Bet on a Cowboy

Her pulse quickened. Her world spun, and she’d only touched his hand. Lord help her if the band played a slow song and Griffin put his arms around her. She’d probably spontaneously combust.

On the dance floor, she tried to follow Griffin’s moves. She scooted right, then left, tapping her heels and toes, usually seconds after everyone else. Finally thinking that she might pull this off without too much embarrassment, she zigged when she should’ve zagged, and tromped on Griffin’s right foot. “I’m sorry. Let’s sit—”

“I’m fine. Maggie girl, just keep moving and have fun.”

After two rousing line dances, the band played a slow ballad. The gentle strains about a cowboy and his lost love flowed over her. She stared into Griffin’s mesmerizing eyes. He’d say they should take a breather. Get a drink. Go to the restroom, or some other excuse to leave the dance floor. She knew the drill, because that’s what happened with other men whenever the music slowed down.

Instead, Griffin placed his hand on her back, leaving her shocked and thrilled. He stepped closer. She inhaled deeply and his earthy scent filled her. She’d died and gone to heaven.

Please don’t let me step on his toes again. I can’t bear to spoil this moment.

As Griffin glided her around the dance floor, for the first time in her life Maggie felt graceful. His attention focused on her. He wasn’t glancing around the room to trade up. She could get lost in this man, and not care if anyone ever looked for her.

Stop this. You work together. Nothing but disaster can come from thoughts like that.

And at the end of the season he would propose to another woman.

She never should’ve danced with him. She should’ve said she had a migraine. Or a raging toothache. A sudden case of the flu. Anything to avoid being in his arms. How would she ever watch him flirt with other women? Watch him hold the bachelorettes and kiss them? She’d never before wanted to trade places with the women on her show, but now she found herself eager to do just that.

Knowing all of those reasons why she shouldn’t have danced with him, Maggie wouldn’t have given up the experience for anything.

But now the ball was almost over, and she had to think of Griffin like every other bachelor she’d worked with in the last six years. But how?

She’d need a fairy godmother’s intervention to pull off that trick.

Chapter Four

Sleep eluded Griffin until three, by which time he’d hammered out his strategy to deal with the proposal issue. His other concern, his reaction to Maggie, had him stumped.

He’d asked her to dinner for a simple reason: to keep her from coming back to the ranch and running into his mother. He’d figured they would eat and listen to Nick’s band play a few songs. Nothing more. Night over. After all, what about Maggie would tempt him? Griffin liked his women as curvy as a mountain road, with legs longer than a Colorado winter night. Who knew if Maggie possessed any curves at all under those ugly clothes she wore? He swore a feed sack would fit better.

No, he hadn’t worried about being with her, but he’d enjoyed her company, and when they danced she’d felt good in his arms. Too good.

That was last night. Today his mind focused on business. As he walked into the ranch’s office and threw himself into the leather wing chair, he said, “I’d like to take ten weeks off. Matthew Davis can take over my duties until I get back. Is that okay with you?”

His big brother looked up from the stack of invoices on their dad’s large oak desk. Griffin thanked the good Lord that mess wasn’t his responsibility, as it had been a couple months ago.

“We can’t afford to hire anyone right now, even temporarily,” Rory said.

“I’ll pay him out of what I make.”

He frowned. “I don’t have time for games. What’s going on?”

“You’re not the only one who can land a high paying gig, bro. I found a way to put some serious money into the family coffers.” Griffin stretched his legs out in front of him. For the first time since the accident, he had a purpose and a way to ease the family’s financial problems. Damned if he didn’t like the feeling.

“I could use some good news. Tour bookings are down this month, and our cash flow is more like a trickle. What’re you going to do?”

“The director from the reality show Finding Mrs. Right was here yesterday and asked me to be their bachelor.”

“A reality show? Don’t tell me you’re considering it.” Rory leaned forward and his chair squeaked. “Wait a minute. You said you’d be the bachelor. Is it one of those dating and marriage shows?”

He nodded.

“I can’t believe you want to get married.”

“I don’t. Why would I order the same meal every day when I haven’t sampled the whole menu?”

“I’m discovering a lot of benefits to marriage.” A dreamy look filled his brother’s eyes. Rory was whipped.

“As lovely and captivating as my sister-in-law is, there’s a reason they call marriage an institution.”

“But getting you married is the show’s goal.”

“Oh, come on,” Griffin scoffed. “People don’t expect those relationships to last.”

Rory shook his head. “At least tell me they won’t be filming here on the ranch.”

Griffin shook his in turn. “We’re shooting in Las Vegas.”

“Good. The last thing we need is a repeat of what happened to Mom when we made the commercial here.”

When Devlin Designs had filmed Rory’s jeans commercial at Twin Creeks, their mother discovered Rory had agreed to model because of the ranch’s poor financial state, which was news to her, and to pay for her treatment. When the truth came out, she’d gotten so upset she’d collapsed, scaring the daylights out of everyone.

“The way I see it, I pretend to search for the future Mrs. Griffin McAlister. The key is to pick the woman who’ll fit into my plans. I’ve got it all worked out.”

Rory leaned back in his massive leather desk chair—now, that part of the job Griff had appreciated—and put his hands behind his head. He grinned. “This I’ve got to hear.”

“I eliminate anyone who’s not career driven or wants more than one kid. Then before the finale, I drop the little bombshell that I want a whole houseful of them, and I want my wife to stay home to raise them. Telling the final contender I want to keep her barefoot and pregnant should send her screaming into the night, never to return. It’s perfect. I propose. She says no. I’m in the clear.”

“Did I ever mention how career driven Lizzie was when we met?”

“As far as I can see she still is.” Since moving from New York to Colorado, Elizabeth, a whirlwind of activity, had revamped the ranch’s advertising and marketing campaign. In addition, she was knocking on every door in the county, trying to drum up more business for her ad agency. “Career women like Elizabeth would never be happy staying at home raising kids.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I thought about that. If my original plan doesn’t work, I can turn into a nightmare fiancé.” He’d spent the better part of the night sorting through potential problems and devising solutions. “I’ll get possessive or insult the future in-laws. I don’t know. I’ll work something out.”

“Your arrogance could get you into trouble.”

Griffin smiled. “Thanks for giving me another strategy. I can turn into a complete ass.”

“That shouldn’t be hard for you.”

Rory, the serious one, always played devil’s advocate. However, that tendency often dampened Griffin’s enthusiasm or drained the fun out of his idea. No way was he letting his wet-blanket big brother do that with this sweet deal.

“Thanks for having faith in me,” he snapped.

“But seriously, Griff, when relationships from reality TV go up in flames, the whole thing gets played out in the tabloids. If you act like an ass to get her to break up with you, it could backfire. She’ll probably do interviews. That could affect our ranch business, and we have to be able to face everyone here.”