Cowboy Page 8

  “Course it could be Ilsa or Esther or—” Joey continues sing-songing the names.

  “That’s enough,” Canyon warns of his daughter, and I glance over at Bull for an explanation.

  “She likes to name the cows.”

  Oh, God. I swallow the remaining lump in my mouth, reaching for my water glass and chugging the remainder of the liquid.

  “Gonna not eat meat, too?” Joey questioningly sasses me, and I realize she must have heard what I said about milk and not drinking it. To prove her point, she picks up her glass and guzzles the entire thing, making a satisfying ah after finishing the refreshing liquid. She slaps the glass to the table and takes a large bite of her steak.

  “How’s Bess taste to you?” I question, watching her chew without a conscience even though she tried to make me feel guilty for eating the cooked meat.

  “She was done producing, so off to the slaughterhouse she went.” Joey draws a line along her throat.

  Again, I peer over at Bull, who has returned to eating, ignoring his niece. Deciding this is a test, I move to my salad, no longer hungry for the rest of my savory steak.

  “You know, you look familiar,” Joey continues.

  “Stop torturing Bull’s guest,” Carly demands across the table.

  “Oh, is that what we call you?” Joey asks, and the angry vibe coming off this teen raises the hackles on my neck, but I remember this age and this attitude. I had it myself.

  “We’re friends,” I state, proud of the label.

  “Ri-iiight. Friends,” Joey annunciates, rolling her eyes.

  “JoJo,” Canyon warns of his daughter.

  “So, are you someone? Because you look like someone famous. Are you hiding out here? Did you commit a crime?”

  I wouldn’t say famous, but I can be recognized in certain circles. Convinced this teenager won’t know who I am, I proudly state my name. “I’m Scarlett Russell, and I don’t have any known felonies on record.”

  Bull pauses again, glancing over at me with wide eyes.

  “I’m teasing,” I state, choking back the joke.

  Joey reaches into her lap and picks up a phone. Tapping at it quickly like kids can, she holds out the screen for me to view.

  While this happens, her grandfather warns her about electronics at the table. Without breaking his rhythm to eat, Canyon reaches across his daughter to take her phone. However, when he brings the device before himself, his brows pinch.

  “This you?” He holds up the screen so I can see my name in bold letters underneath an image of me. My makeup is done to perfection as I remember exactly where that photo was taken. The Emmy’s.

  “That’s me.” I nod.

  Canyon presses on the screen while his father reminds him no phones at the table. He ignores Harland and narrows his eyes.

  “It says here you worked for KTEL at one of their entertainment rags.” Canyon hisses, and I instantly wonder if I ever reported on him. I haven’t done a search of his name, although Bull told me he was famous in his own right for a bit.

  On his way somewhere, Bull explained.

  Thankfully, Harland reaches over to his second son and yanks the device out of his hands. He tucks the phone under his leg and continues eating without breaking stride to finish his dinner. I glance back at Bull, who’s watching me.

  “You never mentioned you were famous.”

  “I’m not. And I no longer work for KTEL, obviously,” I say, noticing the table has grown quiet as I speak.

  “What happened?” Joey asks, and Carly hisses her name again.

  “I was fired because I was too old.”

  A chorus of what, are you kidding me, no way, and how could that happen rounds the table.

  “Forty-two isn’t twenty-two,” I admit, shrugging to dismiss the truth as I push my salad around my plate. I’m no longer hungry for anything at this point.

  “You’re still pretty. Will you get another television job?” Joey asks, her voice lowering.

  “Unfortunately, talent doesn’t outweigh looks sometimes.” It’s a hard lesson to learn. “And I don’t know if I’ll go back to television. I haven’t applied anywhere. Just taking a life break.” I look up to meet Canyon’s eyes over his daughter’s head, and his chin tips as if he knows what I mean.

  “You’ll get another fancy job, and then you’ll leave,” Joey mutters, and my eyes narrow at her. Did something like this happen to her? Did her mother leave for a job?

