Catch Me A Cowboy (2 page)

‘It's six-thirty on a Sunday morning, this better be good,' Xanthi said when she answered.

‘I called my date selfish, a dud in bed, then kicked him out.' Emily's voice was almost a shriek.

A muffled laugh came down the line. ‘What? Why?'

‘Because I'm sick of selfish pricks—no pun intended. He needed to know the disservice he was doing to women all over Melbourne.'

‘So, I take it there was no O?'

Emily sighed. ‘No. No O. Not even close. But it's more than that. These guys don't even care. I'm over being used. I'm not a dirty come-rag they can discard under the bed once they're done. I want what you have. I'm ready for it. I
need
it.'

Xanthi scoffed. ‘What? Two kids, no time, and a mummy tummy.'

‘No. Well, eventually I want that, but first I want something else.'

‘What?'

‘A husband.'

There was silence for a long moment. ‘Whoa, you are serious, aren't you?'

‘Deadly. I'm thirty, it's about time I settled down.'

‘Being married isn't all roses and sunshine. It takes work, Em.' Xanthi's tone was grim.

Emily squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. ‘But please, please, please tell me it's worth it?'

Again the silence. ‘Yeah. It's well and truly worth it.'

Emily sighed and switched the mobile to her other ear. ‘Then that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to find a husband. All the love games of my twenties are over. It's time to get serious.'

Another long moment of silence. ‘You do know that if you ever want a marriage to work, you're going to have to open your heart and trust a man?' Xanthi's tone was empathetic, yet assertive. She was well versed with Emily's deeper issues of trust.

‘Yes. I know that. I can trust. I'm ready to trust.'

‘So how do you plan to find this husband?'

That was a problem. ‘I'm never going near Tinder again, nor any other dating site for that matter. It's a breeding ground for sex-crazed dicks. Pun absolutely intended.'

‘Then what? You hang out at bars like you're twenty?'

Emily winced and actually did a little dry-retch just thinking about that. ‘God no.'

‘Not many options left.'

She was right. Options were slim. ‘How did you meet Geoff?'

‘A mutual friend introduced us.'

A proverbial light bulb blinked. ‘Geoff must have single friends. Some of them would be looking to settle down. Surely, he can direct someone my way.'

‘Like a blind date?'

Emily managed a smile as the storm clouds parted. ‘Exactly.'

‘That's not a bad idea. But I'm not having Geoff go to the trouble of setting you up, just for you to push the man away in the future.'

Emily sighed. This girl knew her too well. But she was determined to be different. There was no longer any choice. She had to behave contrarily to how she had in the past, or she was going to die a lonely, bitter woman.

‘I promise, I won't.'

‘I'll ask him then.'

Chapter 2

Dusk was blanketing the property, turning the green to grey and the Great Dividing Range in the distance was illumed in orange from the setting sun. This was Wil Parker's favourite time of day. His body was heavy from fatigued muscles, and his mind was too tired to think, so he could just walk. Alec, his brother, who was visiting the family farm for the week, strolled beside him.

Wil called Daisy to him. She was an energetic two-year-old cattle dog and the best sheepherder he'd had. Well worth the thousands spent on training. The day had been long—since sunrise he'd been out in the paddocks, roving the cattle through the dippers and tagging the new calves. For the number of cattle on this property, it was an all-week affair requiring extra hands, thus Alec's visit.

‘What happened with that local woman you were seeing last time I was here?' asked Alec. He was tall like Wil, the same blond hair, but Wil had their father's blue eyes while Alec inherited their mother's green.

‘Don't ask.'

‘You're going to have to take the risk again one day, mate.'

Wil shrugged. ‘One day I will.'

Suitable women were scarce in the country. And opportunities to meet them, even slimmer. Wil didn't help the situation, though. After the heartache caused by his ex-wife, to himself and his entire family, he found it difficult to let another woman in.

‘Seriously. You have to move on. We all have. Or we're going to be repeating this conversation when you're sixty.'

