Fever dream

CHAPTER 19

Julia

Theo

Honestly, Jules. Can you tell me ANYTHING? What about the title? I’ve been deep diving online, searching for clues, and reading fan theories. But it’s a brand-new show, and there’s zero information.

Julia

You need a hobby.

Theo

It’s the offseason. I’m bored. Have pity on me, sis!

Julia

You’re a

Theo

I tried!

Theo

But she gave me that hot, grumpy look she does and told me to stop trying to make another baby. Apparently, it’s “too soon.”

Julia

Too much information, Thee.

Theo

I told her we could practice so that when the time is right, we’ll basically be professional.

Julia

I genuinely do not want to know this.

Theo

I’ll stop if you tell me SOMETHING.

Julia

Something.

The view from the top of Prickle Point is as beautiful as I remember. Emmett did not lead me astray with this suggestion. It’s the perfect spot for the show to film. As the crew buzzes around, arranging the set, their excited energy filling the air, I’m more puffed up than I have any right to be.

Glowing reference from Executive Producer Richard Wadsworth, here I come.

Ben, our director of photography, sidles up next to me, arms crossed while gazing out over the valley with a smile. “Your pictures didn’t do this spot justice.”

I grin and nod. “Well, Emmett suggested it. I just went digging.”

“It’s definitely the perfect spot for a romantic date,” Ben says dryly before his gaze lands on where Emmett stands. Richard is talking at him, hands flailing at a rapid pace as he explains… whatever he’s explaining. He carries on, moving around the space, acting out how he wants the scene to go.

“Dick Wad’s really micromanaging this one, huh?” Ben says, not bothering to keep the disdain from creeping into his voice.

I turn slowly in his direction, trying not to laugh at the joke. “Wait, do you call him Dick Wad too?”

The man slides his gaze to me. “Girl, we all call him Dick Wad. Because he is one. Why do you think your predecessor marched away from this gig without a backward glance?”

“Wait, really? I thought she got another job.”

Ben tilts his head, giving me a come-now sort of look. “Yeah, maybe one day. When he decides to take her off his Hollywood blacklist for leaving us with a last-minute opening.”

My mouth opens, but no words emerge for several beats. I was the last-minute hire? All I can think to say is, “I had no idea.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll be fine.” He pats my shoulder and traipses away, chuckling to himself, like I’ve said something fu

With Ben gone, I try to refocus. He said I’ll be fine, and I’m sure that I will. Still, I stand facing out, my back toward the trees so that I don’t take a dazed tumble into a pile of cacti. I refuse to make that same mistake twice.

Last time, this spot was perfectly peaceful. This time, the crew spreads out, placing lights and microphones while setting up a picnic on a red-and-white-checkered blanket. I watch them place a wicker basket filled with snacks in the center, then a bouquet of flowers, and a bottle of chilled champagne.

It’s supposed to appear to audiences that Emmett went out of his way to set this up. But I know he’s had no hand in it. He’s too busy being coached by Richard.

For a beat, his eyes flash to mine so quickly that I doubt anyone else would notice. He turns his attention back to the showru

It confuses me. He confuses me.

When I first found out Emmett was going to be the bachelor on Romance Ranch, my first thought was, Of course he would. He’d be perfect for this.

But that was before I knew him.

That was before I’d had a taste of his biting humor or witnessed the streak of tenderness beneath all the hard edges.

There’s no denying that Emmett has been known to get around. But what I’ve learned is that doesn’t preclude him from also being thoughtful and honest and dedicated. And in recent weeks, I’ve made peace with the fact that both versions of him can exist at once.

I’ve also learned that he doesn’t readily share every part of himself. Except with me—or so it would seem. Outwardly, he’s closed off and wrapped up. But when we’re one-on-one, his layers unfurl, and I always look forward to finding out more about who he really is.

That curiosity pulls me closer as I edge along the tree line, eavesdropping on what Richard is saying to him.

“So they’re all going to come up here, right?” Richard’s excitement is palpable, where Emmett’s is… not. His arms are crossed, his tongue popping into his cheek—something I now recognize as a telltale sign that he’s holding back from saying what’s on his mind.

“Right up here, right up the path. And they’re going to come here,” Richard continues, oblivious to the way Emmett’s jaw works as he keeps talking. “And then they’re going to see this beautiful picnic that you’ve set up for one lucky lady.”

“Okay, and what have I set up for them?”