  “For now, I’d like to stay.” I peer over at Bull and then drop my eyes again.

  “We’re happy to have you here,” Harland says from his end of the table, and when I glance up to look at him, sincerity shows in his face. “You stay as long as you need.”

  “Thank you,” I answer. I’m lost in my head through the remainder of the meal. Should I be looking for another job in the entertainment industry? I’ll have another mouth to feed, and I need to consider making more than the part-time wages of a coffee shop to support myself and a baby. I don’t want to rely on Bull, father or not, and as he already said, this won’t be a marriage. We’re partners, parenting together, but I’m only a houseguest until we have particulars.

  Maybe I should reach out to some old friends, see what’s out there for someone older in the industry. It doesn’t need to be entertainment news. I’m a damn good reporter. With this in mind, I decide it’s time to take more steps toward a new future.

  9

  More Than a Job

  Scarlett

  The remainder of dinner turns to more family-related issues—school for Joey and the farm for the men. Later, as Bull and I walk home on a quiet, cool evening, I slip my arm into the crook of his. I imagine this is the life he would have had with his wife or any other woman he was engaged to marry. Share a meal with his family. Take a stroll down the lane. The thought reminds me Bull hasn’t told me about the other engagements rumored about him.

  “Saw the wheels spinning in those pretty eyes of yours after Joey grilled you about your job. I’m sorry you lost it because of something ridiculous, and probably unlawful, like age discrimination. What happened?”

  “One day, I walked into my boss’s office, full of new scoops and angles, and the next thing I know, I’m being fired because of crow’s feet and saggy breasts.”

  “Your breasts don’t sag,” Bull admonishes. “And if they did, I’d volunteer to hold them up.”

  I chuckle at his teasing suggestion but fall prey to the memory.

  “I hate to do this to you, Red, but we’re letting you go.”

  I stared at my boss, Lex Steinburg, disbelieving what he just said. “Good one, Lex. Now, Adrianne Grosse had another mishap in a donut shop, using her tongue to imitate how she’d like to take her girlfriend, and it’s making the rounds on social media that she’s secretly been having an affair with Ellen Lux, which does not make Ellen’s wife happy.”

  “Red, you’re not listening to me.”

  He was right. I wasn’t. “And then there’s the continued scandal of Ben Alex doing his nanny while his sweet wife raises their three children. I mean, how do you cheat on her? She’s quirky and cute, and devoted. What a dick.”

  “Red—”

  “And finally, I think we have some inside scoop on the royals. Mikayla Martin has really done it now.” I glance up at him from my tablet, pleased that I’ve made friends with the second cousin of the first person who once worked with the new duchess-no-longer a duchess when she had a job in a coffee shop for a few months at fifteen years old. “So, on that note—”

  “Scarlett,” Lex interrupts me again. “You’re fired.”

  The words were like one of those slow-motion scenes in a commercial for spilled milk, where the mom reaches for the glass too late and the child gasps, and the background sound is an elongated no.

  “Ye – or – fy – err – ed.” Phonetically, the words traveled through the ear canal and stumbled across my brain, and I had no response. I just stared at the man I’ve worked with for twent
y years.

  “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t. Not the least bit of chagrin showed on his paunchy face. Over the years, the alcohol had caught up to him, and he was puffy in cheeks, chin, and jowls. He’d also lost hair giving him a landing strip down the center of his head, and no amount of combing this way or that covered the fact he was balding in the middle at forty plus.

  “I was told they wanted someone younger, trendier. More perky. Those were literally his words, snapping his fingers to emphasize them.” I snap one set of mine as I explain.

  Lex’s eyes dipped to my breasts. There’s nothing wrong with my breasts, I remember thinking. They’re perky . . . enough. And to prove my point, I sat up straighter, adjusting my back to thrust said breasts forward in my tight-fitting sweater. See perky. But Lex looked away.

  “My boss said my airtime wasn’t getting the same ratings as it once did. To which I suggested perhaps they needed new material. People were getting tired of the scandalized bits of the rich and famous. They wanted more heart behind their celebrities. Not just the nasty parts.”

