Bet on a Cowboy

by Julie Benson

  She should be thrilled with the success, but tonight Griffin would eliminate another woman, leaving two finalists. They were that much closer to the end.

  The cameras rolling, Griffin strolled into the room. Dressed in a dark suit, sage-green shirt and coordinating tie, his cowboy hat and boots, he radiated confidence and Western masculinity.

  I can’t watch this.

  Maggie slipped out of the living room, and retreated to her office. Once there, she sank into her chair in front of the monitors and let her tears flow. Was she making the right decision, not telling Griffin about the baby? Her mind knew all the logical reasons for her choice, but her heart didn’t agree.

  Enough of the pity party. She had work to do.

  She put on her headset and instructed camera one to zoom in on the golden keys as Griffin picked up the first one. The man possessed great hands. Strong, rough from work, but not too callused. She selected a piece of paper from the stack to her right and fanned her face as she remembered the pleasure his hands gave her when they made love.

  Griffin called Stacy, the actress, forward. Clasping the key in his long fingers, he held it out to her, saying he admired her career goals and the way she planned for the future.

  Operating on autopilot, Maggie told camera one to zoom in on Stacy, camera two to focus on Griffin, and two other cameras to catch the remaining bachelorettes’ reactions.

  Stacy babbled with excitement, saying she’d be happy to accept the key. Maggie cringed when Griffin wrapped his arm around her and kissed her.

  He’s mine. You can’t have him.

  But he wasn’t hers.

  After Stacy flitted out of the living room, Griffin repeated the process with the lawyer, Olivia.

  His choices made, Maggie assigned a cameraman to film what they called the tears and complain interview, where the eliminated bachelorette talked about how lousy she felt over not receiving a key and what she thought of the bachelor.

  While that occurred in another part of the house, Maggie left her office to update Griffin and the finalists about the latest changes. Put on a happy mask, girl, and pretend you don’t care, that you don’t love Griffin more than you ever imagined possible.

  Could she pull off that kind of performance?

  “Before we wrap up for the night, I need to talk to you about a schedule change.” Maggie folded her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking. “The producer and I talked about the last episode and the finale. He’s changed his mind about the shooting location. Since we have a cowboy bachelor this season, he’s decided to film the last two shows at the McAlister ranch, Twin Creeks.”

  Beside Griffin, the finalists bubbled with excitement. They would meet his family. Ranch life had to be so much fun. Blah, blah, blah. But all Griffin focused on was Maggie, and the anger her words set off inside him.

  “We need to talk.” He stormed across the living room, clutched her arm and practically dragged her into her office. Once inside, he said, “You told me events with the show are arranged way in advance and couldn’t be changed.”

  “I had no say in this.”

  “I know. The decision comes from higher up. That’s becoming a convenient excuse for you.”

  “I tried to talk my producer out of the idea. I said I couldn’t arrange things on such short notice. He told me if I couldn’t, he’d find someone who could. This show is my only means of support. I can’t risk losing my job.”

  Part of him wanted to say he understood her position, but he couldn’t let go of his anger. Otherwise, he’d pull her into his arms and kiss her until they forgot everything and everyone but each other.

  Over the last weeks, he’d tried to shut Maggie out of his thoughts, hoping she wasn’t pregnant. He’d reached a crucial point in the show, and needed to uncover the finalists’ deal breaker issues so he proposed to the right one. Maggie had been a delightful distraction early on, but now she’d started clouding his judgment. He refused to let anything get in the way of his goal. His mother’s health depended on it.

  “Did you mention to your producer that winter weather in the Rocky Mountains can be unpredictable?”

  “I tried that argument. He responded with if the weather gets bad, we’ll switch to inside dates. For example, you and the finalists could tour the Stanley Hotel and visit the haunted rooms.”

  “Goody. I’ve never been on the tour.”

