Page 10 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
He’d told her all that before, but he wanted to remind her.
So this is the last I’ll be hearing from you until you’ve snagged that cowboy by his reins and lassoed that cash prize?
You’re complaining about my sense of humor?
I’m the funniest person you know,she shot his words back at him.
He grinned again.Yeah. You are.
I love you, honey.
I love you too.It was midafternoon and he knew she needed her nap.Talk to you in six weeks, Mom.
I’ll be waiting here with bells on.
Man, Roan was going to miss his phone. The contract he’d signed promised his mother access to a number where they could reach him within minutes in an emergency, but still. It made him nervous to part with his one straight line of contact to her when she was so sick. He’d never take this risk if the expensive drug trial wasn’t her only hope.
To take his mind off things, he laid out his clothes for the next day so they could breathe a little, and then set out to explore the vending machine offerings of the hotel. After securing two Snickers bars, a packet of Zingers, and a Dr Pepper, he ate while looking through the tourist brochures tucked into racks in the wall by the front door to the lobby.
He wondered where the other contestants were. His understanding was that they were all staying in the hotel tonight, but he didn’t see anyone in the lobby aside from an older woman with gray hair and a gaggle of preteen girls heading to the pool with their parents.
Hopefully his cowboy would have more to offer than a horseback-sculpted ass or else faking his interest might prove to be difficult. His gut tightened with nerves. He needed to stay on as long as he could. He was charming, he knew that much, but what else did he have to offer to a man who owned a cattle ranch? A pretty smile? A nice butt of his own?
Roan decided to head back to his room for a little one-on-one time with his hand. It’d be awhile before he had privacy to enjoy a long session of self-pleasure. Most of the reality shows he’d binge-watched in preparation required the contestants to room with each other, sometimes more than one in a small space. Even the showers would be discreetly filmed to catch or prevent guys from hooking up, so he wouldn’t even be able to rub a quick one out in the bathroom once he was on set.
It was easy enough to pull up some porn on his phone and waste an hour.
Afterward, stretched out sweaty and panting on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling and willed time to pass even more quickly. He was anxious to get on with things. He got up and showered, but the steam just made the room feel like the inside of a giant’s mouth. Pulling on fresh boxers, he climbed back into bed and waited for his heart to stop aching and his belly to stop flipping over anxiously. Neither did.
The AC creaked and complained beside him, blasting frigid air, but still the room felt sticky with humidity. He opened the apps on his phone, but a man could only scroll through Facebook and Instagram so many times before he wanted to stab himself and all of his friends who were living awesome, gorgeous, happy lives full of travel, wine, kids, and endless smiles. None of them had sick moms, it seemed. None of them were currently in Satan’s butthole, trying to cool off. None of them were wondering if they were idiots to have made this desperate bargain.
He hated feeling like a crappy person, burning with envy for his friends’ perfectly curated lives. But, man, what he wouldn’t give to not have to worry about his mom being in pain, or where they were gonna get money for the medical bills, or whether he was going to lose her forever. He wiped at his eyes and groaned. Why couldn’t his life be made up of trips to Fire Island, and swimming lessons for cute little brats, and picture-perfect gardens bursting with fresh vegetables enough to share around at the compulsory-yet-fun office party at his white-collar job? How did his friends get these lives, anyway? Where had he gone so wrong?
He’d give up all those normal life dreams, though, for his mom to be well. He’d give up anything for that.
He dabbed sweat from his forehead and decided to try to nap on top of the covers even though it creeped him out and left him feeling vulnerable. He clutched a pillow to his stomach to try to fool his brain into believing his vital organs weren’t exposed to any knife-wielding maniac who decided to break into his room. The little boy in him had never stopped believing in the magic protection of pillows.
Sleep didn’t come. Doubling up a pillow beneath his head, he turned on the TV. Five hundred channels of old-fashioned cable TV awaited his perusal. The summer sun blazed outside, and he passed his final hours as a free man flipping aimlessly through channels and marveling at the endless stupidity of humanity.
Pausing onNaked and Afraid, Roan stared at the screen. Whatever he’d gotten himself into, at least he hadn’t tried out for that show. Talk about madness. Though right here, right now, in the heat of this hotel room, he felt every bit as vulnerable as those contestants looked.
He squeezed the second pillow to his stomach again.
“It’s only six weeks. She’ll be fine for six more weeks.”
He prayed it was true.
