“Not a minute too soon,” Wyatt murmured over Dad’s cautionary “Gabby.”
You’d think Wyatt’s remark and Dad’s warning would have shut her up.
Nope. “Your room has a fantastic view of the Salmon River, a meadow favored by a family of moose, and the Sawtooth Mountains. It’s okay to be a tourist and take pictures.” Gabby skipped up a few more steps, hopping to places where the stairs didn’t squeak, because moving around the inn silently despite the floorboards was a talent of hers, and Wyatt should appreciate talent, right?
“Down at the end of the hall, you said? We can find our room.” That was Wyatt’s assistant, Jeremy. He was dragging all their luggage up the stairs under the watchful gaze of Dad and the Monroes.
“It’s okay.” Gabby hopped up a few more steps to the landing, turned and beamed down at them. “I don’t mind showing you where it is.” What girl would complain about a few minutes more with Wyatt Halford?
Wyatt grabbed a suitcase and a backpack from Jeremy and took the stairs two at a time.
“Oh.” Gabby hadn’t expected them to get up the stairs so quickly with all those bags. She sprinted toward the end of the hall. But the tour must go on. She wanted Wyatt to love her home as much as she did. “Second Chance has a lot of history. My dad signed me up for a couple online courses this summer.” To keep you out of trouble, he’d said. Although both of them knew trouble had a way of finding her. “And I’m writing a paper on Merciless Mike Moody, a local stagecoach robber who terrorized the territory. You know, the guy Ashley’s film is about. Anyway, everyone in town has a different take on the legend, but I’m researching the facts.” Not completely true. She was mooching some of Jonah Monroe’s notes, the ones he’d used to write the movie script for Ashley. “So, if you have any questions about him, I’m your girl.”
I’m your girl? Was that too much? Boy, it felt like it. Inwardly, she cringed.
“Which room is Ashley’s?” Wyatt marched right behind Gabby, as if the humongous suitcase was lighter than her laptop. “I hear she snores. I want to be as far away from her as possible.”
“The Meadow Room. We just passed it.” Gabby gestured toward the door on the opposite side of the hall from Wyatt’s room. “And Ashley doesn’t snore. She’s too perfect to snore. Or to fall asleep while doing her homework.” Never mind waking up to drool on her pages. “And she’s too perfect to walk into walls.” And practically break her nose. “Or drop her cell phone in the river.” All flaws and calamities of Gabby’s.
“Nobody is that perfect.” Wyatt nearly stepped on her heel, causing Gabby to lose her balance and bang into the wall, where a stubby knot rose out from the log. “Ow.”
Wyatt pulled up short, reaching to steady her. “Are you okay?”
Wow!
“I—”
“She’s fine.” Jeremy came to a halt behind Wyatt. He was tall and blond and slender and scowling, and nowhere near as cute as Wyatt. “No blood. No tears.” He made a clucking noise as if Gabby were a horse and he wanted her to giddyap.
Wyatt sighed and gave Gabby the kind of long-suffering smile that said he understood what an annoyance his assistant was.
Gabby wanted to cheer, thinking about her celebrity crush and how she’d been right for months. Wyatt wasn’t the jerk the Monroes had been saying he was. His assistant was!
“Here you go.” She opened the door and stepped back.
Wyatt thanked her and went inside.
Jeremy snatched the key from Gabby’s hand. “Are the linens clean?”
“Yes.”
Jeremy poked his nose into the room. “I’ll call you back up here if they’re not. And the bathroom?” He dragged the suitcase behind him, swinging wide.
“It’s clean.” Mortified, Gabby bumped against the far wall in her haste to get out of his way.
“Thanks.” Jeremy shoved a twenty-dollar bill into her hand and shut the door behind him before she could even tell Wyatt to enjoy his stay.
How rude.
Gabby crumpled the twenty in her fist and marched back down the hall, not caring that her feet hit every creaky board along the way.
CHAPTER THREE
“WHAT WAS THAT KISS?” Ashley’s mother spoke in hushed tones that matched the austerity of her conservative wool sheath. She’d hustled everyone into Mitch and Laurel’s apartment behind the check-in desk as soon as Wyatt disappeared upstairs. “That wasn’t part of the plan. You’re messing this up already. Look at Laurel. She agrees with me.”
