Chapter 10: Chapter Nine

“The secret to a lasting, committed relationship is trust.” Lavonne spoke to the camera as Ginger stood by, shooing another vicious horsefly away. “Here at the Redwood Retreat, we’re going to see how the women and Elliot handle uncertainty through a series of trust exercises.”

This was, by far, Ginger’s least favorite episode to film.

Sure Lavonne claimed it was all about trust building, but it was more about grown women squealing and squawking over the slightest rustling noise before throwing themselves at some man they barely knew to take care of them. Nothing irritated Ginger more than a damsel faking distress.

The good news was they were down to ten women, so the days wouldn’t be as long as the barbecues. The bad news was—horseflies. Ants. Bears.

When Elliot and the women arrived, Ginger chugged her water as he jumped out of the Jeep he drove up in. He looked great for the cameras and everything, but the sight of him jarred her. Obviously it shouldn’t have. She’d left him in the Hacienda driveway less than twelve hours ago with traces of his saliva still on her chest, but maybe she hadn’t had the requisite time needed to process their interlude. Heart suddenly fluttering, light-headedness caused her vision to momentarily blur. Fuck, had she just swooned? This had to stop. It wasn’t like they’d had sex.

Recently.

Capping her water bottle, she tried to assess him the way a good producer should. Their surroundings considered, he was on point, and he looked absurdly handsome in jeans, hiking boots, and a zip-up sweatshirt. He’d take that off later as the day warmed up, and the women would take off their cover-ups, too. By the end of the day, they’d be stripped down to their tank tops, getting the shit bitten out of them by bugs. Right now, they were all flannel shirts and short shorts.

Elliot’s eyes scanned the campground until they finally rested for a moment on Ginger’s. A clench deep in her abdomen had her turning quickly away to find something else to do besides gawk at him and remember how badly she’d wanted him inside her last night. She was still on a roller coaster of pride and regret for having managed to keep her pants on.

“Gather round everyone, gather round.” Lavonne was really letting loose today with a gouty ponytail instead of her usual bun. Her forest ranger getup consisted of a short khaki romper that didn’t hide a single curve. The whistle strung on a rope around her neck was perpetually caught in her cleavage. Digging it out, she gave it a blow.

All smiles, the women and Elliot lined up before her.

“Who’s ready to get to work?”

Ginger spotted Matt sitting on a log and made her way over to him. He scratched at his overgrown beard as she approached. His heavy-lidded eyes always made him look like the exact right person to commiserate with. “Zip line, ropes, or blindfold games?” she asked.

“Blindfold,” Matt said without hesitation.

She sat on the log next to him. “Good. I want the zip line.”

“Fine by me. I hate that shit.”

“I’m still pissed you wouldn’t bungee with me last time.”

He huffed a short laugh, but then zeroed in on her, his eyes narrowing. “Looks like you had a fun night. Where’d you get that?”

Ginger bristled as Matt pointed a finger at her throat. “What?”

“The hickey.”

Hand moving quickly to cover her neck, she bolted upright like the log was in flames.

His laugh was a deep rumble. “I’m glad one of us is putting her downtime to good use. It’s nice to see you having some fun for once. Where are you going? I want to hear about this person.”

Ginger was already halfway to her trailer, fleeing before Matt started to put two and two together. It wasn’t like he and Kat hadn’t watched her leave with Elliot last night. She flung open the door and hurried to the bathroom mirror.

Her jaw dropped as she took in the enormous hickey to the left of her windpipe. How the fuck could she have missed that?

Because you never check the mirror in the morning, you stupid idiot.

And on a related note—How could he?

And also on a related note—had she left any marks on him? Holy shit! If Matt saw—

She started for the door, but hesitated. Closing her eyes, she pressed her hands toward the ground and exhaled, willing herself to slow down and think.

First, how would she cover up her neck so no one else started doing the math? Matt she could handle. Lavonne on the other hand…

Opening her suitcase, she dumped its contents onto the bed.

“Hey—what are you doing? We need you out here.”

Ginger whirled to face Kat barging into her trailer.

“I was looking for something else to wear.”

“Why? Oh.” Kat’s eyes went straight for the hickey, and Ginger’s hand flew up to cover it.

“Can I have a minute, please?”

“Who gave you that?”

“Nobody.”

Kat’s gaze grew narrow and ultra-suspicious. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“It was Finn.” He was the first person who came to mind, and he was easy enough to throw under the bus since Ginger hadn’t seen him in over a year. Still, it was entirely possible they’d hooked up. There’d never been any rhyme or reason to their “relationship” before.

Kat’s face scrunched in distaste, meaning she was buying it, but hating it, too, like a friend should. “Since when?”

