“Alice. And don’t worry about it.”
She releases my hand and I instantly miss the soft, warm feel of her skin on mine. As she walks over to the bags that flew from her arms, she limps slightly. I cringe, knowing her knee hurts and it’s my fault.
“Here, let me,” I say as she bends to pick up a bag.
I hurry over and get it for her. It’s heavy as shit and looks like it has glass bottles of water in it. There’s a plastic sack on the ground that was underneath the other one, and I hand her the lighter one, keeping the heavy one in my hand.
She opens the sack and takes out a brown paper container that’s smashed flat. When she flips the lid up, she groans and glares at me.
“Great,” she says in a sulky tone. “There’s no way she’s eating that.”
“I’ll replace it.”
Her eyes widen with frustration. “Can you replace it within five minutes? She’s already hangry.”
“It’s only...” I glance at the container. “Two pieces of sushi. Or it was, I guess. Now it’s more like pureed sushi.”
My grin gets me nowhere with Alice. She ignores me and reaches for the other bag on the ground.
“And the lavender is smashed, too.” She looks at me, her eyes narrowed in a death glare.
“I’ll replace it all,” I assure her. “But first, we need to figure out what’s going on with your knee. There’s a doctor on call. Let me figure out how to reach him.”
“Hey, Lorenzo!” JP calls out from the other side of the lawn. “We’re supposed to get inside for a meeting with the producers!”
“You go ahead!”
“You’re not coming?”
“I’ll get there when I can!”
I can’t just leave Alice here by herself. I’m texting a production assistant about reaching the doctor the producers have on call when I notice her walking away from me, still limping.
“Hey, wait,” I call out.
“Just find someone to leave the water in the kitchen for me.” She turns back to look at me, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “I have to go get more sushi and lavender.”
“No, let me do that.”
Her lips curve up in a smile. “Trust me, you won’t get the sushi order right. And you’re a contestant on the show. You can’t just leave.”
I sigh, aggravated. Even though I must look like a douchebag to her right now, I’m actually not. I don’t knock women to the ground and leave them injured and alone.
“Let me Door Dash the stuff.”
She turns around and starts walking again. “That won’t work.”
“At least let me pay you for it!”
Alice calls over her shoulder. “It’s Farrah’s money. Don’t worry about it.”
She has to be talking about Farrah Reed. Maybe Alice is one of the show’s production assistants.
“Dalton!” Ben, who definitelyisa production assistant for the show, is waving me over to the house’s main entrance.
I look back at Alice again and then jog over to Ben.
“They’re waiting on you so they can start the meeting,” he says.
