Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays

However you celebrate the season (or don't) I wish you a day of peace, fun, family, and wishes come true. All my love.

Day 19 -- TRY IT ON: Just... Complicated

Note: There will be no installments for Days 14 thru 18.

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The ride home from the dance was the the longest of my life. Ty didn’t say a word. Every bump in the road rattled the old truck—and my peace of mind.

What had that kiss meant? Was it a friendly peck? Did a brief meeting of lips mean something different in the Texas outback than it did in New York? Had I imagined it?

Why wasn’t he saying something? Anything?!

By the time Ty pulled into the driveway at the house, every last one of my nerves was frayed to a frazzled end. When he cut the engine, I reached for the door handle immediately, intent on fleeing the truck as quickly as possible.

“Cassie, wait.”

Ty’s words froze me in place.

While I waited for him to continue, I noticed the sounds of the world around me. Leaves rustled in the wind, bugs chirped in the crisp night air, and somewhere a lonely coyote was yipping at the moon. Funny how I’d thought this place so very quiet—too quiet—my first night here. Now I the night came alive with sound.

“Look, Ty,” I finally said when I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, “I understand. Genevieve has been… overzealous about nudging us together. If it was a mistake, it was a mistake. I won’t hold it against you.”

“It wasn’t,” he replied, turning his head to the side to look at me. “It was not a mistake. I kissed you because I wanted to, not because Genevieve did—though lord knows I’m sure she does.”

I bit back a laugh as he ran a frustrated hand over his head.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he repeated. “But it complicates things.”

I opened my mouth to ask why, but before I could say a word he gave me a look that told me exactly what he meant.

“I’m going back to New York,” I said.

He shook his head. “And I’m not.”

Talk about an insurmountable obstacle. There was more between New York City and Rocky Gulch, Texas, than just miles. They were cultural opposites in almost every way.

I’d had friends go through long-distance relationships. Most of them failed. The ones that didn’t only survived because of frequent visits and the promise that one day soon they would be together again.

There really was no future for a life-long city girl and a die-hard country boy. It wasn’t like Ty and I were talking long term relationship here, but it was a messy thought.

“You’re right,” I finally said. “It’s complicated.” I gave him a sad smile. “Too complicated.”

I turned away from Ty and pulled on the handle.

Ty’s fingers gripped my shoulder and spun me back toward him before I could push the door open. His blue eyes burned with searing intensity.

“I didn’t say it was too complicated.” His smile popped his dimples. “Just… complicated.”

“Complicated,” I echoed.

“And as it happens,” he said as he leaned closer, “sometimes I like complicated.”

This time when our lips met, I was ready for it. I reached for it. I let the sensations take over. His mouth was strong, rough, and just soft enough to send shivers down my spine. His hand moved from my shoulder to my back, dragged me closer, across the bench seat. My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling myself the rest of the way to his side.

His mouth left mine, tracing a line of kisses along my jaw and toward my neck until—

The glare of headlights flashed through the truck cab as Genevieve’s car pulled into the driveway behind us.

Ty and I jumped apart like guilty teenagers, flushed and panting. I didn’t know how to react. We were supposed to be embarrassed? Nonchalant? What?

From across the cab, Ty grinned as he winked at me. Then he took me by the hand and pulled me back to his side as he swung his door open behind him.

He climbed out into the crisp night, and drew me out beside him.

“Well aren’t you two just adorable?” Genevieve teased over the roof of her car.

Eddie moved to lift the camera to his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned. “We’re not filming The Dating Game.”

He lowered the camera back to his side.

“Genevieve,” Ty said with a nod that somehow only guys can manage. He gave one to Eddie too. “If y’all will excuse us.”

Then, before I could protest, he headed for the house, with my hand held firmly in his. If I hadn’t wanted to go with him, he wouldn’t have stopped me. But boy did I want to go with him.

Try It On Playlist #12: This Kiss by Faith Hill



Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.

More Delays

Guys, I really do keep meaning to post the new installment of TRY IT ON, but thing keep conspiring against me. First, it was the emotional upheaval of the Newtown school shooting. Then it was finishing up a synopsis for an new project. And now... well, tomorrow is the anniversary of my dad's passing and I just honestly don't feel like it. Sorry.

Hopefully the writing stars will align again on Wednesday.

Hugs,
TLC

No Words

There will be no story installment today.

Instead, take today to think about the families that have been devastated by the shooting at Sandy Hook School in Newtown, Connecticut.

And think about this:

credit: The Nation

Believing we can stop this from happening again is the first step to making sure we do.

Day 13 -- TRY IT ON: Dance-Off Champions

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The Four Seasons Dance was held in something called an ice house—which, from what I could tell, was basically Texas speak for a bar. Inside the metal building, strings of lights hung across the ceiling, Lone Star flags lined the walls, and country music poured from speakers scattered around the space.

Genevieve led us to a table near the front door, where a pair of older ladies manned a sign-in sheet and a box of pin-on stars.

“Good evening, Miss Emmeline,” she said to the women, “Miss Janine.”

“Genevieve Haywood,” the woman on the left said. “How y’all doing?”

“Just fine,” she replied. “This is Cassie Bishop.” She reached back and tugged me toward the table. “She’s here filming that TV show I was telling you about.”

“Oh yes,” the one on the right cooed. “Bringing so much excitement to our small town here.”

“She’s definitely shaken up things out at the Black Willow,” Ty said from behind us.

A shiver raced down my spine. I smiled, a little embarrassed by the compliment—at least, I thought it was a compliment.

“Y’all better hurry,” the woman on the left warned, “they’re about to start the dance-off.”

“Dance-off?” I croaked.

Genevieve turned on me, a royal blue star in her hand and a mischievous smile on her face. “It’s a Rocky Gulch tradition.”

As she reached for my shoulder, intent on pinning the star to the my borrow dressed, I had a bad feeling about what she was going to say.

“I don’t dance,” I blurted.

“That’s just fine,” Genevieve said, smoothing the star into place, “because my brother is a brilliant dancer.”

With that, she grabbed me by both shoulders, spun me around, and gave me a little push toward Ty. His dimples were showing, but I could see the hesitation in his eyes.

“You don’t have to,” I whispered.

His smile softened.

“No, I don’t.” He reached down and took my hand. “But I want to.”

Just then, a microphone squelched and a male voice with a thick Texas accent echoed through the building.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good people of Rocky Gulch,” he called out. “Welcome to the seventy-first annual Fall Four Seasons Dance. Jake has the Shiner Bock flowing, Helena and Abigail have put together a veritable feast with generous donations for the Main Street Market and the Yellow Rose Cafe, and the Longhorn Boys are ready to rock the house.”

Everyone gathered in the ice house cheered as the band—the Longhorn Boys—played a little jingle.

I leaned up, closer to Ty’s ear, and whispered, “I’m scared.”

He laughed. Without looking away from the stage, he replied, “You probably should be.”

“The only thing to do,” the man with the microphone said, “is DANCE!”

With that the, band started playing and everyone around us coupled up.

Before I could react, Ty turned me to face him, slipped his free hand behind my back, and pulled me close-but-not-all-the-way to his body. “Now this, darling,” he said, spinning me out onto the dance floor, “is going to be fun.”

As we merged into the flow of dancers, I saw Eddie filming from the edge of the room. I threw him a desperate look and the rotten dirtbag had the nerve to wave.

“You move well,” Ty said a few songs later.

“You sound surprised.” I pretended to be insulted.

He simply replied, “I am.”

I smacked him on the shoulder. “Isn’t that rude to say?”

“Why?” He smiled, like he knew I was faking my irritation. “You said you couldn’t dance.”

“No, I said I don’t dance,” I argued. “Big difference.”

Ty speared me with those bright blue eyes, calling me on my semantics argument without a word. “Besides,” he said, “mostly I’m surprised you’re letting me lead.”

“Really?” I leaned my head back to get a better look at his face.

“You’re the kind of woman who likes to be in charge.” He spun me in a tight turn, forcing me to hold on tighter. “You would rather lead than be led.”

“True,” I said, unable to argue with that fair assessment of my personality. I couldn’t be good at my job if I didn’t like to run things. “But when I’m out of my element, I have to let the experts take control.”

And I knew, as we glided around the dance floor, weaving in and out of other couples and executing graceful turns I never thought myself capable of, that Ty was an expert dancer. Which made it no surprise when, more hours than I cared to count later, the mayor—the man with the microphone—declared us the winners.

The victory was all Ty, and from the cocky grin on his dimple face as we walked back to his truck, he wasn’t going to let me for it.

“Oh shoot,” Genevieve said when were almost to the cars. “I forgot my sweater.”

“I’ll get it,” Ty offered.

“No, no,” she insisted. “I’ll be right back.”

