by Julie Benson
Once inside her office, with the door closed, she said, “What happened? You were doing fine, and all of a sudden you changed.”
“I’m getting to know the women. What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s coming off more like a group interview.” Maggie paused and inhaled deeply. She sounded snippier than she’d intended. Why did her conversations with Griffin never go as she envisioned?
Every bachelor started out a little stiff at the first mixer. If after fifteen minutes he hadn’t loosened up, she pulled him aside. She got him to laugh by telling a dating joke, then flattered him by rattling off his good qualities and why they’d selected him for the show. After that she followed up with suggestions on what to talk about, and sent him back to the bachelorettes.
Maggie knew the routine by heart. She prided herself on her professionalism and her ability to never let any situation get the best of her. That is, until Griffin. Somehow she never felt she had the circumstances under control when he was around.
“Viewers can find the information you’re soliciting from the bachelorettes by reading their bios on the website. Spice things up or you’ll put our audience to sleep. Give me more stuff like when you and the women were talking about making love on a horse.”
“That was a stupid question.”
“I know, but you turned that lemon into lemonade.”
“I don’t need dating pointers.”
“From what I’m seeing so far, I’m not so sure.”
He glanced pointedly at her left hand. “And you think you’re an expert?”
His words zeroed in on all her insecurities. “I may not have dated as much as you have, but I know what viewers want, and this isn’t it. One of the women asked you about the ranch, but you hardly said anything. Do you know cowboys are currently one of the hottest heroes in romance novels?”
“Then those writers have great imaginations, because working on a ranch isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s mucking out horse stalls, fixing fences and training horses—mostly hard, smelly work. Talking about that will put your readers to sleep.”
“Then you choose the topic. Just ramp up the sexual tension and the romance.”
“If we’re done with the dating pointers—”
“There’s one more thing we need to discuss. The first thing you do when you talk to a woman is look at her chest. Then you flash her a silly half smile.”
Every woman except me, that is.
“I do not do that.”
Maggie crossed her arms over her own chest. “I have film to prove it. You want to see?”
Without answering, Griffin turned and walked out of her office.
* * *
GRIFFIN HAD NO IDEA how he’d kept from throttling Maggie. How dare she lecture him? Sure, no one overheard their conversation, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Maggie had hauled him off to give him a “talking to,” as his mother would say. Then she’d called him boring and pretty much told him to quit leering at the bachelorettes.
How could a man help but look at cleavage when breasts practically smacked him in the face wherever he turned?
Women rarely upset Griffin, but the few times they had, he’d joked or charmed his way out of trouble. Not so with Maggie. Something about her made him want to dig in his heels and best her.
She wanted him to spice things up. He hoped she had a fire extinguisher handy, because things were about to get very hot.
For the next two hours, he smiled and piled on the charm. He tossed out sexual innuendos like M&M’s. He lost count of the number of women he kissed, but when he caught sight of Maggie, she still wore that sour, ticked-off look. There was no pleasing her.
Then forget trying to make her happy.
He strolled over to a group of women he’d yet to speak with, and zeroed in on a redhead with Angelina Jolie lips. His gaze dipped to her glorious cleavage. He froze for a moment before he sank into the chair beside her. When he glanced up, he caught Maggie’s gaze. She grinned like Avery did when she discovered something she could hold over his head. Then Maggie mouthed, “I told you so.”
* * *
GRIFFIN HAD PARTICULARLY enjoyed the casino night dates last week. He and the women had circulated around the room, playing various table games. By watching how they played, he’d learned who the risk takers were and who leaned toward the conservative.
He’d survived five weeks of dating with the world watching and critiquing his every move. He’d suffered through Maggie’s weekly reports on ratings and viewer feedback. What did he care if the audience thought he’d eliminated the wrong woman? Of course, by the time the public saw the episode, two more shows had been filmed, and what they were commenting on was old news. But Maggie cared, and so he suffered through her lectures about opening up more, showing the real man, and how viewer opinions affected ratings.
As weeks passed the bachelorettes grew bolder in their attempts to gain his attention. Griffin could now say he understood the dating process from a woman’s point of view, as he struggled to avoid their advances.
Ever since he’d kissed Maggie, things had changed. He’d been flirting with and kissing the best looking women, yet found his interest barely registering on the meter. No matter how he spun things, he kept comparing the bachelorettes to Maggie, with the other women coming out on the losing side.
Despite that, he’d narrowed his front-runners down to the lawyer, the opera singer and the actress. Now all he had to do was discover their deal-breaker issues so he could choose the right finalists. He needed to focus on his goal: finding the perfect candidate who’d turn down his proposal. With only five women left, he couldn’t afford to make a mistake, and he wouldn’t let Maggie mess with his judgment.
Quit thinking about Maggie. You have bigger worries today—like attending a rodeo for the first time since the accident.
How would he get through tonight’s date? Dammit. Long ago he’d promised himself that if he couldn’t compete, he would never attend a rodeo competition again, much less the NFR. Then he remembered why he was here—to pay for his mom’s cancer treatments. That would get him through.
