Catching Coy (Love in Little River Book 3) Read online

  “What made you decide to sign up for The Catch?” he asked. “It’s a … different way to find love, right?” He let his fingers brush over her bare shoulder.

  She adjusted her head on his chest so she could turn and look up at him. “I’ve always been involved in sports and things like that growing up, so The Catch seemed like a fun way to get to know someone who was an athlete too.”

  “Oh yeah?” Hope bloomed in his chest. Her toned arms said she stayed in shape but knowing that she enjoyed things like that spoke to a possible future. It wasn’t a requirement for him to have a wife who loved basketball or any sport, but it would make it easier to relate to someone who got that world. His world. “What kind of sports?”

  She leaned in closer, her face inches from his in an intimate gesture that had his heart racing. It was so strange to sit out on this sofa with her, to kiss her, to feel the spark hopping between them—and at the same time know that same attraction, the same longing had threaded through him back in Bellamy’s kitchen every time she moved near him.

  He’d underestimated how difficult this would be to pursue so many women at one time. “I play on a rec league volleyball team right now.” She had lowered her voice since she’d settled so close to him. The statement should not have been as sexy as it was. He lifted a few fingers to brush back tendrils of hair away from her face. The wind that whipped around them every so often made it impossible to keep her hair all tied up.

  “I’ve played basketball…” She smiled as she closed the distance between their lips and kissed him.

  “Good,” he murmured.

  “And soccer once or twice,” she said. “But I’m not very good.” They kissed again. “I’m up—” Another kiss. “For pretty much—” Another. “Anything.” She shifted at that, moving so that she knelt next to him, putting her hands on his cheeks and bending over him to continue the kissing. The breeze blew her hair across his cheeks.

  One of the cameras moved in, breaking his concentration. He pulled away, frowning as he caught it out of the corner of his eye, irritated at the idea of thousands—maybe even millions—of people watching this personal moment. But Lucy didn’t even notice. She leaned in closer, her arms moving to around his neck now.

  “I can’t believe this,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his, keeping their lips just a breath apart. “You could be my husband.”

  Coy drew in a long breath. He didn’t mind her boldness or that she didn’t shy away from letting him know how she felt. The truth was, it made things easier. None of them, not Coy or the six women who remained, could afford to play games about their feelings.

  The problem was, Coy couldn’t stop counting Bellamy as one of them.

  Coy, 27

  Charleston, South Carolina

  Shooting Guard for the Denver Mountaineers

  “Things with Lucy are … electric. They’re good.”

  The rest of the date contained a little more talking, but mostly a lot of kissing. Coy even kind of forgot about the other women—except that every so often Bellamy’s voice would sneak in and remind him that a lot of what he kept calling his connection to Lucy had to do with their lips.

  He tried to shrug it off. Relationships had to start somewhere.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “You are totally falling for the Catch!”

  Bellamy cringed at the sound of Roxy’s voice. It felt like it echoed through the phone and off the walls of the kitchen. “Shhh. I’m in his kitchen.” She was trying to hurry through finishing up the roast and potatoes so that she could plate it and disappear as quickly as possible when Coy returned, which, according to the itinerary, could be any minute. He had the weird idea that Bellamy was some kind of dating mentor to guide him through the process. She really really did not want to break down and analyze his date with Lucy. She’d spent several hours away from the ranch, in town at Nash’s house watching He Spies, She Spies and trying to distract herself from what Coy was doing. It hadn’t worked very well. Her brain kept piecing together how she’d probably see this date on television in a few weeks. Lots of closeups of Coy and Lucy making out. Ugh.

  “His kitchen?” Roxy retorted.

  “Your kitchen in your house where he is staying,” Bellamy corrected.

  “If you make out with Coy Jones on my couch, please don’t tell me.”

  Bellamy slammed a wooden spoon down on the counter. “I am not going to make out with Coy Jones on your couch. Or at all. That is against the rules; like get someone kicked out against the rules,” she hissed at her friend. “Remember that girl that started dating a guy from one of the little towns?”

  “Psh. That’s different, Bell.”