She gave Eddie a pointed look and she turned away.

“Um, I’ll walk you,” the big cameraman said. “I don’t think I got a shot of the building exterior.”

“You two just meet us at home,” Genevieve called out as they rounded the corner back onto Main Street, leaving me and Ty alone.

“That was…” I shook my head.

“Not subtle,” Ty finished.

A laugh burst out of me. “No,” I agreed, “it wasn’t.”

It felt comfortable, joking with Ty. All of it, really. Talking to him, dancing with him, being with him. Despite our different backgrounds and our disparate lives, we just… clicked.

We walked the rest of the way to the truck, and when we reached the spot, Ty walked me around to the passenger door. I stood a little to the side as inserted the key into the lock.

When he reached for the handle, he stopped.

There was a tension in his body I hadn’t seen before.

My heart beat faster.

“I may not agree with my sisters methods,” he said, turning his body toward mine. His bright blue eyes stared into me, intense even in the faint glow of the streetlight. “But I can’t argue with her intentions.”

My breathing quickened as he leaned forward, closer, and his gaze dropped to my mouth.

And then our lips met and I forgot to breathe at all.

Try It On Playlist #11: Boot Scootin' Boogie by Brooks & Dunn



Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.

Day 12 -- TRY IT ON: Ruffles and Boots

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“You can’t wear jeans to the Four Seasons Dance,” Genevieve said as she dragged me into her room Friday afternoon.

“Are you sure going to a dance is part of cowgirl life?” I asked skeptically.

“It is in Rocky Gulch.” She walked over to her closet and pulled open the door. “I’m thinking something floral in the blue-green range.”

I suppressed a shudder.

As she slid clothes to the side, I glanced over my shoulder at Eddie. From the big grin on his scruffy face, I could only guess he was enjoying my torture.

I didn’t wear dresses. Slacks, pants, khakis, jeans… on the very rare occasion a knee-length skirt with a pair of thick tights and, that one time in junior high, a pair of spandex leggings. But dresses were not in my wardrobe.

“Ah, yes”—Genevieve pulled out a pretty sundress—“this is perfect.”

“It has ruffles.”

Her smile was positively wicked. “It does.”

An hour later, I’d had a makeover, my hair hung in loose finger-combed curls, and I wore the frilly floral dress. Then Genevieve confused me by pulling a pair of cowboy boots out of her closet.

“Really?” I asked. “With a sundress?”

She beamed. “Trust me.”

When we walked downstairs, arm in arm, Ty and Eddie stood at the bottom watching.

I knew Eddie’s camera was on me, but I could feel Ty’s gaze. He skimmed it over the tiny straps at my shoulders, the ruffles and buttons on the bodice, the full skirt and the frilly hem. When he reached my feet, his dimples broke out.

Genevieve had been right about the boots.

“Don’t you ladies clean up well?” Ty teased as we reached the ground floor.

His sister swatted him on the arm.

“Are we ready to go?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Genevieve said. She lifted her brows. “Since we can’t all go in the truck, I thought we could go in two cars.”

“We could all go in your Escape,” Ty argued.

Eddie grunted.

I turned just in time to see him scowling at Genevieve and her scowling right back at him.

“Um, yeah,” Eddie said. “That could be good. I could film the truck on the drive into town.”

What was wrong with him? It was at least twenty minutes to Rock Gulch. Twenty minutes of dust flying up from the truck’s tires? Now that was thrilling television.

“That makes no sense,” I replied. “We’ll all ride together.”

There, that settled it.

Fifteen minutes later, sitting in the truck next to Ty with Eddie and Genevieve following in her car, I had no idea how things had gotten settled this way.

“Your sister is a piece of work,” I said as we turn onto the main road into town.

“That she is,” Ty agreed. “It’s best not to fight her. She always gets her way.”

I smiled and rode along in a peaceful silence for a few minutes.

Finally, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I blurted, “So, New York, huh? I never would have guessed.”

“Genevieve.” Ty smiled, but it was a smile tinged with sadness. “Yep, I was a bona fide New Yorker. For almost eight years.”

“Where did you live?”

“Hamilton Heights when I was in college, then Hoboken,” he said. “Commuted into the city for graduate school and then work.”

“Hoboken?” I laughed. “I’m not sure I can be seen with a Jersey guy.”

Ty shrugged. “I liked the small town feel.” He glanced over at me. “Reminded me of home.”

I could see that. With it’s boutiques and bars, Hoboken sometimes felt like it was a world away from New York.

“At least Hoboken has the Frank Sinatra affiliation,” I said. “The home of Old Blue Eyes can’t be all bad.”

I tugged at the hem of my dress—partly out of awkward nerves, but partly out of the fact that I was wearing a dress! For some reason, I’d gotten used to being on camera. Having Eddie film every last humiliating moment of my time as a cowgirl didn’t bother me at all.

But put me in alone in a truck with a hot cowboy and I felt more like a high schooler with a crush than a grown woman with a soon-to-be-successful-again career.

“So,” I said to break the silence, “tell me about the Four Seasons Dance.”

“We have one every season,” Ty explained. “It’s a chance for the citizens of Rocky Gulch to socialize and gossip.”

“Sounds look good small town fun.”

In the distance, I could see the buildings of Rocky Gulch outline by the red glow of the setting sun.

“It kicks off a weekend festival,” he continued. “Tomorrow there is a fair and a crafts market to raise money for the Rocky Gulch Scholarship Fund.”

“Scholarship fund?” I echoed.

He nodded. “That’s how I wound up at City College. The town paid part of my tuition.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I said, half wishing Eddie was here to get that on film.

“Well, that,” he said, “and the fact that my dad practically kicked me out of town, telling me not to come back until I had an education.”

I didn’t ask the followup question; I knew from what Genevieve said that their parents were gone. Prying into more personal affairs of the Haywood family was not on my agenda.

Luckily I was saved from further conversation as the truck rolled into town. Strings of red, white, and blue pennant banners hung across the streets. There were dozens of people walking along the sidewalks, chatting and laughing and enjoying the early evening.

It was exactly the picture perfect vision of small town life.

Ty pulled the truck into a parking spot on a side street. Genevieve’s Escape parked right behind us.

“Are you ready for a real country dance?” Ty asked as he opened his door.

With that smile and those dimples, how could I say no?

Andy's Playlist #10: Where I Come From by Alan Jackson

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Day 11 -- TRY IT ON: Chicken Dance

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The next few days passed in a blur of learning to ride Roughshod, doing ranch-related chores, and generally working myself into exhaustion—while Eddie filmed every last detail. My mother, who had a cook, a chauffeur, and a housekeeper, would be appalled. Personally, I was too exhausted to be anything but grateful when I walked into the kitchen Saturday morning and Genevieve said that Ty had gone into town, that I had the morning off. My muscles did a victory dance.

“I’m not afraid of hard work,” I insisted as I followed Genevieve out to her beloved chicken coop an hour later. “I’m just…”

“Not used to it,” she filled in. “I know.”

“Cows and horses are scarce in the New York metro area.” I tightened my palm around the woven basket that was supposed to carry the eggs. “The co-op in my neighborhood has chickens, but I’ve never had time to get involved.”

Or the inclination, really. I was content getting my eggs at the local market and never seeing the face my food originally came with. Bonding with cows and chickens felt a bit like a betrayal if I was still going to eat hamburgers and nuggets.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing great,” Genevieve insisted.

She hauled open the door to the chicken coop and waved me inside.

I sucked in a breath—and immediately regretted it. Not the freshest smelling place I’d ever been. And there was enough dust in the air to mark the streaks of sunlight slanting in through the cracks in the wooden walls. It would be a great setting shot.

A quick glance over my shoulder told me Eddie was already filming it. That’s why he was my go to guy.

“There’s always a period of adjustment. You should have seen Ty when he first got back,” Genevieve said, stepping in after me. “You’d have thought he’d never ridden in his life.”

“Got back?” I asked.

“He didn’t tell you?” She smiled, like she was both confused and amused. “Ty went to college in New York.”

“New York?”

I sucked in so much chicken smell and dust-filled air I erupted in a coughing fit.

Ty Haywood, the ultimate Texas cowboy—with his rough hands, dirty boots, and knee-melting drawl—had living in a city? My city? It was almost too much to believe.

“Sure did.” She walked up to a shelf of straw-filled nests and reached into the first one. “College and graduate school. Worked for a couple years at some big engineering firm until…”

Her voice trailed off. From the slight catch in tone, I had a feeling I knew what she was going to say. We hadn’t spoken about it since the night in the hallway. We hadn’t had any time alone, without Ty around. Apparently, now was the time.

This was not for public viewing.

I exchanged a quickly look with Eddie, nodding toward the door. We were here to shoot high-jinx and hard work—maybe some embarrassing moments of me falling off a horse—not emotional confessions. Eddie understood.

