An icy gust shook the small trailer, and Lila shivered. The cold December wind that had been sweeping down from the Rockies for three days straight had everyone grumbling. They should’ve been wrapping up and getting out of Montana by now. Not camped a mile outside the small town of Blackfoot Falls, the ragtag trailers where they worked and slept powered by generators that could barely keep up with the frigid overnight temperatures.
On top of all that, they were three weeks behind schedule.
Of course delays were to be expected in the movie business. But that hadn’t stopped morale from plummeting more and more each day as they got closer to Christmas. All the changes to both script and routine brought on by their new investor sure hadn’t helped.
Penelope cleared her throat.
Lila glanced at her. “Did you say something?”
“I said, since you already saw the pink pages, I might as well tell you. The director thought I interpreted the role of Dominique so masterfully he said it would be a crime for my character not to be in the sequel.”
Translation—Jason was still sleeping with her.
It wasn’t news. Everyone on the set knew what was going on between the director and the leading lady. But for him to suddenly change the last scene of the movie? That was going to cost their small, undercapitalized, independent film more money. What on earth had he been thinking?
This wasn’t like him. Lila had known Jason for almost ten years. She and her friend Erin had met him in film school. Lila truly hoped this sudden change had nothing to do with the new investor. Or with Erin’s subdued mood.
No, if Erin knew something about the last-minute revisions, she would’ve passed it on. They’d been friends since the third grade. They told each other everything.
“Look, if my character ends up in the sequel, that shouldn’t impact your role. You’re only slated to be a supporting actress, after all. It’ll be quite a break for someone like you.”
Lila looked at Penelope with half her dark roots still showing and tried not to laugh. Sad, really. If Penelope didn’t have a script in front of her, she was hopeless. Invariably she’d say something tactless or embarrassing.
“I’m not worried,” Lila said, and dipped the brush into the dye solution. Frankly, it hadn’t occurred to her. She was more concerned about making it home to spend the holidays with her family. “Has Jason mentioned anything about breaking for Christmas?”
Penelope checked her watch, ignoring Lila, as usual. “Would you hurry this up? I have a dinner date.”
“Going to the diner?”
Penelope met her eyes in the mirror. Miracle of all miracles—she laughed, instead of looking as if all crew members were barely tolerable. “I honestly don’t understand how anyone can live in this town.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The place has a certain charm.” Lila meant it, even though she’d grown up in Southern California. The people in Blackfoot Falls were friendly, and of course curious.
Clearly Penelope interpreted the comment as sarcasm and mistook Lila for a kindred spirit. With a little smile, Penelope went back to reading the script changes.
Fine with Lila. She didn’t want to make small talk. She preferred having the time to think. If she could finagle four days off, she could get home for Christmas. It wouldn’t be easy. The round-trip drive would leave her with only a day and a half with the family. Flying was out of the question since she was almost broke.
The quick turnaround wasn’t ideal, but it would be worth it. She’d already missed decorating the house with her mom and sister. Even though she knew that some people thought it was silly, not being with her family, everyone singing carols while they cooked Christmas dinner together, was unimaginable. Her brother’s wife, Cheryl, had joined the tradition last year. For Lila, Christmas and home were synonymous.
Just as she applied more solution to Penelope’s dark regrowth, a scream pierced the low hum of the crowd milling around outside.
People started yelling.
“What was that?” Penelope pushed to get up, then must’ve remembered what she looked like with her hair plastered to her head and sank down again.
“I don’t know.” Lila rushed to the window, couldn’t see anything, so she went to the door.
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell.” Lila tried to see past a crowd of extras blocking her view. “Hold on a second.” She pulled off the plastic gloves and took the three rickety steps, her beat-up Nikes touching the hard ground just as she heard the distressed neighs of a horse.
“Stand back, everyone. No one needs to get hurt.” The man’s deep, steady voice drifted in the chill air as smooth as fine, warm brandy.
“Right now, people.” That was Erin, from somewhere in the direction of the catering truck. “Give him room.”
Lila found a narrow gap in the crowd and pushed through.
A beautiful black horse reared and let out a high, extended whinny. He wasn’t penned or tethered but cornered by a cowboy with longish dark hair, wearing a tan hat with the brim pulled low. The man threw a rope around the horse’s neck, and the animal tossed its head and stamped the ground.
A collective murmur rose from the crowd.
“You know who that stallion belongs to?”
Lila turned to the unfamiliar voice behind her. But the older, bearded man wasn’t talking to her.
“Nope,” the guy next to him replied. He smiled at her and touched the brim of his hat. “Afternoon, ma’am.”
They were probably locals hired as extras. Quite a few were standing by, waiting to be called for the next scene.
