Bet on a Cowboy

So what if Griffin thought of her as a friend? No one had enough of those.

Keep telling yourself that. Maybe eventually you’ll believe it, and his words won’t hurt as much.

Despite that, when she and Griffin stepped inside Halligan’s Saloon, she vowed to enjoy the night. The down-to-earth restaurant hummed with activity. People sat on industrial-style, padded metal chairs, clustered around simple Formica tables. Laughter rang throughout the room, bouncing off the walls. The smell of French fries and burgers wafted through the air, making her mouth water. “This is great.”

“I’d have thought a California city girl would be more comfortable somewhere more upscale.”

“I’ve only lived in Los Angeles a few years. Sometimes things there feel so artificial. I prefer places where I can be myself.”

“No one puts on airs here, because if he did, someone would kick his ass.”

As they walked toward a table, Maggie glanced at the room to her right. “They have pool tables. Will we have time for a game before the band starts playing?”

Griffin held her chair for her. “You might not want to play with me.”

“Is that a challenge? If it is, you’re on.”

A mischievous gleam in his eyes, he said, “Eight ball, for five bucks a game?”

“I hope you’re a good loser.” Maggie smiled. Beating her brothers and their friends at pool had earned her more money than her childhood lemonade stand. At least until the guys wised up and quit playing her for cash.

Before Griffin could respond, a slender waitress with dusty blond hair sprinkled with gray strolled to their table. “Good to see you, Griffin. Who’s this you brought with you?”

“Cathy, meet Maggie Sullivan. She came here to talk business with Rory. I figured she couldn’t leave town without a night at Halligan’s.”

If Maggie didn’t know better, she’d never suspect he’d just told a little white lie. He was good, but she was onto him.

He turned to her. “This is Cathy. She’s a regular institution around here.”

The woman frowned and swatted Griffin’s arm. “You make me sound like I’m two steps away from the grave.”

He flashed the waitress a brilliant smile, the wattage nearly blinding Maggie. Then he placed his large hand over the older woman’s. “Don’t be mad at me, Cathy, honey. Haven’t I always said a man couldn’t find a woman better than you?”

She shook her head. “If only I were ten years younger, Griffin McAlister. I’d give the girls around here a run for their money chasing you.”

“They wouldn’t stand a chance. Course, I don’t think John would like the idea much.”

Maggie smiled. Griffin should wear a sign like they posted on dangerous roads, because a woman could certainly spin out of control when his charm zeroed in on her.

“You’re right. John’s a good man, but he’s not that understanding.” Cathy tossed Maggie a motherly glance and hooked her thumb toward Griffin. “You watch out for this one.”

No kidding. “I have been since the moment we met.”

“Good for you. You keep him honest.”

When Griffin opened his mouth to protest, Cathy hushed him. “I need to take your orders. I can’t stand here talking all night.”

After she departed, an awkward silence stretched, baffling Maggie. She was the type of person who met people and within five minutes knew their life stories. How come Griffin left her tongue-tied?

Sure he was good-looking and charming, but all the bachelors had been. This did not bode well for the next few months.

“How long have you been a director?” Griffin finally asked.

“This is my first season, but I’ve been with the show from the start.”

Cathy returned, a tray of drinks in her hand, placed a glass of beer in front of each of them and moved on.

“What made you choose a career in television?” Griffin asked after taking a long drink.

“I feel like I’m in a job interview. What’s the deal?”

“I’m curious. Television can’t be an easy career to break into. But if you don’t want to tell me, we can talk about the weather.”

“Not that! I’ll talk. I’ve always been interested in the theater. As a kid I wrote and performed plays. When my brothers wanted me to help them with their chores, I made them agree to act in one of my productions.”

“You drove a hard bargain.”

“I had to. How many boys want to star in The Princess and the Shoe Salesman?”

Griffin shuddered. “I gotta side with your brothers. That could kill a guy’s reputation.”

“You laugh, but it was one of my highest-grossing shows.”

“You charged people to attend your childhood plays?”

“You bet. Money was tight.” Thanks to her father cleaning out the bank accounts when he ran off. Familiar anger surged inside her.