  My business was other people’s business, and I worked hard to prove myself for two decades in an unforgiving industry. But I was growing weary myself of the constant negativity. The failed marriages. The drug issues. The malignant behavior. I’d been making suggestions for a new twist for years and getting turned down with each special interest story. How many times can you hear about Brad Smoltz dissing Jennifer Allister before you just don’t care? It’s over. Move on. Tell me more about Sally Superstar and the twenty million kids she’s adopted, homeschooled, and drags around the world doing philanthropy work while still winning Academy Awards. There’s a role model, sort of. There’s a reason Princess Diana was such a hit in her day. People want the soul of a star not all their shit.

  “I was told outright I was too old for the position.”

  “Excuse me?” There was no way I could have heard Lex correctly. “I’m forty-two.”

  “Past your prime.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. What does that even mean?”

  According to Glimmer Magazine, I’ve just entered my prime. Wasn’t Lex aware that forty was the new twenty? I was seasoned. I was wise. I was entering a new phase of my life that would bring me renewed energy, increased libido, and a zero-fucks attitude. I wasn’t old. I was goddamn tired.

  “Lex, my boss, was happy to point out all my flaws. A little sag here.” I mimic Lex’s voice while I tug at the loose skin under my eyes.

  “A crinkle too many here,” I mock of him again as I point at my temple.

  “And then, he insulted my breasts.” Lex’s eyes simply dipped to them.

  Bull chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Then he tried to argue that he defended me. If I only had a few surgeries—”

  “Surgeries,” Bull interjects, aghast. “You’re fucking perfect. Are they blind?”

  I chuckle at his strong admonition of my former employer while my face heats at the compliment. No one has ever called me perfect.

  “A boob job and Botox, and I’d get to continue working for them.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Bull states. “You know that, right?” His voice shifts, dropping stern as he squeezes his arm where I’m looped through it.

  “Yeah, well, it’s a man’s world in some manners. I wanted to ask Lex if he’d looked in the mirror lately and noticed his receding hairline.” I bit back the insult at the time. Unfortunately, parts of the industry were still an ol’ boys’ club. Special handshakes. Pats on the back. And blind eyes especially when it came to men looking at one another’s behavior.

  “Unfortunately, it was the same day I found out about Shelton, my husband, and his affair.”

  “That’s awful, sweetheart,” Bull sighs beside me, and I narrow my eyes, keeping my focus straight ahead as we walk.

  “Like everything else in the last few months, I guess I’ve taken it as a sign that change was inevitable.” Unfortunately, there has been a lot of change all at once.

  “Was that the type of reporter you wanted to be? A gossip journalist or whatever they call it.” Bull’s voice strains as he asks.

  “I went to school to be a reporter because I wanted to share editorials and interviews like Barbara Walters. Somehow I ended up with KTEL instead.”

  “I’m not familiar with KTEL,” Bull admits.

  “Well, it’s for the best.” I wave a dismissive hand. “The show I worked on was an entertainment rag as Canyon so eloquently put it.” My eyes squint in the dark, gazing off toward the distance before us. There’s a peacefulness here, a stillness unlike city life. The only sound is the crunch of gravel under our feet.

  “Will you look for another job? Be a different kind of reporter?” Bull asks.

  “I have a job,” I tease, although pouring coffee isn’t really a career move for me. I’m also terrible at being a barista, so I don’t see it as long term. However, I do like the place, and I adore Audrey, Zara, and Roddy. In general, I really like Vermont. “But in answer to your question, I just don’t know. I’m stumbling over every step right now as there have been so many changes at once.”

  Bull nods. “Was it satisfying?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you like your former job?”

  Staring off in the distance again, I take a minute to consider my answer before I speak. “I was good at what I did. I’m a reporter. But did I always feel good about my job? The truth is, I didn’t. It wasn’t always pleasant information we shared, and some of it wasn’t even true. It was more sensationalism, for ratings and rank.” I snap my fingers again like Lex used to do.

