Chapter 9: Leith

All this actingwas making Leith itchy. The only thing he wanted to do in that moment was find a shower and scrub all the pretense from his body. Unfortunately, he was stuck trailing a woman he didn't want and trying to convince himself she could be the love of his life.

He really hadn't imagined it would be so hard to play a good guy on television. He was a good guy, he thought. He had values and he had work ethic and he made a point of always treating people with kindness and respect. He liked to laugh and he liked affection and, under normal circumstances, he was not a liar.

He'd convinced himself that, surely, all of that would be enough to put him on track toward his happily ever after. The one where he was financially stable and living with a woman he was thrilled to come home to every day.

None of this had ever made it into that picture of his life. And why would it? If someone had sat Leith down a few years ago and told him he'd get the opportunity to win an obscene amount of money if he could parade around in swim trunks and get a woman to fall in love with him within a few weeks, Leith would have told them that they were ridiculous. The whole premise of the show was ridiculous.

Things had clearly gone to shit since then.

"I'm not making all of you breakfast," Maia warned from the front of the pack.

Obviously, he wanted to say.

He liked Maia well enough. Sure, she was a little cold. And he wouldn't doubt the calculations that went on behind that icy blue stare. He figured the attitude was probably some sort of defense and Leith had always had pretty thick skin. But he didn't see himself starting a life with her.

And he was miserably sure she couldn't see starting one with him, either.

So why was he trying so hard to hold onto this?

The two of them didn't even make an attractive couple. His bulk next to her frame—despite her height—was laughable. Had the public really put the two of them together, or had they just run out of pairings once they'd matched up the rest?

She was much better suited to someone who looked like Killian and Leith was more suited to someone who looked like…well, he didn't know. Whenever he'd entertained fantasies of domesticity, or even something a little more impolite, he'd never been able to conjure any specific features. It wasn't like he had a type. And that was why he'd been so confident coming on this show: he figured he could make it work with anyone.

Well, he may not have had a type but Maia certainly wasn't it.

God, should he just give it up now?

That extra money had been enticing when he'd first found the letter but what if pursuing it lost him the grand prize? Surely, the public would start to suspect there was nothing between them. And then he'd have nothing to show for this, at all.

Leith rolled his shoulders back, deciding in that moment on an alternate course of action.

The new plan? Find someone to fake it with.

He scanned the group, most of whom had found their way to the kitchen. He supposed Danica would be an option—she seemed mostly uninterested in the two other guys talking to her. But she had a reputation already that Leith wasn't keen on tangling with, not if he was going for the family man angle.

He had to be strategic about this.

The two girls that had disappeared into the manor were decent options but he couldn't very well get a conversation going with either of them if they were nowhere to be found.

That just left Willow. And Leith was trying really, really hard not to look at her.

Like just thinking her name had summoned her, Willow's voice suddenly sounded in his ear. Or, at least, as close to his ear as she could get.

"Is it just me or did our partners fall in love while we were sitting over there?" she asked.

Fuck.

Had they?

Leith had been so caught up in trying to be the perfect partner himself that he didn't really take stock of Killian. He supposed he should have. There was evidently a reason the four of them had separated from the group so quickly.

But watching them in the kitchen together was like watching dollar bills burn right in front of his face.

Killian reached around Maia to fiddle with the stovetop controls. Maia brushed her hands over Killian whenever she walked by him. Killian checked out her ass every time she turned around and she returned the favor when she thought no one was looking.

"Damn," Leith cursed, unable to stop himself from laughing a little at the hopelessness of the situation. "I think they did."

He chanced letting his eyes skim down. He'd had every intention of just making polite eye contact but he didn't think even the most strong-willed of men would be able to resist looking at her lips when they were turned up like that.

"I bet we look stupid right about now."

Leith was poised to agree when the stoner-looking one—Foster, Leith thought his name was—shot the two of them a smile and led his conversation mates over.

"Are we the rejects?" Foster asked, that easy grin never even sliding.

Taking stock from what he could remember of the introductions, it seemed Foster was pretty much on point. Danica had been paired with the tall one, who'd run after Foster's bedmate and the other girl, who Leith assumed had been paired with Maxon.

It seemed that all of their pre-assigned couples had scurried off to find better and brighter things. The realization had hope pushing against Leith's chest, now that he knew none of the other day-one couples would be sticking together.

Or, that was what he assumed.

"Nah, I don't think Caroline rejected me," Maxon said with a shrug. "She was just checking on her friend."

"Cora," Willow corrected.

Maxon's eyes went wide. "Oh shit. I hope I didn't call her that to her face." He glanced around like there might be someone he could ask for footage. "She probably thinks I'm such a dick."

"It's the first day," Danica reassured him. Her voice sounded like it was recovering from disuse, even though she'd been talking for the better part of the morning. "They can't expect us to learn everyone's name that quickly."