Two months after her father had entered college, her mother had discovered she was pregnant. He’d quit school, got a factory job and dutifully married her. However, he never hid his resentment over being “trapped” into marriage.

Let it go.

“Then I went to New York University to study film making, and here I am.” Maggie sipped her beer. The cool liquid slid down her dry throat, soothing as it went. “What about you? Did you ever want to do anything other than work on a ranch?”

Griffin’s smile tightened for a second, then brightened again. Had she hit a sore spot?

“Life on the ranch is dull compared to working in television. What made you choose to work on a dating reality show?”

She’d definitely hit a sore spot. Why else would he keep steering the conversation back to her? She decided to let it go for now.

She’d wanted to work on a critically acclaimed drama or comedy, but those jobs were hard to come by. In the end, she’d taken what she could get to pay her bills. Working on a reality show had stripped off her rose-colored glasses, romantically speaking, but people didn’t want to hear that. They wanted the fantasy.

“I love watching couples fall in love, and knowing I played a part in bringing them together.”

Griffin laughed. “How often do you practice that speech in front of the mirror?”

This wasn’t the first time she’d defended her work, but how had Griffin guessed she actually had practiced? And how dare he throw it in her face?

“What I said may have sounded rehearsed, but what we do isn’t that much different than a dating service.”

Except for the group dates, exotic locations, hidden agendas and cameras.

“What about finding love yourself?”

The innocent question left her reeling. The last thing she wanted to discuss with a gorgeous man who’d probably never been turned down for anything, was her love life, or lack there of.

Thankfully, Cathy arrived with their food. Maggie picked up her knife, cut the huge buffalo burger Griffin had recommended in half, and took a bite. “This is wonderful.”

“Would I steer you wrong?”

In a New York minute, and she wasn’t sure she’d care.

“You’re avoiding my question about why you haven’t found love.”

You bet she was, and his words stung as much the second time as they had the first.

“They ask contestants fewer questions on Jeopardy,” Maggie said. “My turn now. What’re you looking for in a wife?”

Griffin stared off in the distance, his gaze clouded. “That’s not an easy question.”

“The good ones never are.” But they often revealed the most, whether a person answered or not.

His hand gripped his beer glass. “I like Elizabeth, Rory’s wife. She makes him laugh, but she gets her dander up when she thinks someone’s not treating him right. She’s a little dynamo in a knockout package.”

Maggie tried not to flinch, and slouched in her chair when Griffin said he liked petite, attractive women. “I’ll keep that info in mind when I select a new bachelorette.”

“You better do right by me.” Despite his light tone, she sensed a genuine request behind his words.

“You can count on it.”

For a moment, his sky-blue eyes focused on her. The words hung between them. The light manner in which they’d spoken was contradicted by the undercurrents passing back and forth.

“This conversation has gotten way too serious.” Griffin scooted his chair back from the table. “You ready to lose at pool?”

Before she could answer, a sexy feminine voice called Griffin’s name. Off to his left stood a tall blonde in sleek designer jeans and a low-cut, tight sweater that revealed a figure probably earned through more hours in a gym than Maggie spent at work. The woman licked her lips, fluffed her hair and set out on a direct course for Griffin.

“Where have you been?” She leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek and offering him an unobstructed view of her generous cleavage.

Maggie tried not to wince, feeling like a child’s finger painting hanging next to a Van Gogh. Didn’t he say he liked petite women? The one talking to him now was tall, and she and Griffin clearly knew each other well.

“It’s been ages, Griffin.” The woman practically started drooling. Could she be more obvious? “I’ve missed you. A lot.”

Her hand trailed up his chest and slipped inside his shirt.

Apparently she could.

“Sorry, Britney. I was chained to Rory’s desk while he was in New York.” Griffin turned to Maggie and introduced her. Britney mumbled a hello without even glancing at her. How come pretty women felt they could get away with being rude? Oh, yeah. That was because people let them.

“A bunch of us are having a party tonight for Jackson’s birthday. You should join us.” Britney finally looked at Maggie. “Of course, you’re welcome to come.”

Sure. She was as welcome as poison ivy on a scout camp-out.

“Though I don’t know how much fun you’d have, since everyone’s been friends since high school,” Britney added.