  Bellamy scrunched up her nose and tried not to let Roxy’s nickname remind her about Coy’s nickname for her. About the way he said he liked her smile. About how he used food swears to tease her. “It’s not different.”

  “What? Are they going to kick Coy Jones out?” Roxy snorted with laughter.

  “They’ll kick me out.” Bellamy crouched down to peer at the roast and veggies, which looked perfectly crisp. She’d ruin the reputation that she and Roxy had spent the last couple years cultivating—that the Ranch House was a safe haven for those who wanted to disappear from the bright lights of the world. If she acted like a starry-eyed fan girl, what would that say about how professional she, and by association, the Ranch House was?

  “At least you will have gotten to make out with Coy Jones,” Roxy said, her tone holding a lot of totally-worth-it.

  “Why are you getting kicked out?”

  Bellamy screamed at the sound of the voice and dropped to her butt in the middle of the kitchen floor. Coy leaned over her, one eyebrow raised. “Ah, cheese curds, Coy Jones, why do you keep doing that to me?” Bellamy cried.

  “You made that one up.” He held out a hand to help her up off the floor, which she took, but dropped as soon as she had stood and then she took a step away, knocking her back into the handle of the oven.

  “She didn’t,” Roxy said as though Coy could hear her, her voice overflowing with laughter. “Her mama says that all the time.”

  “Who’s on the phone?” Coy asked.

  “Roxy.” She waved him away. “I gotta go,” she said to Roxy.

  Roxy made kissing sounds into the phone before Bellamy ended the call. She turned her back on him, pulling on oven mitts to get the roast out. “You should knock,” she said.

  “At my own house?”

  “Roxy’s house.” Bellamy lifted the pot roast from the pan and set it on a plate to let it rest before she sliced it. This was why Bellamy was intent on convincing Roxy to get going on building private guest houses. It hadn’t been a problem—this time—to make arrangements for the Catch cast and crew, but in the future, having more than just the one at Double A might be necessary. Especially since the Double A guest house was pretty basic, no high-end frills that the A-list clientele the Ranch House had started to cater to might expect.

  “That I’m staying in.” Coy lifted himself to sit on the island, watching her work.

  Bellamy focused on spooning the vegetables from the pan to a bowl. She had to get out of here before he started talking about Lucy. “At least yell through the house or something.”

  “Honey!” he cried in a half-yell, “I’m home!” She twisted her lips to keep from laughing at him. “So, tell me about Roxy,” he said as she pulled a plate close and started arranging vegetables on it.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Why?”

  “I’m staying in her house,” he said. “It would be cool to learn about my absent host and your best friend. Right? She’s your best friend?”

  “Uh, yes.” Bellamy chewed on her lip as she scooped out more vegetables. “Well, she grew up here on the ranch, turned her family home into a bed and breakfast about five years ago. Married to Tag Turner—”

  “Who?”

  “Taggart Dubois. That’s a stage name.”

  “Ahh. Tabloids
say she’s pregnant.”

  Bellamy had to laugh. “They’ve been saying that since about an hour after they got married.” She should let the meat rest longer. Her mama had taught her better, but Bellamy had to get out of here. She busied herself with slicing the tender roast.

  “Well?” Coy slid off the island and came toward her, leaning against the counter next to her. It put him way too close to her for comfort.

  She gave him a nod and then put her finger to her lips. She laid the newly cut slices of meat on the plate, and then sliced a few more pieces of roast for Zane, whenever he showed up.

  “You going to eat with me?” Coy asked, picking up the plate of his food.

  “No.” She had to laugh. “I don’t think I’m supposed to do that.” She turned away again, hoping to hide the way heat rose in her cheeks along with an image of kissing Coy on the pretty white sectional in the living room.

  “Why not?”

  Bellamy had to turn back to him, especially since his voice held a lot of challenge rather than curiosity. “How many times do I have to explain that I’m not one of your women?” she teased. “And even if I were, I wouldn’t be allowed unauthorized one-on-one time with you.”

  Coy set his plate back down and took another step toward her. “Gunner and Mae snuck out all the time,” he said.

