It had to be done.

Denim Dreams

"They all have to wear the leather chaps. To protect their legs in the chute."

"I know that."

"Then you're just staring at his ass?"

"No!" Carol said, scowling at her friend and trying not to blush, but with her pale freckled skin that was a losing battle.

"Oh—my bad—must be your latent denim fetish then." Lori teased.

"You know it's my job, Lori." Carol chided, "I have to see if the logo on the jeans is visible from the stands with the chaps on."

"I know I should be glad your PR firm got the contract for this, but why of all the bull riders on the PRCA circuit did they have to pick Daryl Dixon for their spokesperson? The man's monosyllabic at the best of times and wildly profane the rest."

"They wanted rugged real cowboys for the new Denim Dreams campaign." Carol said. The Dixon ranch was one of the largest in Wyoming and in his time off from the Professional Rodeo Circuit of America he helped his older brother Merle run the spread.

"Well, he's certainly rugged... but risking your life by gettin' up on top of a two thousand pound bull that could kick and stomp the shit out of you every week isn't like the smartest way to make a living."

"Just because your husband is a team roper doesn't mean that's the only way to rodeo."

"Chasing down and then heading and heeling a steer with your partner is a much smarter way to rodeo, sweetie." Lori grinned with an air of superiority, "Rick and Shane are sitting at third in the standings after the preliminary round—but unless Daryl nails this ride he's out of the money."

Carol winced a little at the mention of money. That was the only way she'd been able to get Dixon to sign on the dotted line as the face and broad shoulders, and cute little butt and those sexy long legs of the advertising campaign her fledgling PR firm, Walker Inc., had won from Saviors Western Wear, one of the largest retailers for the cowboy and cowgirl set.

A former top three national finisher, Daryl had never achieved his ultimate goal: the national championship itself. After his injury in the ring six months ago he'd been out of the action for five months while he did rehab and he needed money if he wanted to keep competing. Since his comeback he'd been on fire, finishing first in three consecutive PRCA rodeos, bringing him to the attention of the management of SWW.

As low man on the totem pole at her firm, she'd been tasked to follow the circuit and convince him to become part of the Denim Dreams Team. The fact that she was also from the same home town as Dixon and had gone to elementary school with him before her parents split up and she and her mother moved away had never come up.

She'd been delighted to find more of the old friends from her childhood were also on the rodeo circuit. Lori Martin had married Rick Grimes and he roped steers with his best friend, Shane Walsh. They'd invited her out for a drink at the street dance put on by the local rodeo board on the first night she'd arrived and she'd put aside her task to just have some fun reminiscing with people she hadn't seen since she was twelve.

"I don't know as I'd have recognized you if Lori hadn't told me who you were—you filled out damned nice, Caroline Mason." Shane had said, admiringly looking her up and down, with a definite note of flirtation in his tone.

"I told you, it's Carol now, Shane. Carol Pelletier." Lori admonished him.

"Oh, now don't break my heart and tell me you're married, sugar!" Shane said, dramatically holding his hand to his heart and pretending to stumble.

"Divorced, so your heart is safe." Carol laughed at his overt antics.

"Then you gotta dance with me, darlin' and tell me all about the idiot who was fool enough to let you get away." Shane said, reaching for her hand.

"We shouldn't leave Lori alone..." Carol said, looking down at the hand he offered with a frown.

"I'm only six months pregnant, not nine. Not about to pop." Lori said, making a shooing motion, "Rick will be back with our drinks in a minute. You go on now, have some fun and kick up your heels with a handsome cowboy, hon."

"Well, if you don't mind..." Carol said, her mouth twisting with indecision, but Shane was already dragging her out onto the dance floor for a lively two step.

"So who's that at your table, Grimes? She with Walsh?" Daryl asked, pushing his black Stetson back off his face so he could take a better look. He and Rick Grimes stood waiting for their drinks at the overcrowded bar across the way from the picnic tables that had been set up at the edge of the dance floor.

Rick turned around so he could see who Dixon was talking about.

"The red head?" Old friend of Lori's, Carol Pelletier."

"She with Walsh?" Daryl asked again in his low gruff sounding voice, never taking his eyes off of Carol.

"We both know she ain't." Rick said dryly. "Why? You interested?"

"Maybe." Daryl said, working hard to keep his stoic mask in place. There was something so damn familiar about the woman it was making him itchy.

"She ain't no buckle bunny, Dixon." Rick's tone turned warning. The Dixon brothers had quite a reputation on the rodeo circuit of one and done hi-jinks with willing women looking to bag a bull rider.

"Didn't think she was." Daryl said mildly, turning back to the bar and exchanging the ten he held for two long neck bottles.

