Lenora Worth - That Wild Cowboy

But for some reason, coming to talk to Clint Griffin again made her break out in hives. She didn’t think she could fix him without destroying part of herself.

“Get over yourself,” she whispered as she parked her tiny car and started the long hike up to those big double doors. She’d just reached the top step when the front door burst open and a young girl ran out, tears streaming down her face.

The girl glared at Victoria then stomped into a twirl and glared up at the house. “I hate this place.”

Victoria wasn’t sure what to say, but when she heard someone calling out, she stood perfectly still and went into unobtrusive camera-person mode. This was getting interesting.

“Tater, come back here.”

She sure knew that voice. Surely he wasn’t messing with high-schoolers now.

The girl let out a groan. “And don’t call me Tater!”

Then another voice shrilled right behind Clint, obviously addressing that heated retort. “Tell her to get back in here and finish helping me set the table.”

The woman whirled past Victoria in a huff of elegance. She had streaked brown hair and long legs and a dressed-to-impress attitude in a white blouse dripping with gold and pearl necklaces and a tight beige skirt that shouted Neiman Marcus. So he also dated lookers who knew which hot brands to wear.

By the time Clint himself had made it to the open door, Victoria was boiling over with questions and doubts, followed by a good dose of anger. She couldn’t work with this man.

Clint stared down at the driveway, where the two other women were arguing, and then turned to stare at her. His mouth went slack when he realized one of these things was not like the others. “Victoria?”

She nodded but remained still and calm, her leather tote and one camera slung over her shoulder. Let him explain his way out of this one.

Before he could make the attempt, two other women—one pretty but stern and definitely more controlled in jeans and a blue cashmere sweater over a sleeveless cotton top, and the other smiling and shaking her beautiful chin-length silver bob—virtually shoved Clint out of the way and completely ignored Victoria.

Clint put his hands on his hips and listened to the chattering, shouting, finger-pointing group of women standing in his driveway. Then he turned to Victoria with a shrug. “I can explain.”

“Yeah, right,” she retorted. “Do you have a harem in there, cowboy?”

“I only wish,” he replied. “You want reality. Well, c’mon then.” He took her by the arm and dragged her down the steps and pushed her right in the middle of the squawking women. But his next words caused Victoria to almost drop her tiny not-even-turned-on video recorder.

“Victoria Calhoun, I’d like you to meet my mother, my two aggravating sisters and my hopping-mad niece. This is my reality.”

CHAPTER FOUR

VICTORIA DID A double take. “Excuse me?”

“Turn on that little machine,” Clint replied, pointing to her handheld. “Get this on tape, darlin’.” Then his voice grew louder. “Because this is my life now.”

All of the women stopped talking and stared at Victoria.

“What did you say?” the oldest one asked, giving Clint a sharply focused, brilliant gray-eyed appraisal.

“Mama, this is Victoria Calhoun. From TRN. She works on that show y’all like to watch. Cowboys, Cadillacs and—”

“Cowboys,” the fashion plate said, her angry frown turning to a fascinated smile. She went into instant star mode. “Really?”

“Really,” Victoria replied, wondering how his entire family had turned out to be females. And thinking this explained a lot about the man. He was obviously spoiled and used to being pampered with so many women around.

“I love that show,” the starlet woman replied, her attention now centered on Victoria. “But why on earth are you here?”

“She’s probably filming us,” the young rebel replied, her eyes a lot like Clint’s mother’s. “Did you get all of that? Are you gonna put that on television?” She turned in a panic. “I will die of embarrassment. I so don’t want anyone to see that on TV. Uncle Clint?”

“I haven’t filmed anything yet,” Victoria replied in a calm voice. “I came out a few days ago, scouting, and took a few candid shots. But...Mr. Griffin was the only one here.”

He gave her a look that said, “Right,” but he didn’t call her out on getting the leggy blonde on tape because if he said anything he’d have to confess to having a leggy blonde here. “That’s true,” he said. “And if you’ll all come in the house, I’ll explain everything.”

Victoria took that as her invitation to go inside with them. Had he made a decision? Probably not, since he hadn’t bothered to tell his family...or her...about it.

The older-looking sister in the casual outfit gave Victoria a look that suggested she hated this idea and she wasn’t going to budge. “Somebody go and check on the steaks,” she said, waiting for Victoria to get ahead of her in the procession. “I think we need to set an extra plate for dinner.”

“No, I couldn’t—”

“I insist,” Clint’s mother said.

Victoria knew that motherly tone. No arguments.

“I’m Bitsy,” the silver-haired lady continued. She guided Victoria toward the back of the house. “We’re having supper out on the porch by the pool. Do you eat meat?”

Stunned, Victoria nodded. “This is Texas, right?”

Bitsy chuckled, gave her son a quick glance. “Last time I checked. But my granddaughter—the one we call Tater—has decided she’s a vegan. So I always ask.”

Polite and elegant. Manners. This woman was a true Texas lady. A society dame, Victoria thought. What a nice contrast to Clint and his bad-boy ways. But why were they both here together?

* * *

CLINT SAT AT the head of the long pine table and took in the women surrounding him. How did a man escape such a sweet trap? He turned to Victoria, conscious of her quiet reserve. She observed people and watched the exchange of comments, criticisms and contradictions that was dinner at the Sunset Star. What was she thinking? That she needed to run as fast as her legs would carry her? Or that this was certainly fodder for her show?

He decided to ask her. “So, you think we could entertain people with our little family dynamic?”

Her green eyes locked horns with him. “Oh, yes. You have an interesting family dynamic.”

He chuckled, drained his iced tea. “We ain’t the Kardashians, darlin’, but we love each other.”

He saw the hint of admiration in her eyes. “I can see that, I think. But all of this chaos makes for good television.”

“Uh-huh.” Chaos, hormones, mood swings and his man-view. Couple that with all the mistakes he’d made and how his family clung to those mistakes like a rodeo pro clinging to a bucking bronco and well, who wouldn’t want to see that on television? That would make for great entertainment. But did he really want to reduce his family to ridicule and embarrassment just to make a buck or two? Hey, that was what this popular show was all about and his family was kind of used to it anyway.

Victoria perked up. “Have you decided to accept our offer?”

“I’ve been waiting to hear back from you on that account.”

She gave him a surprised frown. “We were waiting to hear back from your lawyers—”

“Forget the lawyers. This is my decision.”

“Well, I’m here now and we can decide, once and for all.”

“Did you come all the way out here to pin me down?”

“Yes, I did. My boss wasn’t happy with me the other day.”

“He can’t blame you. We have a whole passel of lawyers and one greedy manager looking into the matter but I told them to hold off. So this is my decision and my fault if I decide not to participate. Which I haven’t decided. Yet.”