Page 7 of Roping the Rodeo Queen
"They could be."She crosses her arms and widens her stance."You've got the talent.What you lack is the story."
"The story," I repeat flatly.I've got no idea what she means.
"Yes, the story.The narrative.The thing that makes people want to root for you."Jo starts pacing, back and forth, back and forth."Sterling has a pretty-boy image and family connections.What do you have that makes you stand out from the crowd?"
I shrug, feeling increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutiny."I ride horses and bulls and rope calves.Same as everyone else here."
"God, you're dense."She halts directly in front of me, hands on her hips."You are the underdog fighting to save his family's legacy.The fourth-generation rancher who refuses to give up.Clay McKendrick the guy who drove thousands of miles to get here because quitting isn't in your DNA."Her tone grows tougher with every word as passion lights up her features---passion for winning, that is."That's a story people want to get behind, you stubborn ass."
I gape at her, caught off guard by the fire in her voice."Even if that's true, how's that supposed to help me?I can't exactly walk up to some corporate bigwig and tell them a sob story about my daddy's medical bills."
"No, but you can create buzz.Generate interest.Make yourself someone they want to associate with."She resumes pacing."The rodeo world is all about image, Clay.You need to give them something to talk about."
"Like what?"
She stops in front of me, setting her hands on her hips."Sex appeal, Clay.That's your secret weapon.Sponsors will clamor to throw money at a rugged cowboy with the heart of a champion."Jo's eyes narrow on me, her gaze lingering on my face in a way that makes my skin itch."You've got the looks, the talent, and the backstory.What you're missing is visibility."
I snort, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny."Visibility?I'm competing in the same events as everyone else."
"And then disappearing to lick your wounds in private afterward."She gestures around the empty area behind the pens."Meanwhile, Sterling's working the crowd, posing for photos, and making sure his face is plastered across every rodeo magazine and social media site."
"That's not my style," I mumble, but a nagging voice in my head wonders if she might be right.
"Your style is about to cost you your family ranch."Jo's words hit me like a slap to the face, sharp and stinging."You think your pride is worth more than four generations of McKendrick blood, sweat, and tears?"
I jump up fast enough to make her take a step back."Don't you dare---"
"What?Tell you the truth?"She doesn't back down, stepping closer instead until I can see the gold flecks in her green eyes."Do you want to save that ranch or not, Clay?Because sitting here wallowing in self-pity sure as hell isn't gonna do it."
The anger builds in my chest, hot and fierce.Who the hell does she think she is?"You don't know a damn thing about what I'm willing to sacrifice for my family."
"Then prove it."Her voice drops to a near whisper."Stop being so precious about your image and start playing the game like everyone else.Leverage that hot body."
The words hang in the air between us like smoke from a campfire, and heat flushes my face.Did Jo Callahan just call me hot?My brain scrambles to process that fact while my body responds in ways that are definitely not appropriate for a public conversation.
"My what now?"I manage to croak.
She rolls her eyes, but a faint pinkness creeps up her neck."Don't let it go to your head, McKendrick.I'm talking strategy, not giving you a personal assessment."
"Right.Strategy."I clear my throat, trying to ignore the way my pulse has kicked up another notch."And what exactly does this strategy involve?"
She smirks."Come with me now, and you'll see."
Chapter Five
Learning the Ropes
Jolene Callahan drags me into her pickup truck and drives me to a location on the other side of Durango, parking in a gravel lot in front of a weathered, brightly lit building.As we exit the truck, I quickly realize what sort of place this is.
"A honky-tonk?"I say, grimacing at the gaudy decor.I can hear the country music blasting inside the building."I'm starving, but I'd prefer someplace less...raucous."
Just as we mount the porch steps, Jo halts and swivels partway toward me, waggling one finger."Now, now, Clay, don't be a stick in the mud.You need some serious relaxation, and your personal rodeo doctor has prescribed a night of honky-tonk therapy."
Her wicked grin makes me feel as if she's luring me into debauchery.Jo is the cutest, sexiest devil.I won't mind letting her corrupt me.
Jo bumps her hip into me."Thought you wanted to learn about visibility.This is where your lesson begins."
Before I can protest, she pushes through the swinging doors.A wall of sound slams into me like a freight train.The Dusty Boot Bar is exactly what you'd expect from a roadhouse on the outskirts of nowhere---sawdust on the floor, neon beer signs flickering on wood-paneled walls, and a mechanical bull that's seen better decades.The air is thick with cigarette smoke, and the smell of fried food makes my stomach growl despite my reservations.