  Bellamy smiled. Watching Gunner Bent fall for Mae Charles had been one of the sweeter parts of that season. Everyone, except the other women there, had loved the ways they snuck around, trying to see each other. It was sweetly forbidden, and it made them real.

  “Your food is getting cold, Coy Jones.” She pointed to his plate. Her voice had gone soft. She swallowed back the nerves at Coy’s unrelenting gaze.

  “Come eat with me?” He snaked an arm out toward her, taking her hand in his. She should pull away, think about Lucy—and Gillian and Charlotte and Willa and all the women less than a quarter mile away, talking about how they were all half in love with Coy Jones already.

  But she didn’t care that less than an hour before Coy had probably been kissing Lucy because right now his brown eyes held hers in a way that had her breathing unevenly. “I can’t.”

  “Zane’s in town. I think he might have met someone.” Coy wiggled his eyebrows and used their enjoined hands to tug her closer. “Are you going to make me eat alone?”

  She slowly slid her hand away and stepped back. “I can’t, Coy Jones,” she insisted. She took another step back. Coy’s eyes followed every step. She opened up a cupboard and pointed out some plastic storage containers. “Put the food away when you’re done?” She hurried out of the kitchen after that, not waiting for his answer. The intense way he’d gazed at her, the thread she’d felt pulling them closer closer closer—she had to escape this feeling before she gave in and kissed Coy Jones in Roxy’s kitchen. Then in her living room. And probably on her couch.

  “See you tomorrow!” she called in a cheerful voice, waving over her shoulder as she rushed out the front door and to the side-by-side before Coy caught up with her.

  When she pulled up to the gravel drive outside the back door of the Ranch House, she caught a glimpse of the women sitting around the couches in the living room and even a couple at the table, snacking on the dinner leftovers. She wasn’t ready to go in and hear what they had to say about Coy, specifically what Lucy was saying about Coy, even if it would only take her a couple of seconds to dash in and up the back stairs to her apartment on the third floor.

  She pulled out her phone and texted Roxy instead. I’m really afraid I want to make out with Coy Jones on your couch.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Coy Jones, 27

  Charleston, South Carolina

  Shooting Guard for the Denver Mountaineers

  “Honestly, I didn’t expect to feel this way so soon. I’m already falling for some of the women here.”

  The fact that breakfast arrived via one of the Ranch House employees didn’t surprise Coy. The night before, he’d been dangerously close to reeling Bellamy next to him and holding her there in that kitchen. Just staring at her had held more … everything than the entire time he’d spent with Lucy.

  He cut off a piece of the strawberries and cream filled crepe and clenched his fists. It was good. Everything about Bellamy was good. So much more than good.

  And she was pretty much off limits.

  Why didn’t you sign up for The Catch, Bellamy? He cut off another bite.

  “Gonna be any of that left for me?” Zane pulled on a maroon Sun Devils t-shirt as he appeared from the hallway.

  Coy glanced inside the Styrofoam container. Several more crepes were stacked in there, but he didn’t want to share, even though he shouldn’t eat them all. It would make him sick, but irrationally, this was all he had of Bellamy right now. He wanted to keep it to himself.

  Zane dropped into a chair across from him, steepling his fingers and leaning forward, studying the way Coy kept the container right next to his plate. “What’s up?” One eyebrow rose as he met Coy’s gaze.

  Coy shrugged and pushed the container toward him. “Nothing.”

  Zane narrowed his eyes and didn’t touch the crepes. “You having second thoughts about all of this?” He sat back in his chair.

  Coy shrugged again. “Nope.”

  Zane finally looked at the container and studied the crepes for a long time. “Bellamy?” he asked.

  Zane had known Coy since freshman year at ASU, when they’d been roommates, and trying to deny anything wouldn’t do any good. He shrugged for a third time. “She’s cute.” Mmm, those dimples.

  “Uh-huh.” Zane chuckled and stood to get a plate.

  “You gonna tell Agnes?”

  He sat down and lifted two crepes out. “Tell Agnes what?”

  Coy grinned, letting several moments pass in silence as they ate before he asked, “Who’s the girl?”

