Game Changer (21 page)

Between the filming of the cabana party and the beach party they were holding later, the mood on the set was relaxed. There was time to visit the craft services table, on which a variety of healthy and unhealthy foods sat for both the crew and contestants to enjoy whenever they wanted. Brandon did get commandeered by Lucinda and whisked away into an empty meeting room at the hotel in order to film another confessional, or the industry's name for a private interview with a contestant away from the others under the guise that the privacy meant that person would be unflinchingly honest.

Brandon had been filming these types of interviews off and on during pre-production and he was almost getting the hang of all the annoying rules that went along with the arduous daily task that was, so far, his least favorite part of the show.

The way the confessionals worked on
Meet the Groom
, Brandon sat on a stool, with a nondescript beige screen behind him, a camera in front of him, and Lucinda or one of the assistant directors off to the side, feeding him prompts.

“What is your impression of the prospective brides so far?” Lucinda asked.

“They were nice.”

“Try that again, but rephrase the question and put your answer in present tense.”

Oops. He knew that from the other confessionals, but it was hard to remember while also thinking of something clever to say. “It's great to meet so many beautiful, smart women all in one place. All the ladies here seem to know how to have a good time, which is a must for me. Uh . . . what else should I say?”

Lucinda twisted her lips, thinking. “How about this one. Tell us how having a good time is an important trait for a marriage.”

“Because life is—”

“Rephrase the question.”

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

“Let's start from the top.” Mac said from behind the camera. “In three, two, one . . .”

Brandon took a deep breath. “This cabana party is awesome. The sun, the beautiful view of Miami Beach, and twenty gorgeous, smart women all gathered in the same place. All the ladies here seem to know how to have a good time, which is one of the main things I'm looking for in a wife.” He didn't choke on the word
wife
as much anymore. It was just another term used on the show, like
gaffer
and
dailies
.

“When I find the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, I want it to be someone who's equally comfortable having a quiet night in, but who's always ready for adventure. I was given this second chance at life after the army and I plan on living it to its fullest extent, so I want to find a partner who shares that same hunger for experiencing everything the world has to offer. A woman like . . .”

A woman like Harper.

He worked to suppress a wince at the unwanted thought. No, not like Harper. Stupid, how every thought he had circled back around to her. It'd been that way since the day he'd met her so many years ago and one might've thought he would've gotten over it by now, given their jarring rollercoaster of a history.

“I'm looking for a woman who I have chemistry with both physically and otherwise.”

Because the hard truth was that he and Harper didn't have physical chemistry, which they'd learned the hard, painful way. And besides that, he didn't actually want a wife, so that was pointless to consider. Life was too short to settle. He had a mission to complete in the name of the soldiers who'd fallen on the day he'd been spared. And he'd do well to keep it in the forefront of his mind from there on out.

Impatient to break free of the set for a few minutes and maybe hit the hotel gym to sweat out his restless irritation with his train of thoughts and the confessional filming, he started to stand. “Is that a wrap?”

“On that piece, yes, but we're only getting started,” Lucinda said.

“Sorry, dude,” came Mac's gravely surfer drawl from behind the camera.

Lucinda smoothed her palms over the paper on her ever-present clipboard. “Let's take each prospect one at a time and talk about your impressions of each of them today.”

Plopping back down on the stool, Brandon smiled to hide his cringe. “This is terrific. Exactly how I wanted to spend the dinner hour.”

Mac snorted his amusement. All Lucinda did was frown. “Let's start with Winnie . . .”

An hour later, Mac called out Brandon's new favorite line. “That's a wrap.”

He burst from the room, stretching his neck and nodding to the crew members he passed. Once he reached the elevator that would take him to the gym, he checked his phone again. He had a new text from Harper, time-stamped a half hour earlier.

The girls are napping before we hit Broadway tonight. Call me if you have a sec to check in.

He already felt lighter and more himself after merely reading her text, and he didn't bother to mask a grin as her phone rang.

“Hey,” he said when she answered. “Shooting just wrapped for a couple hours. You still have time to chat?”

“Only if you've got the latest scoop on all your brides. How did the beach party go today?” She sounded fresh and full of life, the perfect antidote to the plastic, forced feel of most of his interactions with the contestants.

“Better than I expected. I learned how to make a Maui Sour and I got to try parasailing, where they strap you into a parachute and pull you behind a speedboat. It was cool. You'd love it.”

“I'll have to add it to the list. How did you fare with the prospects? Did you like them?”

“Not all of them. But I did get to know some of the prospects better today and I actually like a couple of them.”

