23. Daphne

23

DAPHNE

As I stepped out of the shower, my phone rang. I knew from the sound that it was a Facetime call. Only one person has ever Facetimed me.

Alexandra.

If I ignored her, she'd just keep calling back.

With ninja speed and agility, I bent over and twisted a towel around my head, then stood back up and quickly wrapped my towel around my upper body and secured it in place before picking up the phone and answering the call.

"Hi!" My voice and expression were ten times cheerier than I felt.

"I saw the dailies from the first date. You two have as much chemistry as a wet mop."

Typically, when it came to feedback regarding my on-camera work, I was Teflon; whatever insult was directed toward me just rolled right off. Nothing stuck. But this time, I felt myself getting defensive, and I wasn't sure why.

Did it have something to do with the fact that the entire date I'd felt like I was cheating on Harlan Mitchell? Nah. That couldn't be it.

"Sorry," my apology was clipped and curt. "They can't all be winners."

"Elias Russell is a dreamy doctor with size fourteen feet and a full head of hair, and you acted as if he had the sex appeal of a hobbit."

"Hobbits are cute," I said in the way of a very weak defense.

"Do not play games with me. You know what I mean. Get over whatever is going on with you." She waved her hand in front of the screen, then snapped her fingers like I was a child. "Stop pouting and grow up."

With those two instructions, the screen went back to my screensaver, which was my someday golden retriever puppy.

Some of my colleagues took their four-legged, furry children to doggy daycare, which I'd considered more than once, but always felt like it would be too shitty to do. It wasn't just my typical nine-to-five, which was more like seven-to-seven; I traveled for work. A lot. Getting a puppy would be selfish. So, my screensaver puppy would have to do.

I unwrapped the towel on my head, grabbed the hair dryer, bent at the waist, and began drying the underside of my hair. As I did, my mind kept repeating Alexandra's instructions in my head.

Stop pouting and grow up.

She must think that my ‘wet mop chemistry' was due to my resistance to staying in Georgia. Little did she know there was an even more ridiculous reason for my behavior. I wish that I was pouting and being immature. I'd much rather those were the reasons that I kept losing interest in Dr. Dreamy. Unfortunately, they were not.

I straightened and rolled my hair in a barrel brush, then pulled it out to dry, a technique Davina had taught me. As I did, something caught my eye outside. The actual reason I'd had zero chemistry with Elias.

At the far end of the Mitchell Farm Harlan was digging a hole. Shirtless. His upper body was sculpted by the gods. The man had less than five percent body fat. My eyes scanned the chiseled lines of his shoulder blades and back. Even his muscles had muscles.

In my line of work, I was constantly surrounded by men who took care of themselves, ate right, and worked out. But despite running a fitness class and being a retired professional athlete, Harlan's physique was not born in a gym. His muscles were hard-earned from manual labor. His hands were calloused

A tingle of bliss spread through me as I remembered the feeling of his roughened fingertips sliding up my bare thighs. I shook my head back and forth, trying to erase the memories of just how good those calloused hands had felt on my body. My attempt only led to more flashbacks of the night I'd shared with Harlan. The kiss in the boat. The rain. The barn. The haystack. The way he felt inside of me.

No. I was not going to take a walk down Triple X Memory Lane. I had to get ready to go on a date with someone. And, since Harlan was working out in the field, I doubted it was with him.

I'd seen him this morning doing the talking head for his B-roll. I was having coffee with Aunt Rhonda when I noticed Phil setting up the shot in the middle of the field between the two farmhouses. I'd tried not to stare, but there wasn't a lot else to look at. All day, I'd had to fight the temptation to ask Phil for the dailies to see what Harlan's answers to the interview questions for the segment were. The only thing that stopped me was self-respect. If I did that, I'd be showing my hand that I was interested in him, which I was desperately trying to keep under wraps. It had been a little over a week since I arrived in town, and so far, I thought I'd been doing a decent job.

My phone buzzed, and I saw it was a message from Davina letting me know she'd be here in ten minutes for hair and makeup for my date tonight.

Shit. I was running late. I needed my hair to be completely dry.

As I continued to blow dry my hair, my mind wandered to who I might be meeting tonight. Since I'd already dated Elias, and it wasn't Harlan, that left bachelor number two, Mark Lyons. Bachelor number three, Jerry Clemons, or bachelor number four, Jack Dawson (notably not named after the Titanic character).