“You know. Now and then.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wish I hadn’t, either. I had no idea he’d left a mark.”

“He must’ve gotten sloppy…”

“Please.” Ginger held up a hand to stop whatever else Kat could possibly say.

“So who initiated this booty call?”

“I did,” Ginger lied without hesitation. “I was kind of wound-up last night after we left.”

“After you left with Elliot?”

Goddamn…

“Before that,” Ginger said quickly. “Elliot was being a diva. He was pissed about his mom. We need to keep an eye on her with the drinks, by the way.”

“Uh-huh. I remember.”

Flustered, Ginger turned her back on Kat and looked down at her open suitcase. Grabbing the first hoodie with a tie she found, she pulled off her blazer and tugged the hoodie over her head. Cinching it at the neck, she checked herself in the mirror. She took down her hair. The combination more or less did the trick.

“So how is Finn?” Kat asked as Ginger arranged her hair.

“It was all a little rushed, unfortunately. He was in and out kind of fast.”

Kat snorted.

“Of my house, I mean. We didn’t talk much.” Not that she and Finn had ever talked. Their relationship had been strictly physical, and even though he’d made one attempt to be more of a real boyfriend, the timing had sucked for Ginger, and she’d found she preferred him on an as-needed basis. He was fun, but he’d never rocked her world. Unfortunately, the only man who’d ever done that wanted to play it safe for the rest of his life with someone who may or may not ever get him.

“You gonna see him again?”

Of course Kat meant Finn, whom Ginger hadn’t seen or heard from in over a year, but the face flashing through Ginger’s mind wasn’t Finn’s. It was Elliot’s in all its angular perfection. “Doubt it. It wasn’t as good as I remembered.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Right?” The lie of it was, being with Elliot had been even better than she remembered.

But back to the problem at hand: how to get close enough to Elliot to check his exposed skin before he headed out to some obstacle course Lavonne set up.

That was simple, too. They’d have a few minutes before the challenge started where everyone would be gathering their backpacks for their hike. She’d simply pull him aside and pretend to talk about—

What?

Think, Ginger.

Simple again. Just be honest. They were adults. They were accidentally intimate last night. They were perfectly capable of discussing the need for discretion.

Easy peasy.

“I’m good, let’s go.” Ginger ushered Kat out of the trailer, and they headed back to the campsite.

As the group dispersed, PAs pulled women aside for quick interviews while Elliot got a short brief from Lavonne. Ginger made her way toward him, twigs cracking beneath her feet and horseflies aggressively attacking her hair. She swatted at them with one hand while using the other to signal Lavonne that she needed a minute with the star.

The therapist nodded and went to grab her own bag. Ginger walked up to Elliot, getting extremely close so she could speak quietly. Rather than retreat the way most people did when she went toe-to-toe with them, he bent until their heads were side to side. God, he smelled so good.

Ignoring her lustful thoughts, she spoke in a low voice. “Don’t look now, but do you have any marks on you?”

He eyed her warily. “Any marks on me? Is that what you said?”

“Do you have any marks on you?”

“Like my tattoo?”

“Like a hickey,” she hissed.

His soft laugh moved her hair, tickling her ear. “I have some scratches, but I don’t have any hickeys. Why? You got some? You should after—”

“Shhh. It’s on my neck.”

“You probably have more.”

“You dick.”

“You loved it,” he whispered before standing straight again. The depth of his voice in her ear had her flushed with desire all over again. He smirked at her tied up hoodie and stepped off the picnic table foundation, back into the fray. He glanced at her one more time as he walked away, and she had to physically root herself to the earth not to follow him into a dark place somewhere.

“First, I’ll take Elliot and Elizabeth.” Lavonne waved at the group from the entrance to the main trail into the woods. The pair of them walked toward each other, joining hands when they were close enough to reach.

Ginger fought a massive eye roll. Elliot and Elizabeth, meaning all their future children would have names starting with Es, too. Ethan, Edie, Evan, she could have gone on, but it would have made her throw up in her mouth. It was annoyingly comforting to think Elizabeth might make him wait until their wedding night.

Her mind flashed back to Elliot’s filthy mouth. The way he nearly got himself off while she’d sat and watched, knowing how much it turned her on. Can you picture me with a virgin?

It was none of her business.

She needed to find a bigger mirror.

Elliot hadn’t lied. He’d left plenty of marks. Ginger’s body heated as she counted the hickeys on her chest and shoulders.

Seven.

Her nipples tightened as she brushed her fingertips along each irregular reddened mark, unable to stop herself from recalling the pressure of his mouth on her skin. The way his breath gusted across her breasts, and the warmth of his tongue on her throat. She could maybe forgive herself for her inability to resist him, but she wouldn’t ever be able to forgive herself if she had to pay the price for it with her career.

