After hugging Noelle goodbye and assuring her that I'll be fine to head out with Maddie so she can spend some time with Tyler, I remove my heels for the walk to the villas. I know appearance is important on TV, but I'm too on edge to keep my shit together wearing pumps on loose sand. The way I'm shaking, I'm guaranteed to faceplant at least once if I don't go barefoot.

"Holy effing shit," Maddie gasps as she kicks off her own shoes. "Are you alright?"

I'm really not. I just want to curl up in bed and cry. A man tried to attack me. He's gone now, but I'm going to need some time before I stop trembling. I feel like I could share my woes with Maddie, but I don't know who else is listening.

"I'm going to have nightmares about DJs tonight," I grumble instead.

Maddie laughs, but her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "That was terrifying. Thank God Julian, Hunter, and that guard were there."

"Yeah, seriously," I agree. Then, "Shit! I should go find Julian and Hunter to say thank you." Because I'm feeling like a baby who doesn't want to be alone, I add, "Want to come with?"

"Yes, definitely! They're probably at their villa, right?"

"Probably?" I guess.

We change direction and head towards the men's villa. It's identical to the one the women are staying in, except it's painted a butter yellow color that Mom would adore. Every room back home is a different pastel or subdued shade.

The interior is similar to the women's villa too, but the furniture is black, white, and gray. Very manly. How ever would the men on a heterosexual dating show escape with their masculinity intact if they were subjected to a colorful sitting area?

I give myself an internal pat on the back for keeping that comment to myself.

A couple guys are lounging in the living room, chatting over a football game playing on the TV. A few more are laughing loudly in the adjacent kitchen. I recognize the back of Hunter's head as one of them. I nudge Maddie, and we scuttle on over to catch him before he leaves with the sandwich he's making himself. Points for self-sufficiency, considering we have chefs on staff.

"Hey, Hunter?" I call.

Every guy turns towards me, and I go red as a bloody tomato.

"Mia," he says, ditching his sandwich to stride over, "how are you feeling?"

"Better." I force a smile. I'm happy to be talking to him and even a little tingly, but I've got fifteen minutes tops before I burst into tears. "I just wanted to say thanks for restraining Wyatt. I don't know what would have happened if you, Julian, and the security guard hadn't held him back."

"No thanks necessary. I'm just glad we were there."

"Me too. Anyway, I won't keep you from your sandwich. Do you know where Julian is?"

"I would never choose a sandwich over two lovely gals such as yourselves," Hunter laughs.

Wow. He really is a charmer.

"Maddie, Mia! Looking for me?"

Maddie's face breaks into a huge smile. I shoot her a grin. I think she's got a little crush. I'm about it.

"Just stopped by to thank you and Hunter for holding Wyatt back," I tell him.

"Yeah, sure thing. What a prick. You feeling alright?"

"A little shaken up but good. Just really thankful you guys were there."

"Don't mention it." He opens his arms in a hug invitation, and a wall of guilt hits me for not including him on my list. Also, he's a good hugger. His embrace is friendly and caring at the same time. Ten out of ten.

"I should probably head back. I'm exhausted." I force a laugh. "Maddie, you want to come?"

"Feel free to hang out for a bit, Maddie," Julian says quickly. "We've got the game on. You like football, right?"

"I'm going to walk back with Mia, but I can stop by after, if that works?" Her cheeks are pink, and as much as I don't want to walk alone to the women's villa, I can't ruin this for my friend.

"No, stay. I'm totally fine. I've got some weapons right here." I hold up my heels.

"I'll walk back with you," Oliver calls from the refrigerator. I never got a chance to talk to him, but I remember he was a personal trainer from somewhere out west. Denver, maybe?

I bite my lip. "I don't want to interrupt your dinner."

"You're right. I don't think I'll ever recover if I get to my ham and cheese five minutes late," he teases.

"Thanks, Oliver," I laugh.

We fall into easy conversation on the walk back to my villa. He's from somewhere I've never heard of in Montana and can't believe I'd rather live in Manhattan than Nebraska.

"Of course," he says when I thank him profusely by the villa door. "If you need the guys to rough up any DJs for you, just say the word. We were all saying we couldn't believe he came at you like that. Dude's insane."