“I’m going to step outside,” he said, maneuvering his way through the small door. “Need a few exterior shots of the coop.”

“Good idea,” I said.

Genevieve slipped her hand into my basket and set a small brown egg inside.

“He came home when Michael died,” she said as soon as Eddie was gone, and almost so quietly I didn’t hear. “He had a promising career and a life in the city, and he gave it all up to come back and help me.”

This fit the picture of Ty I had come to know in the last few days. It was obvious he worried about his littler sister and that he put high priority on family and duty. What other choice could he have made.

“He loves you.”

“I know,” she said, reaching up to swipe a tear from her eye. “With Mama and Daddy gone, Michael and I were gonna run the ranch. Michael loved ranching. His family never owned a ranch of their own, but he ran the Black Willow like he was born to it.”

“You don’t have to talk about this,” I said, wondering why she felt so comfortable sharing with me. Then again, it wasn’t like there were any other women around to listen.

“It feels good to talk about it with someone.” She huffed out a tight breath. “Ty would listen, but he always wants to fix everything. Make it better.”

In her sad smile I saw the same pain I’d felt when my dad passed.

“And some things can’t get better,” I replied.

Before I knew what I was doing, I stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight hug. I wasn’t usually the comforting, maternal type, but I understood what she was feeling—what she was going through. And I knew that nothing would make it better.

“That’s what makes us women,” I said as I stepped back. “We carry this with us every day. We could let it freeze us, incapacitate us, but we don’t. We move forward. That’s what we do.”

“That’s what we do,” she echoed.

A soft cough from the doorway warned me that Eddie was ready to get back to work.

“It’s safe,” Genevieve called out before I could. “I’m all through crying.”

I should have known she saw my subtle nudge to get Eddie to leave us alone for a minute. She was a smart girl. And, apparently, so was her brother.

“So tell me more about Ty in New York,” I said as I joined her at the nesting boxes. “This is something I need to know more about.”

By the time we returned to the house, we had more than a dozen eggs and I knew a lot more about a certain handsome cowboy and the many layers beneath his Yankees cap. And I was intrigued to find out even more.

Andy's Playlist #9: Fix You by Coldplay



Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.

Day 10 -- TRY IT ON: Night Light

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After taking the phone call from Gorman and giving in to  Genevieve’s insistence that I eat some dinner, I climbed back upstairs and had no trouble falling asleep. Despite the eery quiet of the country, I was out almost the instant my head hit the pillow.

Some time later, my eyes blinked back open.

It must have been the middle of the night. My room—the quaint little guest room with ruffled curtains and a big brass bed—was pitch black.

But something must have woken me. I was still exhausted and every muscle in my body wanted to drift right back to sleep. So why was I awake and staring at the ceiling?

Then I heard it. A sound—I couldn’t tell what, exactly, but it made my chest tighten.

Before I could question my decision, I threw back the soft quilt and headed across the room. Slowly, quietly, I turned the handle and pulled open the door. I waited, listening.

It was quiet so long I decided I must have imagined the sound. Maybe the outback was getting to me. Maybe I was having big city withdrawal and instead of the shakes or panic attacks I was hearing—

I heard it again. This time more distinct. It sounded like… crying.

“Genevieve,” I whispered.

I hurried across the hall, to her door which was opposite mine. I lifted my hand, ready to knock.

“Don’t.”

I jerked back at the sound of Ty’s voice.

He sat on the floor a few feet down the hall, his back against the wall and his hands draped over his knees. The faint glow of a nightlight illuminated him from the side, casting his features into chiseled relief. He was… beautiful.

Genevieve’s soft whimper broke my trance.

“Is she—?”

“She cries,” Ty said, his voice soft but full of pain. “Every night.”

I stared at her door. It was hard to reconcile sunny, cheery, matchmaking Genevieve with someone who cried herself to sleep each night. It wasn’t like I knew her, though.

Moving quietly down the hall, I squatted down in front of Ty.

“She seems so happy,” I whispered.

One side of his mouth lifted. “She is. Most of the time.”

“But not at night.”

He shook his head. “Not at night.”

For several long moments we sat in silence, listening to Genevieve’s quiet sobs.

What was I doing? I barely knew these people who had taken me into their home. This felt like an intrusion. I needed to return to my room and leave this family to their personal moments.

But as I stood to go, Ty said, “Her husband died.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered, dropping back to the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

Ty shook his head. “Car accident.” He scrubbed his hands over his head. “Almost five years ago.”

“Some things,” I said, placing my hand on his knee, “take a long time to heal.”

My dad had been gone for more than twenty years, and I still had trouble on Father’s Day and his birthday. When you love someone, it’s hard to let them go.

“I know,” he said. “I wish I could help. Do something more than sitting in the hallway listening to her tears.”

“You—“ I was moved by his pain. I barely knew him—barely knew his sister—but I found myself wanting to make him feel better. “You do. I haven’t known you guys for long, but from the moment we met I could see how happy you make her.”

He shrugged, like he didn’t believe me.

“When my dad died,” I said, revealing more of myself than I usually did, “I was inconsolable for weeks. It was months before I could get through a day without unexpectedly bursting into tears, years before I didn’t feel like there was a lead weight on my chest all the time.”

He looked up, his bright blue eyes full of pain and sympathy.

“I still feel it sometimes. Nights are the worst.” I could have sugar-coated it, but I got the feeling he would rather I was honest. “But it gets better. She’ll get better. And everything you do helps.”

Although he didn’t say anything, he placed his hand on mine and gave me a small smile.

“Hey, can you two chatterboxes keep it down out here?”

Genevieve appeared in the hallway. Though she managed a smile and her words were teasing, I could tell her eyes were red and puffy.

Ty and I both climbed to our feet.

“Sorry, Gen,” Ty said. “I was just…”

“I heard a noise.” I clasped my hands behind my back, like a little girl caught raiding the cookie jar. “It’ll take me a while to get used to the country silence.”

“Try hot tea,” she suggested. “Chamomile is best.” Then, she told her brother, “You can stop worrying about me.”

“You’re my little sister,” he argued. “I’ll always worry about you.”

I fidgeted. “We were trying to be quiet.”

She smiled again, and this time it reached her eyes. “If that was trying, I’d hate to see you two trying to be loud. You probably woke the chickens.”

As if on cue, somewhere outside a rooster crowed.

“Morning’s coming early.” Genevieve yawned. “I’m going back to bed. If you want to keep talking about me, can you do it downstairs?”

With that, she walked back into her room and shut the door.

“I, um…” I gestured across the hall. “I should get some sleep. My muscles are complaining about all that hard work today.”

Ty grinned. “Then wait ’til they see what I have in store for them tomorrow.”

“Great,” I said without enthusiasm.

Well, if nothing else, I could look at my time as a cowgirl as a fitness bootcamp. Not that I ever wanted to do a fitness bootcamp, but I was certainly going to be in the best shape of my life by the time I left.

I was just about to want through my door when Ty called my name.

“Yeah?” I turned back to face him.

He lifted his brows and gave me a half-smile. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

As I crawled back into bed and started sinking back to sleep, my mind kept thinking about that moment when Ty put his hand on mind. For some reason, I had a feeling that moment was really important. Too bad I drifted off to sleep before I could figure out why.

Andy's Playlist #8: No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problems by Kenny Chesney



Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.

Day 9 -- TRY IT ON: Soak the Day Away

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“Well, don’t you three look…” Genevieve looked up from the computer in the corner of the kitchen as we tromped through the door. “…colorful.”

I was so exhausted I could barely lift my feet.

I might have said something that came out sounding like, “Gahungh.”

“Don’t even start, Gen,” Ty said as he set his Yankees cap—the only part of his wardrobe that wasn’t caked in mud—on the counter. “That Buttercup is a slippery girl.”

Eddie, whose mud didn’t rise above knee level because he’d insisted on keeping the camera clean—I’d insisted he was a wuss, but he hadn’t risen to the bait—set the precious camera down next to Ty’s cap. “But she makes for good television.”

I could only imagine. The footage of me, diving headfirst after a cow and winding up slip-sliding through a mud puddle—that was Emmy-winning material.

“Are you okay, Cassie?” Genevieve asked.

I focused my energy on forming words. “I’m tiree. So very tired.” I was hungry, too, but the tired part definitely won out. “I think I’ll just head to bed early.”

So what if the sun hadn’t even set yet. It was my first day as a cowgirl. I had earned some slack.

“Why don’t you take a bath?” she suggested. “There’s a huge claw-foot in the master bedroom. That always soaks my day away.”

“That“—oh my sweet bubble bath—“sounds amazing.”

“Come on,” she said, getting up from the computer and heading for the stairs. “I’ll show you were everything is.”