"You askin' about Carol and you already got a woman on the string?" Rick asked as he motioned towards the two bottles Daryl held.

"Maybe I'm just thirsty." Daryl shot back, taking a long drink out of first one and then the other bottle.

"Did you just put your fuckin' mouth on my beer?" a pissed off voice sounded from behind Daryl.

"Shut the fuck up Merle, your mouth's been lots worse places." Daryl said laconically, but wiped his shirt sleeve across the top of the bottle he handed to his brother.

"Came to see where the hell you been—didn't come all this way to sit by myself while you stand around jawin' with a lowly roper." Merle grabbed the beer and chugged it until he noticed where Daryl's gaze was directed.

"Nice to see you too, Merle." Rick said dryly.

"Is that what it is then? You on a pussy hunt?" Merle asked Daryl, ignoring Rick completely.

Just then Shane and Carol rose from the table and moved to the dance floor to join in the two-step. Shane was a good dancer, but Carol was spectacular. Her knee length skirt rose and swirled around her legs in the turns, her high heels showing off her toned calves, her lightly tanned arms in the sleeveless floral blouse gracefully moving with the rhythm as she held onto Walsh's shoulder and hand.

"Shut the fuck up, Merle." Daryl said and handed him the other beer.

Before Merle could protest Daryl was striding across the floor and tapping Shane on the shoulder from behind. As Shane looked back to see who was cutting in, Carol lifted her head to look over his shoulder and her blue eyes met Daryl's and the shock of recognition hit them both at the same time.

"It is you... Caro..." Daryl murmured, and his face broke into an amazed smile.

"Dix." Carol said, smiling and fighting against the tears that threatened.

Shane stopped dancing and looked back and forth between the two.

"So... safe to say you two remember each other?" Walsh asked with a slow grin.

"Been a long while." Daryl said, his eyes never leaving her face, his rough voice gentler than Shane had ever heard it.

"I moved away." Carol said, still staring at Daryl and biting her lower lip.

Knowing when he was licked, Shane released his hold on Carol and graciously handed her off to Daryl.

"Guess you got some catchin' up to do." Shane drawled, "I'll just go check on Lori."

Neither Carol of Daryl really noticed he left.

"You want to sit or keep dancin'?" Daryl asked her, his hand brushing lightly over hers, but not taking it.

"I think I need some air." Carol said and swallowed hard.

"We're already outside, sweetheart." Daryl gave a rumbling chuckle.

Her momentary trance broken, Carol looked up at the starry sky above them and laughed, making Daryl smile as well.

"Then let's dance." Carol said, the remnants of laughter still on her face as a small smile.

Daryl took her right hand in his left and slid his right around her side to the small of her back while she perched her left hand delicately on his shoulder. Just as they started the two-step though, the music changed to the Trisha Yearwood/Garth Brooks version of the Bob Dylan classic, "Make you feel my Love."

Carol's steps faltered and she tripped, but Daryl held her up by pulling her closer. It became more an embrace than dance posture. She rested her head against his strong shoulder. He pulled their upraised arms in closer to their bodies and rested the side of his chin against the soft curls at the crown of her head.

"Why'd you go?" he asked softly, his voice breaking slightly as he said it.

"I had to. My mom had already loaded the car and U-Haul while I was at school. I didn't even get to set foot in the house—she was waiting for the bus and made me get in the car and we left." Carol explained, "When we got to Chicago she went straight to the house of the man... the man she'd left my father for."

"You never came back... never called or wrote... it was like you fell off the face of the earth."

Carol tightened her grip on his shoulder. He sounded so hurt.

"My mother didn't want my dad to find us so she wouldn't let me contact anyone from Wyoming. She had a restraining order and the court denied him visitation. When she married Brian we took his last name—she made me go by Lainey at school—I went back to Caroline after..." she stopped and took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"After your father died?" Darol finished for her.

Carol nodded.

"Heard about it." He huffed out a breath. "Seemed fittin'. Sorta wished I'd helped the bastard along."

Carol lifted her head and looked up at him in surprise.

"What he done, Caro, he deserved what he got." Daryl ground out.

"And your dad?" she asked, wanting to know if he was free now too.

"In a retirement home—Alzheimer's—asshole don't remember a god damn thing." Daryl seethed.

Carol felt him trembling, this time in suppressed anger and frustration, not in fear as he'd done when they'd been kids, the night they'd discovered just how much they had in common.

"There you are Ms. Pelletier! Aren't you the fast worker—I see you have our last cowboy already charmed and hopefully lassoed?" a tall rangy looking man in double denim wearing a huge silver buckle, expensive silver tipped boots and a black Stetson similar to Daryl's, but with a tooled leather and silver barbwire patterned hat band.