  “I don’t appreciate your sarcasm. I know the tourist stuff is old hat to you, but the viewers will love hearing the ghost stories and how Stephen King wanted another version of The Shining filmed there because he wasn’t happy with the first one. Dates at the Stanley Hotel will make great television.”

  “And that’s what it’s all about.” Who cared how the show tore up his life, as long as it hauled in great ratings?

  “You may not like it, but this is business. We’re all in this to make money.”

  Her words punched him hard. She was right, and how typical of Maggie to shove things back into perspective.

  “Why don’t you want to film at the ranch?” she asked.

  The woman had the most irritating habit of probing into the subjects he least wanted to discuss. A long list of reasons ran through his mind. He didn’t want his mother getting attached to the finalists. He worried she’d get upset and collapse again if she discovered he’d gone on the show to pay her medical bills. And then there was the fact that her keen intuition put Maggie’s to shame. How would he keep his mom from seeing that he didn’t love either bachelorette? What if she picked up on how he felt about Maggie?

  He had feelings for Maggie? The realization smacked him right between the eyes, leaving him dazed. When had that happened, and how did he stop it?

  “You need approval to film at the ranch.”

  “I spoke with your mother.”

  Maggie and his mom had talked? Nothing good could come of that. “I don’t want a film crew following my family around, especially my mom. She has health issues, and that won’t be aired on national TV. Are we clear?”

  That little V appeared above the bridge of Maggie’s nose, telling him she was mulling over the situation, and he wouldn’t like what she came up with. “Your mom didn’t mention any health problems. She had stipulations about the bedrooms and Rory’s office being off-limits, but that was it. What’s wrong?”

  “She’s undergoing treatment for cancer.”

  Maggie’s face paled and concern shone in her eyes. “I had no idea. Is her prognosis good? I wish I’d known.”

  “Now you do, so do something about it.”

  “I can’t. FedEx already delivered the contract. For all I know, she’s sent it back.”

  Maybe if he got lucky, his mom hadn’t signed the agreement yet, and he could talk her out of it. A man could handle only so much. With trying to pick the bachelorette who’d turn down his proposal, worrying about whether or not Maggie was pregnant, and now possibly filming at the ranch, Griffin had reached his breaking point.

  Calm down. Take things one at a time, starting with the pregnancy issue. Had it been long enough for Maggie to know one way or the other?

  He held his breath and barreled forward. “Have you taken the test? Do you know if you’re pregnant?”

  “You can relax. You won’t be receiving any Father’s Day cards in June.”

  * * *

  AS GRIFFIN DROVE to his house, he pondered his good fortune. Maggie wasn’t pregnant. Despite the news, the overwhelming elation he’d expected never came.

  He wasn’t going to be a father. Somewhere inside him, buried deep down, he felt regret.

  Had he shut himself off from everyone too long? He recalled his romantic relationships over the last few years, and found them superficial and meaningless. What would his life be like with a woman to share things with? Someone to comfort him when life knocked him around? Someone who believed in him when he couldn’t?

  What would life be like with Maggie?

  Stop thinking about Maggie. You’ve
almost made it through the season. Don’t muck it up now.

  But filming the rest of the episodes at the ranch changed everything. Nothing good could come of mixing his job and his real life. Rory had discovered that when his modeling job had crashed into his family life.

  Once back at his place, Griffin grabbed a beer, settled on the couch and called his mom. “I heard you talked to Maggie about filming at the ranch. Tell me you haven’t signed the contract and mailed it.”

  “Is there some reason you don’t want to film here? Don’t you want me to meet the finalists?”

  Filming the last two shows at the ranch had as many pitfalls as a cattle ranch had cow pies. One wrong step and he’d be knee deep in manure.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them, Mom. I’m remembering what happened the last time a film crew was at the ranch. I don’t want to risk that, especially since your treatment’s going so well.”