Wil looked at his brother with a snarl. ‘I'm twenty-nine. There's plenty of time.' Though in his heart, he knew that was a lie. Not because twenty-nine was getting old, not at all, but because he had always been ready for marriage. For as long as he could remember, becoming a father and a husband were as big a goal in his life as any other. Maybe that's why he rushed in to marry his high-school sweetheart. He wasn't about to make that mistake again. Easy does it.

Bending, Alec plucked a long piece of grass from the ground and twirled it between his thick fingers. He may be a stockbroker, but he had the hands of a farmer. Dirt under the nails, his skin was rough and callused. ‘I've got a proposition. Well, Sandy does anyway.'

Wil arched a brow. Sandy was Alec's wife of ten years. Mother of their two gorgeous children. ‘And what's that?'

‘Hear me out first before you interrupt.'

Wil lowered his brow, narrowed his eyes. ‘Why don't I like the sound of this? You're not going to rope me into speed dating or … or … some online dating shit?' Quickest way to pick up loonies. Not that he'd tried it. He'd heard from mates who had given it a go, unsuccessfully. He may be breaking traditions with his farming, but he was still old-fashioned at heart and intended to meet a partner the old-fashioned way.

‘I said hear me out first.'

‘Fine. Unleash your miraculous idea upon me.'

Alec grinned. ‘Sarcasm not necessary.'

Wil chuckled. ‘Fine. Let me hear it.'

‘Sandy said there's a show on television. It's a dating show—'

‘Hell, no!'

‘I said hear me out.'

Wil inhaled noisily. He was single, not dying. He didn't need to go on some sleazy television show to remedy it. But he'd humour his brother, so he motioned with his hand for Alec to continue.

‘The show is aimed at farmers who are looking for love. And from what Sandy says, it's been really successful. It's responsible for six marriages and eight children so far.'

Wil rubbed his hand over his mouth. ‘Seriously, mate, what do you take me for?'

‘I think it would be a good opportunity. The show will send twenty drop-dead gorgeous women out here to spend a couple of months with you on the farm. And I've seen these shows before, these women are top notch.'

Wil didn't want to admit that he'd seen a few episodes of shows like that and could attest to the beauty of the contestants. But that didn't change his mind. Wil shook his head. ‘No.'

‘Come on. Sandy will help you fill out the application. At the end of the day, you'll get to spend some quality time with the opposite sex, which I think you need. What have you got to lose?'

Wil lifted his face to the darkening sky overhead and groaned. ‘I agree, there are worse ways to spend a couple of months than with beautiful women. But I'm not going to waste my time on people looking for their fifteen minutes. I'm not sure anyone who would apply for a show like this would be the type I'd like to settle down with.'

‘Don't be so shallow. You've no idea what type of woman would apply. And like I mentioned, this show's success rate is solid.'

Wil huffed out a breath. ‘Why do I feel like I'll regret this?'

Alec's eyes widened. ‘So you're going to do it?'

‘I'll give it some thought.'

Alec nodded, his grin as wide as his face. ‘That's what I wanted to hear.'

‘What do you think Mum and Dad will say, though?'

Alec slapped Wil's back. ‘Already taken care of. Ran it by them earlier and they're more than happy. Hell, I think Dad was delirious at the thought of having the farm overrun with gorgeous girls.'

Chapter 3

Emily raced down the street to meet with her client. She wasn't late, but if she didn't get there in the next five minutes, she would be. Winter had settled in Melbourne, and an icy gust was blowing off the harbour, whipping against her face and tangling in her long brown hair.

Her phone rang and vibrated from inside her handbag. She pulled it out, never one to miss a call if she could help it.

‘I've got an idea.' It was Xanthi. She sounded chirpier than usual. The hubbub of children echoed in the background and Emily's heart warmed—one day, she definitely wanted children, but that was two steps ahead of where she was now. Firstly, she was concentrating on finding a husband.

‘Hi, Xanthi. I'm meeting with a client in three minutes, so we'll have to keep it brief.'

‘How about a dating game show?'

‘What do you mean a dating game show? You know I don't have time for television.'