I wasn't sure if I had a preference. They were all good-looking, eligible men who women had bid thousands of dollars for a date with. I should be excited about tonight…but since I knew it wasn't going to be Harlan, I wasn't.

This is a job , I reminded myself. It's work.

"Daphne!" Aunt Rhonda shouted from downstairs.

I opened the bathroom door, and before I could respond, I heard a series of sneezes. Oh no. Dini was back. My stomach did more somersaults than the '84 women's Olympic team at the thought of bringing the runaway cat back home, but I told myself there was no reason for the nerves. Harlan was out in the field. I'd be returning the fugitive feline to Mr. Mitchell.

"Be right down!" I called out, then pulled on the sweatpants and T-shirt I planned to wear while I was in makeup and hair.

I took the stairs two at a time, and by the time I'd reached the bottom step, Aunt Rhonda's face was exploding in a dozen rapid-fire sneezes.

"How does she keep getting in here?" I pondered aloud.

"Probably the same way the mice do."

"Mice?" A shiver raced down my body. Of course, I knew that there were mice in the country, but I'd never actually seen one.

"Can't have a cat, so I got mice." Aunt Rhonda responded as if it wasn't a big deal.

To her, it probably wasn't. That was just one more reason that I could never live here, in the country. I was not a fan of mice or rats. I'd heard all the arguments about how smart they were and even had friends who thought they were cute. I did not share those sentiments. Sometimes, when there was a construction project in the city, there would be more rats out and about, but they were never in my condo. I didn't want to cohabitate with rodents.

"Come here, little one." I scooped up Dini, who was sunbathing on the kitchen table. The moment I held her against my chest, she nuzzled into my neck.

I slid on a pair of flip-flops and headed out the back door. Half-way across the field, I saw Harlan walking toward me.

Oh boy.

He was still shirtless, and I felt like I was in a men's cologne commercial, a beer commercial, or some other commercial that would have a hot country guy walking across a field in it.

"She got out again," he stated as soon as we got within hearing distance.

"Yep."

"Tell Miss Rhonda, I'm sorry."

"I will," I agreed as we reached each other in the middle of the field.

Just like the first time we'd met, I handed Dini over to him, and our hands brushed against one another's. This time, I knew exactly what those hands were capable of, though. The innocent skin-on-skin contact sent a thrill racing through me. I took in a shaky breath as I cast my gaze to the ground, trying to get my hormones under control. I didn't know where else to look. I couldn't look in his eyes; they were way too dreamy, his bare chest was code-red sexy, and his worn jeans and work boots were the male equivalent of Victoria's Secret lingerie, so the grass was my best bet for not going into arousal overload.

"How was your date with Dr. Russell?" His deep voice rippled through me like water's surface disturbed by a skipping pebble.

My eyes shot up to his as I snapped back, "How was your date with Ariana?"

I didn't mean for the question to come out sounding like an accusation, but it did.

The corner of Harlan's mouth lifted up in a smirk of amusement. "That wasn't a real date."

"Really?"

Just like the condoms weren't yours, and you've never taken anyone out to the pond.

I told myself it didn't matter. We weren't a couple. We weren't even dating casually. We'd hooked up one night and didn't even have each other's phone number.

"Really," he doubled down.

"What was it? Old friend's catching up?" I could hear how jealous I sounded as the words tumbled from my mouth, but there was nothing I could do to stop them.

"She was the Bond villain."

It took me a second to catch on to his meaning. "Ariana was the one who bid on you?"

He nodded. "It was not to catch up. She wants to buy the farm."

I had a list of follow-up questions running through my mind, but before I could ask any of them, I heard a loud honking, and I turned and saw the black SUV pulling into the driveway. Ernie was dropping Davina off for makeup and hair.

"I have to go." My heart sank in disappointment. I didn't want to leave Harlan. I missed him. I hadn't even realized how much until I was standing in front of him again.

"You have a date?"

It was a question, but I had a feeling he already knew the answer.

I turned back to him. "It's not a real date."

He inhaled through his nose and then slowly exhaled through his mouth. "Have fun on your not-real date."

As I turned and walked back across the field, I could feel Harlan watching me. I wished it was him I was going on my not-real date with. I wished I was going on a real date with him.