  The similarities between his situation and the jeans commercial Rory had filmed were too many to ignore. Like his brother, Griffin had taken the job to get the money to pay for their mom’s treatments, and kept that information from her. But worse than that, Griffin’s plan to choose the woman most likely to turn down his proposal leaned toward the shady side of the road. Granted, this was reality TV, and who could say the bachelorettes’ own motives were honorable? But would his mother see things that way?

  Probably not.

  “My collapse had nothing to do with filming the commercial. My stress resulted from the fact that my sons kept things from me. Things regarding the finances of the ranch, of which I own fifty-one percent. Now, unless there’s something you haven’t told me, I can’t see any reason not to let the show film here.”

  “Have you signed anything?”

  “I had a lawyer go over the contract yesterday. I have it here in front of me.”

  He’d never gotten a lie past his mom before. What made him think he could now? Stick with the truth, as much as possible. “Mom, I’m worried about your health. Letting the show be filmed at Twin Creeks isn’t worth the risk.”

  To either of us.

  “They’re going to pay us to film here.” The amount she tossed out surprised Griffin. “I’m not passing that up. I’m signing the contract right now. Everything will be fine.”

  The last thing he wanted was his mother and Maggie in the same state, much less on the ranch together. No way would everything be fine. At least not for him.

  His mom would need only a second to see something was going on between the two of them.

  * * *

  AS MAGGIE STOOD on the porch of the Twin Creeks ranch house she couldn’t believe how her life had changed in a few short months. Talk about things taking a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn.

  The flight to Denver had been horrendous. Although she was normally a great traveler, her stomach had protested violently at every slight pitch and roll of the plane. Replaying her last discussion with Griffin, especially his excitement over finding out she wasn’t pregnant, hadn’t helped. He’d smiled way too brightly, said that was fantastic news—not good, but fantastic—and hustled out of her office.

  And now here they were, back where they’d met, to film the last round of dates and the finale. Soon he’d propose to one of the women standing on either side of him, and Maggie would go on with her life without him and raise his child.

  “I feel silly standing on my front porch when I’ve got a key to the place. And to top it off, there are cameras filming the whole thing,” Griffin said.

  “We’ve gone over this. I think taping your mother’s first reaction is the best way to go. Now quit giving the editor more to cut, and knock on the door.”

  A minute after he did so, a tall, sturdy woman with short dark hair sprinkled with gray, and a familiar bright smile and dimples, opened the door and enveloped Griffin in a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  “You look good, Mom.”

  “I’m doing much better.” Griffin’s mother caressed his cheek. “Now, let’s get everyone inside.”

  Mrs. McAlister stepped aside for the finalists to enter, and then took their coats, staring at the two bachelorettes with what Maggie could only describe as a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look.

  Both women wore short, skintight minidresses and stilettos. What would make one woman, much less two, think dressing like that was a good idea when meeting a man’s mother?

  Women who wanted publicity and recognition more than they wanted the man.

  Griffin shuffled from foot to foot. Maggie smiled, wondering if he was embarrassed by the bachelorettes’ outfits. He nodded to the leggy blonde to his left. “Mom, this is Stacy. She’s an actress who wants to start her own production company.”

  “Nannette, I’m so glad to meet you.” She held out her hand. “I look forward to us getting to know each other.”

  Griffin turned to the woman grinning like a hyena on his right. “Mom, Olivia’s a lawyer.”

  Beaming at Griffin, Olivia said, “Nannette, I’ve wanted to meet the woman that raised such a wonderful man.”

  Things were getting deep in here. Pretty soon Maggie would need a shovel.

  The first thing she noticed as she followed the group was the winding staircase to her left. The house, while large, conveyed a homey feel. Pictures of the McAlister children at various ages dotted the space. Maggie’s gaze locked on a picture of Griffin standing next to a russet-colored horse. He couldn’t have been more than kindergarten age, and the animal dwarfed him. Even then he’d possessed that devilish twinkle in his eyes that said he’d lead the girls on a merry chase.

