Catch Me A Cowboy (6 page)

‘It will never work. I already hate whoever this cowboy is. I can't respect a man that goes on a dating show.'

‘You're going on a dating show, does that make you a hateable person?' asked Xanthi.

‘Well, no, because I was tricked into it.'

‘So you are going to go for it?'

‘I didn't say that.'

‘Yes, you did,' she squealed excitedly. ‘Once again, I'm a little jealous.'

‘Of what. Being lined up like a prized cow alongside other prized cows?'

‘Don't be so pessimistic.'

Emily shook her head as she rounded the next corner. ‘I don't like the country. I like Manolos, designer dresses and concrete as far as the eye can see.'

‘Oh please, you wouldn't know what the country was if it jumped up and bit you on the arse.'

‘That's another good point—snakes. I hate snakes. And insects. And mud. What if I'm allergic to grass?'

‘You really have had a sheltered life, haven't you?'

‘Is that such a bad thing?'

‘Yes. It is. Get out there and live a little. You said yourself that the love games are over. You know you can't keep going on the same old dates with the same type of man and expect that you're suddenly going to get a different result. It doesn't work that way, Emily. You have to try something different if you want a different outcome.'

A shudder shook through Emily as though Xanthi's words finally struck on something inside her that she always knew, something deep and profound, yet wasn't willing to acknowledge. An ancient pain presented itself as an aching lump in her throat. She swallowed hard, not willing to confront it just yet. But the message that accompanied it didn't go unheard. If Emily was serious about changing her behaviour when it came to relationships and finding herself a husband, then she needed to try something different.

How she had been approaching dating in the past produced the same result—one she didn't want and one that didn't work. And it would be insane for Emily to continue down that path.
Catch Me a Cowboy
was certainly a different approach. But it was also a huge risk—emotionally, financially. Although, Emily knew firsthand from her career experience that the biggest risks had the potential to offer the greatest rewards. And in every crevice, slope and surface of her body, Emily wanted a love that was, above all else, rewarding. She deserved that, didn't she?

‘Are you still there?' asked Xanthi when the silence stretched on for too long.

Emily nodded, not willing to use her voice yet because her emotion would be evident. She wiped at the tears that had snuck onto her cheeks and blew out a long breath. ‘Yes,' she said, the word tight and sharp in her throat like a ball of glass.

‘Are you okay?'

‘Fine,' she said.

‘Are you going to do it?'

An intuition, some hidden guiding force, was pushing her to say yes. But Emily ignored it—always one to give all matters due consideration before she jumped in. ‘I'll give it some thought.'

Saturday morning, Emily followed the directions emailed to her and arrived at Dream Studios on time. She met with the receptionist, was ushered through to a large waiting room, and was seated beside thirty other women—gorgeous, manicured women. Every last one of them.

Cowboy was going to be one lucky man.

She hated him already.

Emily turned to the blonde, busty beauty beside her. She was barely twenty-five and had a magnificent, but obviously cosmetically assisted, pout. ‘Hi, I'm Emily,' she said with a smile.

Busty Blonde looked her up and down and didn't attempt to hide her mocking smile. ‘A little old, aren't you?'

Emily narrowed her eyes, her mouth twisted in horror. ‘I beg your pardon?'

The girl peered back at her and offered her best patronising grin. ‘I said, aren't you a little old? Or is your hearing aid not turned on.'

‘I'm thirty,' Emily said, then regretted it because she shouldn't even be acknowledging this kind of sledging.

‘Exactly.' Busty Blonde crossed her legs in the opposite direction and focused her attention elsewhere.

Emily's heart thudded harder. She squeezed her hands into tight fists on her lap. It was hard not to let Busty Blonde's snide comment anger her, and her desire to lash out and slap her smug face was difficult to subdue. But she understood now, loud and clear.
Catch Me a Cowboy
was a competition, a sport, and that comment was a well-executed attempt to throw Emily off her game.