As I followed Genevieve up to the second floor, my legs muscles cried every step of the way.

“Ranch work is harder than I thought,” I said as we reached the top. “My city girl body wasn’t prepared.”

“It’s a hard life,” she agreed. “But it’s the only one I’ve ever known. I’m sure I wouldn’t make it two minutes in the big city.” She pushed open the door at the end of the hall. “The miracle tub is in here.”

When Genevieve suggested the bath, I had assumed the room was hers. But as I take in the plain blue bedding, the belts and clothes draped over nearly every surface, and the smell of leather and something spicy in the air, I know this is a man’s bedroom.

“Don’t look at the mess,” she complained as we crossed the room. “Boys. I’ve given up trying to keep it clean. I make him shut the door so I don’t have to see it.”

I hurried through the room. It felt too much like an invasion to be in his bedroom.

“I have to hide the bubble bath.” Genevieve opened the cabinet under the sink and reached into the back before pulling out a bottle of lime green liquid.

“He doesn’t like seeing it?” I asked.

“No,” she said, handing me the bottle. “He likes using it. This stuff is too expensive to waste as body wash.”

I laughed, taking the bottle of bubble bath from her. “Thanks. I won’t use too much.”

“Use as much as you like. It’s nice having a girl around and besides…” She gave me a look halfway between a smile and a frown. “You look like you could use it.”

I didn’t have to look down at my mud-covered body to know that I looked like a disaster area. My nose had gotten used to it, but I was sure I smelled just as lovely.

“Thanks,” I said as Genevieve started to leave.

At the door, she turned back. “Tomorrow, you should borrow some of my work clothes.”

“No, that’s al—“ At that moment, I dropped my head and got a good look at the state of my clothes. No one looking at me then could have known I was wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt, and very expensive black shoes. All ruined. “Actually, that would be great.”

Genevieve smiled. “I’ll leave a set on your bed.”

She left, closing the bathroom behind her. A second later I heard the bedroom door close too. I was alone in the bathroom and the beautiful porcelain tub was calling to me.

Five minutes later, I was soaking away the aches and the mud in a steaming hot bath, inhaling the scent of lime and coconut, and pretending I was miles away on a tropical beach. Not that I’d ever been on a tropical beach, but I had seen pictures. My mind drifted, picturing white sands and blue waters, hearing the wash of the waves on the shore, smelling the salty sea…

The pounding woke me.

I lurched up in the tub and my heart raced in my chest.

More pounding. Well, knocking actually.

“Cassie, you in there?” Ty asked through the door.

“Yeah, I—“ My hands went instinctively over my chest, even though the door was still closed. All too aware of what I wasn’t wearing beneath the layer of foamy bubbles. “Is something wrong?”

“Sorry to intrude,” he said. “Gen’s out collecting from the chickens.”

“What?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t normally—“ He stopped and started again. “Gen should be the one to—“ Another hesitation. “You have a phone call.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be right down.”

Twisting myself up, I pulled the rubber plug from the tub drain and then grabbed the light blue towel I had set on the stool next to the bath. As the coconut lime bathwater swirled down the drain, I quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around my chest.

When I followed Genevieve into the bathroom, I hadn’t planned on going back downstairs. I hadn’t thought to have clothes waiting—I had been single-mindedly focused on sinking into a day-erasing bath. And, I realized as I crossed to the door, the magic bath had worked. My leg muscles weren’t nearly as angry anymore.

Now all I had to do was to sneak down the hall to my room and pull on my pajamas before—

“Aaack!”

My feet slipped out from under me as I reached for the door handle. Instinct took over, and somehow I managed to stay upright and keep my towel in place.

“Cassie?” Ty threw open the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I—“ I made a fluttering gesture with my free hand. “I slipped on the wet tile is all. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, as if not quite trusting my insistence. His bright blue eyes scanned over my thankfully-still-towel-covered body.

Every inch of my skin tingled.

“Positive,” I breathed.

“Here,” he said, stepping forward and wrapping a strong, warm hand around my upper arm, “let me help.”

He guided me onto the dry wood floor of the bedroom.

No one would ever accuse me of being a girly girl—but in that moment, standing in Ty’s bedroom with his hand on my arm and nothing but a towel to cover me, I had the most ridiculous urge to giggle.

“Thanks,” I said, stepping away before I did something stupid. “I’d better go…”

“Yeah, your phone call.”

I nodded and then headed for the door.

“Hey Cassie,” he said. When I looked back at him, he added, “Be careful.”

Good advice.

Be careful, Cassie. That way lies trouble and complication.

But moments later, as I hurried downstairs to take my phone call, I totally giggled. That advice might have come too late. Trouble had already arrived.

Andy's Playlist #7: Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) by Big & Rich



Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.

Day 8 -- TRY IT ON: Riding Lessons

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Roughshod loomed over me like Trump Tower, all tall and golden and utterly intimidating. She and I had been having a stare down while Ty adjusted her saddle , but now he called me around to the side.

“Put your foot in here,” he said, pointing to something he called the stirrup.

My lesson had started with a detailed explanation of the horse-related gear—sorry, tack. I’d learned everything from the bit to the billet strap and everything in between. Only I was pretty certain I would forget it all by tomorrow.

I looked at the distance between my foot and her stirrup.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Ty shook his head. “Of course it will.”

I inched away a little.

“Trust me,” he said. “You aren’t the first greenhorn I’ve put in the saddle.”

“Green what?”

“You’re just going to pop up and sit for a minute.” He waved me closer. “Tet a feel for the girl.”

Every city girl instinct inside me wanted to run—back to the house, back to the airport, back to civilization.  But I caught a glimpse of Eddie from the corner of my eye and that reminded me why I was here. I was trying to salvage my career, and if that meant getting up on the back of a giant then that’s what I was going to do.

“Just for a minute?” I echoed.

He nodded, his bright blue eyes smiling.

Putting one foot in front of the other, I walked to his side, lifted my foot and placed it i the stirrup. Okay, that wasn’t as impossible as I’d imagined.

“Now wha—“

Ty’s hands wrapped around my waist and before I could blink he had lifted me up into the air.

“Swing your leg over the saddle.”

“I—“

“Your other leg,” he corrected when I tried to move the one that was resting in the stirrup.

As I dropped into the seat of the saddle, a leg dangling from either side of the horse, Ty released me.

“Don’t let go!” I shouted.

“Relax,” he said, resting one hand on my thigh and the other on Roughshod’s neck. “I’ve got you.”

Roughshod chose that moment to shift her weight. I grabbed the saddle horn with both hands.

“Don’t squeeze your legs,” he said, as I was about to do just that. “It’d signal her to speed up. Relax your mind and your body, and that will relax the horse.”

Relax? Was he insane? I was sitting on top of a horse! There was nothing relaxing about that. The rocking lull of the subway, that was relaxing. A full body massage was relaxing. Compared to this, even New Year’s Eve in Times Square was relaxing.

“There’s my good girl,” he whispered to the horse, rubbing his hand over her neck. “You’re a gentle one.”

Even though he was talking to the horse, his hand didn’t move from my thigh.

The more the two of them ignored me, the more… comfortable I became. Not quite at ease, but slightly less terrified. I felt my muscles began to unclench and I could feel my breathing deepen.

“Now, I’m going to lead you in a bit of a walk—“

“Walk?” I squawked. “You said I was just going to sit up here.”

He turned his sparkling eyes up at me. “I lied.”

I watched, in horror, as he grabbed the lead line attached to Roughshod’s halter and started walked. I held the saddle horn in a death grip, while trying to force my legs to stay relaxed.

The horse took one step and my weight shifted to the left. Before I could scream, she took another and I shifted back the other way. As she moved forward I gradually got used to shifting my weight back and forth to keep centered in the saddle.

By the time Ty walked us around the entire pen and back to the starting point and was feeling like an old pro.

“That wasn’t so hard?” he asked as he helped me down to the ground. “Now was it?”

“No, it—“

My breath caught as I slid down the side of the horse and found myself sandwiched between her body and Ty’s tee-covered chest. I sucked in a deep breath and inhaled the scent of hay and horse and something undefinably male.

Don’t look up, I warned myself. Don’t look into his—

Too late.

I lifted my head and met his blue eyes straight on. From this close I could see the tiny lines around his eyes when he smiled and how his lashes curled up in an enviable way.

“Is the, um—“ I swallowed and tried to regain some of my composure. “Is that the end of the lesson.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Not quite. You’ve got to learn how to put a horse away properly.”

“H-how do I do that?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

When he moved away, my body wanted to follow. But just then Eddie moved into a new position and I jerked myself back into reality. I wasn’t at the Black Willow to swoon over some hot cowboy. I was here to film a show, resurrect my career, and get back to New York as quickly as possible.

