Catch Me a Cowboy (Wattle Valley, #1)

by Jacquie Underdown

  ‘You can’t make that assumption,’ said Mum in a scolding tone. ‘You never know, some lovely girl might turn up on your doorstep and you’ll fall at her knees.’ She giggled. ‘At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.’

  Wil shook his head but grinned.

  ‘See, look at you. You’re a handsome man and would make someone very happy.’

  Wil laughed. ‘You have to say that. You’re my mother.’

  ‘It’s true. Lots of people stop me on the street for a chat and tell me exactly that.’

  ‘Like who?’ asked Dad, shaking his head as he took a seat beside Wil at the kitchen table.

  ‘Rose Lanfrey at the bakery. She always asks after Wil. Says he’s a handsome man. And Julie Tucker, the receptionist at the medical centre, asks if he’s still single all the time.’

  Wil rubbed his face. ‘Okay. Enough talk about that. All I’m saying is, don’t expect too much. I’m not going into this with any prospects of finding lasting love.’

  Mum pressed her hands to her hips, narrowed her eyes. ‘You better not be using this show as an opportunity to … to … sleep around. I raised you to have respect—’

  Wil groaned and waved at his mother to stop. ‘I never said that—’

  ‘Yes, you did. You implied it. You’re going on a dating show, but you’re not taking it seriously.’

  Wil sighed. ‘I am taking it seriously. I will be polite. And no, I won’t use these women for sex.’ God, he was twenty-nine years old, he did not wish to still be having these conversations with his mother. Surely, if he hadn’t used women for his own gratification all this time, he wasn’t going to start now. He loved his parents to bits. And he loved working with them, but he really needed to start a family of his own. This conversation proved it more than anything. They didn’t hover over him. They gave him space and let him be his own man. He had his own place on his own land, but his parents were not shy of adding their two cents on matters. Especially matters of love. ‘All I’m saying is that I don’t expect the girls will be taking this seriously.’

  Dad shrugged in his easy-come-easy-go manner. ‘You never know.’

  ‘If I’ve taught you anything, Wil Andrew Parker, it’s to be positive,’ said Mum. ‘Life’s hard enough as it is without a wasted dose of pessimism thrown in.’

  Wil nodded. The best thing to do was to simply nod and agree with his mother sometimes. She was a good two heads shorter than Dad and even more where Wil was concerned, yet she wielded a strength and power unparalleled in this household. In farm speak, she ruled the roost. But Wil had enough life experience to know that no amount of positivity could change certain circumstances. His ex-wife running off with an urban cowboy who wrangled managed funds, Mercedes SUVs, and platinum credit cards instead of cattle was one glaring example.

  Dad patted his son’s back. ‘Wil, all is forgiven here. You’ve got to move on from this. You can’t keep holding back out of fear.’

  Wil sighed. ‘We nearly lost the farm because of my stupid error in judgement.’

  ‘We all loved Billi. None of us ever expected she’d do what she did. But not every woman you meet is going to hurt you like she did.’

  ‘Hurt us all, Dad. Don’t forget that.’

  Dad lowered his head, his shoulders rolling inwards, and sighed. ‘Yes, it was a difficult time. For all of us. But we got through it. You’re the only one holding on. And, I understand that’s because Billi was your wife, but, mate, we would really just like to see you happy.’

  Mum nodded. ‘That’s all we want.’

  Wil smiled, but it was shaky. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And if you find a lovely lady, take the risk again. We support you one hundred per cent.’

  Wil nodded.

  Arching a brow, Dad said, ‘We mean it, son. We’ve got your back. And we support you wholeheartedly.’

  Chapter 5

  Saturday morning, Emily received a phone call from Xanthi. Geoff had come through with a blind date—Emily wasn’t spending the night alone after all.

  ‘His name is Dwayne. He’s Geoff’s personal trainer and is really yummy,’ said Xanthi.

  ‘Yummy’s a good start. Does he have a brain?’

  ‘He runs his own business, so I guess he must have some intelligence. Though, when you see him that may no longer be a huge requirement.’

  Emily had enough experience to know better. ‘Believe me, it matters.’

