Of course, now he was going to have to do a web search and see who the redheads in the movie and in the comics were.
CHAPTER FOUR
Later that night, Annie lay in bed and stared at the ceiling as she petted Spidey’s round little head. The dog snored—all dogs with short muzzles did—but she didn’t mind it. It wasn’t like she could sleep anyhow. She kept thinking about the cowboy.
Dustin.
There was a certain kind of guy that Annie tended to attract. Most of the time they were slim and intellectual. She’d dated scholars and engineers, writers, actors, and even the occasional barista. None of those relationships ever worked out, because men tended to expect the wrong thing from her. If they were from LA, they thought she was either a crunchy hard-core vegan type (she wasn’t) or they assumed she’d gotten her job at the studio because she slept around (she didn’t). Either way, dating in LA was hell, and she was usually too sweaty and smelling of dog to really attract anyone on set. Not that she minded—dating while working on a movie was a bad call, because you couldn’t avoid each other if things went south. And they always, always did.
Dustin didn’t look like the type of guy that’d be interested in her, though. At first when he’d come to talk to her at the bar, she’d been shocked . . . and then worried it was a prank. He was gorgeous, tall and muscular and so tanned she could practically smell the outdoors on him. He’d had a stunning smile, a face that could have been on the posters for the movie she was working on, and such an overwhelmingly masculine presence that she’d practically swallowed her own tongue. There he was, moving his way across the bar toward her like Prince Charming heading for Cinderella.
Of course, then he’d tried to schmooze her, and that little fantasy’d burst like a soap bubble. If there was one thing Annie hated, it was guys that were fake. She got enough of that in Los Angeles. To make matters worse, he’d then pointed out he was only talking to her because his buddy wanted to get to know her. That had been enough “fun” at the bar for one night. Katherine and the rest of the crew had been having a blast, but Annie’d just wanted to go home. So she’d paid out her tab and made her excuses, then squeezed out the door and into the brisk night air.
Then, she’d discovered the dogs waiting outside, and she’d never been one to resist a friendly canine. She’d been captured by their doggy charm and their happily wagging tails . . . and then the cowboy had returned. At first she’d thought he’d followed her, but he’d seemed as surprised to see her as she’d been to see him.
And when he hadn’t been trying to impress her, he was . . . cute. Flirty, but not overly so. Self-deprecating and funny. She’d wanted to see more of that guy. So when he’d offered to walk her to her hotel, she hadn’t protested. When he’d given her his phone number, she hadn’t protested that, either. It felt good to see him smile at her, to hear his low, rumbling laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d been wrong about him.
She wouldn’t call him, though. Even though she thought he was devastatingly handsome and appealing, her schedule didn’t allow for a boyfriend, especially one who lived in the middle of nowhere in Wyoming. Painted Barrel was a small town and the moment the production of The Goodest Boy wrapped up, she had no doubt that she’d never end up here again. Her next movie was a mountain picture that would be shooting in New Zealand. She needed a mountain-type dog—like a St. Bernard—for that particular movie, so once this one was in the can, she’d find a home for Spidey, look for a dog to rescue and begin training, and then head out to New Zealand for initial shooting. As long as the stunts weren’t too crazy, it’d be a tight timeline but she could make it work. A boyfriend didn’t fit in the picture.
Heck, even poor, sweet little Spidey didn’t fit in the picture. She stroked the dome of his head, her fingers moving over the short white hair. He gave a little groan of pleasure, not opening his eyes. The movie had been stressful for him. Spidey was a bit high-strung as some terriers were, and he’d rather race around and play than wait around in the shade to do one or two tricks. Also, the director was a screamer despite the fact that no yelling was specified in the contracts. It was one of those things where if she called her agent and complained, it’d end up making more problems than it was worth, especially given that Sloane’s wife was one of the producers. Not too much longer, at least. Then she could find a good home for Spidey, even if the thought of leaving him behind made her heart ache.
The hardest part was leaving them behind, especially when she didn’t want to.
That was precisely why she couldn’t get involved with Dustin.
Funny how her brain kept circling back to the cowboy. She pulled her phone off the nightstand without disturbing the sleeping dog and glanced at his license photo. Dustin Worthington. She did a search for him online (because apparently she was that person) and nothing came up, so she went to Facebook and searched him there. Sure enough, he had an account, though it didn’t look as if it were used regularly. Most of the posts were other people tagging him in pictures. There was Dustin with three other cowboys, arms on one another’s shoulders, hat brims almost touching. Dustin near a horse, grinning at the camera. Dustin with a girl in a photo from two years ago.
Dustin with another girl.
And another girl.
Annie frowned to herself, scrolling through the pictures. They were all different states, different years, different women. He wasn’t kissing any of them in any of the photos, but there was the occasional loose embrace that told that they were close. Nothing from the current year, though, so she supposed she should be happy with that.
Still . . . it was clear that Dustin was a player. He was exactly the kind of guy she didn’t want. Frustrated, she clicked her phone off and tossed it aside on the bed.