"Mr. Negan, I didn't know you'd be here tonight." Carol said, releasing her hold on Daryl and stepping back to put some space between them.

Daryl reluctantly released her and squinted over at the new comer.

"Daryl, I'd like you to meet Jameson Negan, CEO of Saviors Western Wear. Mr. Negan, this is—"

"Daryl fucking Dixon, bad boy bull rider of the PRCA." Negan said with admiration, shaking Daryl's hand firmly. "So has the lovely Carol succeeded in talking you into coming to work for me yet?"

Daryl looked over at Carol in confusion and she blushed. This wasn't how she wanted this to go.

"We were actually just doing some catching up, Mr. Negan." She said as confidently as she could, "Daryl and I went to school together until we were about twelve."

"You don't say! Now ain't that a coincidence. That boss a' yours sure knows what she's doing doesn't she?" Negan chuckled, "Sending you out here to cozy up to an old friend who just happens to be the man we want as the new face of SWW."

"Is that right?" Daryl turned his narrow eyed gaze to Carol.

"No, it is not. Ms. Walker had no idea I was acquainted with Daryl."Carol said evenly, striving for a professional tone.

"Jameson! I need you!" a spoiled sounding feminine voice whined from the left and they all turned to look at a pouting but lovely brunette in jeans so tight Carol wasn't sure how the girl was breathing. Her western cut shirt in pristine white was unsnapped to show off tanned cleavage and she wore enough silver—earrings, necklace, belt and boot tips and heels—to blind the room.

"Comin' sugar! Excuse me, Carol, Daryl. The missus calls." he held out his hand to Daryl. "I hope we'll be able to do business, Dixon." The men shook and then Negan made a bee line for his little bombshell wife.

"You work for SWW?" Daryl asked.

"The company contracted with our firm to do their new Denim Dreams publicity campaign." Carol said. "I was going to contact you tomorrow about setting up an appointment to discuss the possibility of signing you on as a brand spokesperson."

"So you weren't looking for me here tonight?" Daryl asked skeptically.

"No. I had no idea you'd be here." Carol said, frowning at him, "I came at the last minute invitation of the Grimes when I ran into to Lori at my hotel."

"As a date for Shane?" Daryl asked, and his face took on a stubborn mulish look.

"No." Carol said, getting a little pissed off. Who did he think he was asking about her love life?

"Good." Daryl said, "Because I don't think their set up extends that far."

"Set up?"

"Let's get a drink." Daryl said, postponing continuing the discussion until they had drinks in hand and found a relatively quiet corner where they could sit and observe without being over heard.

"So?" Carol asked.

"Rick n' Shane?" Daryl drawled, "Their partnership extends beyond the arena, Caro. They share everything."

"What? No! Rick and Lori are married! Expecting a child..." Carol said, looking over at Lori, sitting at the picnic table with Shane beside her while Rick sat on the other side. They were laughing and talking, Rick holding Lori's hand across the table.

"Look closer." Daryl said.

Carol's eyes roamed over the trio, realizing that while Lori held onto Rick's hand above the table, under it she had just as strong a hold on Shane's.

"State only recognizes marriage between one man and one woman so Rick and Lori got hitched when she got pregnant, but the ring Lori wears on her right hand is the same one Shane wears on his. People on the circuit are pretty conservative so they don't advertise the fact that they're all together."

"So how did you know?" Carol asked.

"Went to school with all three of them since we were in kindergarten." Daryl said, "Figured it out at a party the year after we all graduated from high school."

Looking for a place to have some alone time with his date Daryl had snuck out to the barn of the farm where the party was being held to check out the hay mow, but it was already occupied. He'd congratulated himself on finding the free live threesome porn until he recognized the participants. Shocked, he went back inside only to find his date making out with some other dude on the couch in front of everyone.

It was quite a night.

Carol blushed and her scandalized facial expressions were so cute Daryl almost forgot he was a bit pissed off at her.

"So what would I have to do to be a spokes model?" he said, surprising her with the change of subject.

"Denim Dreams is a new line of jean wear for SWW." Carol said, relieved to be launching into her professional pitch demeanor, "It's made to be durable enough for ranch work but still look stylish enough to wear to get your boot scootin' boogie on. The idea is to showcase the hard working and talented men and women who live the rodeo and ranching life. You'll be expected to wear the brand exclusively and be photographed doing so at work and in your leisure time. There will also be photo shoots for magazine, billboard and web ads solo and with the rest of the Denim Dreams Team."

"Who else has signed on?"

"Maggie Rhee..." Carol told him.

"The barrel racer? She's good... but her horse has a stupid name..."