“Pfft. You know. All the stuff chicks love. Champagne, cheese, berries, chocolate—they say it’s an aphrodisiac, you know?” He adds a sleazy wink. “And you just have to sit here and chitchat with this girl like she’s going to be the mother of your children one day.”

Emmett grimaces, and I stifle a laugh.

“Any thoughts on which girl you’re going to choose?”

Emmett’s head tips back and forth in consideration. “I was thinking—”

“Evelyn, right?” Richard provides firmly. It’s phrased as a question, but everyone on set knows he isn’t asking.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Just from reading Emmett’s body language, I can tell Evelyn is not who he was going to say.

“Good call,” Richard says before Emmett can get a word in edgewise. But I don’t miss the way he sighs as his shoulders slump forward slightly. “She’s perfect,” Richard forges ahead, not picking up on his bachelor’s feelings. Or he is, and he just doesn’t care. That seems more likely.

“There’s already tension behind the scenes in the bunkhouse with her and the girls. When they walk up here and see the picnic you laid out? All with Evelyn in mind? Ka-boom!” Dick Wad’s arms go wide as he reenacts an explosion. “Just like that, we’ve got ourselves great TV.”

He slaps Emmett on the shoulder like the friends they are not. And it’s clear he’s not at all in the business of helping people meet each other. He might as well be producing a soap opera as far as I’m concerned.

“Is that… what we want?” Emmett doesn’t sound convinced.

Richard barks out a laugh. “Of course, it’s what we want. We want ratings. We want drama. We want catfights.”

I stifle a groan, because that is not what we want. My recent research on reality dating shows tells me that Richard is an old-school producer, focused on creating trash TV. I know there are newer, more progressive sets that encourage healthy communication and let real relationships unfold. Ones where they have psychologists on set. Sometimes, nothing happens in an entire episode except two people getting to know each other. Some of these shows even have a reasonable success rate, with couples who go on to get married, have children, or live whatever their version of happily ever after looks like.

But Romance Ranch isn’t going to be one of them.

“To be honest with you, Richard, I wasn’t pla

“Bah,” he waves him off. “It’s just one date. She’ll get the ball rolling. Just think, whichever girl you’re into is going to see Evelyn getting your attention, and she’s going to step up her game. She’s going to want it even more.”

This time, Emmett doesn’t bother hiding the look of distaste on his face. “Are you recommending that I gaslight a girl into liking me more?”

“Call it what you want. I know this strategy works. I’ve used it a few times myself. Solid success rate guaranteed.”

Richard throws his head back in laughter, as if he enjoys messing with people’s lives and sanity. Once he catches his breath, his tone turns serious once more.

“And stop being such a fucking prude, Emmett. When the lighting’s right and the sun’s getting low, do me a solid and kiss the girl, all right?”

Emmett doesn’t respond, but the muscle in his jaw flexes as he stares down his nose at the older man. When Richard leaves him, Emmett’s eyes meet mine.

And then he winces before turning away, as if it hurts to look at me.

He chooses Evelyn.

My stomach sinks hard and fast when I hear him speak her name. And based on the other daters’ reactions, they aren’t impressed either. Akira and Catherine had turned to whisper into each other’s ears. And the look that Jada shot Richard was one of skepticism—one that tells me the other women might be more aware than he’s giving them credit for.

As for me? I’m torn.

On one hand, I’m horrified Richard pressured Emmett into this. On the other hand, I’m glad he chose her. This farm means everything to his family, and if playing along means they get the paycheck they desperately need to keep it all afloat, then how could I ever judge him?

I’d do the same for my mom or brother.

Fierce loyalty. We have that in common. And where other people may not understand his dedication to this cause, I do.

It doesn’t mean that standing here watching them sit on a picnic blanket making small talk feels great, though. Evelyn puts on a show for the camera, toasting champagne with a knowing glance, licking her lips as she stares at Emmett’s mouth.

Standing beneath a tree, I watch as she rubs his knee and tells him it seems like he needs some help releasing “all that tension.” As though people carry sexual tension in their knees.

To Emmett’s credit, he doesn’t return her affection. He plays his part, but his eyes have shuttered.

They talk, but it’s all surface level. He explains what his day-to-day life on the farm looks like and how it differs from being on the road, traveling from rodeo to rodeo for months on end to chase points. Hoping and praying you accrue enough to qualify you for the WBRF finals.

I’ve seen my brother do it. It’s a tough life. The injuries are perpetual. The risk is endless. Your family’s worry? Constant.