If You Can't Take the Heat

by Melissa Brown

  They walked to the farthest stall on the right, where a honey-colored horse stood, watching them.

  “He’s beautiful.” Whitney stroked gently between Rifle’s eyes. The horse kept his eyes locked on hers as she continued to brush him with the tips of her fingers.

  “Hey, focus,” Wes corrected her, eyeing the bales of hay. “First things first.”

  Together, they spread hay around Rifle’s stall. Sweat poured from Whitney’s neck and back as the temperature in the barn continued to soar in the afternoon sun. When enough hay had been added to Rifle’s stall, Wes handed her a circular, rubber brush.

  “That’s a curry comb. We use it to remove loose hair from his coat, but it also grabs dirt before we brush. Use a circular motion. Yeah, you got it. And work your way from his neck to his barrel, and finally to his rump.”

  Gently, Whitney used the curry comb, loving the smooth feel of Rifle’s coat. When she finished with one side, she moved to the other before Wes handed her a new, different brush. “This is a dandy brush. Use straight flicking motions to get the dirt off of him.”

  Whitney followed directions, finding herself soothed by her time with Rifle. She hummed along as she brushed and she noticed Wes couldn’t keep his eyes off her. His expression was softening—he was letting her in.

  “All right.” He took the brush from her. “That’s enough.”

  “But I didn’t finish.”

  “You’re enjoying yourself way too much.”

  “Or you’re enjoying yourself too much, Cowboy. Come on, can we talk now?”

  “Not yet.” He shook his head, looking away. “Follow me.”

  He led her to another barn, where several cows were standing with their calves. Quickly, he grabbed two buckets from the wall. He flipped one upside down and placed it next to a spotted cow, then placed the other bucket beneath her udders.

  “So we’re gonna milk a cow?”

  “Have you ever?” he asked and she shook her head. He tied the cow to a sturdy post. She pulled at her halter and didn’t seem happy about being restrained.

  “It’s simple, just have a seat.” Whitney followed directions, plopping her bottom on the flipped bucket. “Secure the other bucket with your feet, and touch her udders gently.”

  Whitney leaned forward, her shoulder digging into the cow, who let out a yelp in response. “She doesn’t seem too happy.”

  “She’s fine. Now grab the front teats.”

  Whitney resisted the urge to make an off-color joke, and instead placed her hands around the udders. They were soft, warm, and nothing like she imagined.

  “Clamp each teat, then squeeze down the milk. You should feel the teat filling with milk as you pull it down.”

  Whitney bit down on her tongue, smiling to herself as she remembered Elle’s words about milk “coming down.” She did exactly as she was told, listening to Wes’s instructions. In small spurts, each teat released a stream of milk.

  “Oh my God, I did it! I did it.”

  The cow, however, didn’t seem as pleased as Whitney. She mooed loudly and kicked her back legs.

  “I guess I’m a little loud, huh? Sorry, Bessie.”

  “That’s not her name.”

  “Whatever, it’s a good cow name.”

  Whitney continued to milk the cow she named Bessie, almost lining the bottom of the metal bucket. After several minutes, however, Bessie grew more agitated, stepping as far as she could from Whitney.

  “What am I doing wrong?”

  Wes smirked. “Oh nothing. She’s just not used to human hands.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This isn’t a dairy farm. Our cows nurse their young, that’s it.”

  Whitney stood and pushed Wes on the arm as he cracked up.

  “You’re unbelievable!” She leaned back to the cow, stroking its belly. “I’m sorry, Bessie. Blame him, though. I swear I didn’t know.”

  “Sorry.” He laughed behind his hand. “I had to.”

  “Okay, fine, whatever. Can you please hear what I have to say now?”

  “Not yet.” He shook his head, gaining his composure. “Let’s go back to the horses.”

  When they reached the horse stalls, Wes passed her a long shovel with a rubber handle.

  Oh shit. Literally, shit.

  “Rifle’s all set, but the rest of the stalls need to be shoveled and given fresh hay.”