He pulled up to the bachelorette mansion and waited for his date. Once in the car, with a camera recording everything, because Lord forbid the viewers miss a second of the action, Stacy said, “This will be so exciting. I hope you know something about the rodeo, because I don’t.”
Before my accident I was on track to win a championship. Does that count?
“I know a thing or two about it.” He still marveled at how one small moment in time had irrevocably changed his life.
“Good. You can explain what’s going on.”
Griffin mumbled he’d be happy to, and then, to get his mind off the rodeo, asked, “Where do you see yourself life in ten years?”
“I have five-year and ten year goals.”
Why did that not surprise him? The woman probably scheduled her trips to the bathroom. Over the past episodes, he’d learned spontaneity wasn’t in her vocabulary.
“Tell me about that.” Not that he wanted to hear it, but knowing her career goals would help him decide whether or not to eliminate her.
“I want to work in as many films and with as many big name directors as possible. I’m hoping to establish my name and set aside enough money to start my own production company. That will allow me to be more in control of my career.”
Talk about ambitious. If he looked up the word in the dictionary, he’d probably find her picture. “What about children?”
“I’m open to having a child, but not for a few years. It would set back my career too far.”
Bingo. He had a winner.
“What about you? Do you want kids?”
Griffin swallowed hard as he considered what to say. That sincerity clause in his contract was weighing on him. “I don’t know how many kids I want.”
That was true, and yet vague enough that no one could later accuse him of being deceptive. Not wanting to
go into further detail, as a diversion, he asked her about her business plans. They spent the remainder of the drive with her prattling on, and him adding an occasional “sounds like a great plan.”
Griffin’s good mood over finding the perfect finalist lasted until he pulled into the parking lot of the Thomas and Mack Center. The sign advertising the night’s featured attraction revealed his worst fear.
Bull riding.
He’d hoped for any event other than the one he’d competed in. While he hadn’t followed the sport since he quit, he’d bet a few of his old buddies were still at it. Griffin could end up watching a rival—more than likely one he’d beaten—win the championship that should’ve been his.
Fate sure knew how to kick a man in his weak spot.
After parking the car, he escorted his date to the ticket office, where the production and film crew waited. His gaze locked on Maggie, wearing that blasted white cardigan and pants again, as they approached.
After getting him and his date fitted with microphones, Maggie said, “We’ve arranged for you to talk to one of the favorites in today’s event. Then you’ll go behind the scenes and watch the bull riding.”
Wonderful. Someone at the top of the pack would explain the sport’s finer points to him.
“After that, you’ve got reservations at Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar & Grill at Harrah’s.” Maggie pointed to the ramp on her right. “Here comes your guide.”
The camera lights switched on and the cameramen panned toward a tall, lanky cowboy emerging from the tunnel. The first thing Griffin noticed was his flashy red-white-and-blue chaps. It couldn’t be… But he knew only one cowboy with enough guts to wear those chaps. Ty Logan.
Any other cowboy he could’ve dealt with. The afternoon would’ve been difficult to get through, but he could’ve put on a good show and no one would guess anything bothered him. Except Maggie, maybe. But seeing Ty, his toughest competitor and someone he’d known most of his life, changed the situation. How would Griffin keep things light with someone like that?
After greeting him and shaking hands, Ty glanced around, noting the cameramen taping everything. “Don’t tell me you’re the guy from the dating show that I’m supposed to meet.”
Yup, that’s me. The guy making a complete ass of himself to earn money for his mom’s cancer treatment.
Time to cowboy up and deliver the response he’d written and memorized for this kind of on-camera situation. Griffin hoped to say the words with more conviction than he felt. “I’m this season’s bachelor on Finding Mrs. Right. I got to say I’m having the time of my life. I’ve been dating the most amazing women.”
On most of the dates he’d found himself spending the majority of his time fending off sexual advances. At the group date yesterday, Jasmine, who’d thankfully given up the cheerleading uniform this week in favor of normal clothes, had cornered him when he left the john, and suggested they go back in for a quickie.
While Griffin considered himself more spontaneous than the average guy, a hurried tumble with urinals for atmosphere didn’t put him in the mood, and he questioned the sanity of any woman who’d suggest it. Four more weeks of this might land him in a padded room.
He draped his arm around his date’s shoulder, gave her a quick kiss and introduced her to Ty.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” the cowboy replied, and tipped his hat.
“You two know each other?”
No, we knew one another’s name because we’ve got ESP. Here’s your sign, as Bill Engvall would say. “Ty grew up in Estes Park, too.”
“I meant to call you two years ago when I heard your dad died,” Ty said. “He was a good man.”
Sheer force of will kept Griffin on his feet. He dug the toe of his boot into the dirt as memories of the day washed over him. His dad, his biggest supporter, had always told him if he wanted to be a rodeo cowboy, then that’s what he should do. The only thing that mattered was that he was happy.
“Thanks, Ty.” Griffin forced out the words.
The other cowboy turned to Stacy. “Griffin and I hit the rodeo circuit the same year.”
