Grumpy Cowboy: A Hot Single Dad, Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Page 34

  “Let me tell you…he is great,” I lie. I know absolutely nothing about him—don’t even know for sure who he is. “You’re all going to be so thrilled with the man who’s been chosen.”

  They all squeal. I wince and look around to make sure I haven’t somehow stumbled into the middle of a pig farm, but all I find are relentlessly attractive, svelte women.

  “Great,” I mutter to break up the noise. “I’m so glad you’re all excited. But in order to get started, we need to get some paperwork out of the way. First, you’ll find a document in front of you. It’s a nondisclosure agreement. Essentially, it means that you agree to keep the details of the contest to yourself. That means your dates, the bachelor, your involvement in the contest…anything pertaining to Bachelor Anonymous, you’re strictly—legally—forbidden to talk about.”

  “But what about, like, Twitter?” one of them asks, her blond bob swinging side to side.

  “No Twitter.”

  Her eyebrows knit.

  “Instagram?”

  “No. No social media platforms, no texts, no phone calls, no letters…” I laugh to myself. Suddenly, I have a handle on every method of communication, and yet ten minutes ago, all I could come up with was carrier pigeon. “It’s all legally forbidden. You are not to discuss the details of this with anyone.”

  Another woman with wavy auburn hair opens her mouth, and I cut her off. “Not your mom. Not your sister. No one.”

  They all kind of frown, but I charge ahead. “It’s like being on a jury. You are sworn to secrecy over the details until the contest is completely over. And even then, you’ll have to be released from your nondisclosure agreement in order to share anything.”

  “What’s the point if we can’t share anything?” the blonde asks again.

  “To find love,” I offer. “To meet someone you can spend the rest of your life with.”

  “But, like, how would that work? My mom is going to want to meet the guy I marry,” the blonde asserts.

  I nod, though I kind of want to smash my head into the table. Really, though, it’s my fault. I should have seen this coming. When there’s this much hair spray in a room, the fumes are at least partially noxious. I should have told Dolly to put them in a room with a window.

  “The nondisclosure will almost definitely end after the contest is over,” I begin to explain. “And then, you’ll be free to share your relationship wherever you and your partner like. But it’s an integral part of the contest now. It’s to protect both your and the bachelor’s privacy as you get to know each other.”

  Four of five women put their pens to the paper and sign. One, though, she’s a holdout for some reason. To be honest, I can’t tell if she has a genuine problem with those terms or if she’s still trying to make sense of it all in her head.

  I take a deep breath, reminding myself that these women have done nothing to wrong me, no matter their striking likeness to Raleigh’s assistant, and smile.

  “Is there something I need to explain more?”

  She shakes her head but doesn’t offer up any explanation for her hesitance.

  “Are you uncomfortable with the terms? You’re free to back out at any time if this makes you uncomfortable, and we’ll fill your slot with another contestant.”

  That apparently strikes a chord. She picks up the pen and signs her name at the bottom of the paper.

  “Great,” I approve with a smile, collecting the NDAs and filing them in my folder immediately. “Now we can move on to the fun stuff.”

  More squeals fill the air, and I reach into the folder, pull out the next round of forms, and mentally brace myself to be stuck in this room of giggly squealers for the next hour and a half.

  Lord, please give me strength.

  Keep reading here!

  First of all, THANK YOU for reading. That goes for anyone who has bought a copy, read an ARC, helped us beta, edited, or found time in their busy schedule just to make sure we stayed on track. Thank you for supporting us, for talking about our books, and for just being so unbelievably loving and supportive of our characters. You’ve made this our MOST favorite adventure thus far.

  THANK YOU to each other. Monroe is thanking Max. Max is thanking Monroe. Blah, blah, blah. We do this every book. And we can’t stop, won’t stop! If you don’t believe us, we challenge you to go read all of them and see for yourself. HAHA!

  THANK YOU, Lisa, for agreeing to be a part of this insane 2021 schedule. Somehow, we’re nearly halfway through the year and still surviving. And guess what? We have great news! There will be two more editing projects coming to you very soon. LOL. On a sidenote, we’re pretty sure we all deserve a trip to the Bahamas or something after this.

  THANK YOU, Stacey, for making the insides of our book look so damn pretty and rolling with the crazy schedule punches we throw your way. You are the absolute best!

  THANK YOU, Peter (aka Banana), for rocking our covers and making the grumpy cowboy look like cowboy perfection.

  THANK YOU to every blogger who has read, reviewed, posted, shared, and supported us. Your enthusiasm, support, and hard work do not go unnoticed. We love youuuuuuuuuuuu!

  THANK YOU to the people who love us—our family. You are our biggest supporters and motivators. We couldn’t do this without you. Although, it should be noted, sometimes you guys are hella distracting. But the ones who are the most distracting are under the age of eleven, so we’re not going to hold that against you. HAHA.

  THANK YOU to our Camp members! You guys are the best! THE BEST, we tell you! You’ve made Camp the coolest place to be and one of our favorite places to go to procrastinate. We can’t wait for all the fun we’ve got planned for this year!

  As always, all our love.

  XOXO,

  Max & Monroe