Authors: Carrie Aarons
I
had originally said
no when Chuck and Mitchell approached me to be the next Mr. Right.
It had been about three months since I'd broken up with Leighton, I was in a hell of a state, and the last thing I was thinking about was finding love again. Hell, I was cursing the female sex each and every day I woke up.
But they're weasels, manipulators, its what they do for a living. They snagged me, dragged me into this season with the promise of fun and love and hot women. In the back of my mind I was thinking, "She'll probably be watching. What better revenge than falling in love with another woman in the exact setting, the exact way I'd fallen in love with her."
I never in my life thought I would be struggling not to look at Leighton Aldridge in the front row of the Charm Ceremony on my season of Mr. Right. Guess that meant I shouldn't trust or listen to Chuck and Mitchell as much as I had. Not that I ever really did.
It was so tempting to flick my gaze to her where she stood in that tempting yellow dress. I swore I could hear her curves whispering my name.
But no. Now that she was here, she could watch me fall in love with one of these other women in person. Which was even better than if she was watching on TV. She'd have to observe me bond, flirt and kiss these other ladies, and that revenge made my blood tingle with sweet anticipation. It served her right for what she had done to me.
My hands were slippery and I could feel the click of my prosthesis as I jiggled my leg. I was nervous standing up here in front of this pack of gorgeous females. I couldn't believe I was actually on the distributing end of the Charm Ceremony. I remember standing exactly where they were on my season, when Jillian Dupont was Mrs. Right. I remember not breathing until she called my name and presented me with a link to complete my watch.
We'd been given the time piece at the beginning of the season, but had to receive a link each week to symbolize our time committed to Jillian. The winner completed his watch in that final episode, and if Mrs. Right was lucky, he'd get down on one knee and present her a gorgeous piece of jewelry. That winner just wasn't me.
But I was happy for Jillian and Harry, who were on their way to a walk down the aisle. They were right for each other, and it opened the door for me to experience other things this franchise had to offer.
I stared down at the 20 glistening heart charms laid on the platter next to me. The men on Mrs. Right all got links for their watch. The women on Mr. Right all received charms for their bracelet. The first episode charm was always a heart, to "open our hearts to love" or some kind of bullshit like that. I really should have been taking this seriously, but Leighton's presence had unnerved me.
I glanced up at the girls, some who were fidgeting, others who looked close to tears, and two that were so drunk they could barely stand. Yeah, I knew production was making me keep one of them for ratings.
I'd had a good conversation with the girl in the purple, Erin I think her name is. She'd told about how she was a teacher, elementary if I remembered correctly, and hailed from a suburb in Illinois. She seemed down to earth, and I could see an instant spark with her. So I called her name first.
After she smiled, and the other girls glowered at her, she walked towards me elegantly.
"Erin, will you accept this charm?" I held it out to her, waiting for her inevitable yes to hook it onto the new silver bangle hanging from her wrist.
"Of course." She tilted her head, her face friendly and happy.
Next came Mackenzie, the marine biologist from Houston who had a great smile and an even better rack. Then came Paige, who might be the slut of the season, but damn was she nice to look at it. And I liked that she was honest, gave it away up front. It beat the hell out of the liar standing cool, calm and collected mere feet away from me.
She was relaxed because she knew she was getting a charm. Chuck and Mitchell had already told me she was staying until the final six, that I couldn't say no because I'd signed my rights away in the 150 page contract I'd had to sign with my blood.
But I could make her sweat a little. I rifled through the rest of the 16 women who would make the top 20, signifying that they could move into the house and on with this journey with me. Chuck yelled cut furiously when one of the two drunkards leaned over the side of the steps and puked her guts out. He'd ordered an intern to clean up her barf and then had her quickly escorted off the set.
In the end, one lonely charm sat on the platter, and one sassy girl smirked ever so slightly as I looked in her direction.
"Leighton." I said her name quietly, but with confidence. I couldn't let her see that she was getting to me.
She smiled, feigning surprise and gratitude. I had to hand it to her, those acting skills were as practiced and sharp as ever.
Except for those tears in the garden. I knew those had been real. Just like the way she'd squeezed my hand and silently begged for me to console her had been real. I couldn't believe Mary, her mother, had cancer. My heart sunk with guilt and sadness as I thought of it now. I hadn't visited Mary in months, and we'd been close. She wouldn't have cared if Leighton and I had broken up or not. Come to think of it, she'd probably yelled at her daughter about what she'd done to me. I could have come around, called her or something.
But instead of thinking about her own health, she'd sent Leighton here. That said a lot about her character, and that of her daughter’s. Who would come on a silly dating show when their mother was dying? Leighton. That was who.