‘Not watching one. Going on a dating game show to meet your husband.'

Emily stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. A man ran into the back of her and she jogged forward two paces to stop from falling over. Lucky she was skilled in stilettos; she could run for blocks in these babies.

‘Sorry,' said the man as he side-stepped around her. She lifted her hand and shook her head, saying in the recognised sign language—
don't worry about it
. She refocused on what Xanthi had asked of her, the absurdity of the suggestion, then threw her head back and laughed and laughed, until her eyes watered. ‘Not going to happen,' she finally managed to say, picking up the pace again towards the bar.

‘It's not that funny.'

‘It really is.'

‘It's an option you haven't tried before. It could be fun.'

‘No. Definitely no.'

‘Okay,' Xanthi said, disappointment thick in her tone. ‘I thought I'd let you know about it just in case.'

Emily was at the bar already. She looked down at her watch—one minute to spare. ‘I better go, or this client is going to freak out. Talk to you later.'

‘Okay. Talk soon.'

Emily hung up, shoved her phone in her bag, and pushed through the door of the restaurant. A fireplace warmed the dim, expansive room with its dark panelled walls and highly polished floor. Emily pulled her coat and scarf off and handed them to the maître d', who then took her to Mike. He was waiting for her at a table.

He stood as she approached. ‘I hope you have good news,' he said, shaking her hand across the table.

Her answer would wait until they were comfortable and had alcohol in arms reach. What she thought was good news, he may think different.

Emily smiled and took the seat opposite.

Mike was a property developer from New York and had contracted her to sell four bespoke apartment buildings in South Yarra, worth a combined listed price of twelve million dollars. He came up to her chin, but he had the presence of a giant. He was tough talking, demanding and ruthless. So far, that hadn't been a problem. And besides, men like Mike came with the profession—the power trip hit hard, especially at this end of the market.

The tables and the length of the bar were packed with patrons garbed in business suits and designer dresses, catching a drink or two after work. Emily ordered wine. Mike a scotch on the rocks—a hard drink for a hard man.

Only small talk passed between them until their drinks arrived. Emily would need some bravado before she let Mike know the offers she achieved on his apartments. They were great offers, but he was adamant he didn't want to talk about anything under the asking price. Already, she sensed, by the rigid set of his jaw, an aggressive undercurrent, stating clearly that she better not be wasting his time.

Emily took a long sip of her wine and smiled warmly at the dark-haired man with equally dark eyes and hard features. ‘I got three separate offers on three of the apartments.'

He leant back in his chair, swallowed a mouthful of scotch. ‘Have you done your job?'

She nodded. Of course, she'd done her job—to the utmost of her ability. Like she did everything in her life. She got three great offers, despite the glut of apartments in the market, but they were below asking price. Still above what she determined as the realistic price, but not what Mike wanted. By law, though, she had to bring all offers to the table.

‘Three offers but they are slightly below what you wanted.'

Mike pressed his lips together hard and leant closer across the table. He cupped his glass. ‘Then you can go back and tell them all no.'

She forced a smile. ‘Don't you even want to hear the offers? They're great offers.'

He shook his head. His eyes seemed to darken with his obvious descent into anger. ‘Are the offers asking price?'

‘No, but they are above what I would have predicted—'

‘Above what you predicted, but below the asking price? All that tells me is your knowledge of the market is lacking and you haven't done what you promised me you'd do.'

She was finding his New York accent annoying now. ‘Let me run through the offers, then we can talk about them.'

He leant back against his chair again and huffed. ‘Fine. Tell me about these amazing offers.'

His sarcasm wasn't lost on her, but she ignored it. ‘Apartment one—two million, six hundred thousand.'

He shook his head adamantly. ‘That's four hundred thousand below what I demand.'

She nodded, sipped her wine. ‘True. But, like I said at the beginning, I think your asking price is too high. No properties, especially apartments, are getting above ten thousand dollars a square metre. But with this offer on the table right now, I got you ten-and-a-half. That's unheard of, ever, in Melbourne.' And that all came down to her being damn good at her job.