Page 11 of Catching Coy
He tried to shrug it off. Relationships had to start somewhere.
Chapter Seven
“You are totallyfalling for theCatch!”
Bellamy cringed at the sound of Roxy’s voice. It felt like it echoed through the phone and off the walls of the kitchen. “Shhh. I’m in his kitchen.” She was trying to hurry through finishing up the roast and potatoes so that she could plate it and disappear as quickly as possible when Coy returned, which, according to the itinerary, could be any minute. He had the weird idea that Bellamy was some kind of dating mentor to guide him through the process. She reallyreallydid not want to break down and analyze his date with Lucy. She’d spent several hours away from the ranch, in town at Nash’s house watchingHe Spies, She Spiesand trying to distract herself from what Coy was doing. It hadn’t worked very well. Her brain kept piecing together how she’d probably see this date on television in a few weeks. Lots of closeups of Coy and Lucy making out. Ugh.
“Hiskitchen?” Roxy retorted.
“Your kitchen in your house where he is staying,” Bellamy corrected.
“If you make out with Coy Jones on my couch, please don’t tell me.”
Bellamy slammed a wooden spoon down on the counter. “I amnotgoing to make out with Coy Jones on your couch. Or at all. That is against the rules; like get someone kicked out against the rules,” she hissed at her friend. “Remember that girl that started dating a guy from one of the little towns?”
“Psh. That’s different, Bell.”
Bellamy scrunched up her nose and tried not to let Roxy’s nickname remind her about Coy’s nickname for her. About the way he said he liked her smile. About how he used food swears to tease her. “It’s not different.”
“What? Are they going to kick Coy Jones out?” Roxy snorted with laughter.
“They’ll kick me out.” Bellamy crouched down to peer at the roast and veggies, which looked perfectly crisp. She’d ruin the reputation that she and Roxy had spent the last couple years cultivating—that the Ranch House was a safe haven for those who wanted to disappear from the bright lights of the world. If she acted like a starry-eyed fan girl, what would that say about how professional she, and by association, the Ranch House was?
“At least you will have gotten to make out with Coy Jones,” Roxy said, her tone holding a lot of totally-worth-it.
“Why are you getting kicked out?”
Bellamy screamed at the sound of the voice and dropped to her butt in the middle of the kitchen floor. Coy leaned over her, one eyebrow raised. “Ah, cheese curds, Coy Jones, why do you keep doing that to me?” Bellamy cried.
“You made that one up.” He held out a hand to help her up off the floor, which she took, but dropped as soon as she had stood and then she took a step away, knocking her back into the handle of the oven.
“She didn’t,” Roxy said as though Coy could hear her, her voice overflowing with laughter. “Her mama says that all the time.”
“Who’s on the phone?” Coy asked.
“Roxy.” She waved him away. “I gotta go,” she said to Roxy.
Roxy made kissing sounds into the phone before Bellamy ended the call. She turned her back on him, pulling on oven mitts to get the roast out. “You should knock,” she said.
“At my own house?”
“Roxy’s house.” Bellamy lifted the pot roast from the pan and set it on a plate to let it rest before she sliced it. This was why Bellamy was intent on convincing Roxy to get going on building private guest houses. It hadn’t been a problem—this time—to make arrangements for theCatchcast and crew, but in the future, having more than just the one at Double A might be necessary. Especially since the Double A guest house was pretty basic, no high-end frills that the A-list clientele the Ranch House had started to cater to might expect.
“That I’m staying in.” Coy lifted himself to sit on the island, watching her work.
Bellamy focused on spooning the vegetables from the pan to a bowl. She had to get out of here before he started talking about Lucy. “At least yell through the house or something.”
“Honey!” he cried in a half-yell, “I’m home!” She twisted her lips to keep from laughing at him. “So, tell me about Roxy,” he said as she pulled a plate close and started arranging vegetables on it.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Why?”
“I’m staying in her house,” he said. “It would be cool to learn about my absent host and your best friend. Right? She’s your best friend?”
“Uh, yes.” Bellamy chewed on her lip as she scooped out more vegetables. “Well, she grew up here on the ranch, turned her family home into a bed and breakfast about five years ago. Married to Tag Turner—”
“Who?”
“Taggart Dubois. That’s a stage name.”