She came to stand in front of me, her perfect red lips pursed with amusement. I had the urge to rap those slick black tendrils of hair around my fist, winding them until she was inches from my face and couldn't escape my grasp. The things I used to do to this woman, the things she used to do to me...
I shook my head to clear it. "Will you accept this charm?"
"I would be honored." She said it with such genuine sincerity that I actually thought she meant it. Then she leaned in to give me the customary hug and whispered, "Thank you for choosing me last. Because that's what I am, your last. That's what I was meant to be, your last. The last woman to ever have you. And you're my last man."
L
eighton's words
stay with me even as I go through my morning workout four days later. It was one of the things I’d stipulated in my contract, a private gym, or gym equipment, off of my wing of the castle. If I had to put up with 20 crazy women, the least they could do was give me an outlet to take out my stress and frustration.
And did I ever need to take it out.
This week had been filled with group dates, one disastrous one-on-one date, and one girl who’d lied about being engaged and was sent home when production found out.
I’d heard from three of the girls that Kristen, the first girl who’d come out of Leighton’s limo, was already causing drama by talking shit behind most of their backs.
And don’t get me started on the tears. God, the fucking tears. Two girls had already cried to me on the two group dates I’d had for not getting enough time with me. Another had cried, telling me she missed her kids that she’d left at home, who she cares for as a single mom. I had no sympathy for her, and sent her home right then. I’m sure America would label me heartless for that move, but I thought she was fucking heartless. Who left their children at home to come on a stupid reality TV show? Especially when I could tell by her grip on my thigh as she told me her sob story that she clearly wasn’t there for everlasting love.
To make things worse, I had a group date with four girls today, and that included Leighton.
I'd made it a point to avoid her all week, filling my time talking to other girls or just hanging out by myself in my wing of the castle. But I always knew where she was in the room, it was like her body gave off a GPS signal to mine. I couldn't not notice her, and from what I'd gathered this week, she was busy buddying up to Erin.
Leighton was a smart cookie. She knew that Erin was the closest to my type, the girl I already had my eye on and would keep getting to know as the season progressed. She wanted to get into my head, fuck with me and tease me. Jesus, why was she fucking here?
The group date today was still in LA, the last one before we headed out to whatever location they deemed necessary. When asked about my travel preferences after I accepted the role, I told producers I wanted to visit as many foreign countries as possible. If I was going along with this, at least I'd get some free travel out of it. Although that's what I'd thought about the Marines when I'd joined up at 18-years-old, and look how that had turned out. I only hoped all of my limbs were intact at the end of this process.
A knock sounded on my door. "Come in!" I yelled as I pulled a fresh grey T-shirt over my torso. I was rocking jeans even though it was about 90 degrees outside, a hot day for LA in November. But I wasn't ready to go full-on robo-leg with a bunch of strangers. Especially ones I was trying to impress.
"Finn, my man...ready to go?" It was Mitchell, sans cameras.
"Yeah, I'm all set. What're we doing today?"
"Grab your bathing suit. The girls will be doing a swim race of sorts, you'll be in the pool to judge them. Then the winner will get private time with you afterwards."
I grimaced. "Mitchell, I specified when we laid out the contract that I wanted no pool parties."
My right leg, or lack thereof, was the one thing in my life that I was so self-conscious about I would avoid any activity that forced me to expose or talk about it.
"Get over the leg thing, right now, buddy. One of these women is going to be your wife. You're going to have to show them your G.I. Joe side sooner or later."
Most people would think that was his way of pumping me up, giving me a pep talk. But I knew the studio thought my faults and war-hero background were going to up the sympathy factor, therefore boosting ratings.
"That's a no-go. I am wearing this. I can judge from outside of the pool." Plus, who wouldn't want to observe the way four women's bodies moved through the water from above.
Half an hour later we were at the Mondrian Hotel's Skybar pool deck, four gorgeous women splashing around in the pool before me. The roof of the hotel was like some modern, Grecian bath house. Four walls rose up around the space, almost making it a room. Except there was no ceiling, only sky, and each of the walls has about six large cutouts that would be windows if they held any glass. The space is done in bright whites, overgrown ivy and tall leafy trees, and the deck is made up of a beautiful cedar plank. Large comfy loungers and beds with stark white cushions litter the patio.
This was supposed to be every man's fantasy, nothing but tiny triangles and scraps of materials covering the most intimate parts of some of the world's most beautiful women as they glided around, wet and desirable, in front of you.
Except I couldn't enjoy it, because I couldn't look anywhere but at Leighton. She'd worn a white two piece, way too skimpy to swim seriously in, and all I could think about was ripping it off of her with my teeth. The top laid delicately over the sloping angles of her natural tits, the skin underneath creamy and tan from the sun beating down on her. I couldn't see her ass from my view above the pool, but her exposed stomach was causing my cock to twitch wildly, almost painfully, in my jeans. Flat and smooth, it sloped inward in a natural way. Not a she-skips-seven-meals-a-week kind of way. No, everything about Leighton was natural, which made her all the more appealing when set against some of these women who looked like they hadn't had a hamburger since Jesus last walked the earth.