We walked Roughshod to the barn, took off her tack, and brushed her down before sending her back into the pasture with her friends. Ty was just locking the gate when a phone started ringing.

He jogged into the barn and grabbed a bight red, corded phone off the wall.

“Yeah?” he answered. He stood tense as he listened. “Aw, hell, not again.” He grabbed his ball cap and roughed a hand over his head. “No, we’re finished up here. I’ll take care of it.”

As he hung up the phone, he turned to face me.

“Our fence line’s been compromised,” he said, walking toward a rusty shed across the drive. “Some of our cows got onto McLaren property.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I silently followed him to the shed.

He pulled open the door, stepped inside, and emerged a moment later carrying a tool box and a spool of wire.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, watching as he set his armload in the bed of the truck.

“Me?” He turned back to me, smiling. “You’re in this too, sugar. We are going to go herd the cattle back onto our property and repair the fence.”

My heart thudded a little at the way he said we.

Eddie and I piled back into the truck and Ty started down the road and teeth-rattling speed. I had a feeling this operation wouldn’t be as simple as he’d made it sound.

Andy's Playlist #6: Passenger Seat by SHeDAISY



Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.

Day 7 -- TRY IT ON: Scrambled Breakfast

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“Sleep well?” Eddie asked me the next morning at the breakfast table.

“Too quiet.” I scowled at him. “Why are so chipper?”

He shrugged. “Fresh air.”

My head throbbed and the early morning sun was way too bright considering how little I slept the night before. The bed was comfortable—if a little squeaky—and I’d been exhausted when I finally crawled between the sheets at two in the morning. But sleep didn’t come. I stared at the spiderweb crack in the ceiling above my bed for hours.

“I hope you like scrambled eggs,” Genevieve said as she carried a skillet over from the stove. “Ty says I make the best in five counties.”

She started heaping a pile of fluffy yellow onto my plate before I could say a word. Lucky for us both, I loved scrambled eggs.

The Haywood family kitchen looked like something out of a vintage issue of Better Homes and Gardens. Floral wallpaper, painted cabinets, and hardwood floors. The walls were covered with memorabilia—tin stars and embroidery samplers and framed pictures. A huge collection of magnets decorated the refrigerator and sunny yellow curtains framed the window above the sink.

“I like anything that goes in my mouth,” Eddie said, holding up his plate.

“See how I’m just letting that go?” I reached for the bottle of hot sauce on the Lazy Susan in the middle of the table. “You owe me.”

“Sure I do,” he replied with a wink. “Speaking of,” he said to Genevieve, “where is our fearless cowboy this morning?”

I kicked him under the table.

“Oh, he’s always out the door before dawn,” she replied, returning to the kitchen and setting the pan back on the stove. “But he’s usually back in time for breakfast.”

“Did someone say breakfast?”

The kitchen door swung open and Ty stepped inside. He wore pretty much the same uniform as yesterday, only his tee was green and his jeans a darker blue. He tugged the cap off his head and scrubbed a hand over his dark blond hair, lifting the hem of his shirt in the process and revealing a slice of his chiseled abs.

I shoved a bite of spicy egg into my mouth to hide the drool.

Focus, Cassie. Focus.

“Could someone grab the toast out of the oven?” Genevieve asked as she carried two more plates to the table.

Eddie the panther was to the oven and back with toast before she had set the first plate down in front of Ty as he dropped into the seat at the head of the table. Genevieve took the chair next to mine.

The whole scene was entirely too domestic. As if we were four friends—or four family members—gathered together for a meal. The only thing that ruined the intimacy was the knowledge that Eddie’s camera was set up on the counter, filming our every move.

We ate quietly for several minutes until the silence got to me.

“We should get started as soon as possible,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “We need to maximize our shooting time. The more footage we get, the better. We want to give the editing team as much raw material as possible.”

“I still can’t quite believe it,” Genevieve said with a grin as she pushed eggs around on her plate. “My brother is going to be on television.”

Ty studied his eggs. “It’s no big deal, Gen.”

“It is,” she insisted. “Think of all the publicity the ranch will get. It might be just what you need to get the Black Willow out of—“

“Enough,” Ty interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “Stop making a thing out of it.”

“I only meant it would be good for everyone,” Genevieve continued, unfazed by her brother’s reaction. “The ranch will get recognition, I’ll have a famous big brother. And if we’re both lucky, you’ll get tons of mail from adoring female fans.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

I had barely known Genevieve for a day, and already I’d heard her lamenting her brother’s single state several times. Given her determination, I was amazed he hadn’t married just to get her off his back.

Ty shot me a sideways glance and then he started laughing too.

“She’s persistent,” I said.

He shook his head. “You have no idea.”

“I am still here, you know.” She poked me in the shoulder.

Eddie pushed back from the table and went to grab his camera.

“Sometimes,” Ty said, leaning in close to whisper, “I lock my door at night because I’m afraid she’s going to sneak someone in.”

“You do not!” she admonished.

“It’s probably safer that way,” I agreed. Then, when Genevieve punched me, I added, “Or you might just be making her angry.”

Genevieve pushed back from the table. “I give up.”

“Aw, don’t be mad sis,” Ty teased.

She threw an eye roll over her shoulder. “Whatever. You three need to get out of my kitchen so I can clean up. Go—“ She made a shooing gesture. “—do your Hollywood thing.”

“Actually,” I said, “it’s a New York thing.”

Genevieve glared at me.

Ty warned with a wink, “Be careful. You won’t like her when she’s angry.”

I bit back a smile.

She threw a wet dishrag at her brother—who ducked so that the sopping cloth hit the wall behind him, knocking down a framed aerial photo of the ranch.

Ty reached down and picked it up.

“See what a good brother I am,” he told me.

Genevieve turned on the water and squeezed dish soap into the sink, cheerfully returning to the task of cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

“Have a good day filming,” she said. “Y’all try not to fall off the horse.”

My heart thudded.

I had a sudden image of me with a broken neck, in traction and trapped in Texas indefinitely. Gorman would fire me for sure.

“Fall off?” I echoed.

“I’ll make sure her cinch is tight,” Ty insisted. To me, he said, “I won’t let you fall.”

Every single cell in my body believed him.

With an angelic smile, Genevieve turned to him and said, “I was talking to you.”

Then she blew him a kiss and he laughed again.

“I’ll never understand that girl,” he said and we headed out the kitchen door, Eddie right behind with the camera on his shoulder.

“You probably shouldn’t try,” I suggested. “She seems like a force.”

Ty glanced at me as we walked to his truck. “She is. After everything she’s been through, it’s amazing she gets out of bed each day.”

Before I could ask what he meant—not that I should have, I barely knew them—Ty yanked open the driver’s door and climbed into the cab. He reached across the bench seat, unlocked the passenger door, and pushed it open from the inside.

“Come on,” he said, waving me and Eddie into the truck. “We’ve got a cowgirl to make.”

I’d never ridden in a truck before. They always looked so big from the outside. But as Eddie climbed in after, I had to slide practically into Ty’s lap in order to make room for all three of us. Too bad Eddie couldn’t shoot the footage we needed from the bed of the truck.

For the sake of the show, I pressed against Ty, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. Oh the sacrifices I made for my work.

Andy's Playlist #5: Like My Dog by Billy Currington

(Sidenote: He's adorable and his dog is in the video!)



Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.

Day 6 -- TRY IT ON: Seventeen Days

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“This is stupid, right?” I asked Eddie.

My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I followed the battered truck down the gravel road. It’s wheels sputtered dust up into the air, coating our rental in a think layer of that same red-brown that covered the truck.

When Eddie didn’t respond I turned to glare at him—what, like I was going to drive off the road and into… a tumbleweed?

I found myself staring into my own reflection, distorted by the camera lens.

I clenched my teeth. “Turn it off.”

“This is good stuff,” he insisted, not following my orders.

“Turn. It. Off.”

With a dramatic sigh, he lifted the camera off his shoulder and set it in his lap. I glanced over to make sure he had actually turned it off. It only takes one candid video on YouTube to make a girl permanently paranoid about being recorded off the record.

“It’s not stupid,” he said. “Crazy? Yes. But not stupid.”

“You’ll have to cover some of my duties.” The car hit a rough spot, knocking me against the door. “When I’m on camera—“ I could not believe I was actually going to do this. “—you need to make shooting decisions and make sure things roll smoothly off screen.”

“Don’t worry,” Eddie said. “We’ll make it work.”

If it were any other cameraman, I wouldn’t even consider it. I was a bit of a control freak—okay, a lot of a control freak—and the very thought of handing over some of my production duties to someone else made my neck itch. But if anyone could step in and—with my never-too-far-away guidance—take my place, it was Eddie.

