Page 3 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
Somehow, out of all those men, Andy Towes and Company had chosen Walker. Despite knowing he was nearly broke and despite his own reluctance. Why? Well, Walker figured it was because they could use him all the same. After all, they planned to portray him as a wealthy cowboy for the viewing audience.
“There’s nothing more swoony-worthy and All-American than a cowboy,” Andy had said that first day over the phone. “And with your face and body? Baby, there was never even a contest about who we’d choose to star. You’re the one for this show. Hell, kid, you could be living in a swamp and we’d still want you. We can gild any pig with the glow of television romance, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter how broke you are. Trust us.”
In fact, Walker suspected the way Andy saw it, the broker he was, the better. He knew the contract he’d signed would chafe anyone with its terms and privacy violations, but he’d been desperate enough to sign it anyway, with only a brief check from a local attorney who specialized in farm contracts, not entertainment deals.
Walker assumed they would be more honest with the contestants regarding his prospects and his true motivations, but so what if they weren’t? All the contestants were in it for the per-episode money anyway, not to mention the potential of half the grand prize split by the bachelor and winning suitor. So why should it matter if Walker was in it for money, too? The idea that any of these men would be on the show because they wanted to find true love was laughable.
So, yes.
He’d do the shoot like they wanted. Of course he would. In the end, the money would be worth it. Even if his colleagues and neighbors made fun of him for the rest of his life. Who cared what they thought?
He’d save Reed Ranch and that would be enough to satisfy him.
“Perfect. Perfect,” Andymurmured as he eyed the four-camera setup. He was an older, effeminate man wearing a pair of what looked like women’s shorts and a light T-shirt. At least he wasn’t complaining about the heat. Yet.
One camera was angled to be on Walker at all times, the other on the host, a man named Luke Montgomery, who was handsome in a hyper-but-sexy way. Tall, dark, and yet vibrating with barely restrained energy, he made Walker think that he’d be the result if Ryan Seacrest and Tom Selleck somehow had a baby together. The third camera was positioned back farther in the field and held a steady, panoramic view on them both. A man braced a fourth camera on his shoulders, moving back and forth to test different positions.
Walker started to sweat. Nothing seemed to be expected from him right that second, so he tuned out all the endless “getting ready to begin to start” activities and turned his gaze onto Marlon and Dennis in the far distance. They were mowing the hay fields, and Walker wished he was there with them. He loved the fresh scent of newly cut hay and the satisfaction of laying it out to cure. It was a tight squeeze, though, for this final pasture. The cut grass would only have two days in the sun before they’d need to have the balers out there on Friday morning, pounding it all into bales before the storms hit.
Because of the noise of the mowers, they’d had to move the filming site to one of the outer pastures, not used for growing hay, where they’d set up two barstools of all things. Walker was sitting on one of them with a fence at his back. It was a nice spot, really. The cattle weren’t grazing this field at the moment, so the growth was long and green, and the air smelled fresh and sweet.
He should probably tell Andy and the others to check their ankles for ticks later.
Nah.
Andy came to stand beside Walker and did that ridiculous camera square thing with his hands in front of Walker’s face. “Yes. Perfect. That profile is divine. You’re stunning, babe.” He winked.
Walker fought a blush.
“Don’t worry, he’s just stroking your ego,” Luke said after Andy darted off to consult with one of what seemed an endless stream of assistant producers about something important on their clipboard. At least, Walker assumed it was important, given the way Andy was frowning at it.
“His husband wouldn’t be happy if he wasn’t. Joking, I mean,” Luke went on, fidgeting on his barstool. He adjusted his collar, and instantly a woman with makeup appeared and started dabbing at the skin showing where his top button opened.
“I wasn’t worried.”
Walker had already figured Andy out. The showQueer Seeks Spousewas Andy’s baby, and he loved it too much to taint it with any sort of scandal. Half of the reason Walker had signed the contract, despite feeling like a disingenuous fraud, was because of Andy’s excited claim that he was all about offering queer reality show content that wasn’t just about titillation, but about true romance.
If “true romance” was entirely made-up bullshit. But whatever.
Walker liked that Andy seemed determined to present queerness as normal, unremarkable, and yet worthy of the same attention as any straight but entirely bullshit reality TV romance. Luckily, a progressive streaming media company had agreed, and the budget forQueer Seeks Spousewas heftier than most reality shows starting out.
Which meant the contestants’ payments and the star’s payment, too, were compelling reasons to come aboard.
“Okay, Luke, we’re ready!” Andy called. “We’re getting a later start than I wanted. So, Luke, stop fidgeting and make sure you hit your mark.”
Andy hurried over to stand behind a cameraman a few yards away, and Luke stood up, moved to where they’d spiked the ground with T-shaped tape, and lined his toes up with the top of it.
Luke went into an introductory spiel while moving from one T-shape mark to another and gesturing at the pasture all around him. Then he laid out the setup for the audience, explaining the rules of the show and the expected outcome—“This handsome cowboy is seeking a husband, and he’s not going to give up until he finds one.”
Walker fought another roll of his eyes.
Once they’d wrapped Luke’s intro, he took his position on the barstool next to Walker again. There was another round of discussion with Andy and more makeup for Luke since he was sweating after standing in the sun.
“All right, Walker,” Andy said, walking up with a young woman at his side. “You remember Molly?”
Walker did remember her from their phone conversations, but he’d had no idea she was so young. Molly looked exactly like her name: youthful, farm fresh, sweet. If he had to guess, she appeared to be maybe seventeen—but surely she must be older; there were regulations or something, right? Her wavy hair was cut to chin length, and a smattering of freckles danced beneath her wide eyes.
“Good to meet you, ma’am,” he said, standing up to take her hand.