  Xanthi shrieked excitedly. ‘I’m happy for you and, I’ll admit, a little jealous.’

  ‘Jealous?’

  ‘I’ve been married six years, I miss the anticipation of something new.’

  ‘It’s tiring, Xanthi. Very tiring.’

  ‘Then I’ll keep everything crossed that it works out with Dwayne. Make sure you give me all the details.’

  ‘I will. And tell Geoff thanks.’

  Dwayne was attractive, in a white tooth, fake tan, ape-sized arms kind of way. She preferred a natural man but wasn’t completely adverse to a man who took care of himself. He proffered his hand when Emily met him outside the restaurant. She gripped it gently. He squeezed hard. She was used to shaking hands with clients, but this guy’s grip was like steel. Was he trying to prove in the first two seconds that he was strong? Not sure she needed that type of introduction—impossible to miss those muscles.

  ‘Hi, Dwayne, good to meet you.’

  ‘Emily. Nice to meet you too,’ he said, scanning his brown-eyed gaze down to her toes and back to her face. Emily was a tall size fourteen and was confident about her curvy shape, but that assessing gaze, full of judgement, unnerved her, and she found herself desperate to know how she scored.

  ‘How tall are you, Emily?’

  ‘One hundred and eighty centimetres,’ she said, relieved that it was her height he had been assessing, not her measurements. ‘And a tad higher in heels.’

  He smiled. ‘Come on. Let’s go in.’

  The restaurant was buzzing. It was warmly lit and had an industrial feel with rustic timber table tops, big metal lights and a polished cement floor. They took a seat at a table for two. Dwayne was enormous in contrast to the small setting. His shoulders were two times as broad as she was.

  As they engaged in the introductory small talk that came with first dates, Dwayne smiled. His ultra-white teeth were growing on her, as was his unnaturally tanned skin. If they got to the stage of marrying, Emily could always suggest he tone it down a little.

  ‘How about we share a bottle of wine,’ she said, scanning the wine list.

  Dwayne shook his head. ‘I don’t drink. Too much sugar. It’s toxic.’

  ‘No sugar at all? Ever?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nope. Haven’t touched the stuff for two years.’

  She looked back at the list then lifted her gaze to him. ‘What do you drink? Like sparkling water or something?’

  ‘No, that’s too acidic. Not good for the teeth,’ he said, tapping his flashing white beauties. ‘I drink spring water, organic protein powder or coconut water.’

  Blerg! ‘Yummy,’ she said, attempting to keep the sarcasm from her tone. When the waiter came back, she ordered a white wine and Dwayne, predictably, a spring water.

  ‘So you have your own personal training business?’ she asked.

  ‘I own a chain of fitness centres actually—First Stop Fitness.’

  Her brows arched high. ‘Wow, yeah, I see those all over the city.’

  ‘And you’re in real estate?’

  She nodded and smiled.

  ‘That’s a demanding job—time wise?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, but no more than yours would be.’

  ‘You enjoy it?’

  She went to give her stock-standard answer of yes, I love it, but her thoughts flittered towards her humiliating client meeting yesterday afternoon and, for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that answer was truthful. ‘I love working in real estate, but sometimes the client’s egos make it less likeable.’

  He smiled. ‘Egos, I k
now all about those.’

  Emily chuckled and directed her attention to the menu, taking some calming breaths. This man was making her feel frazzled, and not for the right reasons. The doctor may be right, perhaps she was stressed.

  Her wine arrived. Emily had a big gulp and ordered another while she was at it. When she returned her focus to Dwayne, he was watching her with that critical gaze of his. She was really starting to dislike the constant assessing.

  ‘The scallops sound nice,’ she said. ‘Do you eat seafood?’

  ‘If it’s sustainable. But I was thinking about ordering the chicken breast. I’m just not certain if it’s free-range organic.’ Dwayne lifted his arm, before she could comment, to signal the waiter. Dwayne pointed to the menu when the waiter stood before them. ‘Is the chicken organic and free-range?’

  ‘Of course, sir. All our proteins are sustainable, free-range and organic.’

  ‘And this sauce, is there sugar in that?’