Off to the left, a little ways down the road, I could see the house. I wasn’t sure what I expected, maybe something one story with lots of wood and sweeping views of cattle pasture, but this was a far cry from anything I might have imagined.

The square-shaped building stood two stories tall with a porch spanning the front side and the entire thing was made of stone. Big stones, little stones, beige to brown and every shade in between. The second story had three small windows that peeked out over the roof of the inviting porch—with the requisite swing at one end.

Eddie lifted the camera back onto his shoulder and filmed our arrival.

I pulled in next to the truck and cut the engine. For a moment—a long moment—I considered not getting out. The list of reasons to give up and go home scrolled through my mind like closing credits. But as ridiculous and, okay, scary as this whole thing was, it was also a means to an end. Save the show, save my career.

Like I had another choice.

Shoving the last of my reservations aside, I opened the door.

Before I could set one foot on the ground, a massive weight thudded into my shoulder and knocked me sideways into the passenger seat.

“Babe!” Ty shouted. “Get off her!”

Something wet smeared over my ear. I screamed.

Then, suddenly, the weight was gone.

I looked up and saw Ty holding a massive black… thing by the collar.

“Bad dog,” he said in a stern voice. “No jumping on visitors.”

“That’s a dog?” I demanded. It looked more like a bear.

The black thing stood up on two legs, placing a paws on Ty’s shoulders.

“This is Babe,” Ty said with a laugh as the dog tried to lick his face. “She’s a Bull Mastiff-Newfie mix.”

“Tyson James Haywood.” Genevieve stared at her brother, eyes wide with shock. “Did your dog attack our guest?”

“She means well.” He pushed at the beast’s chest and—amazingly—it dropped back down to all fours. “She gets overexcited is all.”

He snapped his fingers, and the dog sat.

Then Ty stepped toward me, his hand moving like he was going to offer to help me out of the car. Still a little off-kilt after the last time our hands touched, I hurried to push myself to my feet.

“It’s fine,” I said. “No damage.”

A flash of movement in my peripheral vision told me Eddie had caught every last moment on tape. Perfect.

“Come on,” Genevieve said, “let’s get your things and get you settled.”

Yes, let’s.

I slammed the door shut, popped the trunk, and walked around to pulle out my carry-on suitcase.

Ty reached past me and grabbed the giant black duffle.

“Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, that’s not mine,” I said, sliding my cameraman an cheeky look. “That’s all Eddie’s.”

He blew me a mocking kiss.

I held up my bag. “This is mine.”

A decade of work-related travel had trained me well. I could live pretty much indefinitely out of small suitcase, provided I could do laundry every week and the climate extremes were moderate.

From the look of surprise on Ty’s face, I’d say I impressed him.

Genevieve, on the other hand, despaired, “That’s all you have?’

“Yes,” I said proudly. “I’m a low-maintenance traveler.”

She shook her head. “I bet we’re about the same size,” she said, studying my frame. “You can raid my closet.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I insisted. “I have everything I need.”

With a shrug that clearly said she questioned my mental state, Genevieve turned and headed toward the house. Babe and Ty followed close on her heels.

“I’ll be in shortly,” I said as I pulled my phone out of my purse. “I just need to call New York and check in. Let them know we arrived safely and where we’re staying.”

“You’ll have a hard time with that,” Ty called out. “No cell signal for miles.”

Was he joking? Everywhere had cell signal.

A quick check of the signal meter on my phone, though, proved him right. No signal? No signal? This really was the middle of nowhere.

“You can use the land line,” Genevieve said. “We have a phone in the kitchen.”

“A land line?” I muttered as I headed for the front door.

I didn’t know anyone who had a landline anymore. I hadn’t had one in years.

Eddie stood on the porch, filming the my progress.

I stared straight into the camera and asked, “How many days until we return to civilization?”

“Seventeen,” Eddie said, though I couldn’t tell if he was laughing or sympathizing. “Seventeen days.”

Surely I could endure anything for seventeen days. Even no cell signal.

Andy's Playlist #4: Cupid's Got a Shotgun by Carrie Underwood



Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.

Day 5 -- TRY IT ON: Riding Roughshod

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“Hold on,” I said, trying to buy myself some time. “We need to, um, go over procedures and shooting schedules and segment plans before we get to, you know… horses.”

Ty laughed—a deep, knee-buckling laugh—and turned back to face me. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

I threw a sideways glare at Eddie, who was laughing and getting this all on tape.

Only Genevieve managed to keep a straight face.

“I’m not afraid…” I insisted. “I’ve just never met one before.”

In New York, there weren’t many ways to meet horses. You could take pricey riding lessons at one of the few stables left in the city—which I didn’t. You could take a carriage ride through Central Park—a favorite pastime of gawking tourists, but not life-long residents. Or you could chat up one of the mounted police officers from the NYPD—not exactly a recommended activity.

So, no, I’d never met a horse.

“Don’t worry,” Ty said, walking backward toward the fence line full of horses. “Roughshod is the sweetest mare we’ve got. She’ll be gentle with you.”

“Roughshod?” I whispered. “Doesn’t sound sweet.”

Genevieve moved to my side.

“Ty is magical with horses.” She looped her arm through mine and started walking me closer to the horses. “I think he keeps sugar cubes in his pockets. They make moon eyes at him whenever he walks by.”

As Genevieve led me across the gravel driveway, I watched in awe as Ty walked up to the fence and the horses jockeyed to get closest to him. He patted them on their noses and they snickered in return. Such big, scary creatures acting like gentle puppies.

In one fluid movement, Ty placed his hand on the top rail, lifted one foot to the middle one, and then launched himself over the fence and into the pen.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Has that effect on the ladies, too,” she added. She called out, “Show off!”

I bit my lips to keep from saying anything that might indicate that I’d had that very reaction just minutes ago.

“I keep trying to get him to pick one and settle down.” She clucked, like a despairing mother. “A lady, I mean. I’m ready to be an auntie. But working eighteen-hour days doesn’t leave much time for dating.”

Her voice grew quieter, the closer we got to Ty, like she didn’t want him to hear.

Which didn’t explain why she was telling me. We only met three minutes ago, and already she’s confiding family secrets.

When we reached the fence, all my thoughts and questions fled. Genevieve released my arm and I stood there with nothing more than a few pieces of weathered wood separating me from the horses.

Ty had his arm hugged around the neck of a yellow horse. It was huge—although, in comparison, it was not quite as tall as Ty and not nearly as big as the rest of the horses. Frozen to the spot, I watched as he whispered soothing words and led it over to me.

“Cassie, this is Roughshod,” he said, patting the horse on the neck. “She’s a sweet old thing. Roughshod, this is Cassie. She’ll be riding you for the next couple weeks.”

As if she understood, the horse leaned forward and sniffed at my hands that were holding the fence rail in a death grip. The soft velvet of her nose tickled over my fingertips. Hot breath puffed out a second before she opened her lips and—

“Aaack!” I screamed and jumped back, knocking into Eddie who was capturing every last terror-filled moment.

The horse nickered softly as Ty soothed her. “Shhh, it’s alright. Just startled her is all.”

“She was going to bite me,” I accused.

“Roughshod? Nah.” Ty gave me a lopsided smile, the dimple in one cheek deeper than the other. “She was just feeling you out.”

He waved me back up to the fence.

The warm look in his bright blue eyes overrode my fear and I cautiously inched forward. He held out his hand and, with warning bells clanging in my mind, I took it.

Between the feel of his hand wrapped around mind and the fear of the crazy beast in front of me, it was amazing I stayed upright. But somehow I managed, and I let Ty guide my hand toward Roughshod’s mouth.

“Keep your palm flat,” he said softly.

Again, the horse sniffed my fingers and when she tried to nibble Ty held fast and kept my hand in place.

“Shhh,” he whispered.

Roughshod moved her lips over my skin, as if using them to feel instead of fingers. After a thorough exploration, she snickered—sputtered hot air on my palm—and then moved away.

She dropped her head and reached for a tiny patch of grass just out of chomping range on the other side of the fence.

“Wow,” I said, because there were no other words.

“Told ya,” Ty replied.

I looked at him—his blue eyes sparkling and twin dimples accenting his smile, his hand still enveloping mine—and I felt it. That punch in the gut that told me I was in deep, deep trouble. Texas-sized trouble.

“See, nothing to be afraid of,” Genevieve said as she stepped up to my side.

Her voice yanked me out of the moment.

I pulled my hand away and turned to her.

“You’re right,” I said, louder than necessary. “She’s a big teddy bear.”

Her blue gaze—a slightly darker shade than her brother’s—studied me for a moment, then shifted to Ty. When she settled back on me there was a spark of mischief in her eye.

That way lay danger. I had to change the direction of this runaway train—fast.

