Grump’s City Girl (Boots and Heels #2)

3. Cassie

Chapter 3

Cassie

W hile I waited for Porter to come along, I decided to think hard and deeply about the problem on my hands. Beau seemed to be a good guy. As hot as I found him, could I risk it to help him even while my reputation was already on the line?

“Knock-knock,” Porter called as he entered the room, his face riddled with guilt. “This is my fault.”

“For taking the wrong direction, yes, but I am the one who didn’t listen like I should have,” I replied. “I got myself into this mess, Porter, and I must find a way to escape it. I suppose you’ve spoken to my dad?”

“I have,” he replied. “And he is not happy. His lawyers are with the production team as we speak, and I assume they will inform us of their compromise soon.”

Looking away, I hesitated. “Is it… I don’t know. Is there any way you could try to make this work? I didn’t expect it, but I—” I hunched over “—dunno. I feel pressed to stay and help Beau. You might say I’m crazy for thinking that, but… is it crazy?”

“I think you might be sleep-deprived,” Porter replied.

“That too,” I shrugged. “But I want to help him, and he’s not bad-looking.”

I knew my reasoning for wanting to help Beau was as solid as making a macaroni spaceship to grab cheese from the moon. Maybe Porter was right—I was sleep-deprived. Someone knocked on the door, and when I told the person to come in, Liliana, the production assistant, came in.

“Miss Carrington,” she said, “Our producers received correspondence from your father with a strong persuasion to let you out of the contract, but only if you still wish to. So, this is your chance. Do you want to leave now, and we’ll find your replacement or…”

My gut lurched. Anxiously, I looked around the room and found Beau looking my way, his gaze loaded with speculation. I didn’t want to leave him in the lurch, but… was it wise to have my face flashed all across the nation while Vigo was still out there with who knew how many copies of my nudeness in his possession?

“Or what?”

“We give you a full makeover and contacts to make you nearly indecipherable to the public,” she said. “Your dad also said, and I quote, we’ll sue the skin off his ass if he even steps into a news office, ” Liliana said with a shrug. “I don’t know what that means, but I assume you do.”

“I do.”

“So, what do you decide?”

“You’re sure you can make me unrecognizable?” I asked.

“Yes,” Liliana replied. “And don’t worry, your true identity is not going to be revealed by us. If we did, we would have to live two hundred years to pay your dad off. If you choose to stay, we’ll start with the makeover right now.”

That sounded like my dad.

“Now? What about the filming?”

“We have a couple of other shots to take while we film the others,” she explained. “Our people are good. They’ll give you a cut that will transform your face, and with the cinematography and your new appearance, I doubt anyone will recognize you. I take it this means you’ll be staying then?”

Faking dating a guy I presumably dated before sounds ridiculous, but only Beau, the producers, and I knew that. Could it be that hard to pretend to date someone ridiculously good-looking?

If Vigo saw me….

But then, I have Dad. Vigo would be a madman to try and come for me.

What do I have to lose? Why should I torture myself by waiting for an imaginary shoe to drop? I deserved to have some fun myself. Maybe it was time to do something crazy to mend my broken heart. What could possibly go wrong?

The answer: everything.

But I didn’t care.

“Yes, I’m staying,” I agreed.

“Good, come with me.” She nodded to the door.

Liliana herded me from the house to the trailers lined out back and handed me off to a petite guy who swept a cape around my shoulders in seconds.

“Make her look incredible, Pence,” Liliana ordered.

“If you have to ask, you don’t know me that well.” Pence scoffed and grabbed a brush. “We’ll touch up the passable dye job later, but let me work my magic for now.”

I didn’t know what was happening on the set, but Pence had my hair dyed dark brown, dried, and cut into a feather bob with curtain bangs done in under an hour. After the first taping, he even added faux highlights with chalk, which he promised to make real with bleach and color.

Standing in front of the mirror, I gaped at my face; this man was a magician with scissors and mousse. “Can I—” I twisted my head, “Can I hire you permanently?”

He laughed. “I’ll give you my card when this farce is done. Now, shoo, sweetheart. I know they must be expecting you.” While stepping out of the trailer, I felt the shorter strands flit around my face in a refreshing feeling that told me I should have cut my hair long ago.

I looked around, wondering where to find Beau, and a helpful aide pointed me past the back porch and to a copse of oak trees, their leaves swaying in the wind.

I approached, and fifty feet away, I heard a rumbling growl and bark. Did Beau have a dog? I turned and found a big golden Lab leaping to get a ball in the air. Beau was sitting on the ground, his hat cocked up, while he played with the dog.