  Zane only grinned back, mouth full. “These are good.”

  Garrett Griffin

  Center, Denver Mountaineers

  “Coy plays fiercely, and I expect he’ll put the same effort into finding love here.”

  The Catch brought in Coy’s teammate Garrett Griffin to round out the teams for the Team Date. He managed to get Gillian on his team, which meant they beat Coy’s team. Neither Charlotte nor Willa were athletes in any sense of the word. Coy wondered if Bellamy could play basketball.

  Garrett was whisked away after giving each of the women “game advice,” and the date progressed to a small diner in town, rented out so the cast could enjoy the rest of the date and the crew could work unhampered by fans.

  “Corner booth, please?” Gillian said shortly after they’d arrived, taking Coy’s hand in hers. He liked the way she made sure they got alone time. He forced himself to get into the process, maybe try and shake whatever pull Bellamy had on him. He’d committed to the show, to the possibility of love with one of the eight women that The Catch had introduced him too. He’d signed a contract and that meant keeping a promise to Nico and Agnes and the rest of the crew. It would make for a fun scandal if he ran off with Bellamy, but for a short show and no paychecks for people who weren’t raking in the big bucks thanks to the show’s popularity. He had to put his best into this, even in the moments it didn’t feel like his heart was in it.

  Gillian kissed him before she got up to leave the booth after they spent twenty minutes together. In the weeks that he binged several seasons worth of The Catch, he could never quite make up his mind about what he thought of the men who starred in it kissing several women at a time. He accepted it as inevitable for himself and spent some time convincing himself that he was dating just like any other guy. Except that instead of spreading out the relationships with eight women, he dated them all at once. Efficient, really. No one would judge him for having four to six different girlfriends before he settled down with one. In fact, most people would expect him to date even more than that.

  There was a different kind of insistency behind Gillian’s short, lig
ht kiss, not the same electric pull of Lucy’s. Gillian’s soft touch held expectation, not desire; a promise, rather than a demand. He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that it was a relief that she didn’t insist on deepening the kiss. Maybe later, when they had a chance to be alone. Expressing his affection in front of the cameras was hard enough. Shoving it in the face of all the other girls made him queasy.

  Bristol came next, even if Coy wished, for a brief moment, if he could ask Agnes for ten minutes of solitude to finish his burger. Conversation with Bristol didn’t flow as easily as with Gillian or Lucy (or Bellamy), especially considering Bristol’s insistence that he have a plan for after basketball. He’d invested well and he didn’t have to have a backup plan immediately, even if he injured himself the first day of the season. He didn’t have to have one ever, actually. Her pressure made him uncomfortable.

  But he didn’t dismiss her either. One of his best relationships in college had started out stilted and sometimes difficult, but Ellie had persisted and there’d been enough of a spark that Coy pushed through it. He knew better than to discount something good because of a few awkward moments.

  Willa and Charlotte both took turns as well. Charlotte made his night by offering to sit quietly and eat her meal next to him just so he’d have a few minutes to finish his food. “The sweet one.” That’s what Bellamy had called her. Coy agreed. They ended up praising the food and then chatting for several minutes about Charlotte’s time as a waitress while she was in nursing school and how the fact that her apartment was four miles from the school and that she didn’t have a car saved her from gaining fifty pounds thanks to the delicious fries at the restaurant where she worked.

  Stella didn’t press for alone time, which confused Coy. She sat next to him when he joined the table full of all the women, and they had a few minutes to talk—mostly about how close to her hometown in Idaho she was—less than a day’s drive—and yet, she still felt so far away considering the isolation of Little River and the Arrow C and the communication restraints of the show. Coy had agreed with her assessment, but Bristol and then Willa turned the conversation to other topics while they all finished dinner. He wasn’t sure how to figure Stella out. Should he try harder and dig more? See if she opened up? Or did he let her go without guilt and remind himself that she hadn’t made a lot of effort? He hated this part. Before the show started, Gunner Bent had advised him to trust himself when it came to reading the women. “There will be women here just for the screen time—you have to accept that. But you should trust yourself and what you feel.”