I grimace. “I guess they haven’t seen the side of him I have.”

“His hair?” Harry teases.

Nana Mayberry’s mouth purses with distaste. “We all know why you’re jealous, Sweet Tea,” she mutters with plenty of ill nature. Harry has a receding hairline and buzzed hair, although he’s told me that he misses wearing it longer. He lifts a hand to his forehead, his expression dejected, and I feel a surge of dislike toward Nana.

“We’re all jealous,” I say, smiling at Harry. “I’ve heard at least two of the guys ask him about what conditioner he uses, but he’s very closed-mouth about it.”

Harry smiles back at me.

“Did you know,” Nana asks with a slight smile that lacks any joy, “that Marcus has no experience with horseback riding?”

There’s an undercurrent of malice to her words, like she thinks this will tarnish him in my opinion.

“Oh?”

“New money,” she says with a haughty sneer. “He’s one of those bootstraps types.”

As far as I know, she’s not rich at all, despite the premise of this show, but I don’t call her on it. Money doesn’t quantify worth, after all. It only impacts what you’re able to buy. I just say, “I look forward to teaching him, then.”

Deacon could have called me out on that lie too, because it is one. The last thing I want to do is go horseback riding with Jonah and Marcus and listen to them bicker like schoolchildren. Marcus is handsome and occasionally gallant, from offering me his jacket that first night to helping me dip my bread in cheese so it didn’t get all over my mermaid dress. But this little Jonah feudhas soured me on him, like he’s a bottle of table red from that winery. Honestly, I wish this whole thing were over, but I signed up for a reason, and I intend to see it through.

“You know,” I say, “one of the things we fund at Leto’s Hands is vocational training.”

“You teach people to be jockeys?” Harry asks in wonder.

“Well, no. But teaching doesn’t stop having value when you age out of school. Our goal is to ensure every woman has a way of earning money for herself.”

“Every womandoeshave a way,” Nana says crisply. “Marriage.”

That dislike I’ve been feeling curls in around me, tightening its grip. “Marriage is far from the only way a woman can make something of herself,” I say, trying not to let her see that she’s affected me. Something tells me it would only make her dig her heels in harder. “We teach computer skills, and—”

“I think we’re done here,” Nana Mayberry says, standing.

“I have the contractual right to talk about Leto’s Hands in every episode,” I say, getting to my feet too. It takes a lot of effort in this dress, which make me feel like I’ve been swallowed by a boa constrictor.

“And you have,” Nana says. “We need enough material for two episodes per week, dear. No one wants to be bored to death. The men are here to have fun and find love. Which is also whyyousaid you were here.”

“I am,” I say, feeling my heart beating in my throat. I can’t help but mentally tally the men. The only standouts in the group are Marcus and Colton, who are both smart and attractive. But I can’t say that either of them do it for me.

Yet.I tell myself.They don’t do it for you yet. Love needs room and time to grow.

Still, I haven’t felt any zips of attraction. Nothing compared to what I experienced with the one big mistake from my past.Truthfully, I wouldn’t care too much if both of my frontrunners left this week, except then I’d be stuck with the other four. It’s disappointing, because I really did sign up for this hoping something would come of it. That I’d be pleasantly surprised. That I’d be swept off my feet. That—

I can practically hear my mother laughing at me.There you go again, being a Pollyanna. You need to let other people make the important decisions, Kennedy. You’ve got a pretty face, but God didn’t give you enough sense to fill a thimble.

I straighten my spine, because her voice is the last one I want in my head.

Nana Mayberry’s still giving me a look that suggests she also has doubts about my thimble-filling ability, so I say, “Besides, Nana Mayberry, I thought it wasyourjob to find me love. If my match isn’t here, then isn’t it your fault as my matchmaker?”

A gasp escapes Harry, who’s the only one of us still sitting, his eyes as large as marbles.

“Calm yourself, Sweet Tea,” Nana Mayberry says, but her gaze is on me, as if we’re in one of those staring contests Olive and I used to do in high school. Except Olive and I would always break into laughter, and I have a feeling something more sinister will happen if I lose this stare-off with Nana. “Your matchishere, Kennedy,” she finally says. “If you’re open to love.”

“Of course I am,” I say in a voice as sweet as spun sugar. “That’s why I’m here after all.”

Then I leave and go up to my room. I’m still wrestling with the terrible zipper of my dress, my cozy pajamas laid out on the bed in the hopes that I’ll eventually get to change into them, when a knock lands on my door. I’m not sure why, but my mind flashes to Rowan walking through that same door a few nights ago. His eyes took me in for a long moment before he looked away, and it felt like it wasn’t just because of the orange tone of my skin.

“Who’s there?” I ask, my mind still lingering on the memory. That can be the only explanation for why I’m a little disappointed when Harry says, “Do you need some help with your dress, Kennedy?”