As I approached, the dog spun and rushed to me, sniffling my legs, nosing at my hand, and begging for pets. I crouched and ran my hands over the dog's short fur. She pushed her nose into my face, and her panting kisses were sweet but unexpected.

“Lily, down,” Beau ordered the dog, and she trotted away to lie near a nearby trunk.

“Is she yours?” I asked.

Beau didn’t reply yet; his eyes latched on me, and his stare was long, pointed, and goddamn intense. I shivered at those eyes; they held a bit of a lustful hunger. “No.” He got to his feet and plopped the hat on his head. “I used to have one. Different breed, different life, but that’s a long story.”

“I’m staying,” I told him.

His eyes widened slightly, but then his crooked grin did something to me. “I don’t know how to thank you, but you’re beyond stunning.”

“Why, thank you,” I replied. “Can we talk a bit?

“Take your pick,” he gestured.

I gently sat against another tree. “Things in my life are complicated right now. It’s why I was in this neck of the woods anyway.”

“I figured you were running from something,” Beau cocked his head. “Ex-boyfriend? Cheating fiancé? Demanding sugar daddy, perhaps?”

Snorting, I said, “Hardly, but yes, it was a bad relationship, but I don’t want to get into any details about that. I want to help you out, Beau, I do—” I considered telling him that I’d gotten the chance to leave, but I didn’t want to do that. “—so, if you’re ready to make this work, I’ll stick by you.”

“May I hug you?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Getting his feet under him, Beau stood, crossed over, and pulled me to my feet before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight.

His arms felt wonderful holding me, and I could smell his aftershave, shampoo, or something. I didn’t care what it was; it just smelled good and manly, which was what I would have expected from him.

With a grunt, he hiked me up, held me tight under my butt, and turned me around, making me feel special and wonderful when he set me on the ground and held my arms. “Thank you.”

“Let’s hope we can get kicked off early,” I added.

He nodded over his shoulder. “We should get back. Dinner is waiting for us.”

That night, I met my roommate for the first time, a girl from California named Sissy. She was blonde and slender, with a rack the size of Texas. After a few conversations, I realized she had a brain the size of a teaspoon.

She did shock me, though. Tilting her head, she asked, “Wasn’t your hair different earlier?”

I lifted my brows. “Um, yeah, it was.”

“Oh,” she blinked. “I like it better this way.”

“Thanks,” I replied while I got my stuff ready for a shower. “I’ll be back soon.”

Oddly enough, I did sleep well that night, but like clockwork, I was up at dawn the next morning—after one of the most bizarre days of my life. I couldn’t blame Porter for driving us to the wrong location and getting me into this situation. I was the one who had fallen into old habits and not listened when I should have.

“Well, Beau did promise to ride it out for the first week, and then we’d be free,” I murmured while slipping out of bed and reaching for my robe.

Wandering to the window, I peeled the curtains away and saw rolling land coated with mystical mist as far as my eyes could see, and I watched as it slowly cleared.

Then—cowboys appeared on the pasture far off.

Honest to God, cowboys on horses and wearing jeans and Stetsons. I didn’t like “reality” TV because I damn well knew there was no “reality” behind it, but there was nothing fake about this, not these men. These guys were the real deal.

As they neared, I spotted Beau. He was riding a beautiful brown horse at full speed, bouncing in the saddle as the horse galloped… and had a rope—no… a lasso. I assumed he was chasing a bull, calling out to it by name.

Then he wound that lasso and swung it high in the air. I watched as it fell and caught a horn; another one came by and lassoed the bull's neck, making the whole capture seem effortless.

He leaned back in the saddle, the muscles in his forearm popping as he held the bull in check—and my heart thumped.

I just saw a scene from an old Western flick play out right before me. Reluctantly, I turned away and headed to the bathroom to shower and dress.

I’d showered and was half dressed, drying my hair, when Sissy walked in, her teenie-tiny romper PJ’s more like underwear than PJs.

I spied out the window again in the room but didn’t see Beau or his guys and wondered why my stomach fell. I finished styling my hair and dressed in jeans, an oversized beige sweater, and matching boots, then left.

Last night, during dinner, the producers told us we needed to be at breakfast by seven, and it was six thirty. I entered the dining room and realized this could not be the original table for an old-fashioned ranch house like this. This one was U-shaped and fashioned so we girls could look into the eyes of our dates.

Producing staff were setting the table with silverware, covered cloches, and jugs of juice. Coffee and teapots were set out on sideboards.

I watched as four men entered the room. One had a sports jacket on with his sensible hair and rimless glasses; the second had a fauxhawk dyed green and wore jeans with chains on them. Two more guys came in, but they looked like cowboys in rugged jeans, hard-soled boots, and plain tees. One even had a Stetson on.