I must have been staring at her because when I meet those hazel eyes, glinting in the rays of the sun, there is a challenge in them. She knows she is going to win this, just like I knew she would. Swimming was Leighton's favorite form of exercise. She used to say running made her too sweaty, why do that when there was a workout you could get a tan doing?
Two girls on the date, Ashley and Monica, had similar skimpy suits on, in gray and navy respectively. They looked incredible, but desire didn't burn through my loins when I looked at them like it did when I gazed at Leighton. The last girl, Kennedy, had a modest black one piece on. I remembered talking to her earlier in the week and her saying she was very religious. She was a sweet girl, but I already knew it wasn’t going to work out. I didn't believe in God. How could I, after everything I'd been through? I wasn't bitter about it, but I knew for a girl like that, it would be a relationship ender.
"Ladies! Welcome to your first group date with Finn. I know how excited you all are, and so is Mr. Right." I smiled at Mitchell's words, playing my part well. "Today you'll be swimming for Finn!"
Oh that was fucking original.
Mitchell went on. "Each woman will do three laps, meaning from this end and back again. Whoever completes the laps in the least amount of time will get to spend extra time with Finn here tonight in a romantic dinner overlooking Los Angeles. The other three ladies will have to go home. Do we have any volunteers for who would like to go first?"
I knew he'd asked this because it would create insecurity and competition in the women. No one wanted to go first, because everyone wanted to know what time they would need to beat. Everyone except for Leighton.
"I'd be happy to kick this group date off!" She hopped in the pool, checking the strap at the back of her neck to make sure it would hold firm while she swam.
The other girls flocked to me as Leighton took her mark at the wall of the pool.
"Finn, why don't you go swimming with us?" Monica pouted her thin lips, flicking her brunette hair over her shoulder and trying to rub up against me.
"He'll swim when he's ready, right? Maybe tonight at dinner with me?" Ashley grinned.
I'd forgotten how forward the women were on this show. All I could was smile, making sure to pair a friendly vibe with it.
"On your mark, get set, GO!"
Leighton kicks off the wall in a powerful and graceful push, gliding elegantly over the surface of the water. Her toned arms and shapely legs barely make a splash as she cuts through the pool, flipping and kicking as she comes to the opposite wall. I know she isn't even putting her all into it, and yet she’ll win. That's Leighton, always trying just enough so that she'll get her way, but never going all in. That would require risk, having something to lose, and she'd never put herself in that position.
"Time!" Mitchell shouts when she surfaces, barely even looking winded. I could see the other girls giving her a mean stink eye. "Wow, Leighton, 1:43! Ladies, that is going to be tough to beat."
She lifts herself out of the pool, the water sluicing off of her skin in the most alluring way.
Ashley volunteers next, but only makes it through one and a half laps before stopping and complaining of a cramp. Jesus. Monica completes the laps but is slower than molasses at five minutes. Kennedy is the only one who gives Leighton a run for her money, but misses beating her by about five seconds.
We sit eating fruit and drinking champagne afterwards. It all feels completely contrived and forced; one, because the girls are still dripping wet in their bikinis, and two, because everyone just knows at any moment they'll be sent away. Leaving me with Leighton. There is also that in the air, the tension of knowing I have to be alone with her soon.
We've made nice all day for the cameras. She's actually even engaged with the other girls, telling funny one-off stories about me, letting them in on information about my likes and dislikes. She's charming when she wants to be.
Finally Chuck yells cut and I say goodbye to Ashley, Monica and Kennedy, hugging all three of them before they sulk off in defeat. That leaves me with Leighton, who is being helped into a sleeveless dress that wraps around her body using ties. The PA or intern helping her can't keep his eyes off of her tits, and before I can help it, a bolt of jealousy lashes through my system like a whip.
"I'll do that." I take the last tie from him, moving in closer and wrapping it around her waist, pulling it into a tight knot with the tie hanging at her hip. Being this close, it melts away the hard outer shell I've formulated to protect myself from her. Leighton is my favorite drug, one whiff, one taste and I'll be sucked right back in, not caring one bit that she is the worst thing for my health, my system, my livelihood.
I hear her intake of breath and glance up, my eyes connecting with hers. She's staring at my lips, and I know exactly what she would taste like in that moment. Mint and familiarity and lust.
A cameraman shuffles his foot and the spell is broken. I back away, cursing myself that they got that all on camera. Its probably what she wanted to happen.
Chuck whispers from somewhere in the throng of cameras and crew. "Let's move over to the dining table. You two talk."