* * *
• • •
The next day dawned with a cold and rainy downpour. Annie dressed Spidey in his little raincoat and took him for a quick walk, then checked her email. Sure enough, the shoot was delayed until tomorrow due to the weather conditions. She hated that she felt relieved. It meant they’d be on location for yet another day, but it also meant that she wouldn’t have to deal with Mr. Sloane, which was a win. She sent an email asking for script changes and any updates to stunts she needed to train Spidey on, and then idly paged through the rest of her inbox while Spidey ate breakfast with happy little grunts.
One email was from the LA office that she was agented out of. You said you needed a mountain dog for your next movie? Is the city Casper close to you? Bernese Mountain Dog in a shelter there. Not a St. Bernard but might fit the bill. A picture was attached, and her heart broke at the sight of the sad dog. His—or her—head was down, the body language that of utter defeat as it stared out the bars of the cage. Some dogs didn’t do well in shelters, and this sad face looked on the verge of despair. There was a full food dish next to him and he looked small for his breed, which told her he wasn’t eating.
And his eyes were so, so melancholy.
She did a quick check of the map—a two-hour drive. The timing was all wrong, of course. She was still on set with this current movie and needed to give all of her attention to Spidey. She couldn’t afford to have him distracted, and another dog would definitely be a distraction. She didn’t have a car that could take her out there. It was just a bad call all around.
Even so . . .
Annie didn’t know if she could leave him. She worked with animals because she loved them. Part of her job was training dogs and finding them loving families once she was done with them. Sometimes they went home with the movie crew to a kid who was thrilled to get a dog and a parent who knew their dog would be well trained and happy. Sometimes she had to search a little harder. But . . . just because the timing wasn’t right for this dog didn’t mean she should abandon him.
Life didn’t wait for perfect timing.
She looked at the shelter profile again. He—it was a boy—had been there thre
e weeks. It was a no-kill shelter . . . but still. Her heart broke for those sad eyes all the same. Annie gazed at the picture for another minute, deciding, then flipped over to her contact list.
She could call Dustin.
Despite telling herself (repeatedly) that he was bad news and she shouldn’t call him or see him again, she was still thinking about him. He really was cute. Would he be that cute in daylight or was she just building him up in her mind after their meeting?
But . . . he did have a car.
And she could get over this silly, distracting obsession with him. She could stop checking his Facebook page every ten minutes like a stalker. She was bored, that was all. She was bored and he was charming and sexy and it had been a long time since she’d dated anyone.
Like, a really long time.
Annie told herself she was doing this for the dog. If she got there and he was what she needed, she could save his life. Bring some hope back to those defeated eyes. It really didn’t have anything to do with a handsome, charming cowboy.
Nothing at all, no siree.
She stared down at his number, hesitating. Then, before she could lose her courage, she flicked to the text message screen and wrote him. Hi there—this is Annie from last night. She wondered if she should send something flirty and light to impress him. Her mind went blank, though, so she added: The dog lady.
There was no immediate answer, so she felt stupid. Of course last night was just him talking to a woman in the hopes of getting in her bed. The thoughtful walk back to her hotel? Him looking to score. She should have known better. With a roll of her eyes at her own stupid hopes, she got into the shower and decided she’d forget all about good-looking cowboys and their breathtaking smiles. Maybe she’d just enjoy the rain and let Spidey unwind with a day of no one asking him to perform. That might help his doggy anxiety a little. She didn’t think he was the anxious sort but the longer they were on set, the more agitated he got. He needed a break. They all did.
By the time she’d toweled off and dressed, though, her phone had a text waiting.
DUSTIN: I remember you. Thought you weren’t going to contact me. :)
He sent her a smiley face. A cowboy that sent smiley faces. She didn’t know what to make of that. Feeling flustered, Annie fired off another quick reply. I wasn’t, but something came up. What’s your day look like?
DUSTIN: Well, I just had my hands in a cow’s uterus five minutes ago, so as days go, it hasn’t been uneventful.
She had no idea how to respond to that. Uh, pardon?
Breech calf came the response. Had to help it into the world.
ANNIE: Oh. I hope you washed your hands before using your phone.
DUSTIN: I’m dying here. Did you text me just to check my hygiene?
She bit her lip. Should she? Oh, who the hell cared what the rules on this sort of thing were? I need a favor. There’s a shelter in Casper that has a very sad-looking dog who looks like he needs a rescue and he might work for my next movie. You mentioned if I needed anything to give you a call. Want to drive me into the big city so I can see him?
Annie held her breath, waiting for his response.
I absolutely can, came the eventual reply, and she exhaled deeply. How late are they open? I have some babies to bottle-feed and a few cattle to doctor and a barn to clean before I can head out. Can you give me until three in the afternoon?
For some reason, she liked that he wasn’t dropping everything to come and spend time with her. Responsibility was . . . nice. A welcome change. Of course. I’ll call the shelter and see if that’s a problem. And I’ll give you gas money, too.
My treat, he sent back. I have to go now—hungry calf butting my leg. Text me if you need anything else, otherwise see you in front of hotel at three.
See you then, she sent back, and then flopped back on her bed with a sigh.
It was a date. Kind of. Not really.
So why was her heart fluttering like wild?