Griffin’s date glanced up at him, excitement flashing in her eyes. “You’re a rodeo cowboy? What event?”
“He was one fine bull rider,” Ty stated.
Out of his peripheral vision, Griffin registered Maggie’s surprise as she stood some twenty feet away, monitoring the conversation through a headset. He’d hoped to keep that news private, and could have if he hadn’t run into someone he knew. Lady Luck was out to get him.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone? That’s fascinating. I bet you have some amazing stories.”
Sure, the sport was thrilling for fans, providing an adrenaline high to participants he hadn’t been able to match anywhere. But the job came with a lot of baggage. He could tell her stories about his various injuries and all the hospitals he’d spent time in around the country.
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Griff’s being modest. He was a top contender for the bull riding championship.” Ty cuffed him on the arm. “You gave me a damn good run for the money.”
“You’re rewriting history. I remember me coming out the winner most of the time.”
“It took me longer to hit my stride. I miss competing against you. No one keeps me on my toes like you did. I never got a chance to tell you, but I was sorry to hear about you getting hurt. Who would’ve thought a car accident and not a bull would end your career?”
Griffin froze. Damn. That was the last thing he wanted the world to know about him.
Chapter Eight
Maggie stared at Griffin and struggled to process what she’d heard through her headset. Griffin had been a bull rider? And a car accident had ended his career?
No wonder he hadn’t wanted to attend the rodeo.
Competing in the National Finals had been his dream, and she was forcing him to watch someone else chase what he no longer could.
When she’d told him about the date, she’d suspected there was more to his resistance than not liking rodeo, but she’d never imagined something like this. Why hadn’t he told her about his accident?
Would telling you make any difference?
Griffin’s words rang in her ears. What would she have done if he had shared his past with her?
She’d have sympathized and apologized, but she wouldn’t have changed the date. Griffin knew that, and had saved his breath.
If only she could rush to him now, explain how sorry she was to put him in this position, and tell him to forget the whole date. But she couldn’t. Her job was about making interesting TV, and Griffin attending the sport he’d been forced to give up would have the viewers tweeting like canaries. She couldn’t risk her job by putting his personal feelings first.
“You were in an accident? What happened?” The model clutched Griffin’s arm.
“The truck I was in crashed, but I’m fine now.”
Fine? Physically maybe, but from what Maggie saw, not emotionally. He stood with his feet apart, his entire body rigid. The usual mischief in his eyes was replaced with a flat, glassy look. Not that his date noticed.
What courage it took for him to be here. Maggie had believed him to be a carefree Casanova, but there was more to him. Why didn’t he want to let anyone in on the secret?
“How badly were you hurt?” Stacy asked.
Enough to end his career. Was the woman blind? How could she fail to see from his body language that he didn’t want to discuss the situation?
Griffin, his posture stiff and his face pinched, turned to the tall, sandy-haired cowboy. “Who’d you draw today?”
“I got Hair Trigger. Remember how mean Full Throttle was your last season?”
Griffin nodded and glanced at to his date. “That bull set a record for buck-off percentage the last year I competed.”
“Hair Trigger is worse, but he’s a real fighting bull.”
“I assume that means he’s tough to ride?” Stacy aske
d.
Maggie shook her head at the woman’s silly question. No, he’s tagged a “fighting bull” because he’s a real softy.
She’d read Stacy’s bio and discovered the woman had a degree in theater arts with a minor in business. Yet to hear her today, a person would think she needed a calculator to add two plus two. Didn’t she realize playing dumb would bore Griffin? Hadn’t the woman learned anything about him over the last weeks?
“A fighting bull is so tough a cowboy would only give it to his mother-in-law,” Ty said, pulling Maggie’s attention back to the conversation.
After glancing at his watch, he continued, “I’m up in ten minutes. Guess you two are supposed to be there with me, and they’re going to film you watching my ride.”
Maggie flinched. Thanks to her, Griffin would have a front row seat to watch someone else chase his dream.
* * *
GRIFFIN STOOD BY the shoot. He shouldn’t be watching this. He should be competing, and his body knew it.
His heart raced. The familiar rush of adrenaline mixed with anticipation coursed through him, creating an intoxicating brew, making him feel alive in a way nothing else ever had.
“Eight seconds doesn’t seem very long,” Stacy said.
“If feels like a lifetime when you’re on an animal trying his damnedest to toss you off his back and stomp on you when he does.”
Eight glorious seconds where it was him and the bull competing, giving their best.
Ty crawled over the rail and balanced above Hair Trigger. Griffin’s date clutched his arm and said something, but he blocked her out, as he did everything else before a ride. When Ty climbed on the massive bull, Griffin went through his mental checklist. Wrap the bull rope tight. Double-check it. Shut everything out. Breathe. Focus.
Ty nodded. The shoot flew open. The bull charged, then spun and kicked. Memories flooded Griffin as he watched the ride. He shifted his weight with the bull’s movements, as if he could feel the animal under him. Hair Trigger flung his head from side to side, trying to catch Ty with his horns, and then spun in the opposite direction.
