Fever Dream (Emerald Lake, #1)(79)

Hands slung casually in my pockets, panties pinched between my fingers, I announce to the cast and crew, “Sorry, looked everywhere and couldn’t find any spurs.”





CHAPTER 29


Julia





Julia

Need to run something past you.





Emmett

In person?





Julia

Yes. Where are you?





Emmett

Is this code for you want me to go down on you again like yesterday?





Julia

We’re really excelling at keeping it professional, huh?





Emmett

I’ve never excelled at professionalism, to be honest. But I promise not to eat your pussy again.





Emmett

This morning.





Emmett

Maybe later, though. If you’re lucky.





Julia

That was a onetime thing, remember? Now tell me where you are.





Emmett

Barn office, going over a couple of contracts for Parker.





Julia

Be there in twenty minutes. I’ll try to wear something that will keep your mind out of the gutter.





Emmett

Doll, that outfit doesn’t exist.





* * *



I woke up to an email from Richard telling me to double-check the set and make sure nothing is out of place for tonight’s elimination ceremony. I already know it’s perfect because I manage this location with neurotic precision. After all, it’s my cover for spending more time around Emmett.

But the final line of “don’t let me down” read an awful lot like a threat. So here I am, checking the setup at the bunkhouse. Flowerpots watered, and their contents deadheaded. The trellis and archway set exactly the way they need to be for filming. Everything in order, as expected.

This is also my way of stalling on the second request in that email from the big boss. The part where he wants me to book Emmett for a bull-riding demo at a local rodeo. Richard believes it will make him “even more irresistible” to the women on the show and to the viewers. And while I don’t disagree, I do know that, thanks to Carl, Emmett’s feelings around the local rodeo circuit might be… complicated.

So my plan is to check in with him on that—uncomfortable as it might be. But first things first.

I knock on the open screen door as I pop my head in the front door of the bunkhouse. “Hello, ladies,” I call out as I step into the living room.

Jada, Akira, and Catherine are hanging out in the living room. Jada has Akira’s foot in her lap and is painting her toenails. Catherine is seated close by with her feet in a footbath.

“Julia!” Jada greets me with genuine enthusiasm and a welcoming smile. She’s usually dressed to the nines, but today she’s slouched back in a matching sweatsuit with her cornrow braids pulled up into a high ponytail. “Come hang out! We’re doing pedicures for each other, and I just used this toothpick to draw a dick on Akira’s big toe.”

Akira shoots me a dramatic disapproving look, but the slight twitch of her lips gives away her smothered amusement.

Catherine waves me in. “She really did. Come see.”

I slip off my shoes and pad across the floor, grinning.

Sure enough, Akira’s biggest toenail is painted a pale pink and layered on top, in darker pink, is a tiny cock and balls.

“Wow,” I breathe, genuinely impressed. “It’s even anatomically correct. Are those little dots supposed to be hair on the ballsack?”

Jada’s shoulders shimmy proudly while Akira’s head flops back on a pillow with an embarrassed groan. “Damn right they are!”

“Want to match, Julia?” Akira asks. “I bet Jada would be happy to give you dick-toes too.”

I snort a laugh as Catherine dissolves into giggles. Akira and Jada grin at each other, and I soak in the moment’s genuine affection.

This quiet show of camaraderie between the remaining women warms my Richard-darkened heart. Because behind all the manufactured drama, real female friendships are forming. The show can make it appear that these women are pitted against one another, but behind the scenes, they’re painting dicks on toenails and cracking jokes about it.

There’s only one woman missing.

Beyond them, seated at the kitchen island, is Evelyn. Flipping through a magazine. By herself. I catch her watching, longing flickering in her eyes. Until she notices me looking, then she purses her lips and stares back down at the magazine.

For a beat, in spite of everything, I feel sad for Evelyn. That she’s in a position where she can’t let herself enjoy the quieter moments that come with the show. That Richard has her so tightly under his thumb that she feels the need to play the villain even when the cameras aren’t rolling.

It makes me hate him even more.

“Here,” Jada pats the couch, drawing my attention back to them. “Sit down. Matching dick-toes are coming right up.”

I laugh and shake my head. A big part of me wants to be a part of this—I’ve been missing this kind of friendship in my life—but hanging out with the contestants wouldn’t be appropriate. And I’m already crossing boundaries where professionalism is concerned.