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Had she blocked that conversation out because she’d wanted to hold on to the fantasy that someway, somehow they’d end up together? Was she seriously that delusional?
“Did you see his dragon, Mama?” Jacob asked, snapping her out of her mini existential crisis.
That question piqued her mother’s interest who looked up from the romance novel she’d been reading. “Yeah, Mama, did you see hisdragon?”
Her son’s query was innocent. Her mom’s, not so much. The answer to both was yes.
Ignoring the question completely, she redirected the conversation. “It’s late. Time to brush your teeth, J.”
Her son’s head fell back in a loud groan. “But I’msohungry. Can we have breakfast?”
It was no secret that Avery suffered from a bad case of mom guilt for the long hours she worked. Because of that, she’d started a special, once-in-a-blue-moon tradition of having breakfast at bedtime. Not often, maybe four times a year, if Jacob was up when she got home from a late day, and he requested breakfast, she would whip up pancakes, waffles or whatever his sweet little heart desired.
She knew that she didn’t have any fixings in the carriage house, but she could head to the main kitchen where she was sure there were the ingredients she needed.
“Come on,” she held out her hand and Jacob smiled widely as he took it. Avery glanced over her shoulder at her mom before leaving the cottage. “Do you want anything?”
“No, darlin’, I’m stuffed full from that chicken pot pie.” Her mom patted her flat stomach. “Gotta watch my figure.”
Jacob put on his sneakers, and she slipped into her flip-flops before heading out into the night. The moonlight illuminated the path from the carriage house to the staff entrance of the main kitchen. She glanced up at the dark, inky sky and was momentarily transfixed by the bright stars dotting the inky background.
There just weren’t skies like this in Los Angeles, or at least, not that were visible through the thick layer of pollution.
It was a sky like this that she and Keaton had spent their first and only night together under. They’d gone up to the roof of the keep to have pizza and watch the sunset and ended up staying until sunrise. They’d laughed, talked, and danced. She’d thought he was going to kiss her, she’d wanted him to, but he hadn’t. Not that night.
He didn’t kiss her for a week, but when he did… Well, let’s just say it was definitely worth the wait.
Being back here after so many years was strange. It felt like no time had passed since she’d explored the castle for the first time wide-eyed and naïve at what it would take to not only renovate it but also run it as a business. But it also felt like she’d lived several lifetimes in the years since she’d returned to California.
“Okay, we have to be quiet,” she instructed her son as she unlocked the back door.
“Okay, Mama,” he whispered and then tiptoed in.
She opened the freezer as Jacob climbed on one of the stools next to the large prep island. “Can we see if Keaton wants breakfast?”
“No,” she snapped back.
She hadn’t meant to, but the thought of Keaton seeing her like this, with her hair up in a wild bun, dark circles under her eyes, and oversized sweats made her jumpy. Even though she’d just remembered one of his cardinal dating rules meant there was no chance anything could happen between them, she still didn’t want him seeing her like this. Thankfully, she knew that the men were being sequestered in the north tower.
There’d be no reason for him to come down to the main kitchen. If he wanted anything to eat or drink, he’d go to the restaurant attached to the spa, which was where craft services was set up.
Plus, production was taking the sequestering of the cast very seriously. She didn’t think they had armed guards at the doors, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they did.
She was safe in the back of the castle. There would not be a Keaton Savage sighting tonight.
* * *
Keaton stared up at the slats of the bed above him as he listened to a snoring symphony. Vic, Harlan, and Elijah were all very loud sleepers. If only one person was sawing logs, perhaps Keaton would be able to tune it out, but the cacophony of logs being sawed was too much to ignore. He shifted on the twin mattress so that one ear was plastered against his pillow and his hand covered the other one in an attempt to drown out the sound.
It didn’t work.
Keaton had never considered himself a diva, but he had to admit he was not thrilled with the sleeping arrangements. Besides the snoring, the room was around eighty degrees. The pillows were flat. The sheets and comforter were scratchy. And the mattress was hard.
He missed his Nest thermostat being set at sixty-eight degrees. He missed his 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. He missed his Brooklinen mid-plush down pillows. He missed his king-sized, memory foam Tempur-Pedic bed. But more than any of those things, he missed his growling, five-pound bed hog. He wanted to go home.
His only hope was that he’d be voted out at the first elimination.
Giving up on sleep altogether, he pushed out of the bed and pulled on his sweats. His feet were light as he made his way quietly out of the room, hoping not to disturb anyone, including the PA/handlers asleep in the next room. They were under strict orders not to leave their designated ‘zone’ which included the bunk room and bathroom and their dressing room. If they needed anything the protocol was to alert one of the PAs and they’d take care of it.
