Catch Me a Cowboy (Wattle Valley, #1)

by Jacquie Underdown

  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.

  His eyes flickered to her again, because he was certain she couldn’t possibly be as enthralling as he first thought. His heart beat harder and he stood a little taller. Emily was breath-stealing—a statuesque, curvaceous natural beauty. Dark hair fell long over her shoulders in gentle waves. But those eyes were like syrup, framed by long, dark lashes. They ignited a deep carnal desire he had forgotten he possessed. She gazed back at him and he was lost in her, wanting to know every nook and slope. Yes, he was being superficial, primal, but he didn’t care. Then when her tongue darted out to lick her lip, he had to drag his gaze away before he embarrassed himself.

  His brother was going to tease him so hard when this aired. All credibility he hoped to have was robbed right there in that moment. Keep your head, Wil, you bloody idiot. He was not one of those sleazebags who would molest these women with his eyes and thoughts. Yet he’d done exactly that, unwittingly. Oh God and I’ve another two months of this.

  The director sounded in his ear that it was his turn to speak. He took a deep breath, then subtly cleared his throat. With a smile, he said, ‘Good morning, ladies.’

  ‘Good morning,’ they chorused back with mixtures of smiles and waves.

  ‘Welcome to the Parker farm,’ he said gesturing his arms wide. ‘While you are here, I consider you my guests. And I hope that this will be a fantastic experience for you all. I look forward to getting to know each of you over the coming days, weeks and months.’

  Missy addressed the contestants. ‘I don’t know who’s luckier, our cowboy or you ladies.’ She grinned at Wil, then back to the women. ‘In a little while, you will each have a private introduction with Wil in his home. This is where you will get your chance to share a little about yourselves and ask those introductory questions I’m sure you all have. This evening you will join Wil for dinner under the stars. But, by the end of the night, ten of you will be going home.’ She turned to Wil. ‘If you want to make your way up to the farmhouse, I’ll send through the lovely ladies to meet with you.’

  Wil smiled at the contestants again and nodded before walking up to the house.

  When inside, Wil sat in his living room, which was now inundated with cameras and lights. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

  ‘You okay, Wil?’ asked the director, Andrea.

  Wil nodded. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Beautiful ladies out there waiting to meet you.’

  He grinned. ‘Yes. Quite disconcerting, let me tell you.’

  ‘You’re doing fantastically. Just keep on with what you’re doing and today will fly by without a hitch.’

  Wil sat back against the lounge as Andrea and the staging crew tweaked the cameras, lighting and décor items. The nerves in his stomach were unceasing. It was one thing to talk to beautiful women, but to do that in front of discerning onlookers was … daunting. And his brother kept coming to mind, or rather, the rib digging Alec was going to unleash once this aired. Wil gave the blokes, who had been in his position before him, more credit—this was tough.

  ‘Okay, we’re ready to go,’ said Andrea.

  Wil rubbed a hand over his mouth and nodded.

  A beautiful blonde strode in on the highest heels Wil had ever seen. He did his best to keep his expression neutral. She was dressed in a tight black dress that came to her mid-thigh, accentuating the tanned length of her long legs. Never, in a million years, would he ever get the opportunity to meet someone as glamorous as Tatiana.

  Wil stood and went to her, kissing her cheek. ‘Tatiana?’

  ‘Yes. So lovely to meet you, Wil,’ she said with a hint of a lingering Russian accent.

  ‘Pleasure to meet you too. Come take a seat with me,’ he said gesturing towards the couch.

  They sat together, Tatiana with her long legs crossed. She placed a hand high on his thigh. Wil’s gaze dropped to her hand.

  ‘Can I just say, Wil, you have the most beautiful coloured eyes,’ she said with a smile.

  Wil focused on her face again and smiled. ‘Thank you. So tell me about yourself?’

  Tatiana flicked her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. ‘I’m an international model though I’ll be retiring at the end of this year.’

  Wil’s brow furrowed. ‘Retiring?’

  She nodded. ‘Too old.’

  He shook his head. ‘You don’t look older than … twenty-five.’

  She laughed then, a soft, sweet sound and squeezed her hand on his thigh. ‘You flatter me, Wil. No, I’ll be thirty-three soon.’

  The next woman was a beautiful redhead named Becky. Then after her, a gorgeous blonde called Daniella. And on they kept coming through to meet him. They were all unique and stunning, and Wil had no clue how he would choose which ten out of the twenty contestants would go home by the end of the night.

  But there was one thing he was sure of, he was excitedly anticipating Emily.