“Yeah? Thank goodness. I was worried for you about that after reading their dossiers. Was one of the ones you liked Jennifer? I think she'd be good for you.” The sentiment was genuine, the same as when she'd tried to hook him up with that nurse. He hoped that when Harper started dating and wanting to talk to him about it that he could be as genuinely happy for her as she was for him.

“Jennifer and Danielle. They're both really smart and driven.”

“Danielle, huh? Which one was she?”

“The stockbroker from Atlanta. She's black and tall and looks like a model. You thought she looked too young to be a stockbroker.”

“Oh, yes. I liked her for you, too. She was really pretty and had a nice chest.”

There was no way he was going to talk about other women's breasts with Harper. “And smart.”

“You mentioned that already. How did your beach foot hold up at the party?”

“Great. No chaffing from the sand.”

“What? What would a cabana party be without a little chaffing?”

Chuckling, he tucked the phone against his shoulder and opened the gym door. “Speak for yourself. I've still got that preternaturally flawless skin, just like your grandma.”

This time, she was the one chuckling. “And I'm still so jealous of you both for that. I got a little sunburned today on my nose while we were in Central Park.”

He mounted the treadmill and bumped up the speed to a brisk walk to warm up before he got busy on the muscle-building machines, since he wasn't wearing his jogging foot. “That sucks. What were you doing in Central Park? Tell me everything.” Then he settled into his walk, listening as she regaled him with stories of her, Kayla, and Presley's adventures.

This was his favorite way to cap off a day, going over it with her. The layers of work and stress peeled away, the expectations, the obligations, the forced fun and the burden of celebrity, with people watching his every move. Never mind that he'd be back to filming later that night and that he was still wearing stage makeup. When he was on the phone with Harper, he was just a regular guy again, shooting the shit with his best friend. Everyone should be so lucky as to have an anchor like her in their lives.

Kayla's last week in Destiny Falls flew by. Harper had no idea how time was passing so quickly all of a sudden, but ever since she'd made the choice to get the double mastectomy, her life had been a whirlwind of work, friends, and so much fun that she collapsed into bed every night content and exhausted.

Before she knew it, she was standing at the Buffalo airport with Duke and Donna, facing Kayla and trying to find the right words to say good-bye to her.

While she wrestled with what to say, Harper's phone rang. Brandon.

“Hey, did I get Kayla's flight time wrong? I tried her phone, but she didn't answer,” he said.

“No, she's here. Not sure what's up with her phone. Want me to get her for you?”

“Please.”

Kayla held Harper's phone to her ear, a smile spreading on her face as she listened. Her eyebrows crinkled and she mugged a precious face to Harper, mouthing, “He's so sweet.”

“There's no need to thank me for taking care of her,” she said into the phone.

Oh, sheesh. He hadn't actually said that to Kayla, had he? Lame.

“This is going to sound cliché,” Kayla said, “but she helped me as much as I helped her.”

Affection tightened Harper's throat for the young woman she'd come to think of as a little sister. She was right. They'd helped each other in so many ways. They'd been a great team. She gave her a gentle smack on the arm. “Don't get sentimental like that anymore. I'm already sad that you're leaving.”

Kayla smiled at Harper, but her eyes glinted with mischief. “Harper says she's really grateful for my help, too, but—what's that, Harper? Now that I'm leaving, she says you need to move back in and take care of her. Screw your stupid dating show, she says. I don't know why she can't be more supportive of you. Bitch.”

Harper jammed her finger into Kayla's rib and tickled her. “You are trouble, girl. Give me that phone back.”

Laughing, Harper and Kayla wrestled for control of the phone. Kayla was stronger and faster than Harper, but eventually took mercy on Harper and handed it over.

“Did you really thank Kayla for taking care of me? That was lame.”

“Yeah. She's been great. I've barely worried about you, with her being there.”

She wasn't quite sure why it made her feel prickly and defensive that he'd make a point of thanking Kayla, as if she weren't capable of taking care of herself. Instead, Harper should be focusing on what a sweet gesture it was and how much he clearly cared about her that he'd be worried. Probably some lingering shadow of resentment haunting her subconscious mind for him leaving her, even though that had been the best for both of them.

“Take a chill pill, surfboard,” Brandon said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Harper dropped into a chair. “I didn't say anything.”

“Didn't have to. You're pissed at me for implying you couldn't have taken care of yourself just fine.”

Harper snapped into perfect posture. Well, damn. He really did know her well. “I'm going to be great on my own now that she's leaving, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I've already got your other friends lined up to take turns babysitting you so you'll never have to be alone.”

