Love & Other Disasters(31)

“Babs!” Dahlia laughed, blushing. “Um. Thank you?”

“You two looked like you were having a good time.”

“Yeah.” Dahlia leaned back in the loveseat. It was surprisingly comfortable. “What about you? Are you having a good time here? I mean, not just on this couch. But on the show?”

Barbara looked thoughtful. “I am. It’s been nice getting to meet so many different folks. Like you.” She smiled. “It’s definitely more work than I anticipated, though. I knew the challenges would be stressful, I never underestimated that, but I didn’t know the filming times would be so long. I am absolutely tuckered.” Barbara chuckled. “My kids are never going to hear the end of it for convincing me to do this.”

Dahlia smiled. “I bet they’re so proud of you, though.”

“They are. To be honest, I thought I’d be one of the first ones out. All my recipes are kind of old-fashioned. But I’ve been lucky so far.”

“If you know food, it doesn’t matter if you’re old-fashioned. At least, I don’t think so.” Dahlia didn’t even know what Barbara meant by old-fashioned, other than delicious and good. “I tasted those dumplings you made on the first day! Oh my god. They were amazing.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Barbara said. “Still, I’m not up to par with you, or London. You’re going to go far.”

“Maybe.” Dahlia looked out the wide front window to their left. It was a gorgeous August day, and she should get going before it got too hot. But she liked talking to Barbara. She was such a comforting woman. She radiated vibes of chicken noodle soup and weighted blankets.

“I thought I’d be one of the first ones to go, too,” Dahlia admitted, feeling surprised that she wanted to say what she was about to say. “But now that I’m here and have made it through a few challenges . . . ” Dahlia shook her head. “Why does it feel embarrassing, talking about things you want? But I want it, really bad. I want to stay.”

Barbara smiled at her. “You looked good up there, when you won with your swordfish last week.”

Dahlia blushed again. “Yeah. It felt good, too.”

“You’ll win more challenges, I’m sure.”

“Maybe. Thanks, Barbara.”

Barbara was quiet a moment. She looked right at Dahlia before she asked, “Pardon me if this is rude. But have you and London talked about what will happen when either of you get kicked off ?”

Dahlia tilted her head. She didn’t find this question rude, but it was odd.

“I assume I’ll go back to Maryland and they’ll go back to Nashville? Maybe we’ll follow each other on Instagram?”

Barbara made a small tsk-ing sound under her breath before returning to her muffin.

Dahlia narrowed her eyes.

“Barbara. What are you saying? Did I do something embarrassing with London in front of you or something?”

“What I’m saying, Dahlia, is that it’s clear they want to be more than Instagram friends with you. Ask anyone in this competition. When episodes start airing this week, I bet folks at home will be able to see it, too.”

Dahlia’s mouth hung open.

She couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Barbara.” Dahlia fidgeted with her phone in her lap. She kept thinking something witty would come to mind to redirect this conversation, but she had nothing.

“You seemed rather cozy with them, too, you know, last night.”

“I was drunk!” Dahlia protested.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Barbara.”

“And you were flirting with them pretty hard at the farm the other day, too.”

“I . . . I was?” Dahlia felt truly bewildered now. “But all I did was make fun of them all day.”

Barbara gave her a pointed look. “I know.”

“But . . . no. Come on, Barbara, you saw all the stuff that happened to them with the cow! It was funny.”

“Yes. But you know, Jacob stepped in a large pile of cow poo. Made quite a scene about it, too. Ayesha knocked over her bucket. Twice. There were other antics going on in the barn, but you were only focused on one.”

“Well,” Dahlia sputtered, “it’s not my fault that Jacob is boring.”

Barbara simply raised an eyebrow.

Dahlia sank back into the loveseat. She felt silly, anxious, like a little kid.

She hadn’t pursued anyone since David, and even way back in high school, it had been David who’d done most of the pursuing. If Dahlia was flirting with London, she wasn’t conscious of it, and shouldn’t a person be conscious of that?

Dahlia remembered, suddenly, how naturally her hands had fallen to London’s hips when they’d been dancing last night.

Oh god. She had no idea what she was doing. She felt like an idiot. Or a jerk. Maybe both.

“Dahlia,” Barbara prodded good-naturedly. “You don’t think they’re cute?”

Dahlia tried to sink even lower into the cushions. Wondered if perhaps she could disappear into them. Of course she thought London was cute. The cutest.

She remembered how they had looked in their bow tie, that cute graphic button-up. What had been the pattern on the shirt? Giraffes, maybe. God, she had gotten too drunk.

Dahlia had to pivot this conversation.