Fever dream

CHAPTER 18

Emmett

Richard

Where the FUCK do you think you disappeared to last night? We had the perfect setup. All you needed to do was be at your house. But according to Teri, you’ve been gone all night.

Emmett

Sorry. I had plans.

Richard

This show isn’t a chance for you to turn into Houdini or to sneak out and visit a side piece. We need you on set. Working.

Emmett

I didn’t know I was required to stay in my house all night. I must have missed that in the contract.

Richard

I suggest you pull out your contract and read up on all the reasons I can fire you while you’re at it. Dating anyone outside the girls I’ve provided you for the show is a breach. We’ve got world-class lawyers. Your next payment could easily be your last.

I must be high on caffeine or delirious from lack of sleep because I am sitting in the passenger seat of Julia Silva’s car on my way to taking her to family breakfast.

After Richard’s worked-up texts this morning, we decided it would be better if we didn’t get spotted at her house together. So now I’m sitting here like a lovesick puppy dog waiting for her to clean up and get ready for breakfast with my family.

And true to form, I practically pant when she walks out of the front doors of her high-rise apartment building.

She’s not even dressed up. She’s wearing fucking overalls. Light-wash denim overalls with a white tank top and a pair of pearlescent Birkenstocks.

What really gets me is her hair, though. Dark and shiny as always, but today it’s a loose mess of curls that makes me want to run my fingers through it—not her typical poker-straight or slicked-back look.

When she hops into the car and turns to buckle her seat belt, I’m hit with a whiff of her shampoo. It smells floral but something a little smokier—maybe eucalyptus. For some reason, the scent makes perfect sense. Julia doesn’t strike me as the sugary type. Something a little stronger, a little more sensual, suits her just fine.

“Thanks for waiting,” she says breathlessly. “I was as fast as I could be. Didn’t have time to do more than diffuse my hair, though.”

She starts the car and shoulder checks. I swallow as I drink in her profile.

Never do anything else with your hair again is what I want to say. But I clamp that thought down and settle on giving her a casual shrug to go with my “No worries.”

Spending the night hanging on her every word in a throwback fifties diner is bad enough. Bringing her to family breakfast when I know said family is going to get the wrong idea might be even worse. But complimenting her on how good she looks seems like a step down a slippery fucking slope. Especially considering that my job for the next five weeks is to—at the very least—act like I’m falling in love with one of the contestants on the show.

When we pull up to my oma and opa’s house, Julia slips her car into park and turns to eye me warily.

“Are there cameras here too?” She peers beyond me as though she might see a crew member jump out from behind a shrub.

“No,” I assure her. “The cameras start at the bunkhouse and go back toward my cabin. The main house and the stables are only for certain scenes. Kind of figured you’d know that.”

She nods. “Well, I know where we’re shooting from day-to-day, but following the security footage isn’t part of my job description. Threw me for a loop when I walked into the trailer where the cameras had picked Evelyn up.”

The sight of her waltzing toward my house last night like she owned the damn place had set me on edge as well. Evelyn, presumptuous, snarky to the other women, and too eager to do whatever the producers ask. Richard wants me to keep her around, and I want to keep Richard off my ass, but her presence still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

And based on the small wrinkle that’s popped up across the bridge of Julia’s nose, I suspect she feels the same.

“You’re safe here, Julia. There’s no way I could have asked my grandparents to let me do the show on the farm if it involved cameras in their home. This place is a safe haven. Oma and Opa will be thrilled to have you.”

She shoots me a grateful smile before slapping the tops of her legs with a bright “All right, let’s go then,” opening her car door, and waltzing up to the front of the house.

Me? I take my time getting out of the car. I watch Julia so closely that it slows me down.

I’ve never brought a woman here. In fact, I’ve avoided it at all costs. Have never felt inclined to invite someone else in. Hell, the mere sight of Evelyn walking up to my cottage made me flee.

Which is why I’m stuck grappling with why the sight of Julia walking up to my family home doesn’t set me on edge in the slightest.

“You came… together?” Opa asks, brows plastered high on his forehead as Julia fidgets beside me.

“Yep,” is all I say back.

For a beat, everyone stares like I’m an extinct species come back to life. And part of me can’t blame them.

Luckily, they use their brains and don’t make a show of my unusual behavior beyond that first moment of shock. Within seconds, my family is back to the chaotic hustle and bustle of our typical Sunday breakfast.

I swear I can feel Julia’s relief when the attention shifts away from us. Like she feared there was going to be a special initiation she’d have to endure just to be allowed to stay.