“What?”

He snorted through his nose. “Kidding.”

She grinned despite herself. In the corner of her eye, she saw Kayla saying her farewells to her grandparents. “I'm going to go say good-bye to Kayla now, but I'll call you later.”

“Cool. I still have to give you the lowdown on last night's candle ceremony.”

The two of them hadn't been able to chat the night before. The candle ceremonies sometimes filmed late into the night, and Harper and her friends had taken Kayla out for one last hurrah on the town. “Another prospect bit the dust? Poor girl. You're such a dream killer.”

“This one had it coming.”

Most of them did, but this time, Harper knew exactly who he was referring to. “Ah. Savannah the cheerleader.”

“Yep. Bu-bye, Dramarama.”

It was a nickname Harper had given her, and she was a little sad they had to retire it now that she was gone. “You're down to twelve girlfriends. You can almost count them off on your fingers. That's going to be a milestone.”

He groaned. “I never thought I'd say this, but there are too many chicks in my life right now. I can barely remember all your names.”

“Don't lump me in with your TV girlfriends.”

“Sure, Helen. I mean, Harley. I mean, Surfboard, whatever your name is.” He gave a melodramatic groan. “Too many women . . .”

Her smile was so big that it ached, but she still managed an eye roll. How did she let him get away with calling her that? It was the most terrible nickname ever. “I've really got to go say good-bye to Kayla now so she has enough time to get through security before her flight.”

“Sounds good. I've got to jam, too. I'm taking my prospects on that group date to the VA hospital this afternoon, but you and I will talk more tonight, and I can't wait.” Those last three words were said in a quiet rumble of a voice that sent chill bumps over her arms and neck.

After the call ended, she cradled the phone in her hand and indulged in a shiver, then looked up to find Duke, Donna, and Kayla watching her. Ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks, Harper shrugged. “What?”

Kayla slung her duffel bag over her shoulder. “He's not going to end up with any of those bitches. He's going to come crawling back to you and I only wish I could be here to witness it.”

He won't.
“I don't want him to. We're just friends.”

Donna patted her shoulder. “Of course you are.”

Harper couldn't figure out how to formulate a reply that didn't fall into the
thou dost protest too much
category. “You know what I like? I like having Brandon in my life. And this is how I get to have him in my life. As a long-distance friend. Honestly, I've gotten to know him better in the last two months than I did in the five years he lived in Destiny Falls. And that's all I'm going to say about that.”

Duke clapped his hands. “Kayla, sweetie. Are you ready? I'm starting to get nervous about you getting to your flight on time.”

Kayla nodded. “I'm as ready as I'll ever be.”

Harper gathered her into a tight embrace. “You'll always have a room at my place. And I'm just a phone call away if you ever need me.”

“Thank you for everything.”

Kayla slid from Harper's arms right into Duke's.

“Bye, Grandpa, Grandma.”

Linked arm-in-arm with Duke and Donna, Harper watched Kayla ride the escalator up to the secure entrance level. At the top of the escalator, Kayla waved once, her youthful, hopeful smile beaming down on them. Harper wish she'd had the wherewithal to snap a photo of her like that, shining brightly that guileless, unjaded expression. She couldn't help but wonder if Kayla would be able to hang on to that or if the military would snuff the light inside her, as it had so many other soldiers before her.

Even if it did, Harper had learned a secret these past months about life, and she would be there to share it with Kayla someday. Even when people went through darkness, it was never too late to ignite a new light inside themselves. It was never too late to start again. Harper had, Brandon had and, God willing, if and when the time came, so would Kayla.

***

Brandon was in his swimsuit again. It seemed like every other episode they had him and the prospects half-naked and frolicking in the water. Today, he and his remaining five contestants had been treated to a private dinner party on a yacht featuring the latest celebrity chef, who had the misfortune of cooking for a boatful of models and wannabe starlets, most of whom—like Brandon—were on a strict diet. Brandon took note of who indulged in dessert, secretly admire them for being bold enough to eat cream puffs while being filmed in bikinis for national television.

Danielle and Winnie were among the indulgers, which was nice, since they were already on his short list of finalists. Jennifer had limited her on-air meals to lettuce, nibbling on it like a rabbit, but she was still the easiest contestant to talk to and often the first to laugh.