  Chapter 10

  One by one, the women were to be paraded into the farmhouse. So far, Emily had been standing in line for nearly two hours, in her sinking heels, waiting for her turn. She was certain the directors were trying to break the contestants down, to sort out the wheat from the chaff.

  Already, two of the ladies had to receive medical attention for blisters and many complained of swollen ankles. Hectic! Hand Emily a shovel and she may falter, but make her stand in heels … They were her territory and this stunt would not crush her.

  Finally, her name was called. Emily pulled her shoulders back, straightened her clothes, smoothed any out-of-place strands of hair, and started towards the farmhouse. But she felt a tap on the back of her ankle. Her foot collided with her calf, the toe of her shoe getting stuck on the denim. She wobbled, threw her arms out, but couldn’t prevent momentum from pushing her forwards where she landed belly down on the damp, muddy grass.

  Busty Blonde, whose name she had learnt was Amber, had tripped her. She gasped and quickly picked herself up from the ground, ignoring the giggles from the remaining ladies. Mud was spread from knees to chest, ruining her good white blouse. What was it with her and white clothing lately? She made a quick note to stop wearing white if she wished to avoid foul play.

  Emily sneered at Amber and pointed. ‘That was a low move.’

  Amber contorted her face into an expression of virgin innocence, which anyone could tell just by looking at her that she most certainly wasn’t.

  A director with earphones in and an iPad in her hand gripped Emily’s shoulder. ‘Come on, we’re on a schedule. You’re up.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘I was tripped. I’ve mud everywhere. I need to get changed.’

  ‘There’s no time, you’re going to have to meet Wil as you are.’

  ‘As I am?’ Emily shrieked, feeling the urge to suddenly wipe her muddied hands all over this pushy lady. ‘I couldn’t possibly—’

  ‘Oh, yes, you can. And you are. Now go, we’re losing daylight.’

  If this was another stunt to break her, then it was working. Tears pricked her eyes and her throat tightened. Her feet were hurting. She had mud from head to toe and was bristling from the injustice of being tripped and now having to endure meeting Wil looking like this. And the camera was in her face, capturing every moment.

  But, like a good cow, she allowed herself to be herded up to the farmhouse and inside.

  Emily was not her determined, independent, sparkling self when she stepped into the room. In fact, she was wound so tight with resentment for this so-called cowboy with his base, barbaric desire to have a harem in his house that her nose was crinkled, eyes were narrowed, and she was breathing heavily.

  She was so flustered and hot, she barely noticed how exquisite the formal living room was—all rustic timber flooring, copper-framed lighting and distressed leather lounges.

  Then her eyes met Wil’s and she forgot what she was fired up about. Wil Parker was even more delicious up close. He was much taller than she first thought, broader too.
His jaw was strong and square. And with his hat no longer on, she saw that his short hair was a sandy blond.

  Cameras were set up around the room to capture it all—his reaction, her reaction.

  Wil’s eyes narrowed as his attention was drawn to the mud over Emily’s clothes. He rushed over. ‘What happened to you?’ he asked in a deep, throaty voice that matched his sheer size and had her knees trembling despite her humiliation.

  Emily shook her head and blinked back the tears that were desperate for release. It was a combination of shock over how another contestant had treated her, nerves, and anticipation. ‘I was tripped.’ His eyebrows arched higher then. Her voice was shaky when she continued. ‘They didn’t give me a chance to get cleaned up. I’m embarrassed—’

  Wil shook his head. ‘Don’t be.’ He reached for her hand and didn’t even falter when he noticed how dirty her palm was. This man was obviously used to a little bit of mud. He gripped her hand with his, which was, comparatively, enormous. His skin was warm, his fingers a little rough. Wil faced the director, who had ushered Emily inside, and frowned disapprovingly. ‘While these ladies are my guests, in my home, they will not be treated like this,’ he barked.

  The director nodded calmly.

  ‘I mean it. This isn’t right. Emily should’ve been allowed to clean up. I wouldn’t treat my cattle like this.’

  How ironic, he chose that word, Emily thought. She also didn’t miss that he already knew her name.

  Again the director nodded, but this time, added, ‘I understand. We’ll take measures to see that it doesn’t happen again.’

  This was not what she had been anticipating from this man at all. He gently tugged on her hand and led her through the living room, up a long hallway and into a bathroom. The beauty of the room wasn’t lost on Emily this time. Though only a bathroom, it was exquisite, with a rustic metal sink and raw timber vanity. There was a double shower with a big copper shower rose. This farmhouse was more breathtaking than many of the million dollar homes she sold throughout Melbourne.