Page 8 of Cowboy Seeks Husband

Chapter 2

“Copperheads. Water moccasins.I thought moccasins were shoes. Wolf spiders? Oh myGod.” Roan Carmichael made an overly disbelieving face at his mom, who sat curled up on her chintz couch with a blanket over her legs. “Brown. Recluse.Spiders.”

“Think of all the good food,” his mom said. She closed her eyes. “Oysters. Catfish and jambalaya and boudin.”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s divine. Best I ever had was in Ville Platte.”

“When were you in Louisiana?” Roan asked, quickly clicking away from the pictures of brown recluse spider bites, because holy crap. Nope.

His mom sighed softly. “A long time ago. When I was young.” She didn’t say anything else. He let it go.

“So the food will be good, huh?”

“It will be amazing. And they have great cocktails too, from what I remember.”

“Mm-hmm. Basically you go to Louisiana to eat and drink and then horror-die from the bite of a venomous creature.”

“Pretty much.” His mom’s smile faded a little. She reached for his hand, and he pushed the laptop aside. Her fingers felt brittle and cold. “You know you don’t have to do this.”

“Are you kidding me? This first season’s theme iscowboyseeks husband. You know the dude is going to be hot stuff poured into a pair of jeans. I bet once I see him I’ll be ready to battle a copperhead for a taste of that.” He pursed his lips. “Or maybe a garden snake.” His mom raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, a worm. Are you cold? I’ll make some coffee.”

“Thanks, honey.”

Roan let go of her hand and stood. He found her coffee—instant—in the cupboard over the fridge in their tiny kitchen. He grabbed two mugs and put water in the kettle to boil. In his own mug, he measured a spoonful of sugar to mix in with the nearly black crystals of instant coffee and tried not to think about the Hawaiian Kona he’d gotten used to in college. Thirty four dollars per delicious pound, all courtesy of his rich ex-boyfriend-slash-former-roommate.

When the water was rumbling impatiently in the kettle, he poured it over the cheap coffee and made his way back into the living room. It’d taken a good few months to get used to living in his old childhood home again, but a year later grad school felt like a faraway dream.

“So don’t forget, I taped all the emergency numbers to the fridge.”

“I know, Roan. I’m not a child, you realize.”

“And call Lindsay next door whenever you need something, okay?”

She squirmed in her seat a little with a pained look on her face. “I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Roan said seriously. “If I think for a second that you’re going to try to get by on your own when you shouldn’t, I’m not leaving.” The muted TV playing in the background cast odd lights on his mom’s face, making her look even more jaundiced and gaunt. Roan wanted to cry. He wouldn’t be able to stop if he started now, and he didn’t want her to see him like that. Again.

“I’ll call Lindsay every day,” she whispered, even though he could tell it cost her. But it was a promise, and he knew she’d keep it. “What time will your taxi be here?”

“Six in the morning. You don’t have to get up.”

“Of course I’m getting up. I want to say goodbye. Six weeks is a long time.”

Or no time at all when you’re dying.

Roan’s face twisted, and he lowered his head. Shit.

She gently stroked his knuckles. “It’s okay.”

“Call the producers if you need me. That’s the number highlighted in bright yellow on the list in there, okay? They’ll let me go if you need me to come back. I made sure that was in my contract. Don’t try to be strong. If you need me—want me, even—I’ll be on the first plane. I swear. I’ll be here if—”

She smiled at him but her eyes were watery. “I promise.”

He nodded. “Good.”

His mom drew a deep breath and waggled what once were her eyebrows. “You know cowboys always have nice asses, right? It’s all the horseback riding. Tight, fine asses.”