“So, now that we’ve done the introductions,” I blurted, “Eddie and I should go check in at the hotel. We need to go over the footage and—what?”

Genevieve started shaking her head before I finished voicing my escape plan.

“There’s no hotel in Rocky Gulch,” she explained. “Only the Bluebonnet Bed and Breakfast.”

“Oh.” Was I missing something? Wasn’t a bed and breakfast pretty much a hotel? “That’ll be fine.”

“There’s a wedding this weekend.” Genevieve made an apologetic face, but there was a flicker of glee hiding underneath. “The Bluebonnet is fully booked.”

Well that made things more difficult.

“That’s okay,” I replied. “We’ll head to the next town over and find a hotel there.”

Ty laughed. “Next town over is an hour away.”

I frowned. We would lose a lot of time in the commute that way. But I could make it work. If Eddie drove, I could draft shooting plans and write my daily reports for Gorman on the way here and back. It would be fine.

“That won’t be necessary,” Genevieve said before I could open my mouth. “We have plenty of room here.”

“Here?” I echoed.

She grinned like a Cheshire cat—and I felt like a big, juicy canary.

“Absolutely,” she insisted. “You two will stay with us.”

Eddie shifted his weight.

Ty coughed.

I closed my eyes. This was going to be bad.

Andy's Playlist #3 -- Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

Day 4 -- TRY IT ON: Cassie Steps In

Missed an earlier installment? Check out the links in the sidebar widget -->

“Cassie?”

I dragged my attention away from the cowboy, turning to the sound of my name. Climbing out of the passenger side of the truck was a woman. A blond woman. A beautiful blond woman.

Reality slapped me in the face. Of course a guy that hot wasn’t single. They probably had six kids at home. What twilight zone did I think I was in?

At least that would make things easier. For a moment there I’d had trouble breathing.

“Yes,” I said, trying not to let my shoulders slump as my heart rate returned to normal. “I’m Cassie Bishop.”

“I’m Genevieve Haywood, marketing manager here a Black Willow Ranch.” She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun. “I’m the one who arranged this whole thing. I’ve been exchanging emails with your boss for months.”

Her voice had a gentle lilt that reminded me a bit of Bethany’s southern drawl.  As she rounded the front of the battered truck, I tried not to envy her petite curves and infectious smile. Wearing skinny jeans tucked into knee-high boots and a three-quarter sleeve denim jacket layered over a maroon tank, she would fit in on a Hollywood movie set as easily as she seemed to belong in the wilds of Texas.

In my black jeans, black tee, black cardigan, and black boots I must have looked like a walking poster for New York City style. I didn’t fit in anywhere else.

Which only made what I was about to do even more ridiculous.

“Mr. Gorman told me all about you,” she continued.

I was sure he hadn’t told her everything.

She hooked her arm around the cowboy’s bicep.

“And this is Ty,” she said, beaming with pride as she leaned playfully into his side. “Your future TV star—“

Was he blushing under that Yankees cap?

“—and my big brother.”

“What?” I snapped before I could stop myself.

Eddie snorted.

I cut him a sharp glare and he pretended not to notice.

His little sister. That explained the adoring look and—now that I thought about it—the family resemblance. I won’t lie—my heart rate sped right back up.

And my long-neglected girly side was especially glad I’d taken those precious seconds to swipe some color onto my face.

“Nice to meet you Genevieve,” I said, ignoring my suddenly out-of-control hormones. I even managed to look right into the cowboy’s bright blue eyes as I nodded at him. “Ty. I’m the field producer for Try It On.”

I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away from those baby blues. It didn’t help that he stepped forward and held out his hand.

“A pleasure,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “I look forward to working with you, Cassie.”

My knees might have buckled a little as he said my name.

Get a grip! Seriously, this job was too important to get all melty inside over the super-hot star of the show. I should have been focusing on how great he would look on camera. Our target demographic—female viewers ages twenty-five to forty-five—were going to go nuts over his full lips and sculpted features. Heck, I was smack dab in the middle of that demographic and I could barely think straight. He would make the show an instant hit.

As long as I didn’t screw it up first.

I boldly took his offered hand.

It was just as rough and warm and hard-working as I’d thought. The heat from his touch shot straight down my spine. All the way to my red-polished toes. (Pedicures were pretty much my only concession to conventional girliness.)

I yanked my hand away before the sensation completely dissolved my judgment.

“And this is Eddie—“ I stammered, pointing at the big guy. “Cameraman.”

“Just pretend I’m not here,” he grumbled.

I shot him a sarcastic grin. “I try and I try.”

“Don’t piss off the guy with the camera.” He tapped at the device he kept practically glued to his shoulder. “I can make ten on-air pounds look like twenty.”

Eddie might be a grouch, but he was great at his job and I actually understood his humor. We were a good team. When Gorman asked who I wanted filming at my side, Eddie was my first choice. Without hesitation.

“Well it sure is a pleasure to have y’all here at the ranch,” Genevieve said, ignoring—or oblivious to—our exchange. “Are we just waiting for the, um… cowgirl in training?”

My spine stiffened.

“If we are, we’ll be waiting a long time,” I muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” Genevieve asked with puzzled smile.

“Actually, no.” This was ridiculous. The fear of losing my career must have been affecting the decision-making parts of my brain. Normal, rational Cassie could never do something so insane. I shook my head, regretting my words even as I said them. “There’s been a change of plans.”

I sensed Eddie turn the camera on me. Clever bastard knew what I was going to do.

I forced a tight smile.

“I will be playing the part of cowgirl wannabe.”

Eddie coughed.

Ty’s eyebrows lifted beneath his Yankees brim.

Genevieve clapped her hands together and bounded toward me. “That’s wonderful!”

I might have jerked away as she wrapped her arms around me, engulfing me in a tight hug, but she didn’t seem to notice. My pleading look in Eddie’s direction went unnoticed—or ignored.

“This is going to be so much fun,” she squealed in my ear.

“Come on, Cassie Bishop,” Ty said. “Let’s go meet your horse.”

“Horse?” I choked.

What had I done?

And another song recommendation from Andy. This time it's Cowboy Take Me Away by the Dixie Chicks. Oh yes please...



Tune in tomorrow for the next installment.

Day 3 -- TRY IT ON: Cowboy Arrives

Part two of Try It On. Read part one first.

I watched with a growing sense of dread as the dust cloud grew closer and closer, bigger and bigger. I heard the truck long before I could actually see it, it’s engine roaring like the subway outside my Brooklyn apartment.

What I wouldn’t have given to be back in the city.

From the moment my plane took off at LaGuardia, I had a bad feeling about this job. Shoot, I knew this was trouble from the moment Gorman called me into his office and offered me this probation deal. I had no choice but to accept, even though country life was not for me. Los Angeles was about as uncivilized as I wanted to get—and that was only for the few short years of film school because my undergrad advisor thought I should broaden my experience base.

But even though New York was half-a-country closer at the moment than when I was in California, this felt like a completely different universe. Since we drove away from DFW yesterday afternoon I’d seen more cows than cars and more abandoned tractors than skyscrapers. Eight hours in the car and I hadn’t seen a fast food place in the last four.

We were literally in the middle of nowhere.

Well, I wouldn’t it be for naught. If I was going to salvage this opportunity, I had to act fast. And I had to act big. Nothing-left-to-lose big.

“Role tape,” I barked at Eddie as I reached into my small cross-body bag. “And play along.”

He shrugged and lifted the camera onto his shoulder. It wasn’t like his career was on the line here. Just mine.

And I was not about to let some spoiled brat derail me.

After sifting through the contents of my bag—wallet, smartphone, an emergency supply of Xanax for nervous actors, and a handful of pilfered peppermints I grabbed after dinner last night—I finally found the two things I was looking for.

The truck rattled to a halt half a city block away, at the far the end of a weatherbeaten building that looked more like a piece of modern art than a functioning structure. The truck looked even worse. I couldn’t tell what color it’s battered body might have ever been under that thick layer of red-brown mud. The windows appeared clean, but the reflection of the afternoon sun blinded me so I couldn’t see the cowboy inside.

I imagined a short, middle-aged man with a big beer belly and an even bigger cowboy hat wearing a plaid western shirt, dark blue jeans, and an ostentatious belt buckle who said things like “yes ma’am” and drank sweet tea by the bucket.

Metal on metal screeched and the truck started shaking harder than it had on the uneven gravel road as the engine whined to a stop.

I had to work fast.

Pulling out the hair band, I jammed my fingers through my hair and hastily shoved my curls into a high ponytail. Then, for the first time since she started making me carry it in college, I actually used Bethany’s girl-mergency secret weapon.

