Page 4 of The Cowboy's Friendly Wake-Up Call

"You made a reservation, right?" I whisper, silently counting the people in line checking in before us.

Waterford isn't much bigger than Slow River, it's not the kind of place where you'd normally have to reserve a room in advance. Now that I'm standing in the crowded hotel lobby, I'm starting to realize just how big a deal the expo is.

Lance laughs lightly at my low key panic, reminding me he's done this before. Not just here, but other industry events where the Delta O has had a presence as well.

Sometimes I forget my bestie is a big time rancher.

"Yeah, Ranger made reservations for us weeks ago. We're in."

"So what's on the itinerary after check in?"

Now that I've been assured that we won't have to camp in the back of the pick-up, I relax as we advance slowly toward the front desk.

Definitely not "all" the modern conveniences-- there's no online check in.

"Figured maybe we'd find some supper." Lance shrugs, listing off our options for what's left of our Thursday evening. "There's a rodeo in the arena-- just a small thing, for show, no competitions."

"Is the Crazy P here?" I follow Lance one place further in line, and ask about the Pereira's ranch.

They're from Slow River as well, and their ranch is technically named the "LazyP," but their family went big on the rodeo circuit back in the sixties and ever since they started breeding bulls and doing bull rider training out there, everyone around calls the ranch "Crazy P."

Lance clucks his tongue and shakes his head.

"Nah, Beryl's season ended early. None of 'em are coming out here this year."

"Maybe just dinner then."

Rodeo's not really my thing. If no one we know is in it, I'd rather skip it.

Lance

"O'Leary," I tell the clerk when we get to the front desk. "Delta O Ranch."

The woman enters the name in the computer, smiles politely when she finds the booking and launches into a welcome speech that sounds well practiced as she pulls a set of keys with a brass tag off a peg board behind her.

The hotel is historic, and the "modern conveniences" boasted at the door mean indoor plumbing and air conditioning-- not electronic key cards.

"You'll find your suite located on the fourth floor." A manicured nail trails a path along a printed map of the hotel's floor plan faster than I can follow. "Elevators are here, and here, just down this hall and to the left. Enjoy your stay Mr. O'Leary."

She hands me a key chain with two keys on it, but only one room number.

"Excuse me," I interrupt before she can call the next party to the counter. "There should be two rooms."

She looks at me and slow blinks, pausing briefly to process what I've said before double checking her computer screen.

"I'm sorry, Mr. O'Leary, the Delta O only shows the reservation for one room. It's our executive suite. You'll find a fully functional kitchenette and a balcony overlooking the west range. I'm sure it'll be to your liking."

I hate holding up the whole damn line, but one room is not going to work out. My brother, Ranger, has been handling all the office shit for the ranch since before he even came back to live in the valley again. He told me last week he had our rooms handled for us.

"Sorry, ma'am." I put on my best smile. "But my-- associate--" I trip over referring to Mercy so professionally, but I need this woman to understand that we are not a couple. Separate rooms are necessary...or this weekend is going to be hell on me. "--and I are going to need individual accommodations. I was assured our reservations were in order. Can we please add another room?"

"My apologies for the misunderstanding, Mr. O'Leary." The desk clerk glances at her computer screen and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Our hotel is at full occupancy for the event this weekend. With an over flow list of folks waiting in case of late cancellations. We simply don't have a second room available to offer you and the lady."

The woman's eyes shift to Mercy as she comes to stand beside me after making the rounds of the historic photographs hanging on the lobby walls.

I swear I see a smirk ghosting the corner of her mouth, like she's in on some kinda joke that's gone over my head.

"What's wrong?" Mercy asks, glancing between me and the woman behind the counter.

---