Page 62 of The Love Rematch
Jake frowns and murmurs something into his mic. She’s done caring what he thinks. Instead, she turns her attention to the eight ridiculously attractive men who agreed to wear literal tights under suits of armor on national television just for the shot to win her affection.Theyare the ones she should be concerned with.Theyare the ones she should be focused on.Theyhaven’t broken her heart.Theydon’t have ulterior motives.
Okay, well, that last one isn’t entirely true. No one goes on reality television without some ulterior motive, but still. Her point stands.
“Good sirs,” Emily calls across the field to gain everyone’s attention. She puts down the chalkboard, meant to be used to rate the performances from one to ten, and settles her hands on her hips instead. “Seeing as we’re not actually in medieval times, who wants to up the ante a little bit?”
Cameras turn. Crew members dart around the sidelines. A buzz fills the air. This is what she’s supposed to be doing—making good TV, gaining the audience’s favor, building her brand. Not obsessing over Jake.
In his seat by her side, Keith Holson ditches his chalkboard, grabs his mic, and stands up with her. A twinkle lights his eyes. “I think the lady wants to raise the stakes.”
“I do,” Emily says, leaning into his mic. “I don’t want to rate the guys—I mean, noble knights—from one to ten. They’re all trying their best, and they’re all doing such an amazing job. Some of them have never ridden a horse before. It’s not really fair. So I thought the prize should be something a bit more concrete.” Nina studies her, unsure. Some of the assistants look at each other. She can read their doubts and sense their excitement fading.No faith, she silently chides before meeting Keith’s warm, fatherly gaze. “How about a kiss instead?”
The buzz is back.
“A kiss?” Keith repeats, glancing around the field, letting the word linger. He really is a master at manipulating the drama.
“A kiss,” Emily says again, trying to copy his style. “To any knight who can unseat his foe.”
He turns to the men. “What say you?”
They cheer.
Energy fills the field, from the crew, from the suitors, from her. Emily feels electric. Alive. Jake’s watching her, she knows he is, but she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back. As the first suitor lines up to take his shot, her heart pounds. This is exactly what she needed. A little excitement. A little fun. A little distraction.
Ben C. gallops down the jousting arena, and—
Misses.
An audible groan comes from the crew, along with some good-natured teasing from the men.
Pierre lines up next, but apparently what they say about the French is true. He’s a lover, not a fighter. He hits the dummy with a glancing blow. It barely moves.
Emily sighs.
Maybe this won’t be so fun after all.
Ethan’s next. He offers her a slow grin, then a wink as he lowers the visor on his helmet. Emily sits forward in her seat. Her pulse elevates. He can barely stay in the saddle. It’s clear he’s never ridden a horse before by the way he’s clutching the pommel for dear life with one hand while hoisting the lance with the other. Yet she knows he’ll find a way. It’s what he’s done from the beginning. Find a way to make a scene, to make a moment, to make his way to her. For camera time? For fame? For romance? She still can’t tell, but as his horse picks up speed it hardly matters.
Emily leans forward, gripping the banister with two hands.
Cameras zoom in on her reaction.
She’s hooked.
The viewers will be too.
Is that why she’s hooked? Is that why she wants this? Everything is so confusing, but right now, every bit of her body wants this kiss from Ethan. Everyone on reality television has ulterior motives—Emily included. She needs Jake to know she’s not the doe-eyed seventeen-year-old still in love with him. More importantly, she needs to know it, too.
Ethan closes in on the dummy.
Ten feet.
Five feet.
Two feet.
Right before the lance hits the target, Ethan drops it. The weapon falls to the ground with athud.
Emily gasps.
