Page 82 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
Peter peered over Roan’s shoulder at the cameras and scrunched up his face. “I’m with Roan on this one. I’m going to look like a twelve-year-old in those.”
Walker ducked his head and tugged his hat closer over his eyes. “Date?” he drawled, and hot damn that went straight to Roan’s balls. He shifted on his feet, flushing red. “Who says this is a date?” Walker stuffed his hands in his pockets and ambled closer to where Roan was wrestling with a pair of dark green rain boots. “I’m going to put you to work.”
“Oh.” Roan stopped tugging at the boots and looked up at Walker looming over him. His face was cast in shadow, his outline sharp against the sunlight. “What kind of work? Are we going to be mucking stalls again?”
Walker pressed his lips together but a small snort made it through anyway. “No. I think the producers go their fill of that already.”
“Cleaning the chicken coop?”
“Nah, my step-mama doesn’t like strangers around her chickens. Says it disturbs them so they won’t lay.”
He pulled his hands out of his pockets, reached out and tugged Roan to his feet, then gave him a firm clap on the back. Twisting around to face his truck he gave one sharp whistle. The head of a gorgeous, spotted, black-and-tan dog appeared over the rim of the bed. It yipped once, jumped out of the truck, and came bounding toward them, ears flapping.
“Ohhh, who’s this?” Roan asked, crouching down to greet her. But the dog sank to her haunches by Walker’s side, head tilted curiously to stare at Roan.
“Release,” Walker said, and the dog immediately went over to investigate. She sniffled Roan’s fingers, then his boots, his jeans, working her way up to his face. He fondled her ears and cooed at her, but she eased back before he could really start petting her.
“She’s so cute.” Roan said, taking his cues from the dog and straightening. “What’s her name?”
“Her name’s Dana. And she’s going to help us today.”
Roan peered at him. “Help us do what?”
Walker grinned. “Hunt snakes.”
Roan reached for the banister. “What did you say?”
“Snake hunting. We’ve had another cottonmouth bite in the same field as my favorite cow Hannah, but luckily just a leg bite. But that means we need to cull the population a little.”
“Okay, I’m going to leave aside the fact that you have a favorite cow—”
“Which is adorable, by the way,” Peter interjected.
“And go right to the fact that you took Victor to New Orleans last week. And two days ago, you went on a ride and a picnic with Chad.” Walker’s eyebrow rose when Roan mentioned a ride, but he said nothing, thank God. “A truck ride,” Roan clarified, blushing harder. “Yet, the minute I get involved, we go snake hunting? I take it back, I don’t like you at all.”
Walker’s stupid grin widened, and he leaned a little closer. Roan was very aware of the cameras zoomed in on them too. “I didn’t know you liked me to begin with.”
Roan huffed. He bit back the retort he wanted to make, which would reveal way too much truth about his “claustrophobia-relieving night walk”. “Whatever. Let’s just get going so I can complain the entire time.”
Walker turned toward John. “Are we taking my truck?”
John thought for a minute. “We can’t all fit with the dog. You, Roan, and Peter take the truck; the rest of us will follow. The mounted cams will do the trick, and the two of you don’t require much producing at this point,” he said meaningfully. “Just don’t tell Andy.”
“Yes, sir.”
Roan sighed and stomped after Walker and his stupid cowboy hat and his stupid Wrangler jeans, and why? Why did he deserve this? He helped Peter into the cab, then climbed in after him with a huff while Walker let the back of the bed down so Dane could jump back in.
“Snake hunting?” Peter hissed at him as he settled in the small backseat. “Oh, hell no.” He plastered on a smile when Walker opened the driver’s-side door.
“Same goes as every time we go out to do something like this,” Walker said as he fastened his seat belt. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Will there be guns?” Roan asked, more than a little apprehensive. He hated guns.
“No,” Walker said, and Roan relaxed a little in relief. “We’ll be using sharp shovels. And you need to watch out because the detached heads can still bite.”
“What?”Peter gasped and lost what little color he had in his face.
“You are insane,” Roan whispered, staring out of the windshield. “This whole state is insane. Why would anyone want to live here?”