No Beau.

The girls came in, and Sissy wore something that looked like a handkerchief tied around her breasts and jean shorts; another girl had her muted red hair up in a pony and had tattoos up her arm.

The other three women were in what I assumed were cowgirls’ clothes—a flannel dress, jeans and a t-shirt, and the third wore stylish overalls and a tank underneath.

Finally, Beau came in, and my eyes latched on him. He wore dark jeans, a pale blue flannel over a stark white tee, and a beaten Stetson. When he lifted his head, there was a sexy six o’clock shadow on his slashing jaw, and his eyes were wary under dark, drawn brows.

His gaze traveled between Sissy and me, and when his gaze rested on me, the deep blue of his gaze flickered with… appreciation?

“You’re all here?” Liliana asked.

“No,” the Sports coat guy fixed his glasses. “Emory is still getting dressed.”

“No, I’m not.” A guy in jeans and an AC/DC T-shirt came in; his hair was still wet. “If Ryker hadn’t hogged the shower and used all the hot water, I would have been here.”

The fauxhawk guy snorted. “You’re such a diva. Shower cold like any other man.”

Okay, so the punk guy is a douche. Well, they would have to get one or have no drama to ramp up the ratings.

“Just because you’re gutter trash doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” the other guy snapped. “And the name is Micah.”

“Rhymes with diva,” Ryker grinned.

I looked around and saw the cameras were filming—because, of course, they were. Micah rolled his eyes and came to stand with the other two cowboys. Liliana came around, smiling pleasantly.

“Well, now that we have all of you, we’ll start filming this morning, but we have a little ceremony first. Even though we have paired all of you off, we’ll have you act like you haven’t, and you’ll be choosing your partner. But before that—” she gestured, and a woman and a man came forward, “—these are your hosts, Ariana Darling and Sutton James.”

The lady had honey blond hair, down in waves around her shoulders while she wore a denim wrap dress and cowboy boots while the man, her opposite, from his flashy pompadour hair down to his sleek Armani suit and polished loafers that screamed city and money.

“They will direct you on what will happen,” Liliana explained before stepping behind the cameras.

Ariana smiled for the camera. “Welcome to the Ex-Change Game Show. As lighthearted as this show seems, we take what we do seriously. I know you’ve seen many reality shows and how unrealistic they are, with paid actors and wanna-be TV stars trying to make it big. You won’t find that here.”

“All of you are real people with real lives, cowboys and accountants, rockers and hairstylists,” she looked at us. “We even have an ex-couple in the room, and believe me, we want to put you back together because this show is about finding or rediscovering true love.

“Finding the person who is your perfect match, who is compatible with you in every way that matters, a person who is more than just a hookup, and who can complete you in the best ways, even if they come from another side of the tracks than you do… this is why this show exists.”

Stepping forward, Sutton added, “The key to winning this Ex-Change is making the audience fall in love with you as a couple while you fall in love with the person you are paired with. You need a hook if you want to win—a story. Chemistry, and I mean loads of it. But we need teams before you can do that, don’t we?”

I spotted Liliana tapping on the headpiece. “We’re ready for the fountain.”

Two guys in black were rolling in a tray with a precariously arranged pyramid of glass ice cream sundaes. I wondered who would be the first to topple it.

Ariana came around to it. “To do so, you’ll have your hands tied behind your back, and you will be choosing a spoon from an ice cream sundae, and your partner's name will be on the spoon's bowl. We’ll be alternating, one guy first, a girl second, and by the end of seven tries, you will all be paired off.”

I let out a sigh. “Why had I expected anything else?”

“At least they’re not throwing us into a dunk tank with sharks,” the girl in overalls said dryly, tucking a strand of her pixie cut behind an ear. “I came prepared for that, too.”

I looked at her. “And you are?”

“Nelly,” she replied. “Born and raised on a Texas ranch. No offense, but you look like one of those spoiled sorority girls I used to go to college with.”

“I am a spoiled sorority girl,” I laughed. “Chi Omega.”

She laughed. “Straightforward. I like you.”

Meanwhile, Liliana was still giving orders. “We need you all to look like you are truly choosing an ice cream sundae instead of going straight for it, okay? Of course, you will know the one we’ve already picked, but make it look like you’re doing eenie, meenie, miney, moe in your head, please.”

The pairing started, and a man in Wranglers and flannel, Rome, chose a city girl named Alice, Nelly got Quentin, and Micah, another country guy whose accent screamed Texan, picked Amy. Then it was Sissy’s turn.