“I love meeting new people,” Maggie countered. Take that. She’d learned long ago not to let beautiful women intimidate her, because if she did, she’d spend all her free time home alone.

“I can’t, Brit. I promised Jamie I’d be here tonight,” Griffin said.

“Oh, come on. You’ve heard him play a million times.” Britney licked her full lips again and pouted.

Maggie almost laughed. And Griffin had accused her of practicing before a mirror?

“I can’t let a friend down.”

Britney smiled, leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Then she kissed him again, this time long and deep. Maggie stared at the table.

“You know where to find me if you get bored and change your mind,” Britney said.

Silverware clanged as patrons enjoyed their food. Heels clicked on the wooden floor. Water ran in rivulets down her water glass.

“It’s safe to look up. She’s gone. I’m sorry she was rude.”

The fact that Griffin noticed Britney’s behavior surprised Maggie more than his apology. Men usually forgave beautiful women almost anything.

“Is she what you’re looking for in a wife?” Instead of the comment sounding light and inquisitive, Maggie’s words came off petty.

“I’m tired of talking shop. How about that game of pool?”

As Griffin escorted Maggie into the pool room, he found himself having fun. Something he never expected with a good girl like Maggie. He usually went for women who were sexy, sultry, looked fine on his arm and weren’t the brightest penny in the piggy bank.

“You don’t have to entertain me if you want to go out with Britney. I can go back to the hotel.”

“I meant what I said. I promised Nick I’d be here, and I said we’d go dancing.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. Why did she find it so shocking that he kept his word? The blow stung.

He’d been glad to have an excuse to get rid of Britney. He never returned to a relationship once he ended things.

He grabbed a cue from the rack on the wall. “You ready to play, or have you changed your mind?”

“I don’t scare easily.”

After he racked the balls, he bowed. “Ladies first.”

“You said you were chained to the desk while Rory was gone. I take it you didn’t enjoy running the ranch?” Maggie lined up her shot, and with precision, sent the cue ball racing across the table. Balls scattered, with the two ball darting into a side pocket.

“I’m still having flashbacks whenever I see piles of papers.” Griffin shuddered. Despite hating the spotlight, Rory had stepped in front of the camera to earn the money for their mom’s first round of treatments. While he modeled, Griffin had managed the ranch. Now it was his turn to sacrifice. “The job was a major pain in the ass. I didn’t have time or energy to do anything else. I don’t know how Rory stands it, sitting at his desk the better part of the day and going over accounts, trying to save a few pennies.”

“The four ball in the corner pocket.” Maggie flawlessly executed her shot. Maybe she hadn’t been overly confident. “Now that your brother is back, what’re you doing?”

As soon as Rory had returned, Griffin reverted to his hired hand job. But instead of saying that, he plastered a smile on his face. “I see to the horses and maintain the property.”

“If I hadn’t gone into television I wanted to work with animals.”

Too bad he hadn’t gotten to choose because he’d had a different plan for his life. He’d expected by now to be a national bull-riding champion, but those dreams had died five years ago when his dad suffered a heart attack behind the wheel and crashed the truck they were in. Because of a broken back and damaged vertebra, not only had Griffin been forced to give up the rodeo, he hadn’t been able to ride a horse since. Another fall could result in a severe spinal cord injury. Although he’d wanted to risk returning to the circuit, his mother begged him to quit, saying she couldn’t stand worrying he’d end up in a wheelchair every time he stepped in an arena.

He shook off the memories. Life was what it was. No point dwelling on the past.

Maggie called out her next shot, making that one, too.

“Hey, you gonna give me a chance, or am I just here to watch?”

“I warned you.” She kissed the three ball off the nine into the side pocket, and taunted him with a saucy grin.

“How’d you get to be such a shark?”

Her smile faded. The little V appeared above the bridge of her nose. In the short time he’d known her he’d learned that probably meant she was worried or upset.

“My father liked to go to Charlie’s Tavern on Saturdays when Mom worked. He took me and my brothers along. Since there wasn’t anything else to do, we played pool.”

The tight tone in her voice made Griffin think her being upset was the likelier option. He wondered what she’d left out of the story.