I flipped open the all-over-color compact, swiped my fingertips over the deep peachy-rose shade, and dotted the cream onto my cheeks, lips, and eyelids. A quick glance in the tiny mirror confirmed Bethany’s promise that it would instantly turn even a makeup-hating, all-black-wearing New Yorker into a girly-girl.

“I can do this,” I muttered as I stuffed the compact back into my bag.

Several of the horses whinnied, leaning out over the fence, toward the now silent truck. I followed the direction of their eager gazes just as the driver’s side door swung open.

In my last moments of sanity, I wracked my brain for any option other than the one I’d come up with. But short of running away to Mexico—too much spicy food—or calling Gorman to tell him what happened—too much career suicide—this was it.

I watched, helpless, as first one and then a second cowboy boot stomped to the ground beneath the open door. They were as dusty as the truck. Unlike the shiny, pointy-toed ones I’d expected—with fancy stitching and exotic leather—they looked more like beaten up work boots.

And the pale blue jeans that hung down over them looked just as worn, dusty and broken in. A little frayed along the hem. They hit the boot just right, wrinkling up a bit in the front and stopping right above the ground in the back.

The hand that gripped the door frame was my first clue that maybe I’d watched too much Storage Wars: Texas as research. It was strong and tan and clearly used to long hours of hard work.

I sucked in a tight breath.

The strong, tan, hard-working hand slammed the door shut and I got my first view of the attached cowboy.

Eddie let out a low whistle. (Had I mentioned the panther-fast bear of a cameraman was gay? Why hadn’t he clued me in on the OSG straight cast disaster, by the way? Maybe his gaydar was as broken as mine.)

The cowboy was pretty much the opposite of everything I imagined. He was around my age—early thirties or even a little younger. He was tall, at least six foot. He wore those faded jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a blue-gray tee that did the same. There wasn’t a belt, buckle, or belly in sight. And instead of a cowboy hat, he wore a baseball cap.

Even from this distance I could make out the team logo.

Right there, in the middle of the Texas outback and on the head of possibly the most attractive guy I’d ever seen in real life—and I’d seen a lot—was a white NY on a navy blue hat. The cowboy was a Yankees fan.

I almost swooned on the spot.

MUSICAL BONUS

My friend Andy thought Kelly Clarkson's Stronger would be the perfect theme song for Cassie. What do you think?

Day 2 -- TRY IT ON: Princess Cancels

Here it is, the first part of Try It On.

Chapter One

I was being punished. I didn’t remember doing anything bad enough to deserve this, but clearly I had a lot of bad karma built up.

“What do you mean she’s not coming?“ I barked into the phone.

If my voice rose to a slightly higher pitch than usual I wasn’t surprised. I had a good reason. Anyone in my position would have the same reaction.

I knew the producers were pissed after the whole One Straight Guy at a Time fiasco—although, honestly, was it my fault that only one member of the all gay cast turned out to be actually gay? It wasn’t like I had a crystal ball that could backup my clearly-inadequate gaydar.

But this punishment was above and beyond.

I turned away from the cast and crew—which, as of right now, consisted of the cameraman, several horses, and a fat orange cat—and said, “You tell her she either gets her designer princess butt down here right now or I will personally sue her for breach of contract and—“

The line went dead and, after three loud beeps to let me know the call had dropped, I heard only silence. I glared at my phone. No signal. No freaking signal.

I was being punished. Big time.

“Problem Cass?“

I dreaded turning around to face Eddie. The cameraman was the size of a taxi—and not an ordinary four-passenger sedan taxi, one of the giant minivan one reserved for swarms of tourists with more luggage than sense. He was fast as a panther, though, which was why I’d snagged him as my go to cameraman for this job.

Besides, if I was going to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere for two weeks, I wasn’t going there alone.

I chomped my lips together and dragged in a confidence-building breath. Dust filled the air and, now, my lungs. I started hacking so hard Eddie came over and pounded on my back.

“Th-thanks,“ I said, between coughs, trying to recover the air he’d knocked out of my chest. Sucking it up, I straightened my spine and turned to face him.  “The merry princess isn’t coming.“

Now, Eddie might look like a bear—big, broad, and scruffy-faced—but he was normally as sweet as my friend Bethany’s pecan pie. So when he let out a string of expletives, I knew I wasn’t exaggerating the situation.

“You know what happens if you tank this segment?“ he asked.

I gave him a humorless look. Of course I knew. Bye bye, Cassie Bishop, production manager. Hello, Cassie Bishop, you want fries with that?

The big boss had given me one more chance. Just one more. If I could produce the pilot of a new show, Try It On, without incident, he would consider—consider—putting me back on the list. Being on the list was Plan A for climbing the ladder of career success, all the way to an Emmy, an Oscar, and a Golden Globe at the very top. Being off the list was… well, I refused to consider that possibility. I had to make Try It On a success.

Try It On was one of those reality shows where seemingly normal and sane people (and I use those terms in the most liberal sense) give up their ordinary lives for two weeks to experience something completely different. Episodes in the works included a stay at home mom who would live the life of a Park Avenue princess, a school teacher who would play the part of Broadway star, and a motorcycle shop owner would try to hack it as a park ranger. Filed under the why-would-anyone-do-something-so-dumb category of TV shows, as far as I was concerned, but a gig is a gig and I need to get back on big boss Bud Gorman’s good side. My career in television was just taking off and I needed to stay on the right track.

“If I don’t shoot this pilot, on time and on budget,“ I replied, sliding my hands into the back pockets of my black jeans, which were now more dusty red than black, “I’m toast.“

Eddie just nodded.

Think, Cassie. Think.

The pilot episode was supposed to star a Hollywood trust fund diva—Gorman’s wife’s cousin’s niece or something like—spending two weeks learning how to be a cowgirl. Like, a real life, riding the range and roping the cattle cowgirl.

According to the little brat’s patronizing agent, she’s currently sunbathing in the south of France with no intention of visiting the Lone Star state anytime soon. Which leaves me short one trust fund diva and on the verge of total career disaster.

I jammed my fingers into my black curls. There had to be another way. Who said it had to be that particular spoiled rich girl? Or even an actual spoiled rich girl at all?

Maybe I could call Bethany.

No dice. She was busy making her boutique work and planning her wedding—to one of the aforementioned non-gay gay cast members of my last production, by the way.

All my friends from college were either climbing corporate ranks or raising a pack of babies. All my friends from film school, the ones who hadn’t given up on the industry and fallen off the face of the industry planet, were hard at work in their own careers.

“Here comes your cowboy,“ Eddie said.

I followed the direction of his gaze and saw a cloud of dust rising up from the road that led to our location. If you could even call that unpaved strip of dirt and gravel a road.

Okay, what did you think? Are you ready for the next installment?

Tune back in tomorrow for more...

Day 1 -- TRY IT ON: Blurb

Okay guys, I have something big planned for the blog this month. I mean BIG. I might be insane (actually, I know that I am, but I'm rolling with it) but I'm planning to write the third book in the City Chicks series and post it in sections.

This has lots of potential benefits:

1. I actually write the book (no more procrastinating and then feeling bad about it)
2. I get feedback from you (which I can then use when I edit the book)
3. You get a month-long Christmas present (assuming you like it)

Basically, every day from now until Christmas, I'm going to be writing and posting pages from Try It On for your enjoyment. Now be warned, shortly after Christmas I'm going to take them down from the blog (so I can, you know, edit the book and then epublish it). Read it while you can.

To whet your appetite, I'm going to post the blurb today. Starting tomorrow, I'll be posting real, honest-to-goodness pages. Eeek!

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TRY IT ON

New York born and bred Cassie Bishop has one goal: successfully produce the pilot episode of Try It On on time and on budget in order to get back in her boss’s good graces and back to civilization, aka Manhattan. She can handle a month of pick-up trucks and utter isolation in the dusty outback of Texas, filming the social train wreck as a trust fund diva learns how to play cowgirl, if it means salvaging her career. But when the spoiled rich girl bails out of the show at literally the last minute, Cassie has only one option—she has to take her place. Can anyone say yee-haw?

The only hitch in her plan is Ty Haywood, the real life, living breathing cowboy who is supposed to train her. He’s smart, funny, and makes worn jeans and a western shirt look tastier than a bag of hot candied cashews. Too bad he’s so deeply rooted in the central Texas community where he grew up. He might be good for a fling, but Cassie plans on catching the first plane back to New York as soon as the show is over.

As the film rolls, Cassie learns that being a cowgirl is about more than riding a horse and wearing pink boots. Soon she is making friends in the eccentric town of Rocky Gulch, becoming part of a community struggling to keep pace with a speeding society, and falling into the rhythm of small town life where city pressures—and ulcer medicine—are distant memories.

When the month is up and the shoot is a wrap, will the city girl return home? Or will love and friendships in the country convince her to give cowgirl a real life try?

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So, are you ready to start reading?