Page 2 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
“What time did Dad come in?”
Tessa glanced at the door leading to the hallway and into the living room, then said, “At three.”
Walker almost swore under his breath but managed to keep his face fairly blank. “Did you check the weather?”
“Yep. It looks good. I called Marlon and Dennis. They can start haying on Monday.”
It wasn’t ideal since that was when the inspectors would be roaming the property, and Tuesday the cattle trucks would begin arriving, but they needed to get on with it if they wanted to have enough dry hay stored up for the wetter months. “Thanks,” he said.
When she turned to the sink to deal with the last of the dishes, he quickly fished his phone out of his pocket and texted Marlon.
Fences?
The reply came almost immediately.Checked and mended, boo.
With a sigh of relief, Walker pushed his phone aside and dug into Tessa’s buttery garlic mashed potatoes. At least those fences were one thing he could scratch off this week’s to-do list. He needed to figure out if he could give Marlon and Dennis a pay raise if they had to double check his dad’s work all the time. Maybe after the show.
“How’s he doing?” he asked when Tessa sat down, her hands red from the hot dishwater.
She gave him a strained little smile. It pulled at the corners of her eyes, creating deep lines. Her gray hair was gathered back in a ponytail, and she’d captured the flyaways in a red, paisley scarf. Since she’d recently stopped dyeing it, she tried to keep the roots hidden, but Walker loved seeing the white mixing with the dark brown.
“Tired. He slept from the minute he came home until dinner, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he just fell asleep again in front of the news.”
Walker pushed his empty plate away. “He should get himself checked out. This can’t be right.”
Tessa jerked her chin toward the door. “Go on then,” she said. “You convince him of that.”
Holding up his hands in defeat, Walker leaned back in his chair. “Okay, I hear you. Still, I’m going to reduce his exposure to the hard labor. I can’t risk anything happening when he’s out there checking the fences.”
Tessa sat forward and reached for him. He slipped his hand underneath hers and felt a rush of affection for the strong, caring woman who’d raised him pretty much by herself while running half the ranch. “Diabetes or not, he’s also just plain old, Walker.”
“I know.”
He’d been born to older parents, which was, some said, the reason his mother hadn’t made it through his birth. Though Tessa always poo-pooed that, claiming that it was “just one of those terrible things” and there wasn’t a bit of blame to assign to anything or anyone.
She’d married his father when Walker was six, his father almost sixty, and she’d been in her forties herself. Tessa had loved them both heart and soul, dedicated her life to them and the ranch, and kept them in line from their marriage day forward. God only knew why Walker had never called her Mama; sometimes, he wished he’d tried. She deserved the title.
Tessa squeezed his hand. “Sooner or later, something’s going to happen to him. It’s inevitable, baby. And I know for a fact your daddy wants to go out doing what he loves best. And that ain’t sitting on a couch wasting away.”
Walker gritted his teeth but let the subject slide. “That Molly girl called earlier.”
“The producer. You mentioned it.” Tessa waited for him to go on.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Despite the hat he’d worn all day, a small cloud of dust drifted down. Damn, he needed a shower. “They’re coming on Wednesday to shoot…something or other. The intro, I think.” He looked into Tessa’s light brown eyes. “I’m regretting this already, Tess.”
She casually shrugged, squeezed his hand, and let go. Rising to her feet to take his plate to the sink she said, “It’s only six weeks. It’ll all be said and done by the time we’ve gathered the bulls for their checkups in July. Just keep your mind focused on what you’re gonna get out of it.”
“It’s not like they’re even doing a decent job on remodeling the barn.”
“It’s better than it was. And three hundred thousand dollars prize money ain’t nothing to sneeze at, Walker Reed. Evenyoucan smile for the camera to get your hands on that much dough.”
“I smile,” he mumbled. Tessa laughed and tweaked his jutted-out lip.
“At your cattle, maybe.”
He remained quiet even though he wanted to keep complaining. She was right. Six weeks of inconvenience was nothing compared to that amount of money. They needed the cash infusion badly if they had any hope of keeping the ranch going, and this stupid television show Marlon had signed him up for got the job done. Walker wasn’t fooling himself that he might actually find love, too.
Everyone knew reality shows were rigged at best and entirely faked at worst. Heck, the showrunner, Andy, had chosenhimfor the new program’s very first bachelor, hadn’t he? Out of how many applicants? Walker had no idea, but it had to be in the thousands, at least. Tons of queer men with interesting careers had thrown in their lot hoping for a chance to earn a heap of cash while “courting” a bunch of handsome guys. Being on one of the firstBachelor-esque reality shows to feature LGBT contestants would be a feather in many a man’s cap. So, Walker knew he should count himself lucky, even if none of this had been his idea.