  Whitney placed one hand on her hip. “You’re not gonna scare me away. You know that, right?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I’ll do this all day, Cowboy. There’s no chore, no job, nothing that’ll make me leave.”

  “Do you need nose plugs, Hollywood?”

  This is a test. You need to pass it.

  “Hell no. Bring on the stink!”

  Secretly, she sent a thank-you to the man from her flight who’d prepared her for the ultimate test of her senses. As much as she wanted that nose plug, she was determined to impress Wes with her ability to withstand the distinct foul odor of horseshit.

  “All right then.”

  She could tell he was holding back a smile, gritting his teeth, and avoiding her peering eyes as he grabbed a shovel of his own. She followed his lead, shoveling enormous piles of horse waste from the stalls and placing them in a rusty wheelbarrow. After an hour of shoveling shit, Whitney’s growling stomach lost its appetite. They gave each stall fresh hay and once again, Wes passed her the mason jar, allowing her a quick drink before retrieving it from her and draining the glass.

  “Okay, now will you listen?”

  He shook his head, although this time, there was just a hint of a smile fighting against his tough exterior. “Not yet.”

  “Fine. But I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Five-minute break,” he deadpanned. “There’s an outhouse that way.”

  “Isn’t there a bathroom in the main house?”

  “You can’t go in there. You have shit on your shoes.”

  And she did. Whitney looked down at her brand-new Chuck Taylors, smeared with musty brown streaks.

  Oh, for God’s sake. But you gotta let it roll, Whit. Be strong.

  “Oh well. Collateral damage.” She shrugged, making her way to the outhouse.

  “Oh, Hollywood, what am I gonna do with you?”

  “You can listen to me.” She pulled on the door of the outhouse, tipping her chin at Wes.

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  She rolled her eyes, retreating into the scorching-hot outhouse, relieving herself before returning to the barn. When she rejoined him, she was disappointed to see his glistening abs were now covered with a T-shirt. As a consolation, though, the cotton hugged his muscles, showing off his rippled abdomen. In his hands, he held a large, square metal toolbox.

  She wiped her hands against her jeans and eyed the toolbox, wondering what was inside. “Okay, what’s next? Are we gonna fix the fences?”

  “Maybe later. There’s a bull we need to test.” He walked toward an open area of grazing cattle. The brilliant green grass shimmered beneath the bright blue skies above.

  “Test?” Whitney asked, following like an obedient ranch hand. “What kind of test?”

  “Semen.”

  “Um, uh . . .” Whitney stammered. “As in . . . ?”

  Wes nodded. “Yep. We gotta do a BSE.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Breeding Soundness Exam. We have a bull ready for breeding, but we have to test his sperm quality and quantity before we can prepare him.”

  Wes opened the toolbox and retrieved two sets of plastic gloves, a plastic cup with a lid, and a small metal rod. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers and she swallowed hard, not wanting to picture where that rod would go.

  “What is that?”

  “This?” He gestured to the rod. Whitney nodded, swallowing hard. “It’s an anal probe.”

  “And we’re . . . we’re gonna . . .”

  “Yep.” Wes smiled, crossing his arms
. “You said you’d do anything, right?”

  She felt faint and sweat poured from her neck. The thought of sticking something up the ass of a poor animal made her sick to her stomach.

  “Yeah, I mean, you know, I . . .”

  Then everything went black as Whitney felt herself being pulled to the ground. The last thing she heard was Wes calling out her name.

  “Whitney? Whitney?”

  Whitney could hear Wes’s voice, but it felt like he was inside a long tunnel, one she couldn’t yet see.

  “Huh?” she mumbled.

  “There she is,” he whispered, stroking her forehead with his hands. Despite the bristly feel of his callused fingers, she soaked in the feel of his gentle touch. “How are you? You took a pretty big fall.”

  “What? What happened?”

  “You fainted. I caught you just before you hit the ground.”

  “Oh shit,” she muttered, mortified. She dug the heels of her hands into the grassy knoll beneath her. “I didn’t mean to do that. I just . . . whoa, I’m dizzy.”