  ‘I’m fairly sure there isn’t, but I will confirm that with the chef for you.’

  ‘Please,’ said Dwayne. ‘Also, can I switch the potato gratin for steamed greens and the carrots for mushrooms?’

  ‘Certainly,’ said the waiter, his smile growing tenser with each question. Emily completely understood.

  ‘I’m okay with a little organic butter or quality oil, but no sugar, no root vegetables or flour and starches. If you could check that with the chef, I’d appreciate it.’

  The waiter nodded, spun and headed towards the kitchen, his stride rigid.

  ‘Wow, you sure are disciplined.’

  ‘I’ve got to set an example for my clients and members.’

  Emily took another long swallow of her wine, finishing the glass. ‘Of course. That makes perfect sense.’

  Another glass of wine was placed on the table and her empty glass removed. Perfect timing.

  The male waiter from earlier came back to the table. ‘The chef has confirmed he is able to fulfil your requirements with the chicken.’

  Dwayne smiled. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Are you ready to order?’ the waiter asked Emily with some hesitation in his tone, as though anticipating another barrage of questions.

  ‘Yes. I am. I’ll have the lobster pasta please.’

  Dwayne’s head snapped up. ‘Pasta?’

  Emily narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Yes, is that a problem?’

  ‘Refined flour has the same effect on the body as sugar. It will spike your blood sugar, you’ll release insulin to counter it, and store it all as fat.’

  Emily inhaled noisily. ‘I appreciate your concern, but I’ve been eating pasta all my life and I’ve survived.’

  Dwayne peered up at the waiter. ‘Do you have an alternative to pasta—quinoa perhaps? It’s not ideal, but it’s better than white pasta.’

  ‘I’m having the pasta and the cream and the butter, okay?’ she said through gritted teeth to the waiter.

  He nodded quickly, his feet shifting in the opposite direction, ready for a quick departure. Emily didn’t blame him, it was getting ridiculous. This was a first date and Mr-Fake-Tan-and-Blinding-White-Teeth was overstepping the boundaries.

  Dwayne waved the waiter away. He sipped his spring water. A long moment passed before he met her gaze again. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  The muscles in her shoulders relaxed. He was sorry, which counted for something, and maybe she was overreacting a little and taking his comments personally. She owed it to herself to get this date back on track. ‘Don’t worry about it. I understand. Health is your world.’

  ‘It is. And I’m dedicated to making a difference to people’s lives. So what’s your general eating plan? Is this a cheat meal?’

  Emily lowered her brows and shook her head. ‘I’m not on a diet. I just … eat.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he said, with a worried tone. ‘That explains it.’

  Explains what exactly? ‘I’m not going on a diet when I don’t need to. I’m sensible, I don’t overeat, I eat good healthy foods most of the time, but I don’t deny myself anything.’ God, what am I doing explaining myself to him. It was none of his business how she ate.

  ‘I would recommend cutting out all carbs and sugar. Then come to the centre and I’ll put you on a program in the gym. Tighten everything up.’ Emily’s mouth dropped open and flapped around as she processed what he was saying. ‘And I’m not being harsh by saying this, just a concerned bystander, but you could afford to lose at least five kilos.’

  What the fucking fuck? ‘Did you just call me fat?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not fat, but I could really help you tone up.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I don’t mean to be harsh, just a concerned bystander, but you could afford to lose a few shades of fake tan. And your teeth are so bright, I was wondering if I should have brought my sunglasses with me.’

  ‘That’s a bit of an overreaction, I’m just trying—’

  ‘You’re not a personal trainer, you’re a critical dickhead who has no life outside of counting carbs and bullying waiters.’ She stood and threw her napkin on the table.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m leaving.’ She motioned for the waiter to grab her coat for her.

  ‘Sit down. Let’s talk through this. I was trying to help you.’

  ‘Bullshit, you’ve been critical from the moment you saw me.’ The waiter handed her her coat and she thrust her arms into it. She slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘You’re not perfect yourself and you have no right to expect that from me or anyone else for that matter. I don’t have a problem with how I look and if you do, then that’s your issue—so deal with it.’