At the table, Sissy was looking like a lost puppy with the sundaes; her head shifting left and right. Eventually, she leaned in, took a spoon, and lifted it out. Flipping it upside down, she rested the bowl on the rim and licked the ice cream off.

“I got Jonas!” she said proudly.

One of the country boys looked like a malignant god had just sentenced him to death, but he still went to help Sissy from the chair. Liliana motioned to me and said, “Your next, last sundae on the left.”

I came around the corner and spotted Beau standing with Quentin; most of the rest had been paired off. His eyes caught mine and widened as I got my arms tied and went to the chair. Seated, I pulled my lip in and looked at the four remaining sundaes.

“Cherry. I like cherry,” I leaned over the last on the left and grabbed the spoon’s handle sticking out. Mirroring Sissy, I gently laid the spoon on the rim, licked the bowl of it and sat back. “I got… Beau.”

The camera swung at him and caught him with a tick jumping on his cheek. After a prolonged moment, he walked to my side, a slow, rolling, catlike walk that had my heart lodged in my ears.

He kneeled and plucked the spoon from the table. Without a word, he stuck it into the sundae and scooped out a large portion; jaw taut, his eyes were smoldering, embers heating the fathomless blue.

My pulse leaped into overdrive.

He ate half of the ice cream on the spoon and offered the rest to me. I allowed a long moment—something others could assume was hesitancy or wariness—to pass before I leaned in and took the rest.

If that wasn’t a statement, I didn’t know what was.

“I won’t fuck up this time, I promise.” He promised softly—but I knew those mics could pick up every word.

I stared at him. “You’d better not. It’s your last strike.”

We stared at each other, communicating without words.

“…Aaaand Cut!” Liliana called.

I didn’t move from Beau’s steady gaze while my heartbeat stuttered uncontrollably. Why did I feel like I’ve bitten off more than I could chew?

During breakfast, I droned out the chatter around me to study Beau. He took his coffee black and preferred his eggs sunny side up and his toast medium. He had oatmeal with honey, and with his fruit cup, he avoided bananas. When he picked a donut, he chose the plain, glazed one.

He’s a simple man, isn’t he?

“If you eye-fuck him anymore, he’ll start moaning,” Nelly whispered in my ear.

The coffee I was about to swallow went down the wrong pipe. I grabbed a napkin and covered my mouth before I embarrassed myself. I hadn’t realized—or remembered—that I would be under the microscope, knowing the spectacle Beau and I had made earlier. I had to be careful how and when I looked at him.

“E-excuse me?”

She went back to her waffle. “You and Beau had something once?”

“A while ago, yeah,” I said, unwilling to share until Beau and I talked and got our stories straight. I gave him another look this time, forcing a hesitant and anxious look, especially when I saw the camera swinging my way. It would probably give credence to my doubts about my decision to give him a second chance.

“Was he the one who got away, or was it a young, dumb, and stupid kind of thing?” she asked, reaching for her mimosa.

“A bit of both… I suppose,” I said while spooning more cream into my coffee.

“I guessed,” Nelly sighed, her eyes flitting to Quentin, the guy in the sports coat. “At least you have some history with a cowboy. What the hell am I going to do with a city guy? He looks like he works for Microsoft or an accounting firm.”

“At least he’s not a jackass.” I nodded to Ryker. “He doesn’t look like a player either. You could do worse.”

“A book nerd?”

“With a 401K, investments, and comprehensive health insurance.” I grinned. “Believe me, girl, you’ll be okay. You’ll probably have more than you bargained for in the bed department. Quiet guys like him tend to have some kinky tendencies behind that unassuming fa?ade.”

Nelly blinked. She looked at Quentin, who was cutting his pancakes in perfect triangles. “No shit?”

“Yep.” I grinned over my cup.

“I heard Liliana say that by the time this airs, you and Beau will be the front faves,” Nelly whispered, her eyes fluttering to Beau. “I can see why. Everyone loves a second-chance romance story.”

Oh, how I wish I could tell her.

“ Excuse me ?” A cowgirl in the flannel dress—Danielle, I believe—glared at Ryker. “What did you say?”

The table went quiet while Ryker popped an elbow on the table and grinned like the smug ass he was. “You heard me.”

Danielle stood, jabbed a finger in his face, and snarled, “You’re a pig.”

She stalked off with a huff, leaving Ryker rolling his eyes. Well, I supposed the drama had begun. I heard Liliana ask one of the camera guys, “Did you get that?”

Beau rolled his eyes, plopped his Stetson on, pushed from the table, and headed out. After a moment, I excused myself and followed him, knowing eyes were also on me. We needed to talk before we got deeper into this—whatever this was.