"Buttons is world class Daryl, even if he was named by a three year old." Carol chided him.

"That's right—she has a kid. Her husband's on the circuit too, isn't he? Glenn, right?" Daryl asked.

"Yes, team roping, and he's another member of the Team along with his partner, Morgan Jones. The final member is Paul Rovia."

"Jesus? Son of a bitch—I'm the token CIS white guy, ain't I?" Daryl asked with a chuckle. Jones was African American and Rovia, known as Jesus because of the beard and long locked look he affected, was gay and out, a rarity in the PRCA.

"Representation is important." Carol said. It was one of the ways her boss planned to catch a different market niche with this campaign.

"I ain't in this to make no social statements, Caro. Bottom line is I need in influx of cash to keep me competitive. How much are we talking about here?"

"When you sign, SWW will cover all of your costs for the next year. Entry fees, hotel or hook up costs if you prefer a motor home, which they will provide, transportation for your livestock, you and a significant other to all events and a stipend for food, clothing and other incidentals."

"Holy shit." Daryl said, finally looking impressed. Then his eyes narrowed, "What if I suck?"

"You can only be fired for cause: do anything that puts the brand in a negative light and you can be terminated. Short of that, win or lose? You still get a year on SWW's dime." Carol explained.

"Can I have my lawyer look over the contract?" Daryl asked.

"I was going to suggest you bring them to our meeting." Carol nodded.

"When you called me tomorrow?"

Carol nodded again.

"So you'll be my boss?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Technically no." Carol said slowly, "I'm an employee of Walker Inc., not WCC, but I will be joining the team on the circuit to help facilitate the photo shoots and other publicity ops."

"Good." Daryl grinned, looking happy and then he tipped back his beer to finish it off and held out his hand to help her stand. "If it all checks out with the lawyer tomorrow, I think we have a deal."

"Does eight work for you?" Carol said looking down at her watch and frowning, it was past midnight—how had that happened?

"Got Merle stayin' over—sharin' a hotel room." Daryl frowned, "Doubt he'll wind down until the early hours and... ah shit."

Carol followed his gaze line and saw Merle playing tonsil hockey with one buxom blonde buckle bunny and groping the ass of a redhead while still standing at the bar. Sensing eyes on him he reared back from the suction he'd been applying to the blonde's lips and waved at Daryl, pointing at the second girl and grinning slyly.

Merle had taken it upon himself to get them both laid tonight like he used to in the old days when they were both still on the circuit and Daryl had been a skinny, shy, wet behind the ears kid.

"Oh. Um... well... we could meet in the afternoon then." Carol said, eyes wide and clearly embarrassed.

"Stay here. I'll be right back." Daryl rumbled, tossing his beer bottle into a recycling bin about ten feet away with a perfect swish. He stopped and looked back at her, saying sternly, "I mean it, don't go."

"Okay." Carol said, her eyes wide again.

She watched as Daryl went to the bar and confronted his brother, expecting a fight of some sort, but other than a curious glance in her direction and a big grin and brotherly slap on the back, Merle seemed to handle whatever Daryl had told him well.

"What about your brother and your... date?" Carol asked when Daryl returned.

"Turns out they're both his dates." Daryl shrugged, put an arm around her shoulders and then added smoothly, "Guess I'll need to find another hotel room for tonight."

Carol's eye brows went up and she tilted her head up at him.

"I didn't mean yours, Caro." Daryl chuckled, and started to walk. "I'm gonna walk you to your car, all gentleman like, get a hug goodnight and call you in the morning to set the meeting after I see when my lawyer is able to Skype in."

"Oh." was all Carol could think to say, but she must've let some of her unexpected disappointment come out in the single syllable.

When they reached her car, true to his word Daryl wrapped her in his arms for a luxurious tight full body hug.

"I take you to bed tonight and it'd be hot, but that ain't what I'm after here," Daryl said, nuzzling in and kissing her shoulder, "I've been missin' you for the last twenty years, dream girl, wondering how you were, wondering if you could be as sweet and special as I remembered."

"Dix..." Carol protested. It was too much—she was no one's dream girl—she'd disappoint him, just as she had her husband.

"Shush now. We got a whole year, so I'm goin' for the slow burn here, sweetheart." Daryl said, giving her one last squeeze before releasing her. "See you tomorrow, Caro."

Then he stood and waited while she unlocked her car and got in. She looked in her rear view mirror and saw that he was still standing there, hands in his pockets, as she drove away.

Spoiler Alert: The rodeo life seemed to fit well with the cover of the book Carol is seen reading in 7.10, titled Denim Dreams, which has cowboy giving a woman a piggyback ride on the cover. (Edited to reflect new information, 2/22/17)

Thanks for reading!