s not upsetting. I just wish Jonah and Marcus would be a little more mature about their dislike for each other. Of course, they’re both men who are used to getting their way. It’s natural for there to be some tension.”

“We’ve heard from a couple of the guys that Jonah isn’t well-liked in the house,” Harry says with plenty of sympathy. “How does that make you feel?”

Like they have sense.

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