Page 36 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
A few minutes later,I’m closing the gap between Tucker and Jules and me when I hear, “Oh my God! It’s Julie Starr!”
Following the sound of loud chattering, I slow down to round the bend of trees at the gate. I pull up on the reins, bringing Angelo to a complete stop at the sight that greets me.
“Are you the bride? Are you marrying into Texas royalty?” another person shouts. Cameras flash.
About ten people are pooled together at the front gate, leaning forward over the fence, thrusting out microphones and rolling cameras.
And there is Jules sitting on a horse, a smile on her face, with Tucker’s cowboy hat on her head. My suddenly tense muscles have Angelo shifting his weight.
“What’s going on here?” I ask, my voice harsher than I’d intended, though it gets the job done. Everyone turns to me. Including Jules. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn there was panic in her eyes.
“Holt! Holt West, over here!” The question drags my eyes back to the media vultures.
“What do you think of your brother’s choice in bride?”
“What would yourparentsthink of her?”
The questions all wash over me, except that last one. For some reason that sticks, and I have to work hard not to show it.
Jules raises both her hands, drawing their attention. “Listen, guys, I don’t know what you’ve heard—”
“We have it on good authority that the ranch is undergoing extensive renovations in time for an October wedding,” a blonde with rather large hair, even for Texas, says.
“Good authority, huh?” Jules is still smiling but it looks almost feral. “Is this the same unnamed source from NASA you tried using the other day?” It’s obvious from her tone what she thinks of this reporter and her source.
“Seeing as you aborted your flight due to ‘illness’ and yet here you are on a horse, my source doesn’t look so sketchy after all, does it?” The woman crosses her arms, a pleased look on her face. Fuchsia lips kick up on one side.
Jules’ eyes flash.
Illness? Jules was sick?
I didn’t even think to knock on her door when she came back from the airfield. She was alone in her room all night sick? And then I let her jump in and save me from Pearl’s plaid the morning after?
Grandpa would be so disappointed in me.
“So is it true?” another reporter asks.
“Listen, guys.” Jules raises her hands, the reins loose in one. “Dr. Lee is on vacation. She is not here, nor will she be in the near future.” She glares at the blonde. “Check your sources.”
The blonde narrows her eyes right back.
“And when shedoesreturn, Jackie’s going to be diving deep into her astronaut training.”
More questions. Jules handles each one. Besides a few death glares in the blonde’s direction, Jules is holding her own. I admit, she’s very good at this. She smiles, nods, calls reporters by name when she can. But it still pisses me off that this is yet another thing she has to deal with.
As the reporters haven’t technically crossed over onto West property yet, I can’t call the cops. But this needs to end. We haven’t been swarmed with reporters since Flynn broke up with Beth and she’d gone singing to every rag mag in town. And before that, my parents’ deaths. As Rose would say, these asshats need to go.
“So whatisyour relationship with Mr. West, Miss Starr?”
“Which Mr. West?” she asks, looking both bored and pleasant at the same time.
The reporters glance at each other. “Um, either?”
Tucker laughs, and I feel myself fighting a smile at how Jules has turned the tone of the surprise inquisition. She has them questioning their questions and losing their direction and she hasn’t given them a single piece of real information.
Unfortunately, that means they change tactics.
“Mr. West.” All heads swivel to me, sitting a few feet behind Jules and Tucker. “Are you next to find love?” The blonde eyes Jules again. “Maybe with NASA’s Starr?”