Ashley met Laurel’s anxious gaze. Her sister worried about Ashley too much. And Ashley ached because of it. Laurel deserved her own spotlight and not to be in Ashley’s shadow. Her sister had chosen to shine in Second Chance. So if kissing Wyatt helped bring the spotlight to town for her, so be it.
Like kissing Wyatt was a hardship.
Ashley pressed her lips together.
Like kissing Wyatt would win back her sister.
“He was going to leave,” Ashley said. “We’re lucky his cell service was spotty.” And that he hadn’t tried to start his rental. Shane couldn’t find a spark plug, much less remove one.
“See? Ashley’s got this, Mom,” Laurel said, dropping carefully into a kitchen chair. Her bag of knitting and worn-edged sketch pad sat in the middle of the narrow table. The apartment was tiny—two bedrooms, a bathroom and the small kitchen. The lobby served as their living room. Laurel claimed she liked cozy, and when she did so, it was in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Ashley doesn’t have control of anything,” Mom insisted. She always spoke with authority and conviction, even if she knew she was wrong. “A man like Wyatt Halford isn’t to be trifled with. We’ll be lucky to get out of this mess without a lawsuit or a public relations fiasco.”
Her mother’s warnings struck a chord inside Ashley, but it was the same note she’d heard for years—control your image by not taking risks. Ashley was ready to hear a new tune. Heck, it was high time she banged the keyboards to make her own music. And she was trying.
Demoralized because she’d been pigeonholed as a one-dimensional actress, Ashley was starting her own production company to create her own roles. Ginger Monroe Productions was going to option scripts and books for TV and film, oversee those ideas through to completion and then sell them to streamers, television networks and movie studios for distribution.
“Everyone just needs to take a breath and calm down.” And by everyone, Ashley meant her mother.
Ashley took her own advice, drawing a deep breath. She was reminded of Wyatt’s subtle, contradictory scent. He should wear a musky cologne that marked him as dangerous. His kiss could certainly support that.
Gabby barged in. “That Jeremy is a jerk. He wasn’t impressed by anything I said about the inn. He practically accused us of having dirty sheets and smelly toilets.”
“Gabby.” Mitch tried to enfold his daughter in his arms. “What have I told you about cranky guests.”
“To let their comments roll off my back.” The preteen wanted nothing to do with her father’s hug. She stomped toward her bedroom and slammed the door, only to open it again almost immediately. “And Wyatt is super nice, except he thinks Ashley snores.” She slammed the door once more.
“I don’t snore.” Ashley felt that needed to be said.
“Not often.” Her mother couldn’t let anything slide, but since they were sharing a room, Ashley couldn’t argue.
“Welcome to the world of Hollywood assistants.” Laurel reached for Mitch’s hand, smiling softly. “The first line of defense for celebs. I’m sorry that Jeremy was mean to Gabby. I can talk to him.”
“Leave that to me,” Mom said in a hard tone that promised retribution. She was rather fond of Gabby.
“You warned Gabby about certain Hollywood types, but I don’t think she listened.” Mitch brought Laurel’s palm to his cheek and smil
ed at her with so much love that Ashley had to look away.
Now that Laurel had Mitch, she didn’t need Ashley. Or at least, Laurel wouldn’t need her once the Wyatt issue was resolved. It was wrenching to realize she might never be close to her twin again.
“How are you holding up, honey?” Mitch asked Laurel.
“Laurel’s fine. Let’s return to the important issue of saving Ashley’s career.” Mom checked her pinging phone, missing Ashley’s and Mitch’s disapproving frowns. “Don’t add fuel to this paternity bonfire, Ashley. You didn’t have to kiss him.”
“I did. There was an opportunity to shake Wyatt up, and I took it.”
“He’s not going to be in your movie.” Mom headed for the door leading to the lobby.