  “Slow down,” he warned. “It’s gonna take a while for you to get your equilibrium back.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m good.” She remembered what Wes was explaining before she fainted and rose slowly to sit upright, crossing her legs in front of her, choosing to ignore the shit on her shoes.

  So be it.

  “Let’s, uh . . . gimme the anal probe. Let’s do this.”

  Wes chuckled, shaking his head.

  “What?” Her voice was defensive. She wanted to prove herself to Wes, not be the wimpy girl who fainted over a simple anal probe.

  “Only a veterinarian can conduct the BSE, Hollywood. I was messing with you.”

  “Seriously?” Whitney pushed him playfully on the chest, relieved. “You’re a pain in the ass. That poor bull.”

  Wes shrugged. “It has to be done, but luckily not by us. I just wanted to see how far you’d go with this.”

  She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “And now you know.”

  Wes climbed to his feet, extending his hand. “Sorta. I’d love to know how far you would’ve gone if you hadn’t passed out.”

  “I guess we’ll never know.” Whitney dusted off her thighs and took Wes’s hand. The ground beneath her tilted and she gripped his arm, trying not to fall back to the grass below.

  “Hey, are you all right?”

  “Yeah, totally fine.”

  “Whitney.”

  “What?”

  “Have you eaten anything?”

  “I had coffee and a bagel at my hotel.”

  “What, this morning? It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, Whit! What were you thinking? Didn’t Anita offer to make you something at the restaurant?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “But what?” He no longer looked annoyed, detached, or angry. A crease formed between his eyes as he looked at her with worry. “Why didn’t you?”

  “I couldn’t wait. I had to see you. If I stayed to eat, that would’ve added at least thirty minutes to my trip. And that was thirty minutes I wasn’t willing to sacrifice.”

  He closed the gap between them and pushed the sweaty hair from her forehead.

  Ugh, I’m such a mess. But at least he’s touching me. He’s softening, I can feel it.

  “Come with me,” he said, taking her hand in his and leading her to the back porch of the main house. “Sit down. I’ll get you something to eat. Then we’ll talk.”

  “No more chores?”

  “No.” He shook his head, a mischievous smile crossing his lips. “Not yet.”

  Relief poured through her shaky body as Wes entered the house. He was going to listen, going to let her in, going to hear her side of things. Finally.

  Thank God.

  Minutes later, he returned with a glass of lemonade and a turkey sandwich on rye bread.

  “How does that taste?” His hand wrapped around her waist as she chewed her meal, savoring the nourishment her body was desperate for.

  “Perfect.”

  “Good.”

  They sat in silence as Whitney polished off the sandwich and lemonade. She wiped her mouth with the napkin and began to feel her strength returning.

  “So . . .” she began. “Are you ready to hear me yet?”

  Wes sighed, breaking eye contact. Whitney felt deflated. Now that she was no longer in danger, he was retreating from her once again.

  Come back, dammit! Don’t go!

  “Let’s take a walk. My family doesn’t need to hear our business.”

  They walked away from the main house, toward an open field that overlooked the mountains. The breeze danced through the cotton of their clothes, cooling Whitney’s skin as they walked. Curious to see his reaction, she reached out to take his hand, but he pulled away.

  “I don’t get it. A few minutes ago, you were nursing me to health, being all sweet, and now . . . what? We’re strangers?”

  “We’re not strangers, but nothing’s changed. I don’t know you, Whitney. Not really.”

  “You’re right, nothing’s changed. At least not for me. Why the hell did you leave?”

  He crossed his arms in front of his chest, pursing his lips. “I saw your fiancé on TV.”

  “I’m not engaged.”

  “Then why the hell was a movie star proposing to you on top of the Empire State Building? What the hell was that?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I got all the time in the world.”

  “Nolan. He’s my ex. And he’s an idiot. I mean, seriously. He’s probably the most selfish person I’ve ever known. We dated for a year, it’s true, but I ended it before I met you. He’s been out of my life for months, and that’s the truth.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Who proposes to an ex?”