* * *
• • •
The rest of the day was relatively quiet. Annie gave Spidey tons of attention and lavished love on him. She took him for three walks despite the pouring rain. She took a nap. She went over the script and tried to think of places where impromptu tricks or director demands might be added. She went through her emails.
She went through her wardrobe twice, looking for something appropriate to wear to a shelter but still flattering. Most of her clothing was made with comfort in mind and the ability to hide dog hair, so she had a lot of patterns and pull-on-type clothes. Jeans and T-shirts. Jeans and sweaters. Jeans and . . . well, more jeans. Eventually she picked out her least torn-up jeans and a plain gray sweater. Her hair went into a ponytail since it was raining, and she washed her face and wondered if she should borrow makeup from Katherine. The most she had was lip gloss and tinted sunblock.
Then again, if he didn’t like the way she looked, she shouldn’t care. With a scowl at her reflection for even daring to get flustered at a guy’s attention, Annie went back into her room and dug out Spidey’s leash and his lined raincoat.
“Want to go on a car ride, buddy?” she asked, checking the time. Almost three.
Spidey whined with joy and did a crazy little hop, his ears sticking straight up with excitement. He did love the car. Annie hoped that Dustin wouldn’t mind a tagalong, but if he did, that was too bad. She was a package deal. She put her arms out and Spidey jumped into them like a cannonball and started licking her face. Laughing, she pulled him back even as she locked her room behind her and went down the stairs.
Katherine was down in the small sitting area that doubled as a “parlor” and common area for the long-term hotel guests. Her legs were sprawled across the lap of one of the gaffers, and she leaned against Jan from makeup as they all watched TV. Katherine glanced over at Annie. “You want to come watch The Great British Bake Off with us? We can make room.”
Feeling her cheeks heat, Annie shook her head and hugged a squirming Spidey a little closer. The dog was a chunk—easily eighteen pounds—but if she put him down right now, he’d get dirty from the mud tracked all over the pretty hardwood floors. “I have to run an errand out in Casper. A friend’s driving me.”
She sat up slowly, her eyes going wide. “Who’s your friend with the car?”
“Just a local.” Her tone sounded defensive and she inwardly winced. “You don’t know him.”
“I bet I do,” Katherine said with glee, her dark eyes lighting up. “Does he wear a cowboy hat and impossibly tight jeans?”
“We’re just going to a shelter—”
“That’s not a no!”
Gosh, now they were all staring at her. Her face felt like it was on fire. Gossip on a movie set was rampant. They were away from family and friends, so lots of people tended to hook up—and those that didn’t gossiped about those that did. Everyone would be giving her smirking looks by the time they got back on set unless she nipped this in the bud. “We’re just going to a shelter!” Annie exclaimed again. “It’s no big deal!”
“Do you need to borrow some condoms? I have extras.”
“No,” she choked out, strangled. “He’s just a friend.”
“You can have hot friends,” the gaffer said. “But we’re going to give you hell about ’em.”
The others laughed.
“It’s not the hot cowboy,” Annie protested again. “It’s . . . just a friend.”
“Just a friend,” Katherine echoed, a wide grin on her face. “But not that guy.”
“Not that guy,” she agreed.
“Well then, this is a mighty coincidence.” Katherine’s expression was downright gleeful. “Because guess who’s coming up the steps?”
Oh lord, there went her cover story. Clutching Spidey to her chest, Annie stared as Dustin ran into the building, rain pouring from his hat. He paused
in the entryway, gave himself a little shake to fling water off, and then stepped inside, holding the door open for her. “Miss Annie, you ready to go?”
Had she forgotten how rich and buttery his voice was? How handsome he was? Because her heart hadn’t forgotten. Even now, it fluttered traitorously as he said her name.
The others just snickered.
She’d hear it later. She knew she would. Suddenly, though, she didn’t care. Dustin was grinning at her, Spidey was licking her chin, and she didn’t have to deal with awful Mr. Sloane today. She was going to enjoy herself, darn it.
CHAPTER FIVE
The rain was still pouring down, icy from the mountains despite the fact that it was late spring. Annie shivered a little, wishing that she’d thought to bundle herself up half as well as she had her dog. But it wasn’t a long sprint out to Dustin’s bright red truck. Before she could head down the street to it, he took Spidey from her arms and grinned. “Wait here.”
And then he was gone with her dog, pulling his jacket over Spidey’s face so the dog wouldn’t get wet. She couldn’t even protest that he wasn’t supposed to touch her dog—no one was while she was training him—but it seemed a silly thing to point out now. As she watched, he opened the door to the truck and carefully set Spidey in the back seat, as gently as he would a child.
Her heart might have melted a little at that.
Annie was no shrinking flower and she’d had worse than a bit of rain, so she jogged after them, ignoring the fat, cold drops that pelted her head. Dustin looked surprised to see her when he turned around, but he held the truck door for her and made sure she was inside before heading over to the driver’s seat and sliding in. His hat sluiced water onto the dashboard and he flicked it away, grinning at her. “Hope you don’t mind a little water.”
“If I did, it’s too late now.”
The Cowboy and His Baby Page 4