“That wasn’t why I did it.” Wyatt Halford with both feet firmly on the ground would be a force to be reckoned with. Ashley’s plan was to keep him unsteady and keep him in Second Chance until he signed away his legal right to Laurel’s babies. She’d seen the surprise in his eyes when they’d kissed. Goal accomplished. At least for now. “But thanks for bringing us all down to earth, Mother.”
“As the worst-case scenario thinker in the family, I live to serve.” Mom made her exit with a dramatic flourish of her hand.
When the door clicked closed behind her, Mitch’s expression turned somber. “Wyatt’s not going to agree, is he?”
“He will,” Ashley reassured him, because it was now her job to reduce the stress in Laurel’s life.
She and Laurel exchanged glances. What was her twin thinking? Ashley’s gut clenched. She didn’t know.
When they’d been young and close, before Ashley’s stardom separated them, they’d shared the infamous twin speak. But now, many years and many slights later, Ashley could only gauge Laurel’s body language to infer what she was feeling. The raised brows. The pursed lips. A combination of disbelief and worry? About the unsigned paternity documents?
“Don’t let Wyatt’s refusal bother you, Mitch.” Laurel reached for her sketch pad. “You wouldn’t have signed the papers either. Not without reading them through and understanding them completely.”
“True.” Mitch’s phone rang. He brightened. “It’s the state’s historic commission. I’ve got to take this. We’re close to earning historic designations on another block of cabins.” One swift kiss to Laurel’s crown and he was out the door, too. He’d been trying to get several buildings in Second Chance on Idaho’s historic registry to protect the town from being developed into a rich person’s playground, like Aspen.
“I’m not sure Wyatt should give up his parental rights,” Laurel said, almost reluctantly, as if she wasn’t sure how Ashley would react to her opinion.
“That’s a reversal,” Ashley said with the utmost neutrality. In the few days she’d been here, she’d learned pregnant Laurel changed her mind more often than unpregnant Laurel. Her sister couldn’t change one fact, though—Wyatt Halford would make coparenting difficult. Ashley was sure of it. Why? Because Wyatt made movie production difficult. Why would coparenting be any different? “What happened to you worrying that he’d sue you for primary custody because of the way everything went down?” Because he’d thought he’d been on a date with Ashley and hadn’t been given a chance to decide whether he wanted to be a dad or not.
“He’s just... He didn’t...” Laurel floundered, fingers clinging to the corners of her sketch pad. “When we told him, he didn’t overreact.”
“Doesn’t mean he won’t be vindictive when the shock wears off.” It had to be said. Mom wasn’t the only glass-half-empty thinker in the family.
Laurel fell silent, gaze focused downward.
“If you want to give Wyatt a chance to coparent...” Ashley softened her tone. “If you think it’s what’s fair to the babies... You know I’ll support whatever you want.” But until Laurel decided for certain, Ashley was going to continue to push Wyatt out of the picture.
“It would be easier if I knew what I wanted, wouldn’t it?” Laurel’s eyes were teary. “Or if I knew what was best for everyone...”
“Maybe you just need to sit down and think about what’s best for you. Forget wedding plans. Forget wardrobe designs for my film. Think about what your heart is telling you. Think about it now. I’ll wait.” Ashley sat down at the small kitchen table next to Laurel, pulling out her phone to check her messages. There were lots, including a request for her to visit a local horse trainer in an hour. She was trying to put a preproduction team in place for the Mike Moody film. And she was in several message groups with coworkers from previous productions.
Laurel didn’t say anything as Ashley scrolled, sorting and prioritizing. Her sister knew Ashley paid more than lip service to those she allowed in her social circle. When Ashley was sixteen, she broke up with her boyfriend only to wake up to the news the next day that he’d overdosed on pills. She’d collapsed. A few months later, the girl who was playing her best friend on the sitcom had tried to take her own life. She’d fallen apart.
Could Ashley have done anything to help them? She didn’t know. But she came out of that dark place to become the mother hen of every crew on every project. Ashley responded to every shared high and low on those message loops, and she reached out to those who’d gone silent to let them know how awesome they were. But as much as Ashley was proud of her mother-hen role, it couldn’t make up for the fact that she’d completely messed up her relationship with Laurel.