  As Mrs. McAlister led everyone through the house, she said, “I hope you two brought sensible clothes and shoes. You’re a little overdressed for a ranch. You look like you’re headed to a—”

  Singles bar at the corner of Main and Pick-me-up Street?

  “—fancy cocktail party in downtown New York City.”

  Maggie hid her smile. Something told her that wasn’t the first comparison that had jumped into Mrs. McAlister’s head.

  Olivia said, “I brought jeans and the cutest boots.”

  Griffin’s mother stopped and faced the bachelorettes. “They better be work boots and not stylish ones. Those things won’t hold up around here.”

  Mrs. McAlister looked past the finalists to Maggie. “Now she’s dressed for life on the ranch. She’s wearing sturdy jeans and winter hiking boots. Are you Maggie?”

  “Yes, ma’am…Mrs. McAlister…I am.” The editor would earn his salary piecing together this footage. “Pretend I’m not here.”

  Instead of doing that, Griffin’s mom walked toward her, but glanced over her shoulder at the other two women when she said, “Please, call me Nannette.”

  With the older woman’s obvious displeasure over the finalists using her first name without permission still in the air, they continued their tour of the house, Maggie decided no way would she want to get on Nannette’s bad side.

  A Christmas tree with homemade childhood ornaments stood in front of the massive window. Garlands and bits of gold tinsel were scattered across the mantel. The feeling of family and shared holiday memories was everywhere, vividly reminding Maggie of what she’d missed since her mother had died. Maybe this year she’d get her box of ornaments from of the closet and buy a tree.

  Snapping out of her nostalgia, Maggie glanced around the room. The finalists sat on the couch, and when Griffin headed for a chair some distance away, Maggie instructed him to sit between the women. She asked Nannette if the leather chair to one side worked for her.

  With the cameras rolling, Griffin launched into a recitation of finalists’ bios.

  What was he thinking?

  “Cut,” Maggie snapped. “Griffin, what’s going on? You’re acting like you’re in a job interview again. Lighten up and have some fun.”

  “I need to speak with you, Maggie.”

  She recognized Griffin’s I-don’t-want-to-do-what-you’re-telling-me-to look and
wanted no part of it. “That’s not necessary. I’m sure you remember what we discussed the last time this came up.”

  “That wasn’t a question.”

  “Griffin, now’s not the time,” she responded in her firmest director voice.

  Instead of dropping the issue, Griffin stood and stalked across the room toward her. When he stopped in front of her, he whispered, “We’re going to talk in the kitchen. Choose how you’re getting there.”

  Surprise flashed in Maggie’s eyes. Griffin could see the gears in her mind turning as she tried to decide if he meant the threat or not. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder.”

  She paled, nodded and followed him out of the room. Once in the kitchen, he said, “This is my house and my mother. I’ll handle this my way.”

  “I’m willing to let you do that to a point, but you need to remember I have to get good footage out of this.”

  “My mom’s already taken them to task about how they’re dressed, and not asking for permission to call her by her first name. Isn’t that enough?”

  While the two women had brought the clothes comment on themselves by dressing for a party at the Playboy Mansion, he should’ve warned them what a stickler his mom was for manners. Nannette McAlister had raised her children, no matter how old they got, to call their elders Mr. or Mrs. until they were given permission to do otherwise.

  Maggie laughed. “She did have a point.”

  Griffin joined in. “They might be overdressed, but you look like you’re ready to get right to work.”

  She tugged on her mud-colored sweater. “In case you’ve forgotten, I am working.”

  “I meant you look ready to muck out the horse stalls.”

  “Luckily, I’m behind the camera, and what I’m wearing doesn’t matter.”

  “Good thing I know how great you look under those clothes.”

  Color flamed in her cheeks, pleasing him and throwing her off stride.

  “If you don’t liven things up, we’ll be shooting all day to get good footage,” she warned.