Page 23 of Catching Coy
He huffed a sigh. “Again, I think I might have rushed into suggesting you join the show.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” She leaned back away from him and tried to ignore the cameraman hovering just inside the kitchen, camera trained on her and Coy.
“Willa’s finishing getting ready. I’m just coming in to pick her up for the last part.” He leaned back against the wall.
“Private Tag Turner—Taggart Dubois—concert?” It never ceased to weird Bellamy out that people thought of him as Taggart Dubois. “What did you do today in Little River?” Another thing Bellamy had wondered when Nico first approached her about filming at the ranch. What would they do for all those dates in such a small town?
“Spent some time at the local museum, especially in the Taggart Dubois room. Willa got to play one of his guitars.” Amusement played across his lips and again Bellamy was dying to get more information on the date. But it warred with the part of her still stung that she didn’t get this date. She understood, but that didn’t mean that she liked it.
“I bet she loved that,” she said. Willa had probably melted into a pool of Taggart Dubois fangirl.
“She did say that if she died today, her life would be complete. But she doesn’t know yet about the private concert.”
If Bellamy was analyzing this date with Roxy, they’d both be scrutinizing the way that Willa cared more about being in Tag’s hometown than anything else on the show. Even here at the Ranch House, Willa couldn’t go two minutes without mentioning something about the whole thing.
“What’s the look for?” Coy asked.
She shrugged. “No look.”
He stepped closer. “You have opinions.” His smile turned from amused to cautious, and then it thinned out, looking more concerned than anything. He dropped his voice. “I don’t want to be blindsided by something, Bells,” he said.
Her breath caught. She didn’t want that for him either, but she also knew how this played out if she started bad-mouthing the other women. Especially without solid proof. Sure, Willa was ga-ga over this place, but Bellamy didn’t know her well enough to figure out if that was the only reason she was here or if she just didn’t want to get too personal with the other women. Bellamy hadn’t had any conversations with the women yet, and she didn’t want to think about what they could say about her based on how she dodged the camera and her dramatic entrance into the show.
“I can’t be your spy, Coy.”
He took another step closer. “That’s not what I’m asking.”
“You are. You just don’t realize that’s what this is.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Coy?” Agnes stepped into the hallway, rolling her eyes when she found him with Bellamy.
“Well, at least we got something on camera,” she said. She waved Coy toward her. “Willa is ready. You’re not supposed to hang out with Bellamy until tomorrow. You’re taking years off my life, Coy.”
Coy chuckled and followed her. “Worse than Gunner?” he teased.
“I didn’t know Gunner was taking off with Mae all the time until they got caught and by then, we all knew he was going to choose her anyway. Sybil was an easy let go. That’s why he kept her,” Agnes said. Bellamy raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Agnes knew everything. “What?” Agnes asked, raising her eyebrows back.
“Nothing.” Bellamy gave a chuckle and turned back to the kitchen.
“He is so choosing you,” Roxy said under her breath when Bellamy came back.
“Yeah?” Bellamy took up the bowl of ground meat to ready the seasonings for it. “Then why does he keep asking me about the other women?”
“What you should be wondering,” Kendra said, “is why he always needsyouropinion.”
Chapter Thirteen
Coy Jones, 27
Charleston, South Carolina
Shooting Guard for the Denver Mountaineers
“I’m so excited to surprise Willa tonight, but also to see some more of her passion. We had a connection on that first night, and I’m getting to the point where I need to know what that connection means.”
* * *
The bar onMain Street of Little River was pretty tiny. It was dimly lit, with a long counter running alongside it and about half a dozen tables scattered in the narrow space between it and the far wall. At the other end, opposite the door he’d led Willa in through, was a stage, with the curtains drawn at the moment. The bar was empty, except for the bartender, sitting on a stool behind the bar messing around on his phone. He looked up as Willa and Coy entered and waved.
