Page 42 of Roping the Rodeo Queen
Her lips curve into a mischievous smile, and she nods her approval.
With a wink, I reach around Jo to grab the next piece of steak, intentionally pressing against her back.Then I announce too loudly, "I think I've got this part handled, darlin'!"
"Clay McKendrick, I swear to---" Jo starts, but I've already dropped the steak into the melted butter with a dramatic flourish.
It splatters everywhere.A tiny droplet lands on my forearm, and I yelp like I've been shot, doing an exaggerated dance around the kitchen while shaking my arm.
"My hero," Jo deadpans, flipping the first steak with perfect precision."Ladies and gentlemen, meet the man who survived being thrown from a bull but can't handle a little hot melted butter."
The crowd outside roars with laughter.I catch a glimpse of Grandma Callahan shaking her head, but there's definitely a smile tugging at her lips.
Maybe this reality show thing won't be an unbearable nightmare after all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Going Off the Grid
Six days after our culinary debacle at the Callahan ranch, Jo and I demanded some time off from the craziness.Three days, that's all we want.Three days without cameras, reporters, or even our families around us.Miranda, our producer, tried to argue, of course.She babbled on and on about "momentum" and "viewer engagement metrics" until Jo threatened to walk away from the whole show.I've never seen Miranda backpedal so fast.
It took me ten minutes to settle Jo down.Only then did Miranda finally consent to our little vacation---with no one watching us.
So now we're heading to a little cabin that belongs to one of Jo's cousins.It's tucked away in the Montana Mountains where cell service is spotty at best and the nearest neighbor is five miles down a dirt road.Sounds like paradise to me.
"Turn left up here," Jo says, pointing to a barely visible path between the pines.Her hair is loose today, flowing over her shoulders instead of in its usual practical ponytail.It's a good look on her.
She's also in charge of the map her cousin gave us.
Following Jo's instructions, I guide our truck onto what can only generously be called a road."You're sure this is right?Looks like we're driving straight into the wilderness."
"That's the point, McKendrick."She leans back in her seat with a contented sigh."No cameras, no microphones, no Daphne asking us about our 'relationship journey.'Just trees, mountains, and blessed silence."
The truck bounces over a particularly nasty rut, and Jo grabs the dash to steady herself.I can't help but grin at her momentary look of alarm.
"Careful there, Rodeo Queen.I thought you mountain folk were used to rough terrain."
"I'm used to it on horseback, not in your ancient truck that apparently has no suspension whatsoever."She spears me with a dirty look."Seriously, when was the last time you had this thing serviced?"
"Don't insult Betsy.She's sensitive."
"You named your truck Betsy?"Jo tries to look annoyed but only manages to half stifle her smile."How original, Clay."
"Hey, she's gotten me through years of rodeos and ranch work.Show some respect."
"Betsy hasn't earned my respect yet," Jo fires back, then grabs the overhead handle as we hit another bump."At this rate, we'll both need back surgery before we reach the cabin."
I ease off the gas pedal, trying to navigate the worst of the ruts.The forest thickens around us, and the sunlight filters through the pine branches in dappled patterns that splash across the windshield.It's peaceful out here, the kind of quiet that makes you realize how much noise you've been living with.
"So, three days of just us," I remind her, trying to sound casual."Any big plans, or are we winging it all the way?"
Jo stays quiet for a moment as she stares out the side window."I was thinking about our plan---doing absolutely nothing for at least twenty-four hours.No schedule, no makeup, no pretending to be something I'm not."
"Sounds perfect."I steal a glance at her profile.The tension she's been carrying for weeks is already starting to ease, as evidenced by her shoulders.They aren't bunched up anymore."Though I have to ask---when you say 'pretending to be something you're not,' what exactly have you been pretending to be?"
"Happy," she says without hesitation, then catches herself."I mean, not that I'm miserable or anything.It's just..."She trails off, fidgeting with the rolled-down window."This whole engagement thing is exhausting.Smiling on cue, going overboard with acting like we're madly in love, pretending that having cameras follow us around is totally normal."
"Yeah, well, you're not the only one feeling the strain."I navigate around a fallen branch, and Betsy's engine grumbles in protest."Yesterday I caught myself checking my reflection in store windows, wondering if I looked 'engaged' enough."
Jo snorts."What exactly does 'engaged enough' look like?"She makes air quotes with her fingers."Are you supposed to have a certain glow or something?"