The look she shoots me before moving into the kitchen borders on bashful, laced with giddy disbelief. And I feel the exact same way. We’ve spent almost twelve straight hours together, and I’m just exhausted enough to be borderline punch-drunk.

Conversation picks back up and moves away from me and her. Evan cooks with Oma like he always does, the two of them chattering away at the rest of us as we sip coffee around the island.

He talks about donating his farrier services to the local SPCA due to a recent neglect seizure of several horses.

“They were in awful shape but so sweet. Tough to see, but at least they have perfect feet now. Here—” He turns away from the pan of bacon to show us a selfie he snapped of himself with a bedraggled-looking draft horse. In the photo, Evan is pressing a kiss against its big round cheekbone, and despite the horse’s hardships, his ears are tipped forward and there’s a hopeful glint to his eye.

The entire kitchen—even Opa—goes “aww” because this is so Evan. With tattoos that crawl up his neck and over the tops of his hands, he looks intimidating. But really, he’s a big bleeding heart with a biting sense of humor. It’s probably why there’s always a lineup of women hoping he’ll look their way.

But he never does. Not since his marriage crumbled.

“I should reach out,” Parker says thoughtfully, eyes still fixed on the photo of our brother. “Maybe one of them could be a good companion horse for the weanlings.”

“Totally,” Riley agrees, swiping a piece of bacon out of the pan and then hissing like she’s surprised by its hot temperature.

“Girl, sometimes your complete lack of self-preservation boggles my mind,” Opa grumbles as he watches Riley try to shove it in her mouth like it will be less hot that way. “Go set the table and try not to juggle the knives while you do.”

Riley picks up a knife like she’s about to throw it in the air, but not before Oma reaches over her shoulder and disarms her.

Julia snorts an adorable laugh, eyes twinkling with mirth as she watches the madness of a Brandt family breakfast unfold before her. “I’ll help set the table and be there to patch Riley up if she stabs herself.”

“My hero!” Riley calls out as she rifles through the cutlery drawer.

Opa works on another pot of coffee—the last thing I need—and Evan and Oma get to the eggs and French toast. Which leaves Parker and me watching in a companionable silence. Something she and I both enjoy with each other on a somewhat regular basis.

Except today. Today she has to be snoopy and ruin it.

“How’s the show going?” she asks, with one raised eyebrow—not bothering to hide her scrutiny.

I pretend I don’t hear her. I don’t want to talk about the show. I want to live in this happy bubble, surrounded by my favorite people.

Julia and Riley chatter away as they set the table. I love my youngest sister, but she’s a bad influence. I’d hate to see what kind of trouble she and Julia could get into. And I find myself straining to hear what they’re saying.

“There’s this guy… total gentleman… another barn nearby… I’ll set it up…” Riley’s voice fades in and out every time she turns away, but it sounds like they’re talking about men and dates. Something that makes me want to walk over there to find out more.

Julia said she hasn’t been dating, but what if she’s looking to start? Then Riley would be the absolute worst new friend for her to have because she’s a fucking man-eater.

And I mean that in the most respectful way possible. Because I love it for Riley. I never have to worry about her taking some guy’s shit, because she kicks them to the curb for the smallest transgressions. I almost feel bad for a guy when I hear she’s seeing one.

“Emmett!” Parker elbows me with one bony jab to the ribs, startling me upright from where I’m propped against the kitchen counter.

“Jesus, Parks, you didn’t have to go in so hard. That’s go

“Sorry,” she singsongs, completely unapologetic. “Just saving my brother from gawking at a girl in front of his family like he’s never seen a member of the opposite sex before.”

I scoff. “Very fu

“Just what?” she prods with a playful tone. “Just making sure they were setting the table correctly?”

I roll my shoulders, trying not to think about Julia going on a date with some fancy equestrian douchebag that my sister knows. “Riley struggles with structure, you know that. Can’t have her putting the knives on the left when we have company over.”

Parker scoffs. “Yeah, Riley, who’s on the path toward becoming an Olympic athlete, struggles with structure.”

“You know what I mean. She’s a bit of a loose ca

Parker chuckles at that, watching our little sister with admiration twinkling in her eyes. “Takes a special brand of crazy to gallop an animal with flight-instinct around a field, over jumps as tall and wide as you.”

I can’t help but grin because, yeah, Riley’s badass.

Now I get another sharp elbow. “Not so different from someone who thinks riding angry bulls for fun is a good idea.”

“Don’t rain on our parade, Parker. You get your kicks from fixing things. We get our kicks from breaking things. Like hearts.”