“Gentle cheese cows. This feels more like angry steak cow country.”
“Probably best not to call them that to their faces,” Hildy cautioned, reaching across to unbuckle Jean’s seat belt.
“I’m not planning to get that close to big scary cows.” Jean braced her wedge heels under the glove compartment, resisting Hildy’s attempt to push her out the door.
“Are we really talking about cows, or are you scared of seeing a certain playboy beer millionaire with soulful eyes?”
“I’m not scared. He should be scared of me.” She crossed her arms, scowling at what looked like a troupe of square dancers. There were exactly zero crinolines in Jean’s luggage. Sexy mesh bodycon dresses? Sure. Wholesome gingham? Not so much.
“Great. Hold on to that confidence. You said you want to be so luscious he felt personally attacked. Mission accomplished.”
“But maybe I should be a different kind of thirst trap. To blend in.” You’d have to come at Jean with a hot poker (which for all she knew might be part of the evening’s entertainment) to make her admit it, but she’d been counting on at leastlookinglike she belonged here with the Snooty McSnootersons. It hadn’t occurred to her that they’d all be playing cowboy.
“We could go back to town and get some flannel shirts,” Jean suggested.
Hildy rolled her eyes. “Because nothing says SEX like a plaid button-down. Also, what town? The last sign of civilization was half an hour ago. Over gravel roads. And that was a rest stop.”
She had a point. Jean had asked more than once if they were there yet, especially after losing cell reception. The Pike family estate was nestled in a secluded canyon a stone’s throw from the Wyoming border. It was picturesque, if you liked that kind of thing, but not exactly a retail hotbed.
“There’s a trout stream too,” Hildy had explained as they bumped over the rutted roads leading into the surprisingly green valley. The grassy slopes gave way to steep rocky walls topped with spiny red ridges that towered high above. “Really good fly-fishing.”
“How do you know all this?” Jean asked.
“Research, babe.”
That sounded more productive than getting sucked down the rabbit hole of gossip sites dissecting Charlie’s relationship with Adriana Asebedo.
It was too late for regrets. They were here in the wilderness, cut off from the internet or the hope of a quick mall run. And Hildy was trying to physically eject her from the passenger seat.
Jean shoved back. “Quit it.”
“Time to hop along. Go on, git.”
“How come you get to do an accent?”
“Because I’m behind the scenes. You’re the face of this operation.” Hildy ducked down, hiding behind the steering wheel. “Now go out there and do your thing, before someone recognizes me, and we both get kicked out.”
“Are you on a Most Wanted list I don’t know about?”
Hildy’s sigh dislodged one of her curls. “There’s a total media blackout, and my last name basically screams ‘media.’ And since I haven’t exactly been flying under the radar, there’s no way I’m getting in. But don’t worry, I’ll be in the wind.”
“What?”
“I’ve always wanted to say that. FYI, there’s a burner phone in the garment bag, if they take yours.”
“I have zero bars.”
“Pictures.” Hildy tapped her temple. “Want me to count you down? Three, two—”
“I’m going,” Jean snapped, gathering her impractical bag and floppy hat.
“Remember to own it. You’re the kind of girl who puts the ‘eh’ in entitled.”
“And the tit.” Jean dropped onto the grass. “Tits. Plural. Since I have two.” She slammed the door before Hildy could get the last word in.
Two men in western shirts with contrast piping and shiny snaps hurried over, the first going to the trunk while the other greeted Jean.
“Welcome to the Pike Family Ranch. Your name?”