  “Nolan Rivera.” Whitney threw her hands up in the air. “It’s what he does. He acts before he thinks. He’s the king of the grand gestures, always wanting me when it’s too late. Hell, he dedicated his Golden Globe to me a month after we broke up.”

  “And what about Charlie?”

  Her stomach flipped. She knew Charlie was somehow involved in all of this.

  “What about him?”

  “You’ve been with him, too. All this time, you’ve been with all three of us?”

  “No. That’s not true at all.”

  “He was with me in the break room. When the news came on, he was there, and he showed me a picture of you at the top of the freaking Willis Tower. He played me a voice mail, Whitney. God, did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “I tried to tell you about him, but you said you didn’t want to know his name. I ended things with him the day after I told you. Remember? I sent you a text the minute I was free of him. I did.”

  “That’s not what he said.”

  “Well, Charlie Hutchins says a lot of things.”

  “Yeah, he does.” Wes’s jaw ticked. “Like how you recruited him for the show.”

  She tipped her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “You mean his audition?”

  “He didn’t audition. You tracked him down, just like me.”

  Anger rose within her belly and her chest heaved. “That’s not true. That’s not true at all.”

  “C’mon, Whitney, cut the bullshit. It’s your shtick, it’s what you told me, it’s what you told him. We were ‘just as good as any of the contestants.’ He was working in a restaurant, and you convinced him to do the show, just like me.”

  “He what?” Whitney was incensed. She held up one finger. “Just a minute.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket, seething.

  “What are you doing?”

  Whitney ignored his question and quickly dialed Chris’s number, then placed him on speakerphone. He answered immediately.

  “Whitney? What’s up? Where are you?”

  “I’m in Montana with Wes and you’re on speakerphone.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  “Yes or no, did Charlie audition for
the show?”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Wes said. “You don’t have to answer, Chris.”

  Whitney held up one finger to Wes. “Yes, he does. Yes, you do, Chris. Please answer.”

  “Yes, he auditioned. Why?”

  “Charlie claimed I sought him out, that I convinced him to do the show like I did Wes, that I offered him a spot in the semifinals. And I want to show Wes that I have nothing to hide. That it was all a lie.”

  “Oh Jesus, no. Charlie auditioned in Chicago just like everybody else. He made some sort of Asian dish, right?”

  “Yep.” She tipped her chin at Wes. “Thank you for clearing that up, Chris.”

  “Of course. Wes was the only person you went rogue with. And it sounds like you’re still going rogue with him.”

  A look of pride crossed Whitney’s face. It was time for step two of this phone call.

  “Listen, remember your little plan for Charlie? Your villain plotline?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, full steam ahead, Chief.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m absolutely sure. Burn his lying ass to the ground. Use whatever you have and don’t hold back. Expose him for the liar he is.”

  “Whoa. I’ve never heard you like this. What’s going on?”

  “He took things too far, Chris. Way too far. And I’m done protecting him. Do what you must.”

  She could hear the smile perking up on Chris’s face when he responded. “All right. This is gonna be some damn good TV.”

  “I’ll bet it is.”

  “Hey, Wes, are you gonna come back?”

  Whitney looked back at her cowboy, whose face was pained as he opened his mouth to speak, but he said nothing.

  “Jury’s still out on that, Chris.”

  She ended the call and returned her phone to her pocket. “Listen, here’s the truth, all right? Charlie Hutchins will do whatever it takes to win. He’s been sabotaging kitchens and telling all sorts of lies to get what he wants.”

  “And what is that? You?”

  “No. He wants the show. He wants to be a star and he’ll take down anyone in his path to get it. We’re all just pawns to him, don’t you see that? If you want to listen to the words of a sociopath, be my guest, but believe me when I say that everything he said to you was a lie. Yes, we dated. I told you I was dating someone. I met him in Chicago, and we slept together several times. It was casual and fun, but it was nothing like you and me, Wes. No one has ever been like you and me.”