The weeks after Kayla left had passed for him in a blur of parties, women, and confessionals. The Fourth of July came and went. For the first year since Harper had bought the bar, she'd taken the holiday weekend off. He was so proud of her. She and Presley had rented one of Theo and Allison's houseboats for the weekend, which was a great idea. Brandon had always wanted to do that, too, and had to admit a flash of jealousy upon seeing the photograph she'd sent him that she was seizing on that particular adventure before he'd had a chance to.

As for his adventures, topping the list was riding in Miami's Independence Day parade on a float, which had been a great time. He'd worn his dress blues and stood, waving, along with a dozen or so other combat-wounded vets, on a patriotic float devoted to the nation's armed services.

Tonight, after the dinner cruise, Brandon and the five prospective brides were ushered from the boat dock into limousines for rides back to the main rental house the show was filmed at. From the limos, they shuffled into auxiliary trailers lined up next to the main rental house for makeup touchups before they filmed him bidding each of the prospects good-night at the mansion doorstep. Topping the night off would be confessionals for everyone involved, as usual.

While Yasmin the makeup lady touched up Brandon's face with powder, he looked at his phone. No texts from Harper, but an email invitation with the subject line
Harper Turns the Big 4-0!

Grinning, he waited until Yasmin was done with him, then opened the invitation as he headed for the craft services table on the side yard in search of food he could actually eat, as opposed to the celebrity yacht chef's buttery, carb-loaded offerings.

Harper Johnson is ready to celebrate her best year yet and all those yet to come!

She cordially invites you to be her honored guest at her fortieth birthday party this July 31st at Lock, Stock & Barrel. 7:00 pm. No gifts, please, except the gift of your presence.

His shoes squeaked against the flagstone flooring as he ground to a halt. She'd scheduled her birthday party for the night of his final candle ceremony—the proposal ceremony. If she'd waited two more nights to host her party, then he could've been there to celebrate with her. What had she been thinking?

Shaking his head and royally irritated, he navigated to his texting app.
Got your party invitation. Can't you put it off a few more days so I can come?

He stood, waiting for her reply, but his phone was silent.

He could imagine what her party at Locks would be like. His friends would all be there, as well as hers, with everyone joking and having a great time. Harper would be holding court with her bright smile and easy laughter, the belle of the ball.

Lucinda found him staring at the email invite again. “There you are. It's time.”

The contestants had been re-loaded into the limo, which idled on the street in front of the house while one of the assistant directors instructed Brandon on his choreography.

“Hey, if you feel like it, this would be a great opportunity to kiss them good-night,” Lucinda interjected.

Right.

With the cameras rolling, the limo pulled into the driveway and stopped at a point in which the house's front door was in full view. If he kissed any of the ladies, the rest would be able to see. Probably, Mac was in the limo with the camera rolling, hoping to capture the other prospects' reactions to the kisses.

God, it was all so fake, so forced. How could people watch this crap?

When he opened the limo door, Winnie was the first to step out. He liked Winnie more with each episode. She was a veterinary student and on the younger side, but she'd shown genuine compassion and interest in the veterans at the VA hospital. He could kiss her tonight and it wouldn't be a big deal. She was cute and kissable, like they all were. He'd kissed scores of women in his life. Hundreds, probably.

When they stopped at the front door, fully illuminated by the porch light as well as the film crew's lights, Brandon used his back as a shield and angled Winnie so that the other women in the limo wouldn't be able to see whether or not he kissed her.

“They're watching,” he told her.

She giggled. “No doubt.”

In that moment, he felt like his old self again, the smooth operator without a care in the world except making the most out of life. He looked at Winnie's glossy lips. Not bad. Definitely kissable. “Should we give them something to look at?”

She bit her lower lip, seductive, her big eyes turning saucer-round and beguiling.

His pocket vibrated. Harper had finally bothered to text him back. Took her long enough.

Bending over Winnie, his lips parted as he moved in for the kiss. Then she whimpered, and he couldn't get it out of his head how eerily familiar the sound was to the whimper that Harper had given the night he'd taken her up against the wall at the Iceplex. Damn it all, he didn't want to think about Harper right now. He didn't want to think about how he'd done her wrong that night by hurrying, how it might have changed everything between them if he'd slowed down and made love to her the right way.

He cradled the side of Winnie's head and brushed a seductive, lingering kiss to her cheek.

This time, she pouted, clearly wanting more from him than that.

His phone vibrated again.
Shit.

“Good night, Winnie. Thanks for another amazing day. I'll see you at the candle ceremony tomorrow.”

With another, more exaggerated pout and a little wave of her fingers, Winnie slipped inside the house and closed the door behind her.

“That was good. Nice touch with the angle,” Lucinda said.