When she was done sorting, Ashley set down her phone and gave Laurel her complete attention. “Well?”
“He’s a good kisser,” Laurel said simply. She didn’t so much as blush.
“So much for the Wyatt parenting debate.” Ashley smiled indulgently. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”
“Who will you have the conversation with? Mom?” Laurel chuckled softly. “I’m not jealous. Mitch is a much better man. For me, anyway.”
Ashley made a noncommittal noise. Was there any contest? Mitch was a former lawyer from Chicago, who’d bought this inn so that he could raise his daughter in a small town. The man had heart and clearly adored her sister. On the other hand, Wyatt had a reputation for being difficult, a player and an actor who focused on wealth and the material expression of it.
“That lip bomb was a smart move. You threw Wyatt a curveball.” Laurel continued her not-so-subtle attempts at engaging Ashley in Wyatt-themed conversation.
There was only one reason Laurel would bring up this topic. “You’re worried I’m going to get hurt.”
“Yes.” Laurel’s eyes watered. “When you let guys get close, they tend to sweep you off your feet.”
Ashley scoffed. This observation was only based on a sample size of one.
“I’m so sorry I’ve put you in this situation. You’ve worked so hard for your success, and now our twin switch could be what you’re most known for.”
That was one of Ashley’s fears. But it took a back seat to Laurel’s well-being. “No matter how this turns out, I’m not going to regret those two little nieces of mine.” Ashley took her sister’s hand in both of hers. “Don’t you worry about me. I backed you into this corner by asking you to pretend to be me. There will be no more pretending for you. And no more hiding who I am and what I want from the world for me.”
Ashley needed to repeat that last part every time she was made to feel her opinions and dreams weren’t important. In Hollywood, people often considered their dreams more important than anyone else’s.
“No more pretending.” Laurel passed the palm of her free hand over her belly. “Conveniently, after this, my hips are forever going to be wider than yours.”
“I envy you,” Ashley blurted. She envied Laurel even as she’d been thinking home and family might not be in the cards for her. And since there was no taking back her words, she expanded on them. “You found the love of your life and you’re going to be a mo
ther. More importantly, you’re going to do a better job at it than our mother did.”
Although she meant well, Genevieve had molded them to succeed rather than to accept who they were and how to find their own measure of happiness. Their mother’s drive had almost broken Ashley. Or it would have if not for Laurel’s unconditional support and sacrifice.
“You think I’ll be a good mom?” Laurel got all mushy-eyed, nose turning red.
“I do. With all my heart. And those girls of yours are going to be best friends forever.” Another point Ashley envied.
“We’re best friends.” But Laurel’s words rang hollow.
“We used to be best friends.” Ashley forced herself to speak the truth, to stare into her sister’s eyes and acknowledge the loss. “And I hope we’ll be best friends again after I make up for everything.” All the times Laurel had been pressured into a twin switch. All the times Laurel’s needs had taken a back seat to hers. All the times their mother had forced Laurel to treat Ashley like an entitled celebrity instead of a sister.
“Ash.” Laurel wiped away a tear. “It takes a strong person to start out their career at age five, much less thrive as an actor for twenty-plus years. Whatever slight you think you’ve caused me, I’ve forgiven you and moved on.”
“I’m not asking for your forgiveness, although I’ll take it.” Now it was Ashley who wiped away tears. “It’s more important that I make things right between us.”
And to do that, she needed Wyatt to sign those paternity release papers.
* * *
“WHOA.” ASHLEY BROUGHT her rented SUV to a stop in a swirl of dust, thoughts of Wyatt Halford fading at the sight before her.
A palomino clamped its teeth on the brim of a little cowboy’s hat and lifted it off the boy’s head. The horse ambled over to a woman and put the straw hat on her head, receiving a cubed treat as a reward.
Said cowboy was Andrew, five, and one of her cousin Sophie’s kids. Said horse was in a large corral at the end of a dirt driveway that led to the ranch proper. Said woman had black hair and obvious skills as a horse trainer.
The Littlest Cowgirls--A Clean Romance Page 3