“Five ball in the corner pocket.” This time her shot went right.

Yup, she’d definitely left out something important.

“Griff,” a familiar voice called out.

Turning toward the restaurant, he spotted Hunter and his girlfriend, Denise, making a beeline for him. The last thing he wanted to do was explain Maggie to his friends, but unless he made a break for it, he was stuck.

“I heard you’d been set free.” Hunter slapped him on the back. “The town’s still buzzing about Rory shooting that commercial at Twin Creeks. I never pegged him as the model type.”

No kidding. “I think it was temporary insanity.”

Griffin lined up his shot and sank the ten ball in a side pocket.

“I saw his billboard. It’s amazing,” Denise interjected in a dreamy voice. Then she walked across the room to Maggie. “Since Griffin appears to have forgotten his manners, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Denise.” She pointed to her boyfriend. “That’s Hunter.”

After the introductions, Hunter looked at Griffin, nodded toward the table filled with stripes and asked, “What’re you, solids?”

“Unfortunately, I’m stripes.” Griffin sank his next two shots before he missed.

“Looks like you’re going down in flames.”

“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed.” What was the big deal? Griffin was secure enough that a woman beating him at pool didn’t bother him. His friends witnessing the event and ribbing him about it, though, was something different. “I was a gentleman and let her go first. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Maggie lined up her shot, sank the last solid and then the eight ball. “You owe me five bucks.”

As Griffin paid up, Hunter said, “I should’ve caught this monumental occasion on my iPhone so I could post it on YouTube.”

Just what Griffin wanted—viral humiliation. Then a thought hit him. This embarrassment was nothing compared to what he’d suffer when the show hit TVs across America.

“Hunter, I’ll take you on if you think you can beat me,” Maggie taunted as she leaned on her pool cue. “I’ll even let you go first. Unless you’re afraid to lose to a woman.” She flashed his friend a wide grin, as if she were a cat telling a mouse she’d give him a head start before she gave chase.

Smart enough to seize a diversion, Griffin added, “Put up or shut up, Hunter.”

“I like a challenge.”

“You won’t sound so confident in a few minutes,” Griffin muttered.

Maggie racked the balls and Hunter lined up his shot.

“Ten says she beats you,” Griffin taunted.

Denise turned to Maggie. “Hunter thinks he’s the best pool player since Minnesota Fats. I’d love to see you put him in his place. Then maybe he wouldn’t spend all his free time playing pool, reading about pool—”

“Aw, babe. You know that’s how I relax after a long day.”

As Hunter took his shot, Denise asked, “How do you know Griffin?”

“We’re working together on a TV show.”

“We’re working on a Twin Creeks’ project.”

He and Maggie spoke simultaneously.

“What show?” Denise asked, completely ignoring Griffin.

Hands fisted inside his front pockets, Griffin barreled forward, hoping to avert impending disaster. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

He flashed Maggie a play-along-with-me glare, but unfortunately, her attention remained focused on the pool table. “Maybe Hunter hasn’t, but I bet Denise has. She’s our target audience. I’m the director on Finding Mrs. Right.”

Hunter sank his shot, and then Maggie glanced Griffin’s way. She paled when she spotted him scowling at her. Too late now.

Griffin held his breath. If Lady Luck shined on him, Denise wouldn’t have heard of the blasted program.

“Isn’t that the dating show you make me watch with you every Tuesday night?” Hunter blurted out, and Denise nodded.

Griffin cursed Lady Luck’s fickle nature. How could she turn on him? Nothing he could do now but brace himself for the oncoming assault.

Hunter’s loud guffaws echoed through the room. “You’re going on that show? Why in the hell would you do that? Have you run through all the local girls and need to widen the market?”

Damn. That made him sound like a lecher.

“Excuse me?” Maggie straightened, hands on her hips, her eyes flashing daggers at Hunter.

Go get him, Maggie girl. Take the heat off me and give me time to regroup.

“No offense meant, ma’am.”

“It’s too late for an apology.” She waved her hand toward Denise. “Not everyone is as lucky as you’ve obviously been in finding someone wonderful.”

Bless her for feeling the need to defend her show.

