One man, one planet?
Hardly. More like one mammoth ego supported by dozens of highly skilled but invisible men. Lately everything about this show had become fake, from the dangerous situations right down to the survival skills of the star. Blake Rockstone was no daredevil. He wasn’t a great outdoorsman either. Shit, he wasn’t even a happy camper.
And two nights ago he’d slept with Grant’s girlfriend.
Make that ex-girlfriend.
“That horse’s ass couldn’t start a campfire with two blow torches and a gallon of gas,” Grant muttered, “but in this case, I’m talking about my brother.” He held up a smudged, tattered envelope, ivory cardstock—now bent, spindled, and mutilated after its journey all the way from Bell Harbor, Michigan, to their camp at the base of Mount Pinatubo. It had taken more than a month to get there, judging from the date stamp, and how the thing had found its way to him in the Philippines was a mystery, but it was the contents he found the most surprising.
“What’s that?” Jake asked, his gaze flicking over Grant like a mosquito before returning to the monitor.
“I’ll show you what it is.” Grant tugged the card from the envelope, adding another tear in his haste. He’d read the thing fifteen times in as many minutes but it still hadn’t sunk in.
“Evelyn Marjorie Rhoades and Tyler Robert Connelly cordially request the honor of your presence at their wedding as they join together in holy matrimony.” Grant flung the invitation down like pocket aces on the table in front of the monitor. “Who the hell is Evelyn Marjorie Rhoades? The last time I talked to my brother, he wasn’t even dating anyone.”
Jake picked up the invitation and looked it over like it was a jungle leaf waiting to be classified. “Married, huh? When’s the last time you talked to him?”
Grant stood up and walked to the boundary of the tent, looking out into dense foliage. It was late afternoon and hot as hell, even for the dry season, but it wasn’t the weather making him sweat. It was the hollow realization that his brother’s life was heading in a direction the complete opposite of his own.
“I don’t know. Three months ago? Maybe four? I know for sure I talked to him in June when we were still in New Zealand.”
Jake arched one sandy-colored eyebrow and counted on his fingers. “June? Dude, it’s January. That was six months ago.”
Grant turned back around to face him. “Six months? Yeah, OK, so I haven’t talked to him in a while, but he never said anything about her then, and now all of a sudden he’s getting married? That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.”
A monumentally stupid thing—and a move straight out of their mother’s playbook. Marry first, get acquainted afterward. To hell with the consequences. She was on her third marriage now but he’d thought Tyler had better sense.
“You think marriage is stupid?” Jake’s chuckle was slightly patronizing but Grant ignored that.
“It is if you’re twenty-seven years old and have never left Bell Harbor. My brother is still a kid.”
“Hey, I resent that. I’m twenty-seven, you know.” Jake took off his safari hat and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, but he didn’t sound resentful. He sounded amused, which only added to Grant’s irritation. He took off his own hat, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair, making it stand on end.
“That’s my point exactly, Jake. You’re traveling, having adventures, living a life. And you’re smart enough to stay single. You see what I’m saying?”
Jake’s sudden laughter split through the clearing, causing a bar-bellied cuckoo shrike to flap its wings and squawk in annoyance. “I’m single because I travel all the time, dumbass. You don’t realize how lucky you are to have Miranda.”
Grant opened his mouth to explain he wasn’t lucky at all. Miranda had her own agenda, her own reasons for joining this show that had nothing to do with him, but he swallowed the words. He didn’t want to talk about her right now. Not even to Jake, his closest friend and frequent partner in crime.
Jake looked back at the wedding invitation, turning it this way and that. “Anyway, this is kind of a fancy invite. Maybe this Evelyn chick is rich.”
Grant stuffed both fists into the deep pockets of his cargo pants. “I seriously doubt that. She must be pregnant. Why else get married in such a hurry?” His poor, dumb, irresponsible brother.
Jake shook his head. “You’re a real romantic guy, you know that, Grant? Maybe you should get a job on one of those reality dating shows.”
Grant’s snort wasn’t subtle. “You know as well as I do there is no reality in reality television.”