Page 1 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
Chapter 1
Walker Reed dustedoff his gloves against his old Wranglers, pushed his hat off his forehead, and wiped at the sweat dripping from his hair. He gave the shimmering horizon a pained look and only then did he give in to the insistent buzzing in his right pocket.
“Great,” he mumbled, tugging one glove off. Each call always seemed to be from a different number but the same area code, so he knew what to expect at a glance. He removed the piece of hay he’d been chewing on from his mouth and pressed his phone to his ear. “Walker Reed.”
“Hey, Walker, it’s Molly.”
“Afternoon, Molly.”
A heifer nudged his hand and he scratched it absentmindedly between the eyes.
“It’s so charming that you actually say things like that,” she said with a laugh.
Walker rolled his eyes. The producer, Molly—not to mention the director, Andy, and the rest of the film production crew with the reality show Walker had foolishly signed on for—made it out like his manners and his Louisiana twang were either the cutest things ever or evidence of his lack of brainpower. He didn’t see any sense in reminding her that he was from the South and southern boys greeted ladies politely when they called, even if they were nuisances who interrupted his workday.
“Anyway, babe,” she went on, forcing another roll of his eyes.
That was another thing. These Hollywood dodos all called him babe whenever they were getting ready to strong-arm him into something new and definitely not in the contract. It was a tell not unlike his Aunt Jenny’s tendency to call him ‘sug’ whenever she wanted him to donate use of a field for her son’s motocross hobby.
Molly was still talking. “Andy wanted me to reach out to you for confirmation of a full day sometime early next week for us to shoot the intro.”
“Next week? I’ve got a heck of a lot on my plate between now and then, Molly. Besides, it was my understanding—”
“Andy said you might be busy,” she interrupted, sounding intensely empathetic. But then she went on like those words were meaningless and all that mattered was the answer she wanted to get. “But we have to get on with this. So when’s a good day for you?”
“I thought filming didn’t start for another two weeks.” Bad enough he had theQueer Seeks Spouseproduction crew running under his feet all day long, trying to turn one of his unused barns into something worthy of reality TV. All the effort, though, didn’t mean they were actually doing quality work on the place. They were fixing things up just enough to make the barn-cum-house look all fancy-pants through the lenses of dozens of remote-operated cameras wired in all over the place, and, hopefully, the starstruck eyes of the home viewing audience.
The hot Louisiana sun beat down on Walker, and he wiped at his forehead again while Molly muffled the phone with her hand and barked out orders to other unknown minions at her end of the line. Molly’s position as a producer came with a lot of power and an attitude to match.
“Andy says it won’t take long. And the contract states—”
“I know what the contractstates.” Walker kicked apart the hay bale he’d just dumped down and walked back to his tractor. “I have inspections on Monday. Tuesday’s out too. That’s the day I’m expecting the trucks to pick up our calves. That might run out to Wednesday, but if it does, Marlon can take over. On Thursday, I’m riding out to check the cattle, so it’s either Wednesday or Friday.”
“Well…” Molly hummed, then her voice went muffled again. Walker resisted the urge to turn on his tractor and make it impossible for the conversation to continue. He could just imagine Andy Towes, Showrunner and Director, standing right next to Molly while she did the dirty work. “Okay, so we want some outside shots, and Friday’s weather looks awful, so Wednesday it is. We’ll start bright and early.”
Walker snorted, said a brisk goodbye, and hung up.
Bright and early, his ass.
To limit grazing on ryegrass Walker put out hay for the cattle regularly, and he needed to get on with it, not sit and stew in annoyance. But before he let the tractor roar to life, he sent a quick text to Tessa, asking her to check the weather. The humidity in Louisiana was never ideal for making hay, but a run of dry, hot days like predicted for the beginning of next week wasn’t something to miss. Especially if it was going to rain on Friday.
It was dark by the time he walked through the back door, and the house smelled of garlic and gravy. Kicking off his boots in the mudroom, he wondered what he needed more, a shower or food. The Dutch door into the pantry was half open, and a pie cooled on the wide ledge there. He lifted it gingerly and took a deep sniff before putting it back down.
His stomach won out over the shower, and he scrubbed his hands in the old farmer’s sink in the kitchen that had definitely seen better days.
“Walker, is that you? Finally.” Tessa, his step-mom, stuck her head around the door and smiled at him. “Hey, baby. Your dad and I ate already.”
“That’s fine. I got another call from a producer, and it put me off my schedule.” It felt better to blame his lateness on Molly, even though the call had barely taken two minutes of his day, than to admit he’d let himself be distracted by it. He’d stewed over her call—questioning every choice that had led up to it, and back again—so many times that there was no doubt he was the one really to blame for his screwed up schedule.
She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, knowing full well he’d come out with it in good time.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked, kissing her on the cheek as he followed his nose into the kitchen.
She swatted his ass with a towel. “It’s in the oven, see for yourself.”
Walker got his plate, not bothering with oven mitts, and hurried to the old worn table tucked against the kitchen wall. Tessa rolled her eyes when he blew at his fingertips and sat down. “Thank you, Tess.”
She’d become Walker’s assistant during the day when he’d officially taken over the ranch from his father, but at night she was the closest thing to a mom Walker had ever known.