  She strutted out of the restaurant, being sure to rock her curves as she did. He could get the bill. She wasn’t wasting another cent on pretentious arseholes.

  A little further up the street, she sent a text to Xanthi.

  EMILY: Personal Trainer is a major loser. Called me fat. On my way home.

  XANTHI: Wtf?

  EMILY: Yeah, can you believe it?

  XANTHI: Arsehole!

  EMILY: Definitely not hubby material.

  XANTHI: I’m sorry.

  EMILY: It’s not your fault he’s a dick.

  She shoved her phone into her handbag and hailed a cab. Great, she thought when one pulled up and she jumped inside, now I’m going to have to cook dinner in my big, silent apartment and eat it alone. And I was really looking forward to that big bowl of pasta.

  Chapter 6

  Carpenters had been at the farm for the last week fitting out the workers’ cottage with fresh paint, new bedding, and a more functional kitchen. During the course of the show, the contestants would be staying there.

  It all felt a little surreal to Wil—he couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to do it. But the contracts were signed, the farm was being fitted out accordingly, and there was no going back.

  As the start date loomed, the more anxious he became. No one in town knew yet. At this stage, secrecy was key and for that he was grateful. It meant he had a little longer before he had to endure painful conversations with suppliers, farm hands and general townsfolk. In a small town like Wattle Valley, the population less than one hundred, where everyone knew everyone’s business, this was a convenience that wouldn’t last for long. He hoped he didn’t soil the name he’d made for himself. And his family’s legacy.

  Wil pulled his ute into the service station and climbed out. He had a few barrels in the back that he had to replenish with diesel. He gripped the nozzle from the bowser and began filling his car.

  He was a glutton for punishment. He had to be. What man, who was a private soul at heart, would sign on to have his entire world scrutinised and pulled apart by the public? He’d learnt enough after his split from Billi to know that gossip, even on a small-town scale, could endure for years and feel like torture when he was its focus. How was he going to feel when all of Australia was talking about him?

  Moving on to the barrels in the tray, he started on
filling them when a Mercedes SUV pulled into the bay directly beside him. He knew who it was before he saw her climb out, a big fake smile planted on her lips. She was as beautiful as he remembered, her long blonde hair falling down her back. And when she lifted her sunglasses to rest on the top of her head, she revealed those cold blue eyes of hers. Billi. He forced himself not to scowl, forced his breathing to remain steady. Of all the times to see her again, after three long years of trying to forget she existed.

  Walking around the car, he noted her protruding belly, and he exhaled in a burst. No, he didn’t love this woman anymore, in fact, he despised her, but to see her pregnant was like a punch in the guts. She had always told him children were not on the cards. And that was okay with him, because he thought he loved her enough to make that sacrifice, but … He wanted to incline his face to the roof overhead and scream profanities. He was obviously not the right man to have children with.

  ‘Wil, my goodness, fancy running into you here,’ she said, coming closer, that disingenuous grin on her face.

  Wil didn’t back away as she advanced though every muscle was rigid, twitching, willing him to do so. ‘Fancy that. Quite the coincidence in a town this size.’ His words dripped with so much sarcasm it almost drowned him to speak them.

  Billi placed her hands on her hips, which emphasised her swollen stomach even more, and rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously, Wil. Are we still going there?’

  ‘Do you expect me to play happy families after what you did? What you did to my parents? My grandfather? Everything he worked for? How dare you drive up here in the car I funded, waddle over to me and expect me to be anything but resentful.’

  Her nose wrinkled with a scowl. ‘Be resentful all you like. But I’m moving on. You’d do well to follow suit.’

  ‘Great advice, Billi, coming from such an upstanding member of society. How is Gerry by the way? Keeping well in that big house on Bondi I bought for you both as a little going away present?’

  ‘You always were a pretentious arsehole, walking around like you’re better than everyone.’

  The barrel was only half full, but he wasn’t sticking around talking to her any longer. He pulled out the nozzle and shoved it back in the bowser. ‘If that’s what allows you to sleep well at night, then you keep telling yourself that.’ He tightened the cap on the barrel until he split the plastic, then marched away inside to pay.