While she never lost sleep dreaming of her perfect man, this small taste of one had whet her appetite, making her hungry for more.

So, okay, no big deal. She’d renew her efforts to find another lover after the show wrapped. She’d been preoccupied with her job for the last several—well, it had been some time, but she was competent at it now. She could schedule some time for dating if a warm body in her bed was something she’d like on a more regular basis.

That was all this was—she was hornier than she’d given herself credit for. But she wasn’t starved. She was fine. Elliot happened to be excellent at what he did, but he wasn’t the only man in the world she was sexually compatible with.

It was best to cast Elliot as a “type.” Hot, good in bed, but taken. The untaken versions of Elliot were harder to find, sure—but they were out there, one breakup away from being available. She could do the work. Keep her eyes open. Let her friends know to be on the lookout. She’d be having great sex on the regular in no time. If she got lucky, maybe she’d even find a guy nice enough to take out her trash in the morning when he left.

Later, in front of a monitor displaying the blindfold trust walks, Ginger reactivated a couple of her online dating profiles to get an idea of what was out there. Couldn’t hurt. And it was much better for her bottom line than obsessing about Elliot, the only man on the planet she knew without a doubt she couldn’t have.

The second day’s trust exercise was the zip line. Acts of daring and danger were always great TV. The “trust” part was, Elliot had to make sure each woman was secured in her harness before sending them across the gorge, even though he’d only been trained for the task five minutes ago.

Obviously, their stunt guy double-checked the safety gear before Elliot sent them flying. Couldn’t have anyone plummeting to her death in the redwood forest because they’d let a handsome website designer do all the tricky stuff.

As with every heights challenge the show had ever done, suddenly everybody had a fear of heights except the one girl who wasn’t afraid of anything. That season it was Hailey, the feather-wearing hippie chick Elliot’s sister Anna couldn’t stand. Hailey and Elliot worked their way through the gear, and she took off first, whooping through the treetops. Elliot strapped each woman in one by one, while he soothed their fears of heights and assured them he’d see them across safely. It was endearing and all, but it took hours to film.

Amanda—always saving her best self for last—wanted Elliot to cross the ravine with her, but he demurred in the name of fairness.

Once she sailed away, it was his turn to strap in. Instead, he took three big steps away from the edge, shook his arms, and blew out a harsh breath.

Ginger braced herself to look up at his face for the first time since the previous morning. She’d made a study of his exposed skin—his arms and neck specifically, but she hadn’t noticed anything yet that would prove her presence on top of him the other night. Right then though, all of that ceased to matter. He was green. While most of the crew had left for the other side, Jamie and a few others were still standing by, rolling tape.

Elliot’s eyes met Ginger’s, and he audibly gulped. “I’m terrified,” he said, like he was doing an interview.

She blinked to attention. “Fear of heights?”

“Fear of death from falling.”

Ginger said a quick prayer for patience. If he’d had this conversation with Amanda five minutes ago, they could have used it. As it stood, Elliot’s heartfelt outpouring of terror would wind up on the cutting room floor. Her annoyance made its way into her sharp tone. “Everybody else made it across okay.”

“How are you getting over?”

She gestured at the gorge. “The zip line. I’m going after you, then Jamie’ll bring the car around.”

“I can’t do it, Ginger.” He was losing his breath like he was running laps instead of frozen solid.

“Let’s bring one of the women back to talk you into it. Who do you want?”

“Michelle,” he said without hesitation.

Ginger scowled. “It can’t be her. One of the contestants.”

“I want Michelle.”

Tension spiked inside her with no warning. “Why?”

“I need to talk to her.”

“About what?”

“About all of this. I’m not getting on the zip line, and I need Michelle.”

Ginger put her hands on her hips and tossed a glance toward the cameraman. “Take a minute, all right? I’ll bring you back when he’s ready.”

Jamie lowered the camera. Ginger reached around Elliot’s waist to switch off his mic. He’d already gotten his helmet off, and he was breathing so hard it sounded like he’d been revived from a drowning incident.

“Michelle’s the only one who can calm you down or…?”

He put even more distance between himself and the edge of the drop-off. “Well, you’re not helping,” he snapped.

Ouch.

Somehow he’d managed a kick straight to the gut with that one. It wasn’t like Michelle was any more nurturing than Ginger was, not from what she’d seen so far anyway.

“Forget it,” he said. “I’ll head over whenever Jamie’s ready.”

“Elliot—you can’t send all those women across and then show up in a car. They went through something for you.”

He waved both his hands toward his face as he bent down again, like he was trying to physically move air into his lungs. “I’m going through something, too. It’s called a panic attack. Goddamn, it’s hot.”

Off went his shirt. He chucked it on the ground and doubled over, hands braced on his knees, breathing hard.

