Page 12 of Hawt Cowboy
And that might be the real trouble.
Chapter 9
Savannah
The sponsor tent smells like everyone is wearing too much cologne. Banners flap in the wind, each one stamped with a smiling cowboy beside a frosty beer logo. It should feel routine by now — just another PR day — but after last night, every flash of a camera makes my pulse tick faster.
Cash stands at the center of it all, signing hats and shaking hands like the prodigal son of rodeo charm. The fans eat him up. Cameras click, sponsors grin, and I’m beginning to think maybe we’ll get through this without disaster.
Then my phone buzzes. A text from Marlene asking me to explain half a dozen attached photos of Cash and me on the dance floor. His hand at my waist. My face tilted up. The caption from a gossip account: “Cowboy Cash Dalton’s secret woman revealed?”
My stomach drops.
I glance up and find him already looking at me — that lazy, knowing smile tugging his mouth. Lord, he saw it too.
“I’m sure they’re everywhere,” I hiss. “Every social media site … evenRodeo Round-Up Weekly.”
He leans down, voice low. “Well, guess the optics worked.”
“Cash …”
Before I can finish, a reporter swoops in. “Mr. Dalton! Care to tell us who the mystery woman is?”
Every sponsor rep within earshot freezes. Cash flashes that lethal grin. “Mystery woman? Naw. That’s Savannah Brooks — best PR manager in the business. Keeps me lookin’ like I know what I’m doin’.”
The reporter’s pen hovers. “So you’re not dating?”
My pulse skids. Cash glances at me, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Didn’t say that.”
The crowd chuckles. Cameras explode in white flashes.
I step forward fast, professional smile locked tight. “What Mr. Dalton means is we maintain a strictly working relationship. He’s focused on his sponsorship duties and his upcoming tour.”
Cash murmurs, “Strictly, huh?” under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
The reporter laughs. “Sounds like there’s more to the story.”
I cut him off. “That’s all for today.”
The minute the press disperses, I grab Cash’s arm and steer him behind the tent. “Are you trying to get us fired?”
He grins. “Relax, Brooks. You can’t buy publicity like that.”
I glare. “Publicity isn’t the goal. Stability is. Sponsors hate scandal.”
Before he can answer, my phone rings again — Marlene. I turn away from Cash, taking the call.
“Savannah,” she says without preamble, “we’re spinning this. This is actually a great turn of events. The photos are gold.The fans love it. From now on, you and Dalton are an item. Play it up sweet. Make it believable and keep it out of the gutter. Understood?”
“Marlene …”
“Handle it. I’ll send the revised talking points.”
Click.
I lower the phone slowly, heart thudding. Cash watches me, amusement written all over his face. “That sounded fun.”
I exhale. “Congratulations, cowboy. You just got yourself a girlfriend — on digital paper only.”
