Free My Bachelor by Tess Oliver Page B

stepped in earlier by telling her she was probably every guy’s best friend in school.
    “I’m off at four today, and I need to study for a few hours before I head to my second job.”
    “Second job? Damn, El, when do you have time to breathe?”
    “In between chapters and while the cameras are rolling and my bachelor is busy doing other things.”
    “ Your bachelor?”
    She blushed. “You know what I mean.”
    “Not really but I sort of like the way it sounds. Where is your second job?”
    “I’m a cocktail waitress at a place called Sparky’s.”
    “I know it. It’s just a few miles from the studio. Why don’t you study at the house instead of going home? I will make you dinner. I can actually cook.”
    “See? And you thought it was all about the hair.” Her phone beeped again. She waved down to her friend, Jackson. “I suppose if you need someone to bounce ideas off of, I could step in as your wall.”
    “Great.”
    “I’ve got to go.” I watched her as she walked away.
    “By the way,” I called to her.
    She stopped and her sparkling eyes flashed my direction, temporarily short circuiting my thought. Then seeing her face jarred my memory.
    “I would never marry someone who wasn’t my best friend.”
    A glimmer of a smile curled her lips before she turned around and headed toward the picnic set.

Chapter 9
    Eliot
    Rafe met me at the front door with a package of spaghetti noodles in one hand and a jar of sauce in the other. “Spaghetti is a specialty of mine.” He looked at the jar. “With a little help from Mama Petrillo and her basil, parmesan sauce.”
    I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the giant, rather intimidating and incredibly handsome man standing with a box of noodles and a jar of marinara. I walked past him. “Then you won’t mind if I finish annotating this last chapter while you toil over the hot stove with Mama Petrillo. Oh, and I need you to write me a list of things you want.”
    He shut the door and followed me into the front room. “I don’t need anything.”
    I dropped my textbook on the couch. “Come on, you must need something. The studio has a big budget set aside just for the star of the show. The other bachelors were more demanding. They had Jackson running around like a mad man. I need something to do or the studio will think this job only needs to be part-time. I can’t lose hours.”
    “You’re here right now to help me get a better sense of what I’m doing on the show. So I’ve got you working overtime, as far as I can tell. Now study and I’ll cook. How long until you have to get ready for your next job?”
    “I’ll have to leave in an hour. Fortunately, I’ve been too busy to take my laundry out of the backseat of my car. I’ll have to change into my Sparky’s uniform , and I use the term lightly.”
    Rafe squinted one eye in thought. “Sparky’s, hmm, let me think.” He pointed at me with the box of spaghetti. “Black shorts and—uh—a pink tank top.”
    I shook my head. “Nope.”
    “Can’t believe I forgot that. But then I haven’t been there in at least a year. How long have you been working at Sparky’s?”
    “Eight months.”
    “That explains why I never saw you there.” The noodles shook in the box as he waved it at me again. “Not pink. Turquoise.” I felt my cheeks warm as he gazed at my face. “Like your eyes.”
    “My eyes aren’t turquoise.”
    “No, you’re right. They are aqua. And, frankly, they are like none I’ve ever seen.”
    He walked to the kitchen and put down the spaghetti.
    I brushed over the comment about my eyes, reminding myself that I was still just Eliot and that Rafe had more than a dozen beautiful women waiting for him to propose marriage. Or at least I supposed that was the case. There had been a few seasons where the bachelor didn’t win the hearts and minds of all the contestants, but I’d seen nothing like that this season. From rumors floating around the set, the women in the