The Cowboy and the Girl Next Door: (A Clean, Enemies to Lovers Romance) Wyle Away Ranch Book 1

by Janette Rallison

  “We can’t kill him dear,” she says in her gravely, smoker’s voice. “It wouldn’t help your career at all. How are you holding up?”

  If I could see her now, I’m sure she’d be wearing an outlandish outfit that looks like it should be on a runway, and she’d be smoking one of her thin cigarettes. No matter how many times I’ve told her she should quit, she waves me off with a red manicured hand and says she’ll quit when she’s dead.

  “I’m pissed. Not only am I not going to get a role in Henry Wilson’s film because Trey and I are no longer the perfect couple, but the media is already blaming me for Trey’s indiscretion as if I pushed him into that girl’s arms. I knew this was a bad idea.”

  When I raise my voice, a couple of the cooks turn their heads to me. I smile and give them a little wave before turning to the side.

  “Okay, listen,” JulieAnn says. “First of all, when have I ever steered you wrong? Yes, we knew he was a risk, and I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but this is good, darling. Bad publicity is still publicity. Your name is going to be on the covers of all the magazines—we can’t buy that kind of exposure.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Despite the publicity, I care about my name and would rather it not be smeared.”

  “I know, I know,” she says. “I can fix this, spin it into a positive. You just need to trust your Auntie JulieAnn.”

  Trusting her is what got me into this mess in the first place. “I think I had it right when I said I needed a break from the spotlight. I just don’t think I have the energy for all of this drama. My heart isn’t in it enough.”

  JulieAnn sighs into the phone. “You know, maybe a small break would do you some good. I’ll set you up at a resort in Sedona. They’ll be discreet. No one will even know you’re there. You can relax and get facials and massages every day. Oh, and I can set you up with some extreme adventure tours, so you’ll be ready for the role. Since I told the casting director that you could do all those crazy things, you ought to learn.”

  That was another thing she claimed I could trust her on . . . assuring the casting director that I could shoot a gun, rock climb, horseback ride, fight, and rope a cow. I told her the only thing on that list I could actually do is horseback riding. But she said it didn’t matter, just as long as I could learn the other skills before filming.

  “You think I still have a chance for the role at this point?”

  “Absolutely. You go take your break and learn what you need for the role, and I’ll fix everything on this end.”

  Getting away from the spotlight does sounds like a breath of fresh air. “Yeah, okay,” I say.

  “Great. I’ll take care of everything. Now get back to your sister’s event and show those hillbillies how to party Hollywood style. Okay sweetie, I’ve got to go now. Kisses.”

  I hang up the phone and look at the cupcakes in the fridge. They’re chocolate. My mouth starts to water. I haven’t had dessert in six months. I’ve been working on toning up for the role. Despite JulieAnn’s optimism, I’m probably not going to get it now, so why not? After today’s headlines, I deserve something sweet. I open the fridge, and a burst of cold air surrounds me. I grab one of the frosted cupcakes with a yellow bonnet on it in fondant. The sweet, nutty aroma of chocolate floats around me like a sultry tease.

  I know it’s not dessert time yet, but I did pay for these so I don’t think anyone will mind. Still, I snatch a napkin from a stack on a shelf to hide the cupcake and slip out of the kitchen before the chef notices and scolds me. Once I’m back in the ballroom, I waste no time shoving a colossal bite of rich, gooey deliciousness in my mouth. I close my eyes and moan in pleasure, knowing I totally deserve this right now. Oh. . . chocolate, how I have missed you.

  “Oh. My. Goodness!” someone yells out.

  I open my eyes. Everyone in the room staring at me and pointing. What is it? My heart skips a beat. Oh, please tell me I’m not having a nip-slip moment like Janet Jackson. I look down. My red dress is still covering everything it ought to, but my confusion grows when the gasps continue to ring out in a ripple effect across the ballroom. I turn and gaze at my reflection in one of the mirrored walls. Aside from my long dark hair looking fabulous swept to one side with a jeweled comb and my make-up being on point, my lips are coated in blue. It’s even stuck in between my teeth. I look like I just ate a Smurf.

  “It’s a boy!” someone shouts, and cheers erupt in the room.

  Ala and her husband, who are currently gawking at Reese Witherspoon, turn their heads to me. Amongst the cheers and congratulations, my eyes meet my big sister’s. Ala’s smile drops, and I see the disappointment in her expression. I put that disappointment there. Here I was trying to do a nice thing, and I went and ruined it.

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