"He had a helmet of hair gel, so he probably felt invincible," I mutter. "Really, thank you, though."

Oliver snorts when he laughs. I won't lie; it's pretty cute. "You got it, Mia. I'll see you around."

I'm smiling as I walk inside, but I'm still on limited time before the tears come. I don't hesitate when Sarah tells me I'm in room 2D. I just head upstairs, only upset for a millisecond that I'm not on the third floor, and fling myself onto the plush double bed.

Then, the tears fall.

Three sharp knocks yank me from the sleep I just managed to slip into. My arms flail around the bed, trying to find my phone to check the time, before I remember that it's locked in a safe somewhere in the Reality Network studio.

Dressed in dark jeans, an unzipped maroon hoodie, and a white tee, standing confidently in my doorway, is Max Vaughn. "I told you there would be a later," he says, not bothering to whisper.

I rub my eyes and thank the pajama gods Noelle only packed cute ones. "What time is it?"

"Twelve, I think."

One question down, a thousand to go. "What are you doing here at midnight?"

He smirks. "I'm here for the later. Can I come in? Don't want to wake the other ladies."

"Go to bed, Max."

"If you insist." He strides forward, as if my response was an invitation, not a blatant rejection.

"Your bed," I clarify.

"I don't like my bed."

I don't bother asking why. I already know he's going to say it's because I'm not in it. "Too bad. Good—"

"Let's compromise."

He's unbelievable. "No. See y—"

"Come for a walk with me. Thirty minutes. If you don't kiss me, I won't bother you until our date."

I roll my eyes. "That's ridiculous. All you have to do is sneak up and plant one on me."

"Jesus, Mia, you think I'd assault you? What I meant is that if you don't initiate a kiss, I'll leave you alone until Wednesday."

I'm very curious as to how he obtained the date schedule, but that's not a top priority at the moment. "Deal. Give me a minute to change." 

I wait a second before closing the door, not wanting to hit him when he inevitably tries to follow me inside, but he doesn't. He just stands there, leaning against the wall, staring off into space.

I dig through my suitcase like a dog after a bone—I haven't unpacked yet because I wanted to go the eff to sleep after I cried a month's worth of tears in the span of a couple hours—and breathe a sigh of relief when my fingers brush denim. Jeans, check. After more frantic digging, I locate an oversized V-neck that looks surprisingly cute with skinnies.

"Just so you know, the thirty minutes starts when we're on the beach. No deducting time for picking out clothes."

I refuse to let Max believe that I overanalyzed my outfit to impress him. "I haven't unpacked yet, and Noelle put my jeans at the bottom of the bag."

"Ah, so Noelle is responsible for your Enlisted stardom. I'll have to drop her a thank-you note."

There's no point in denying it. "Can you please keep that to yourself?"

Max smirks.

"No, really. In all seriousness, Max, can you please not share that on camera or anyone here? It makes us both look bad."

"It'll be our secret. Promise."

"Pinky swear?"

Please don't laugh at me. I'm desperate here.

"If we pinky swear, I might have a hard time letting go of your hand."

I groan. "I'll take your word for it, then."

"Good. Trust is the foundation for a healthy—"

"Max!" I cut him off with a growl. If this guy thinks there's even a remote chance of me initiating anything, he's out of his mind. Or, maybe I'm the crazy one because I just want to tackle him and shut him up with a thousand kisses.

"So, who was the third?"

I have zero idea what he's talking about. "What?"

"On your list. Hunter, me, and who else?"

I have to hand it to him. Max is very perceptive, not that I'll ever admit it in a million years. "What makes you think I put you or Hunter on there?"

"You were staring at him with puppy dog eyes all night."

I frown. "He's nice to look at."

Max chuckles. "So I'm right about Hunter, and I'm right about me. I bet I can guess your third if you don't want to tell."

"I just said Hunter's nice to look at. I didn't say I put him on my list," I protest. "And what makes you so certain I picked you?"

"Because my list said 'Mia' three times, and I'm still here."

My jaw drops, and then I freeze. He can't be serious. What an absolutely stupid thing to do. An unbelievably reckless, idiotic, and flattering thing to do.

"You're kidding," is all I manage to choke out.

"I'm not kidding."

"I don't believe you."

"Give me something to swear on."

