Page 28 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
“Is he gonna sing?” Walker asked.
John shuddered and sipped his coffee. “I hope not. I’ve heard him sing and it’s not pretty.”
“I’m expecting you in my trailer in five minutes,” Kylie told Walker as she spun on her heels and left.
“Ugh,” Walker muttered. “I think I’ll need whiskey in my coffee for that.”
John shook his head. “Showbiz, babe.”
Armed with his mug and skipping the whiskey, Walker let Kylie do her thing. He didn’t think he looked all that different after she was done. Just a little…smoother.
John was waiting for him when he stepped out of the makeup trailer. “Andy wants some shots of you greeting the contestants as they come down for breakfast. I wouldn’t worry too much about these since they hardly ever get used. It’s more for potential editing purposes later on.”
“To make things look different than they really are.”
John gave a little shrug and turned toward the house, so Walker followed him into the kitchen, still as much a mess of crew members as it was the day before.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden steps, and Walker turned to see who’d appear first. It was the kid who’d puked last night, wearing a pink shirt. Which shouldn’t work but somehow did, especially with the way his jeans hung low on a pair of the narrowest hips Walker had ever seen on a man. Not to mention the plain-as-day pierced nipples.
He was staring, so he smiled. “Roan, good morning.”
“Morning,” Roan croaked, then his dark eyes lit up. “Is that coffee? I need coffee.” He made grabby hands and aimed for the machine sputtering behind them. John stepped aside so the cameras could get a clear shot as Roan began to rummage for mugs.
Walker’s eyes lingered on Roan’s cute ass in his jeans and then, unable to resist, took alonggander, trailing up his slim torso to the pretty flop of curly hair on top of his head. When Roan found the mugs, he turned to Walker, his face flushing at Walker’s obvious regard. “Um, would you like some?”
He’d left his mug in Kylie’s trailer. “Yes, please.” He licked his lips and said, “With cream.” Fascinated, Walker watched as Roan’s face turned a deeper shade of pink. Shit, he hadn’t meant to load that with innuendo, but his tone had betrayed him somehow.
As Roan poured the coffee and added cream, Walker asked, “You feeling better this morning?” Because he just couldn’t help himself. Yup, there the kid went. From red to puce.
“Uh, yeah. I’m really sorry about that. It was so embarrassing. But, yeah, I’m feeling a lot better. Thanks.”
“I’m glad, sir. I’ll take some sugar in that, too.”
Roan nodded but wouldn’t look at him. All his movements were careful, like he was trying to make as little noise as possible. He opened each drawer with the barest of sound, looking for a spoon, and made sure they didn’t bang when they closed. When he stirred Walker’s mug, the spoon never touched the sides or the bottom.
“Here you go,” Roan said, still not looking at Walker.
“Thank you.”
Roan glanced up then, and Walker gave him a small, lopsided smile. Roan’s eyes grew brighter, and he kinda thought the kid was adorable. Exactly his type, if anyone asked. But he’d never tell.
“So…” Roan started and then stopped.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Walker almost winced. He wasn’t ready for this so called “group date,” and he’d have liked the pleasure of Roan’s cute company alone for a minute more.
The kitchen became a cacophony of noise, with people hunting for mugs and coffee and mutterings of, “Is there herbal tea?” and “I think I saw granola bars last night.”
Walker looked at John and raised his eyebrow. John came closer and said, “I thought you were used to herding animals.”
Roan nearly choked on his coffee.
“Oh no. He’s gonna puke again,” a small guy yelled. Walker remembered him from the meet and greet the prior night. Antoine. An accountant. From his bio and the photographs that came with it, Walker had imagined him to be a safe choice to keep until the end. Boring even. But he’d never met a dude this immature and bitchy in his life. He sent him a glare, and Antoine grinned at him cheekily. Walker put him firmly in the “send home soon” column. He wasn’t interested in falling in love with anybody, but he didn’t want to spend time with a jackass either. Life was too short for that.
A ginger guy named Jaden spilled orange juice on the counter and winced, cursing under his breath, but another guy, some brutish looking fellow that Walker thought was named Clark helped clean it up. And, heck, if the blushes and stares between those two were any indication, they were much more interested in getting to know each other than getting to know him. Perfect. He’d keep them both around a week or two, then cut them and send them on their way into each other’s arms, assuming the attraction held out.
He ran his eyes over the other guys he hadn’t paid much attention to yet.
There was Bellamy, a radio talk show host from Arkansas. He wasn’t that much to look at, but he had the kind of voice that could fill a room, or clear it. The guy was currently booming on about a missing shaving kit, and, given the state of his patchy beard growth, Walker didn’t doubt some kind of sabotage. Makeup would help him out. Probably.