She could run out of here crying and buy up all the latest anti-ageing creams, or she could use that attack as fuel to keep going. With age, came wisdom. And Emily was old enough to know that if Busty Blonde was being that rude, it indicated the girl's insecurity, but also, and this was most important, that she thought of Emily as a threat. Which may just mean Emily had a shot at winning this.

Her anger morphed into excitement. Her competitive spirit stirred in her veins and sparked in her blood. Competition was what Emily did better than anything else. Playing sport to the best of her capabilities was what she thrived on. She didn't become the best in her industry without it. And she certainly didn't become a millionaire by twenty-seven without knowing how to play the game.

She decided that she was going to be a contestant on
Catch Me a Cowboy,
and she was going to try her hardest to win. Not because she agreed with the concept of the show, or wanted to win the heart of a so-called cowboy—who she had doubts she'd even like, let alone fall in love with—but because she wanted to smile smugly at Busty Blonde when she took the main prize. She was going to represent every woman no longer in their twenties looking for a semblance of representation in this world. And she was going to represent … hard!

Her husband-finding project would have to be put on the back burner for a couple of months. But, who knows, the break from reality and dud dates might give her a new perspective.

When Emily's name was called, she went into her interviews and posed for her publicity shots giving it all she had. She plastered on the charm, the fake smiles, the wit, and the humour. She was not walking out of here without advancing to the next round.

Chapter 8

The production bus arrived at Wattle Valley, Victoria, early in the morning. From the window, Emily marvelled at the endless green fields branching off on either side until they met the Great Dividing Range. Such uninterrupted vastness; an unbelievable contrast to the city with its monumental cement and glass structures hindering all views. White puffy clouds hung overhead in the blue sky. Clusters of hairy cows and sheep, ancient-sized trees, and sporadic rural homesteads dotted the landscape.

The bus turned up a dusty track that extended for hundreds of metres, slashing across the greenery until the farmhouse loomed in the distance. Closer to the house, long rows of weeping willows, with green dripping foliage, lined the road, filtering the sunlight so it flickered tiny shapes of shadow and light over Emily's flesh. Anxiety knotted in her belly. She stretched her arms to release some of the nervous energy.

After make-up and styling, they were to begin filming today. First on the agenda was meeting the cowboy. The studio wanted this moment to be as authentic as possible and capture their honest reactions, so they were given no prior details on how the introduction was going to happen, only that they'd be directed through it.

Mystery seemed to be the way of things. Emily expected, on the trip here, they'd be given more details about the cowboy himself, but they received no insight at all. Not even his name. All this secrecy made her more inquisitive to the point of distraction. And she wasn't the only one. Every conversation on the three-hour drive from Melbourne revolved around the cowboy. What would he look like? How old was he? Would he be sexy? What type of girl would he be interested in most?

Around and around the questions went. In the end, Emily was glad to get off the bus because she was getting dizzy from it all.

Feet on lush grass, she spun around to take in three-hundred-and-sixty degrees of splendour, trying to find the end to this farm in all directions, but it didn't stop—it was green fields for days. The sun soothed her from above, chasing away the winter chill. It smelled of freshly cut grass and damp earth. She breathed the fresh air deep into her lungs and her restlessness eased.

Behind her was the farmhouse—a charming old brick double-storey structure with a charcoal tiled roof. It had a timber veranda along the façade with colourful potted flowers hanging from the ceiling. Smoke billowed from one of the tall chimney's offering subtle whiffs of smoke when the breeze blew her way.

Emily hadn't come to the country to find love, but she'd found it, in the scenery, the charming farmhouse, and the scent. She wasn't sure how she'd feel about all that though when she had to get her hands dirty.

Emily lined up in a long row on the grass, alongside the other contestants. They were styled and primped, hair, make-up, and nails done professionally. Glancing sidelong at the nineteen gorgeous women standing either side of her, she could attest that Cowboy was in for a treat. She had never seen so many delicious pouts, plump breasts and sculptured bodies in the one place.

Lined up, dressed in designer jeans, a white blouse tied at the belly and stilettos that kept sinking into the damp grass, Emily felt like a prized cow awaiting the discerning glare of the cowboy to determine if she lived to see another day or was sent to the slaughterhouse. Her stomach churned at the blatant objectification all around her. She wanted to roll her eyes, but the cameras were focusing on them.