"That your way of asking for our names again?" Maxon teased.

Danica dropped her shoulders in relief. "Yes." She thought for a moment. "I know Silas, obviously."

"You mean you don't remember my name?" Foster looked affronted. "We've been talking forever."

"If that was forever to you, I'd hate to see how quickly you come."

There was a beat of silence before all five of them cracked a laugh at Danica's joke. Maybe she wasn't as closed-off as Leith thought. But he still didn't know if the general public would forgive her enough for her stint in rehab to hand her the win at the end of this. People got weird about drugs.

"If you want it slow, that's all you gotta say," Foster told her, blinking in an exaggerated way that told Leith he'd only meant to close one eyelid.

Maxon put himself in Danica's field of vision. "If this is the kind of bantering that ends with clothes on the floor, I want in."

Damn, should Leith join in?

He still wasn't sure whether to give into the sexed-up vibes or if he should go for wholesome. Whatever he chose, he probably shouldn't be just standing there with his arms crossed. He dropped them, accidentally brushing against Willow's hip.

Oh god. He hadn't meant to touch her. What if she hated it? What if she slapped him? His hand had been deathly close to her ass—what if she thought he was trying to cop a feel?

And after what he'd tried with Maia last night? He hadn't gotten handsy with her but he'd definitely tried to go in for a kiss.

Would the two of them get together and start swapping stories about him?

"Sorry," he murmured, staring down at the appendage in horror and letting scenario after scenario flit through his mind.

He was really fucking this up.

But when he took in Willow's stance, he found it similar to what his own had been. Guarded and observant. Like she was assessing the conversation rather than taking part in it. In fact, he wasn't even sure she'd felt his touch.

"For what?" She didn't even look at him.

"Um, I accidentally—I touched you."

Willow smirked and confirmed his suspicions when she raised her eyes to wink at him through her full lashes. She did a better job of it than Foster had. "You'll have to be a little rougher next time if you want me to feel it." She clearly didn't care about how red the tips of his ears turned because she returned her attention to the other rejects, even as she continued to address him. "Do you often go around touching unsuspecting women?"

"No," he snapped. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that I do."

"Why shouldn't I, if that's the kind of man you are?"

She was probably just busting his balls. Lots of women liked to do that. Hell, he liked when women did that. But right now?

He didn't like it at all.

"It's not," he insisted, ready to beg if he needed to.

And Willow fucking winked at him again. What was with all the winking going on? "Prove it, then."

Leith suddenly wanted to show her exactly what kind of man he was. And now that the first-night couples didn't actually matter? Maybe he'd do just that. Her words were like the exact permission he'd been waiting for.

Before his dreams of the extra ten thousand had been dashed, Leith had schooled himself to keep his attention on Maia. He wouldn't be caught turning his head for other women. He wouldn't put himself in a position to have incriminating screengrabs circulate online and ruin his chances of the grand prize. He'd be focused and disciplined. He'd be polite and friendly to the other girls but he wasn't going to stray.

No matter how much he'd been tempted to.

Well, he guessed if everyone had decided to forsake that extra money then he wasn't going to hold back, either.

For a moment, he let himself break and revisit the source of that temptation. That initial, millisecond introduction to Willow had been just enough to tell Leith he'd been lying to himself about not having a type. He'd been lying to himself about a lot, really. Now that he had the go-ahead to look, he didn't think he'd be getting his fill anytime soon.

She was stunning, though that didn't feel like the exact right word to describe her. She was bright or, at least, she wanted people to think she was. That was why she'd wrapped herself in scraps of yellow and turned those honey eyes on anyone who spoke to her. All of that, though, and she wasn't sunshine.

She was fire.

Hot, flaming desire encased in the most sinfully-proportioned body he'd ever seen. But her body wasn't what he kept straying to. It was her face. He didn't know how to describe her lips other than pillowy. Full and soft-looking. The perfect pair for kissing, Leith thought. And whatever was raging behind her eyes made them seem like they were backlit, gilded. She had the kind of face Leith was realizing he'd be a sucker for.

He couldn't stop looking.

Couldn't stop wondering about the woman it hid—or, perhaps, didn't hide. He wanted to know what she was watching for, when she stood like that. He wanted to know why she'd panicked when Killian had brought up the letter. He wanted to know what exactly she'd done with the other man the night before and he wanted to know if she'd do it with him. Most of all, though, he wanted to know the kind of person she was. If she was driven and grounded or if she was a romantic entertaining fantasies of what could be, like Leith was. He wanted to know if she liked pets and if she drank coffee and how she treated other people. When it came to her, all Leith could feel was this rushing sensation of want.

And if Willow wanted to know what kind of man Leith was?

He'd make damn sure he delivered.