“Wait,” I say. “I don’t understand.”
Hanna shrugs. “There’s nothing to understand.”
“No, I think there’s a lot to understand. He asks you on a date, and he also says his viewers are shipping you guys and he wants to—” I crook my fingers hard into air quotes— “give them a window. Is he asking you out? Or is he asking you to act a part? And why is this not making your head spin?”
We’re the last two people at Wilder HQ tonight, because we told Bear we’d pull the group gear together for the next workshop.
Hanna has just filled me on Bear’s invitation to her, and I’m…
Pissed.
“I really don’t get what your beef is, E. He was clear. He was very straightforward. He said I’m beautiful. That he wanted to get to know me better.”
I can’t see her face because she’s digging in one of the big plastic storage totes, looking for a lightweight pot. But I don’t have to look at her to tell she’s blushing fiercely. I can hear it in the way she says the word beautiful, and it makes me want to yank the entire tote out of her hands, force her to look at me, and tell her exactly what I think of Bear’s plan to film their date. To turn a special night with Hanna into a spectacle.
Hanna is zero bullshit. You don’t come at her with… with this.
“Does Gabe know?” I demand.
“I gave him a heads up that I was going out with Bear.” She unfolds herself from the container, triumphant, holding the pot aloft. “He said as long as it was fine with me, it wasn’t his business, since Bear’s not an employee. And,” she shrugs, “he said that it would probably be good publicity for Wilder.”
“Okay, how is that fair?” I howl. “When I flirt on trips, it’s a distraction. When you flirt on trips, it’s a business plan.”
“What is wrong with you?” Hanna demands. With more force than necessary, she shoves the pot into a duffel. “This has nothing to do with me flirting or anything. This is about Bear being interested in me and wanting to explore things.”
I hate the word explore. I hate it with the power of a thousand fiery suns. I especially hate the way Hanna just said it, dripping with suggestion, conjuring up images of Hanna and Bear doing dirty deeds in their shared tent in the woods.
“He’s using you,” I burst out, before I can think better of it.
Hanna’s mouth flattens, and I instantly regret my words. Because deep down, I know I’m being a complete, irrational, asshole. What Bear has proposed is a little… unconventional… but in truth, I think his intentions are probably mostly pure. He just wants to get to know Hanna better—and his life happens to be carried out in the spotlight.
I think the likelihood is high that he has feelings for Hanna and wants to follow them to their logical conclusion.
And I just totally and completely rained on Hanna’s parade because—
“You’re just jealous.” She accuses me, then folds her arms and stares me down—and I can’t take it. I look away, the accusation settling like in my gut like…
Like the truth.
This is it. I can deny it like my life depends on it, or I can look her straight in the eye and admit that she’s right.
I think about when I was out with my brothers at Oscar’s and we were talking about whether I’ve been picking the “wrong” women. I’d told them I didn’t think there was a right woman for me, that I’d never felt like there was something or someone out there that I needed but couldn’t find.
It was the truth. But maybe only a partial truth. And right now, finally, I admit to myself that the other half of the truth has been trying to get my attention for days. Ever since Bear Warden walked into the Wilder offices and Hanna Hott blushed.
There isn’t something out there that I need but can’t find.
There’s something closer to home that I didn’t know I wanted until it was…
Jesus. Until it was too late.
I take a deep breath. “You’re ri—”
Hanna smacks a hand onto the flat plastic top of one of the totes. “You’re jealous because Bear wants to put me on camera, and he hasn’t said word one to you about putting you on camera. And you’re the one who wants the job from him.”
My mouth is still open, the words caught in my throat.
“I know you want this job, Easton. I totally get it. But I want this guy.”
Her voice pleads with me.
Hanna is pleading.
And what kind of selfish asshole takes this long to figure his shit out, and then jumps in and wrecks things for two good people?
Not me.
I take a deep breath.
I get my head on straight.
“You’re right, Han. I was being a dick. I’m sorry.”
“Good,” she says. “Glad you know it. Because I need your help with something.”
I pause with a Ziploc bag of oats in my hands. “Sure,” I say. “What do you need my help with?”
She probably wants to know what I think she should wear. Or maybe whether I think she should let him pay or offer to split the check.
“Kissing practice,” she says.