Lila returned his smile, then resumed watching the scene unfolding in front of her.
Moving in slowly, the cowboy whispered something to the horse. He didn’t stop, just kept speaking in a low, hushed voice. Whatever it was, the stallion began to calm down.
“Is that Clint Landers? I think it is. I see his Whispering Pines trailer over there.”
Lila shuddered. Partly because the stallion had a fierce look about him, but there was something about the tall, lean cowboy that had her wrapping her arms around herself to ward off another shiver.
Stepping aside, she turned to the two men. “Do you know what happened?”
“That black broke loose. Someone didn’t tether him proper. He should’ve been left in the corral.”
“What’s the Whispering Pines?” she asked just as she spotted the white horse trailer.
“It’s the Landers family’s ranch,” the bearded man said. “That fella with the stallion is Clint Landers.”
Hmm. He looked to be in his early thirties. Probably married.
“Are you an actress?” The younger guy hadn’t stopped staring at her.
“Not exactly,” she said. “I do hair and makeup.”
“Well, that’s not right. You’re too gorgeous not to be a movie star.”
She just smiled and turned to watch the cowboy. She could’ve told him she was an actress. It was the truth. She just wasn’t acting in this particular film. But she’d played a few bit parts here and there, and soon enough she would make the transition from struggling wannabe to an honest-to-goodness, card-carrying member of the Screen Actors Guild. But lately, probably because of how tired she was, how tired everyone was, she wasn’t quite as thrilled as she had been about her long-held dream.
The action had died down. The cowboy and the horse seemed to have reached an understanding, and the crowd started to thin.
Clint Landers.
Huh. For some reason she thought the name suited him. He was still talking to the animal in a hushed tone, and she stepped closer, wishing she could hear his voice again.
“Ma’am?”
She stopped and turned.
The bearded man had left, but the younger one, who was about her age, stood there, hat in hand. “My name is Brady.” He had a great smile. “Sorry about sounding like a starstruck hayseed.”
“I’m Lila,” she said, but didn’t extend her hand.
It was too darn cold. Instead, she hugged herself tighter. “You paid me a compliment. I should have thanked you.”
“Ah, no worries. You must hear stuff like that all the time.”
She did, but she wasn’t about to admit it, so she just smiled. After six years of trying to make it in this brutal business, she’d made peace with comments like his. But she had done nothing to earn her looks, and lucky for her, she’d been raised to believe praise was reserved for merit.
“Are you staying in town?” Brady asked.
“No. Most of us are camped out here.” She spotted Erin and waved to get her attention. “I’m sorry, Brady, I’m actually working. Would you excuse me, please?”
“Sure.” His smile faded as he stumbled back a step.
Erin walked up. “Are you an extra?” she asked him, and he nodded. “The director needs you on the set.”
“Yes, ma’am. Bye, Lila. I hope to see you around,” he said and jogged off.
“Yet another heart you’ve broken,” Erin muttered, watching him for a moment. “He’s cute.”
“Yes. But the guy with the horse? Holy cow.” Lila ignored her friend and watched Clint lead the horse toward the corrals. “I wonder if he’s married?”
“Clint?” Erin gave her a long look. “Why, Lila Loveridge, I’m shocked. Are you interested in that cowboy?”
Lila frowned at her. “You know him?”
“Not really. I signed for some stock he’s delivering. Seems like a nice guy. I was about to go thank him for saving our asses. Want to come with?” Erin’s grin died as she looked past her. “What the hell is he doing?”
Lila saw right away that she meant Baxter, the new investor’s nephew, with whom the crew was supposed to play nice. He was headed toward the corrals with a scowl on his pasty face. Another annoying person with an ego issue. He and Penelope would make a good—
Penelope.
Lila glanced toward the trailer. She’d completely forgotten about her. Tough. Erin was already on the move, and Lila wasn’t going to miss this.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Erin muttered, walking fast and glaring ahead as Baxter approached Clint.
“Please do. For everyone’s sake.”
Baxter was of average height, had a pudgy build and apparently lacked enough sense to stay out of the much taller man’s face.
“Look, pal, if you can’t control your animals, we’ll find a supplier who can.” Baxter’s loud warning reached everyone within a five-yard radius, which was clearly his intention.
Clint barely spared him a glance before turning back to stroke the horse’s neck, as if he’d never been interrupted. Without a word, he unlatched the corral gate.
“Baxter,” Erin yelled. “Stop. Now.”
Lila bit back a smile. He was no match for Erin, and he knew it. In fact, Baxter was afraid of her. And he got no sympathy whatsoever from Lila. In the week since he’d joined the crew, he’d hit on her so many times, it had gone from annoying to creepy.
