Page 23 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
“No.”
“Oh. Okay. I just wanted some water.” Before he could move to the fridge, Ben was there, reaching inside and handing him a bottle. “Uh, thanks.” Silence. “I should probably…” He pointed over his shoulder.
“Seems like it will still be a while before they get to filming the next part, if you’d rather hang out here.” There were still cameras around, but at least Ben didn’t seem to have the mentality of a twelve-year-old.
“Oh yes, please,” Roan said, groaning with relief.
Ben shifted to the side a little and Roan went to lean against the counter next to him. “You feeling okay now?” Ben asked.
“No.”
“I can find the nurse,” he said.
“I mean, yeah. I’m fine. I’m just mortified as hell, that’s all. Apart from that, I’m just peachy.”
Ben gave him a small smile, his blue eyes warm and twinkling. His muscles bunched underneath the white T-shirt when he lifted his arm to drink from his Coke. “Glad to hear it.”
God. Roan didn’t stand a chance. The man was a dream.
And he’d vomited in front of the bachelor. Fantastic.
Roan felt infinitelybetter by the time Andy, Walker, and John finally trailed inside behind the final contestant. He didn’t see how there could be much more filming tonight because everyone looked either sweaty or drunk or both.
Apparently Andy was of a different opinion. “Jesus Christ, are you all fucking wasted?” He grinned, clapping his hands giddily. “Excellent. Usually we need to do a bit more coaxing than that.”
“Bellamy went on a hunt for the champagne bottles,” Peter piped up. “Found ’em!” He raised his glass high.
“At least Roan’s the only one who’s puked so far,” Antoine said, clinking a toast with the man next to him, and Roan stared daggers. Who’d have thought the mousy accountant would turn out to be a little shit?
“Yeah, well he’s the only one who still looks marginally decent,” Molly called out, stepping into the middle of the room. “Here’s the thing. It took so long to get the shots we needed tonight that the longer meet and greet is canceled.” There was a collective groan from the suitors. Molly raised her hand for silence and went on, “In the morning, we’ll have a full group date. That means Walker here is going to walk—heh—you around the ranch and explain what they do here.” She glanced at Walker. “And make it sound interesting, cowboy. You’ll all get a chance to talk to him in front of the camera so try not to behave like rabid dogs. Unless you just can’t restrain yourself, and then go right ahead. We’ll happily film it.”
“Cheers to that,” Andy called out, grabbing a champagne glass himself and taking a big swallow.
Molly rolled her eyes.
“Is he going to stay and party with us some tonight?” Peter asked, like Walker wasn’t even part of the conversation.
“No,” Walker said brusquely. Molly scowled at him, and Walker’s shoulders crept up to his ears an inch or so. “This is a working farm,” he explained. “I have to get to bed early and get up at the crack of dawn. Even with filming, there are things I need to see to.”
“Aw.” Peter pouted at him, and Walker gave him an apologetic little smile.
“As you know,” Molly cut in, “the bachelor never stays with the contestants anyway. There’s nothing new about that. Tonight will be your opportunity to size each other up and get to know your competition.”
Andy clapped his hands together. “Right, so that means you princesses can go pick a bed upstairs.”
“Hey,” Walker said, sternly.
Andy grinned, obviously pleased to rile Walker up again. “Cameras will be running, guys. Sleep wherever you like. Duke it out. Make a good show of it. The toilets in each bathroom are in a separate, closed-door closet, and the only place off limits for cameras. But everything else, including the showers and tubs—and everything you say—is fair game.”
So he’d been right. No jerking off in the shower, even.
“Behave yourselves,” Andy said that like he meant the opposite. “And we’ll see you tomorrow at seven a.m.”
“Seven?” several people cried out. In fact, Chad, Ben, and Roan were the only ones who kept quiet. Roan didn’t miss Walker’s little smirk as he aimed for the front door.
“G’night, gentlemen,” he said in that soft drawl of his.
Peter blew him a kiss, and Roan rolled his eyes.
