Yet here I am, sitting in my car, staring at the front door, knowing there’s an accident waiting to happen right on the other side. But there’s not a goddamn thing I can do to stop myself from going in. She made me promise not to watch the taped show tomorrow. Technically I’m not breaking the promise—I never said I wouldn’t come to watch the live filming tonight. Each morning I have to restrain myself from hurling the laptop across the room. I can’t imagine it won’t be a million times harder to stop myself from walking through the door and knocking Dickhead on his ass. A string of curses litters the air as I stomp from my car to the house.

“Coop! I didn’t know you were coming.” Miles actually looks happy to see me. Unfortunately, the sentiment isn’t returned, although my scowl actually has nothing to do with my little brother for a change.

“Miles.” I nod.

“You came at a good time. The ladies are sufficiently loose. We plied them with liquor, now it’s time to unleash the bachelor and watch the horns start to rise from their pretty little heads.” He rubs his hands together like a child unable to contain his excitement. “I’m going to go check in on Flynn. Have a drink—we just brought out one of the two rolling bars from the shoot.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Your favorite scotch is in there, although it’s half gone. You and Flynn have similar tastes.”

I stroll straight to the bar, ignoring the cameraman who starts speaking to me, and pull out the Macallan single malt. The bottle is less than half full. Dickhead. Gulping back two fingers worth, I slam the tumbler down.

“Bad day?” Joel Blick, the director, reaches over the bar and grabs a glass. He pours himself a double and tips the bottle to me asking if I want a refill. I slide my glass in his direction.

“You could say that.” I nod my glass to him before drinking.

“Well, maybe a little girl-on-girl catfight will cheer you up. There’s a storm brewing amongst the contestants tonight.”

“What’s it about?”

“The bachelor.” He finishes his drink. “What else?”

“Which girls?”

“All the camera’s favorites. Jessica, Mercedes and Kate. They were going at it pretty good. Got heated. But now, after the alcohol and bringing Flynn into the game … I wouldn’t be surprised if the early rumbling leads to a big explosion.”

“You have the argument in the can?”

“I do.” I stare at him and wait. “You want a replay?”

Who can resist watching a car accident waiting to happen?

“You think you’re better than everyone here?” Jessica seethes, her normally pretty face contorted.

“I don’t even know you. You’ve had something against me since the first night and I have no idea why,” Kate replies in a dismissive tone. It only serves to anger Jessica more that she doesn’t get a sufficient rile out of her.

“You walk around thinking Flynn is wrapped around your little pinky finger.”

I know it’s irrational. But just hearing Kate in an argument that has anything to do with Dickhead brings my already heated blood to a boil.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” Kate says, then pivots to walk away.

But Jessica grabs her shoulder. “I know the game you’re playing,” she warns.

Kate turns and glares at her. For a long moment, the two stare off—neither of them backing down. Then a familiar look on Kate’s face appears, and she calls her opponent’s bluff. “We’re all playing a game, aren’t we?” She dusts Jessica’s hand off her shoulder and walks away.

The camera fades out. “What was that all about?” I ask.

“Got me. But something’s up and Miles is busy trying to stoke the fire.”

The live feed monitor captures everything happening on the other side of the wall, even though they’re not filming at the moment. Kate looks beautiful in a curve-hugging dark blue cocktail dress. The expansive living room is filled with women who are unquestionably knockouts. Yet Kate stands out, even though her assets aren’t on full display. The crew is setting up lighting and she laughs and smiles with them. A short young intern is struggling to set up a high camera boom and Kate, in her five-inch heels, walks over and helps her. They spend five minutes talking afterward. The other women don’t even notice the crew, they’re too busy waiting for someone more important to walk in the room.

For a few minutes, I stand and watch her, the mounting stress that had been building all day slowly beginning to ebb.

The green live-filming light flashes, then he walks in the room.

Dickhead.

He makes a beeline for Kate, not even seeing the other women who are right in front of him. Tunnel vision. He wants her bad. Where have I seen the look on his face before? Oh, yeah. In the mirror.

He kisses her on the cheek. There’s a cocky smile on his face as his eyes roam all over her body. My fucking body. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that I can’t rewind. I’m desperate to know what he just whispered to her, but if I knew, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep myself from marching in and punching him square in the face.

Eventually Jessica pulls him away, a phony plastic smile shining at Kate as she hooks her arm into Flynn and leads him outside onto the deck.

“Do you like my dress?” Jessica asks coyly, looking down. Her eyes lead his to follow hers down to the tits overflowing from her scarlet red gown.