Page 22 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Just car sick,” he muttered, humiliation drowning him even more than the wretched humidity.
“Don’t worry. It’s not the first time this sort of thing has happened on a reality show set.” She turned to Walker who had moved a few feet away upon her arrival and smiled wryly. “Although it’s the first time someone nearly barfed on the bachelor. Haven’t seen that before!” Roan stared into the nurse’s face, refusing to look anywhere else, not wanting to see Walker’s expression. “Here, have some water,” she said as a crew member appeared with a bottle still wet with cool condensation.
He gratefully accepted it, stood to put his elbows on the porch railing, and rinsed his mouth. Then he pressed the cold bottle to his forehead and the back of his neck. Slowly the blood seemed to return to his brain. Trying not to let it show, he wiped at the tears that clung to his cheeks. Fuck. He’d be going home first, he was sure of it. All of this for nothing. He’d failed his mom.
“Thanks,” he told the nurse belatedly as she watched him take a few sips of the water and then took the unfinished bottle from him.
“Don’t worry, hon. Take a quick seat, and I’ll check your blood pressure, make sure you don’t have sunstroke.” He did as he was told, trying not to notice the impatient activity of the crew around him. “At least you made a lasting impression.”
Behind them, Walker snorted.
Well. He couldn’t hide forever. Roan turned around.
“Sorry about that,” he said, eyes on Walker’s shoes. They were clean and shiny but not new. For some reason that made Roan relax a little.
“You okay? You need to go lie down or something?” Walker asked.
“No.” He still felt a little woozy but he wasn’t about to go to bed. “I just get a little carsick sometimes. I’ll be all right.” He quickly checked himself over but could see no puke anywhere on his clothes, thank God.
Walker leaned a little closer. “You look fine,” he said with a small smile. “Here.” He fished something out of his pocket and held it out. Automatically, Roan put his hand up to accept whatever it was, and Walker dropped a mint in his palm. “Don’t worry about it. Once you’ve helped with a calving, you won’t blink at a little vomit, either.”
Calving? Him? As in, actually touching a cow? While it gave birth?
“Um, thanks,” Roan mumbled. The SUV came around the bend again, and Roan popped the mint into his mouth. A welcome burst of freshness chased the last of the bitterness on his tongue away.
“If you’re feeling all right…” the nurse said. He nodded, and she rose to her feet.
“Let’s get ready people,” Molly yelled. “We have what we need for Roan. Thanks for the drama, kid. Now it’s Chad’s turn.” She waved him off. “Someone get Roan out of my shot.”
Walker rolled his eyes a little, and Roan grinned weakly. “I should probably…” He pointed toward the door.
Walker nodded. “We’ll talk more later. Not that this hasn’t been interesting.” He laughed a soft rumbly laugh, and Roan swallowed hard.
“Yeah, um. I’ll try not to puke when I see you again.”
“I’d appreciate that, sir.” Walker made a move like he was about to tip his hat and then stopped himself. It was endearing. “I might take it personal if you do.”
Roan ducked his head and laughed. “Nice to meet you too.” Someone took him by the elbow, and Roan let himself be directed toward the nurse again. Once she was satisfied that he was fine, another producer took him inside. Over his shoulder, he could hear Molly coaching Chad and Walker through their introduction.
As soon as he entered the house, one of the guys from another producer’s group—Peter, Roan thought his name was—strode up to him. “Did you seriously just barf all over Walker?” he asked, guffawing. He was pretty short but evidently made up for that by being very loud. Small dog syndrome, Roan thought with some bite.
“In the bushes,” Roan said. “Not actually on him.”
Peter laughed and swayed a little. Behind him the other contestants who had already been introduced to Walker and allowed inside were lounging around. It looked like they’d been digging into the champagne already. Deeply. Roan pushed the mint around his mouth and gave Peter a smile.
“I’m just going to grab some more water.”
Peter shouted, “Hey, guys, Roan really did puke all over the bachelor.”
A burst of laughter, then someone yelled out, “Ha! Retching Roan!”
What was this, grade school? He cringed and slunk into the kitchen, startling when he found it occupied.
“Don’t listen to them,” Ben said. Just standing there filling up his shirt with all his muscles and filling up his jeans with his meaty-looking junk. “They’re assholes. And they’re drunk.”
“Yeah, I figured.” Roan stood awkwardly in the bright white space, staring at Ben with his big paw wrapped around a can of Coke. “You don’t drink?”