She shoved a bottle in front of his face. “Water?”

He took it and drank.

“I thought you were excited about this.”

“It sounded like fun in theory.”

“You know what Lavonne would say.”

“Take a leap of faith. Yeah, I was there for the talk, too.”

“She’d say you have to risk something for love. You can do it. You might even like it. It’s not as scary as it looks.”

He stood up straight and used his forearm to wipe his brow. His chest glistened with sweat and not a single hair. He’d be absolutely glorious to behold if he weren’t being such a total baby. “I’m not doing it.”

“What if I go with you?”

“No offense, but I barely trust that thing to hold my own weight, let alone two of us.”

“It can handle it.” They’d film a double doing it later. Elon, one of the other cameramen, looked a little like Elliot, but they needed Elliot’s face on that damn helmet cam. “You’ve gotta do the zip line, Elliot.”

He shook his head like no way in hell.

She switched tactics, bringing out Good Cop. Linking her hand with his, she waited until he was looking her in the eye. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Come on, tough guy. We’ve got this.”

His mouth quirked, though his expression remained grim. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you give a shit about me.” His fingers locked into a death grip on hers, which was a stirring reminder of his physical strength, but despite the shiver it gave her, right now they needed to focus on his emotional fortitude.

Ginger glanced toward Jamie and the crew. Gathered around a nearby tree, they weren’t far away enough. She lowered her voice. “This has nothing to do with me. I need you on a zip line. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you on it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Within reason,” she corrected.

He dragged in the deepest breath yet. “Okay.”

“Seriously? You’ll do it?” She didn’t know what she said that convinced him, but she planned to hold him to it.

He nodded. “Today’s a good day to die, right?”

“For sure.”

Their fingers untwisted, and he turned to pick his shirt up off the ground. When he stood straight again, she saw what he’d meant by claw marks. Eight symmetrical scratches across his back marked exactly where Ginger had been.

What the fuck had she been thinking?

She stepped between Elliot’s back and the crew’s line of sight while he put his shirt back on, hoping they hadn’t seen any of the evidence she’d left.

Elliot re-geared while Ginger put on a helmet and harness. She waited at the edge for him. Their stunt supervisor checked all the connections before Elliot eyed the edge warily and took another tentative step forward. “Is my mic on?”

“I’ll get it. Hang on.”

“Just a sec.”

Hands on hers, he stopped them from snaking around his waist. Jamie stayed back, but his camera was up and running as Elliot rechecked all of her harness connections. He spoke in a low voice. “If I’m about to die and you are, too, I don’t regret the other night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hissed.

“I needed to say it. Honestly, I can see my whole life passing before my eyes.”

“You’re not gonna die. You’re gonna have an amazing time.”

She flipped his microphone on and powered up his helmet cam before picking up the carabiner that would latch them together. “You ready?”

“You know I’m not.”

Standing behind him, she slid the connector into place. “Let’s try that again. Tell yourself you’ve got this.”

He cleared his throat and turned on reality show Elliot. “Somebody give me a countdown.”

She tightened her arms around his waist, and he gripped the trolley in a stranglehold.

Jamie called out, “Three, two…one…”

She leaned into him, sending him forward and over the edge. Then they were soaring.

He screamed like a lunatic. “Holy shit! Holy shit! Jesus Christ!” It would end up being one long series of bleeps as they sailed through the air. “How do I stop?”

“You don’t. The line stops you,” Ginger shouted.

“What does that mean?”

“Elliot—we’re flying!”

“Shit! Ha!”

The outburst of pure glee was a nice, gratifying surprise. She gave his upper arms a squeeze and with that, he finally relaxed, leaning back against her and lifting his legs in front of him. She resisted the urge to wrap her thighs around his waist. The amount of dirty looks she’d get from the women and Lavonne wouldn’t be worth it.

Elliot let out another loud whoop and Ginger laughed, adrenaline and a warm sense of his joy coursing through her. Such a rush.

The rest of the cast and crew came into focus on the other side of the ravine. Most of them cheered, but a few frowned at their tandem arrival. Anna and Michelle gaped, both evidently well-versed on Elliot’s fear of falling.

The line caught on the brake, jolting them against each other. Much more slowly, he and Ginger came skidding to a stop on terra firma.

Once they unstrapped, the women swarmed.

Exhilarated and breathless, Ginger took off her helmet. As she shoved her hair out of her face, she caught Michelle studying her with a quizzical look, head cocked to the side.

Ginger avoided her questioning gaze and turned away, only to be confronted again by the steel-blue eyes of Elliot Hale. Ten women surrounded him, but for one amazing moment, his gaze held hers like she was the only one.

It was really, really hard to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that. But here they were.