“Thank you.” Denise beamed at Maggie. “I’ve been telling Hunter for years that he doesn’t know how lucky he is.”

Griffin glanced at his watch. “As much fun as this is, Nick’s band is about to start playing. I’m heading into the other room.”

He turned and walked away, leaving a good chunk of his pride behind.

AS MAGGIE AND GRIFFIN found a table near the stage, Hunter and Denise headed straight for the bar, claiming to need a drink. Not that Maggie blamed them for wanting to get away from the awkward undercurrents between her and Griffin. They’d been having so much fun until she’d spoiled everything by bringing up the show.

How could Griffin expect her to know he didn’t want his friends finding out about his plans? He should’ve briefed her before they arrived. This wasn’t her fault, and she wished he’d quit glaring at her.

Not wanting to see annoyance flashing in his eyes, Maggie stared at the neon guitars and rope lights hanging above the stage. Plinking sounds as the band tuned up floated through the air, mingling with laughter.

“You had no business telling my friends about the show.” Griffin’s low, soft voice rattled through her.

“You do realize they’d find out anyway? You’re going to be on national television. That’s a hard secret to keep.”

“I wanted to tell everyone in my own way. I definitely wanted my family to know first.”

“Why on earth haven’t you told them?”

“We signed the contract tonight and came straight here. When was there time?”

“I’d have told my family before I signed the contract.” That came out way more judgmental than she’d intended. She paused and softened her voice. He had a point. Just because she’d have handled the situation differently didn’t mean that was right for him. “Are you worried they won’t approve?”

“No.” His stiff posture and clenched jaw contradicted his confident response.

Something was going on, and he didn’t want her to know about it. Maggie thought about confronting him, but what could she say other than she didn’t believe him? Calling the bachelor a liar. Not the best way to start out their working relationship.

“Just remember in the future not to share my personal information without asking me. Now let’s drop the subject and have some fun.”

His jaw relaxed. The sparkle returned to his eye. Dizzy from his abrupt shift, Maggie had no idea how to respond, or what had caused his instant turn around.

Griffin stood and held out his hand. “Let’s dance.”

She glanced at the bodies moving in synchronicity on the wooden floor. No way could she execute those precision steps. The last time she’d line danced was at home, before she headed for NYU, and she’d been lousy then. “It’s been years since I’ve done this. The moves have changed a lot.”

“Then you’re in luck, because I’m an excellent teacher.”

Now that she believed.

“People who have two left feet dance better than I do.”

“Trust me.”

His husky voice reached deep inside her, evaporating any fear of embarrassment. He looked at her in a way no man ever had, as if he truly cared about her. As a woman.

She’d be seeing purple giraffes any time now.

He was simply being nice. A gentleman. There was nothing more to his actions, but maybe for tonight she could pretend. Maggie placed her hand in his callused one and stood.

Big mistake.

Her pulse quickened. Her world spun, and she’d only touched his hand. Lord help her if the band played a slow song and Griffin put his arms around her. She’d probably spontaneously combust.

On the dance floor, she tried to follow Griffin’s moves. She scooted right, then left, tapping her heels and toes, usually seconds after everyone else. Finally thinking that she might pull this off without too much embarrassment, she zigged when she should’ve zagged, and tromped on Griffin’s right foot. “I’m sorry. Let’s sit—”

“I’m fine. Maggie girl, just keep moving and have fun.”

After two rousing line dances, the band played a slow ballad. The gentle strains about a cowboy and his lost love flowed over her. She stared into Griffin’s mesmerizing eyes. He’d say they should take a breather. Get a drink. Go to the restroom, or some other excuse to leave the dance floor. She knew the drill, because that’s what happened with other men whenever the music slowed down.

Instead, Griffin placed his hand on her back, leaving her shocked and thrilled. He stepped closer. She inhaled deeply and his earthy scent filled her. She’d died and gone to heaven.

Please don’t let me step on his toes again. I can’t bear to spoil this moment.

As Griffin glided her around the dance floor, for the first time in her life Maggie felt graceful. His attention focused on her. He wasn’t glancing around the room to trade up. She could get lost in this man, and not care if anyone ever looked for her.