Bet on a Cowboy

Cathy returned, a tray of drinks in her hand, placed a glass of beer in front of each of them and moved on.

“What made you choose a career in television?” Griffin asked after taking a long drink.

“I feel like I’m in a job interview. What’s the deal?”

“I’m curious. Television can’t be an easy career to break into. But if you don’t want to tell me, we can talk about the weather.”

“Not that! I’ll talk. I’ve always been interested in the theater. As a kid I wrote and performed plays. When my brothers wanted me to help them with their chores, I made them agree to act in one of my productions.”

“You drove a hard bargain.”

“I had to. How many boys want to star in The Princess and the Shoe Salesman?”

Griffin shuddered. “I gotta side with your brothers. That could kill a guy’s reputation.”

“You laugh, but it was one of my highest-grossing shows.”

“You charged people to attend your childhood plays?”

“You bet. Money was tight.” Thanks to her father cleaning out the bank accounts when he ran off. Familiar anger surged inside her.

Two months after her father had entered college, her mother had discovered she was pregnant. He’d quit school, got a factory job and dutifully married her. However, he never hid his resentment over being “trapped” into marriage.

Let it go.

“Then I went to New York University to study film making, and here I am.” Maggie sipped her beer. The cool liquid slid down her dry throat, soothing as it went. “What about you? Did you ever want to do anything other than work on a ranch?”

Griffin’s smile tightened for a second, then brightened again. Had she hit a sore spot?

“Life on the ranch is dull compared to working in television. What made you choose to work on a dating reality show?”

She’d definitely hit a sore spot. Why else would he keep steering the conversation back to her? She decided to let it go for now.

She’d wanted to work on a critically acclaimed drama or comedy, but those jobs were hard to come by. In the end, she’d taken what she could get to pay her bills. Working on a reality show had stripped off her rose-colored glasses, romantically speaking, but people didn’t want to hear that. They wanted the fantasy.

“I love watching couples fall in love, and knowing I played a part in bringing them together.”

Griffin laughed. “How often do you practice that speech in front of the mirror?”

This wasn’t the first time she’d defended her work, but how had Griffin guessed she actually had practiced? And how dare he throw it in her face?

“What I said may have sounded rehearsed, but what we do isn’t that much different than a dating service.”

Except for the group dates, exotic locations, hidden agendas and cameras.

“What about finding love yourself?”

The innocent question left her reeling. The last thing she wanted to discuss with a gorgeous man who’d probably never been turned down for anything, was her love life, or lack there of.

Thankfully, Cathy arrived with their food. Maggie picked up her knife, cut the huge buffalo burger Griffin had recommended in half, and took a bite. “This is wonderful.”

“Would I steer you wrong?”

In a New York minute, and she wasn’t sure she’d care.

“You’re avoiding my question about why you haven’t found love.”

You bet she was, and his words stung as much the second time as they had the first.

“They ask contestants fewer questions on Jeopardy,” Maggie said. “My turn now. What’re you looking for in a wife?”

Griffin stared off in the distance, his gaze clouded. “That’s not an easy question.”

“The good ones never are.” But they often revealed the most, whether a person answered or not.

His hand gripped his beer glass. “I like Elizabeth, Rory’s wife. She makes him laugh, but she gets her dander up when she thinks someone’s not treating him right. She’s a little dynamo in a knockout package.”

Maggie tried not to flinch, and slouched in her chair when Griffin said he liked petite, attractive women. “I’ll keep that info in mind when I select a new bachelorette.”

“You better do right by me.” Despite his light tone, she sensed a genuine request behind his words.

“You can count on it.”

For a moment, his sky-blue eyes focused on her. The words hung between them. The light manner in which they’d spoken was contradicted by the undercurrents passing back and forth.

“This conversation has gotten way too serious.” Griffin scooted his chair back from the table. “You ready to lose at pool?”

Before she could answer, a sexy feminine voice called Griffin’s name. Off to his left stood a tall blonde in sleek designer jeans and a low-cut, tight sweater that revealed a figure probably earned through more hours in a gym than Maggie spent at work. The woman licked her lips, fluffed her hair and set out on a direct course for Griffin.

“Where have you been?” She leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek and offering him an unobstructed view of her generous cleavage.

Maggie tried not to wince, feeling like a child’s finger painting hanging next to a Van Gogh. Didn’t he say he liked petite women? The one talking to him now was tall, and she and Griffin clearly knew each other well.

“It’s been ages, Griffin.” The woman practically started drooling. Could she be more obvious? “I’ve missed you. A lot.”

Her hand trailed up his chest and slipped inside his shirt.

Apparently she could.

“Sorry, Britney. I was chained to Rory’s desk while he was in New York.” Griffin turned to Maggie and introduced her. Britney mumbled a hello without even glancing at her. How come pretty women felt they could get away with being rude? Oh, yeah. That was because people let them.

“A bunch of us are having a party tonight for Jackson’s birthday. You should join us.” Britney finally looked at Maggie. “Of course, you’re welcome to come.”

Sure. She was as welcome as poison ivy on a scout camp-out.

“Though I don’t know how much fun you’d have, since everyone’s been friends since high school,” Britney added.

“I love meeting new people,” Maggie countered. Take that. She’d learned long ago not to let beautiful women intimidate her, because if she did, she’d spend all her free time home alone.