  “As I told your niece, I haven’t been looking for anything. Maybe I should reach out to people I know, though, see if anything is available. I’m going to need more of an income eventually. The longer I’m out of the industry the less likely I’ll be able to re-enter it. But I’m also in quite a predicament at the moment. Not certain an industry that fires women at forty-two wants to hire a pregnant forty-two-year-old.”

  Bull huffs to agree.

  “I’m content where I am for now,” I say, giving his arm a squeeze.

  “For now.” Bull nods but remains quiet. Tipping my head to his arm, we walk the rest of the way in silence, but my thoughts are loud. I don’t know that I want to return to the entertainment industry. I feel a bit betrayed from the years of commitment, the dedication to the network, and the way I was so easily tossed aside. However, I can’t rely on my savings for everything. Eventually, I’ll need to work.

  “You know, you can rely on me, Scarlett. I’m willing to pull my fair share with the baby when the time comes.” He’s talking finances, and I guess it’s a sweet enough gesture, but I don’t want Bull’s money.

  Once we’re back at Bull’s home, we fall into our nightly routine of circling one another for the bathroom. I hear the door open and decide to tell Bull one more thing before I head to bed, only I’m stopped in my tracks, forgetting what I intend to say as he stands just outside the bathroom door with only a towel, wrapped around his middle. Hanging low enough to expose a trail of hair leading lower, I swallow hard knowing well what’s under that terrycloth material. My hands clutch at the door jamb, holding myself steady as my mouth dries. He has such an incredible body, lean and firm from labor on this land. A smattering of hair curls over his pecs and a tattoo circles one bicep.

  “Did you need something?” Bull points over his shoulder with his thumb, suggesting the bathroom. What I need is to enter the shower with him and wash away my dirty thoughts while we clean each other’s bodies. I blink as he steps closer to my room, his presence filling up the hallway and all the oxygen I need to breathe.

  “I-I just wanted to tell you I think your family is great.” As I’m an only child, my parents laid the pressure on thick when I was young and didn’t relent as I grew older. I can’t recall loud family meals or laughter around a dinner table. Even with Shelton, there were nights of only scr
aping forks against china and the soft swallow of wine. Perhaps that’s what happened to us. Where I thought we had quiet companionship, we only had simple silence.

  “Yeah, they loved you.” I blush at the thought as they don’t really know me, and they don’t have all the information about Bull and my situation, but I want them to like me.

  I’m still holding the sides of the door jamb, half my body inside my room, half of it out, but I don’t miss Bull’s eyes lowering to my breast, covered by my tight-fitting tank top. My boobs ache from both the changes in my body and the desire I see in his eyes. He wants to touch me, and I want his touch. My nails dig deeper into the wood framing the door.

  “Oh, and I have another doctor’s appointment coming up soon,” I say. My voice catches on the words, raspy and rough as my own eyes focus on his chest, lowering for the dark trail leading into the towel. I’ve just made a mundane visit sound sexy in the tone of my voice, and I lick my lips before glancing back up at Bull’s face. His hand has flattened on the wall. His body stills while I worship it. “Want to come with me?”

  The corner of his mouth slowly lifts, and I realize what I’ve said has two meanings.

  “I mean, attend the doctor’s visit with me,” I clarify, still gripping the door.

  “I know what you meant, and I’d love to come with you . . . to the doctor appointment, that is.” We stare at one another, breaths shallow. My heart races.

  “Need anything else tonight?”

  The list of my wants is rather short. I only want him, but I promised myself I’d roundup my libido. I don’t want to give him false hope of us, although he’s made it clear he doesn’t want us. You said Red wasn’t yours. He only wants his share in fatherhood, if he’s the father.

  With the sour potential he’s not my baby’s daddy, I slap a hand lightly on the door jamb.

  “We could talk to the doctor about a paternity test,” I state, nearly bursting the bubble of sexual tension between us.

  “We could,” he agrees half-heartedly answering me. With nothing else said, I tap the doorframe again.