What had she been thinking of by coming here? She was a successful woman and out-earned many of her contemporaries. She was independent and confident. Emily did not need to be wondering if some bloke she didn't even know was going to approve of her. A man she already disliked because anyone who would sign up to make women feel like a choice cut of meat wasn't worth much.

This was a really bad idea. Her head grew light and her breathing laboured. She could not be having a panic attack. Not now of all moments when there were cameras capturing her every twitch. She thought back to the notes the doctor had given her on the way out of the hospital and tried to recall one of the methods of coping.
Slow breaths
. She took a long, steady breath, in and out.
Count backwards from ten as you breathe. Ten, nine …

This was ridiculous. Emily glanced at the other girls, making sure they weren't noticing her internal breakdown. She'd bet the directors hadn't contemplated one of the cattle contracting mad cow disease.
Eight, seven, six, five …
What would they do if she suddenly fainted over here? All when she was supposed to be fierce competition, not … not … this.

Four, three, two …
Her dizziness was slowly subsiding and the realisation that this calming tool may actually be working further eased her state of mind.
You have everything under control. You have made the right decision
.

A loud whooping sound beat down from the sky. Distant moans from cows and goats could be heard. Emily, along with all the girls and camera lenses, looked up to see what it was.

A black chopper was winding its way towards them. She forgot about her breathing and her anxiety and watched with a gaping mouth as the helicopter rocketed across the sky. It was like something out of a James Bond movie, not a reality dating show.

Was Cowboy flying that thing? Perhaps her suppositions about farming and country living needed a modern readjustment. The chopper circled above then landed a hundred metres from where they were all standing. The slashing blades slowed and stopped altogether. Emily held her breath as the side door opened and a figure clad in jeans, a long-sleeved checked shirt, cowboy hat and boots, climbed out and jumped onto the grass.

With a relaxed, casual gait, he walked towards them, the cameras following his every move. Emily couldn't turn her gaze from him. He was tall, with broad shoulders and when he looked at the girls as he passed, nodding and tipping his hat, she saw that his eyes were a brilliant blue. A healthy spattering of whiskers covered his chin and upper lip.

Oh yes, this got incredibly real, because Cowboy was abso-freakin'-lutely smoking hot. And judging by the chests pushing outwards and gaping mouths on the girls, Emily wasn't the only one to think so. She nearly giggled thinking about the footage captured of breasts, one by one in a domino effect, expanding outwards as Cowboy strutted past.

Damn it. Cowboy would be much easier to dislike if he wasn't so sexy
. She couldn't become one of those contestants that pined over the chosen mate so much she humiliated herself. Yes, she was here to win it, but she needed to keep a level head. She wasn't to get distracted.

The female host, Missy Johnson, smiled and said in a strong voice, ‘Ladies, it is my great pleasure to introduce you all to our resident cowboy, Wil Parker.'

Wil tipped his hat again and Emily resisted a real life, actual swoon. She thought that was something reserved for romance books, not reality. But there was something deliciously rugged and masculine about this cowboy that affected her physically. As though her ovaries had finally realised they had a purpose in life.

He scanned all the ladies and stopped when his gaze met Emily's.

Chapter 9

Wil had been tense all morning, needing to stretch out his anxiety any chance he got. He would have cameras and all eyes on him, but on top of that, he was going to have to entertain beautiful women at his farm for the next couple of months. For someone who went to an all-boys college in a rural town, then married his teenage sweetheart, this was not something he was used to. Then again, was a reality dating show something anyone would be used to?

But now that he was in the moment, instead of anticipating it, and standing before the contestants, his body felt lighter and his mind more at ease. Wil had been given profile pictures and names of all the ladies, so he already knew how incredibly beautiful they were, but he didn't anticipate how much more so they would be in the flesh. It took his breath away, especially when he met the honey-brown gaze of a woman whom he knew from her picture as Emily Wolfe.