"No. That's crazy." This guy is out of his mind, and I really shouldn't be alone with him on a dark beach, but I really want him to be telling the truth, and I really, really, really want to do unspeakable things together.

"I swear on my life. How's that?"

"Crazy," I inform him. "That's absolutely crazy."

He shrugs, and his arm brushes against mine, electrocuting me with tingles. "I'm not interested in anyone else."

"Let's say you're telling the truth. What would happen if I didn't put you on my list?"

"I'd leave," he says simply.

The question explodes out of me like a leash kid escaping from her parents. "Why me, though?"

"I told you. I like redheads."

I think Max Vaughn might actually be certifiably insane. "That's it?"

"Oh, no. There's more. Much more."

Why is it that he's always talking when I want him to shut up and he's always tightlipped when he has something I want to hear? "Such as?" I prompt.

"Kiss me and I'll tell you."

My hands fly to my hips and, once again, my jaw drops. "That's not fair," I whine in a leash kid voice.

He mocks me with a pout. "Never said I'd play fair."

I huff.

"It's not like you don't want to," he continues.

He's not wrong, but still. "Oh, I want to do a lot of things," I grumble.

"Kiss me, feed me to your dragon, what else?"

I snort. I forgot about Princess Mia's dragon. "I only want to do one of those things, actually."

I nearly collide with Max when he stops short and steps into my path. "Go ahead, then," he says with a smirk.

I glare at him. "I left my dragon at home."

"Shame. Good thing we don't need a dragon for what you want to do."

Against my better judgment, I step forward, half because I want to show him I'm not intimidated and—alright, I'll admit it—half because I want to be closer. Max mimics my stance, stomping towards me, leaving less than a foot between us. He smells like aftershave and those cotton-scented candles that don't actually resemble cotton but are delicious anyway.

"Fine," I sigh.

"Fine?"

"Just..." I huff. "Just come here."

Max raises his brows. Impatiently, I take hold of his tee and pull, guiding his stupid, handsome face to mine. His lips are soft and gentle, but they aren't shy. Only a few seconds pass before he deepens the kiss.

One of my arms wraps around his neck. The other, also developing a mind of its own, follows. As I lean into Max, his hands find my waist, then lower back. I expect them to continue dropping, but they don't. They merely hold me firmly against him while his magical lips move with mine.

I take the reins, brushing his lower lip with my tongue. I expect him to smirk, and once again, he exceeds my expectations. He just, slowly but steadily, follows my lead, running his tongue over the edge of my bottom lip. Moments pass while we explore each other's mouths, and then, much more characteristically, he gains control. I feel my back arch as he pushes closer.

With my eyes closed, my remaining senses hone in on Max. His taste, his smell, the feel of his strong hands and hard chest, the sounds of our lips. The world melts away.

Like the insufferable asshole that he is, Max is the one to break the kiss.

"Elijah," he says.

Max Vaughn is full of surprises. The first word out of his mouth after our incredible kiss is another man's name? That's absolutely, positively bananas. Pure insanity.

"What?"

"Elijah was the third on your list. You liked talking to him and Julian, but Elijah puts you more at ease."

I'm fifty shades of flustered right now. "How... Have we met before?" It's the only explanation I can think of. Everything Max says makes me feel like he knows me all too well.

"I'd hope we'd have met already. You really shouldn't be making out with strangers."

"Before tonight, wise-ass."

"Maybe you're easy to read."

"You didn't answer my question," I point out. Maybe I should be a detective. I could do that with a communications degree, right?

I suspect I cannot, but they might hire me on skills alone, what with all my suspecting.

"No, we met for the first time today."

I'm not exactly a reserved person, but I can't be that easy to read. "You're very mysterious," I mutter.

"Opposites attract."

I choose not to comment on that. "So, you said there's tons more besides my hair color. What else?"

"You're a free spirit. You aren't easily satisfied, but you're adaptable. You like a challenge. You're feisty. You appreciate good banter. You're a good friend. You're loyal but not blind to people's faults, and you'll call someone out if you need to. I like everything about you, Mia Benson. Red hair is just a bonus."

For the third time tonight, my jaw drops. "You're..." I trail off, entirely unsure what to say. I emit a groan before starting over, still without a clue where my sentence is going. "You're just... Fuck it. Kiss me, you know-it-all."