Baxter shot them a nervous look, then took in the group of curious bystanders. He squared his shoulders and again faced Clint, who was basically ignoring everything around him while he got the horse safely inside the empty corral.
“I’m so tempted to let the jerk get his lights punched out,” Erin said in a low voice as they approached the two men. “It was Todd’s fault the horse got loose, so cool it, Baxter. The animal doesn’t even belong to Mr. Landers.” Erin stopped, and Lila almost rammed into her.
Up close, Clint Landers was even better looking. Beard stubble darkened his square jaw and almost hid the dimple in his chin. His bottom lip was considerably fuller than his upper one, which appealed to Lila in a big way. She worked with a lot of smoking hot guys, but she couldn’t recall the last time one of them made her feel all tingly inside.
“We’re damn lucky he was there,” Erin was saying. The smile she’d given Clint vanished as she switched her focus to Baxter. “We owe him our thanks, and an apology from you.”
Baxter’s pale face flamed.
Erin wouldn’t give an inch. Her glare narrowed meaningfully. Advising everyone to play nice excluded her and Jason.
“Hey, it was an honest mistake,” Clint said, making sure the gate was latched before pulling off a leather work glove and extending his hand to Baxter. “No harm done.”
Baxter hesitated, clearly unwilling to give in. But it was equally clear that he had no choice. What an idiot.
He made sure everyone watching caught his condescending smirk before he stuck out his hand. Clint clasped it and gave Baxter a couple of firm pumps. Baxter looked as though he was about to choke. If his face had been red before, now it was turning scarlet.
Clint pumped his hand a couple more times. “No hard feelings...pal,” he said with a big smile and released Baxter’s hand.
He immediately flexed it, while subtly trying to draw in some air.
“I don’t think anything’s broken,” Erin said with a straight face.
Lila pressed her lips together and quickly turned her head. And met Clint Landers’s eyes. They were brown. Light brown with gold flecks. And he had thick dark lashes that took nothing away from his rugged good looks.
The man was positively dreamy.
She needed a little air herself. But she managed to give him a smile without hyperventilating.
“Clint Landers,” he said in the same deep, velvety tone he’d used with the stallion.
“Lila Loveridge.” She stared down at his extended, bone-crushing hand. “Um, I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” he said, amusement curving his mouth in a slow smile. “Live dangerously.”
With a laugh, she dragged a palm down her jeans before letting his large hand engulf hers. His grip was firm, yet gentle. He was the real deal. A genuine cowboy who did physical labor, and with rough, callused palms to prove it. And those muscled arms and shoulders? Not bulk, just lean muscle. Oh yeah, he looked darn fine.
And the other thing about him—he had no problem looking a person directly in the eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, pulling back her hand and lowering her gaze to his chest. “You’re wearing a T-shirt.”
He glanced down. “I am.”
Lila sighed. “It’s December.” Why did the really hot guys always have to be crazy? “And it’s freezing.”
“Also true.” He glanced at the horse. “I was changing in my truck when this guy here decided to make a break for it.” He held out his hand and the horse nuzzled it. “You know if he belongs to Ben Wolf?”
“No, I don’t.” She turned to ask Erin, but one of Jason’s flunkies had pulled her and Baxter aside and was whispering something to the two of them.
Whatever it was, Baxter stopped glaring at her and Clint and gave the young man a sharp look. Then he turned toward the set, where Jason was setting up the next shot. His uncle expected a big return on his investment, and Jason’s word was gospel. The project’s success trumped Baxter’s self-importance. It had to.
“Who’s in charge of looking after the stock?” Clint’s gaze flicked to Baxter. “Not that guy, I hope,” he added in a lowered voice, looking back at her.
“Oh, God, no. That would be Charlie. He’s the head wrangler, and he’s very responsible. I haven’t seen him today, but he should be around... Older guy. White hair. Wears it in a ponytail.” She thought Charlie might be in town, but she glanced around anyway, because staring into Clint’s eyes made it hard to concentrate on anything but him. “I don’t see him. We haven’t had any other incidents with animals getting loose, though.”
“I’d like to speak with him before unloading my trailer.”
“Erin should know where he is.” Lila gestured vaguely, noticing that someone else now had her friend’s ear. Fine with Lila. It gave her more time to check out Clint. “She shouldn’t be long.”
“I’m in no hurry.” He lifted his hat and swept back a long dark lock of hair before settling the brim low on his forehead.
“Are you also an extra?”
“An extra what?”
“I guess not.” She smiled. “You said you were changing your shirt so I thought... We hire local people to be in the movie.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Most people like it. They don’t say any lines and it pays practically nothing, but they get bragging rights. Hey, if you’re interested—”