The Littlest Cowgirls--A Clean Romance

by Melinda Curtis

  “You’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “As if you’re not?” Gabby didn’t even care that Grandma Gen had regained some of her superior attitude. “I heard you and Ashley had a fight.”

  They stared at each other. And it was the first time Gabby could remember Laurel and Ashley’s mother give her an approving nod.

  “You don’t want to be an actress, do you?” Grandma Gen smiled weakly. “I’m quite good at building the careers of young talent. And I might be taking on new clients soon.”

  “I’m either going to be a doctor or a lawyer.”

  “If you want to become a doctor, make sure you choose one of the higher-income professions, like brain surgeon or cardiologist.”

  “I’m not interested in making a lot of money.” The statement only made her realize how different she was from the Monroes, who seemed to like both teasing and lots of money.

  Grandma Gen made a disapproving noise. “If you go to school to be a doctor or a lawyer, you’re going to need to make a lot of money to pay six or seven years of tuition.” And then she shook her head. “If you become a lawyer, you’ll have to learn how to keep people’s confidences.”

  “Lucky me. I have you to keep reminding me of that.” Gabby plucked at a seam in the quilt. “Maybe you should consider a career change. My dad used to be a lawyer and now he’s an innkeeper.”

  Grandma Gen turned up her nose. “He went from a man of power to a man running all this.” She tapped the round log wall.

  “He went from helping people in the courtroom to helping people in Second Chance.” Gabby stood, picking up the laundry baskets. She didn’t like anyone picking on her father. “And Ashley’s reinventing herself, too.”

  “Against my wishes.”

  “I’m a kid, and even I know you can’t say that to your adult children.” Gabby headed for the door.

  “Thank you for the clean towels, darling, but if you were sent here to cheer me up—”

  “I did a lousy job.” Gabby opened the door. “But, hey, ditto.”

  * * *

  “I NEED YOU to come with me.” The deep words. The intense look in Wyatt’s eyes.

  What woman wouldn’t melt the moment Wyatt Halford spoke those words to her?

  A reinvigorated Ashley Monroe, that was who. She was immune to his charm. Or at least, she had been today without him always at her side. She was camped out in a chair on the back porch of the inn, an empty lunch plate on the small side table. It was calming. The Salmon River ambled by. The moose in the meadow ambled by.

  And then Wyatt ambled by, looking like several million bucks and smelling like the lush green forest.

  “Come on, Ash.” He held out his hand. Oh, so tempting.

  She shook her head. “Do you know how many little details go into preproduction of a movie, Wyatt?” She had dozens of emails to respond to, and that didn’t count the messages from her social groups.

  “Do you know how five people are going to fit into Laurel’s cramped apartment?” he countered. “If you won’t come with me, maybe you should step inside and look at the amount of baby furniture Laurel’s accumulated. Mitch and I spent considerable time putting things together with the help of Roy.” He opened the door that led to the inn’s hallway, gesturing she follow.

  “If this is about the double stroller, I think it can be stored in Mitch’s garage.” In the rafters, though, since it was already crammed with stuff. But she dutifully stepped into the lobby. And she obediently surveyed the two cribs, bassinet swing, double stroller, playpen, changing table and a stack of baby toys that had yet to be brought out of their boxes. He was right. Where were Laurel, Mitch and the kids going to live?

  “I can fix this,” Ashley said, although she wondered how.

  “I have a solution,” Wyatt countered.

  Ashley faced him, staring directly into those dark, intense eyes. “If your solution involves moving Laurel to Hollywood, that’s a no.”

  “Ye of little faith. Come on.” Wyatt headed for the door.

  There was no handclasp. He didn’t take her arm. He simply marched ahead, across the two-lane highway and up the path toward the clinic. There was no audience to witness their fake relationship, after all. It was alarming how Ashley longed for an audience. Was this how Letty had felt with the town blacksmith? Knowing they were wrong for each other but drawn to him anyway?

  “Where are we going?” Ashley hurried after him, although at a slower pace. She studied the trees ahead, the trees to either side, and cast nervous glances behind her, looking for bears.

  “We’re going in search of suitable alternative housing.” He paused on a rise to let her catch up. “Roy should get his real-estate license. When I told him what Mitch and Laurel needed, he pointed me in two specific directions.”

  “You want to screen houses for them. That’s nice of you.” Ashley pondered that for a moment, following when he pressed on. “If you’re intent upon finding Laurel a workable home in Second Chance, does that mean you aren’t going to press for custody?” If that were true, yay for Laurel! But also, boo for Wyatt and the babies. They’d each be missing out on something wonderful.

  Instead of answering, Wyatt pushed through a pair of bushes and stopped in front of a cabin. “This hidden gem has two bedrooms and a loft.”

  “Really? It looks very rustic.” Not like Laurel at all.

  “Welcome to what could be Laurel’s new home.” Wyatt led her inside. “It’s only got one bath, but it’s just a five-minute walk from the inn, a little bit longer if they drive since the dirt road originates north of town.”

  “It’s cozy.” There was a large stone fireplace with a chunky wood mantel, perfect for hanging Christmas stockings. The kitchen was nearly open. If cabinets hanging above the peninsula were removed, anyone in the kitchen would have a clear sight line of the dining and living spaces. There ended the positives. The surrounding pine trees blocked some of the light. And it was a hike up the path, not exactly a smooth sidewalk in Beverly Hills. But still. Ashley approved. “It’s not as tight as their current apartment.”

  Wyatt took her hand and led her to the back of the cabin. “Look at this bedroom. It’s big enough to fit two dressers and two bassinets.” And then he pivoted, hauling her back to the loft ladder. “And from upstairs, Gabby can hear everything.”

  It warmed Ashley’s heart that he hadn’t forgotten Gabby.

  “She likes to be in the know.” Ashley liked to be in the know, as well. “What does this mean? For you, I mean.”

  Wyatt gazed down at her. The longer he stayed in Second Chance, the more untamed his cowlick became. Ashley couldn’t resist reaching up and trying to smooth it. She should have known that nothing about Wyatt was smooth or tamable.

  “It means...” He seemed at a loss to put it into words. “It means that everyone in Second Chance has been lending Laurel a hand and I didn’t want to be the only one who hadn’t.”

  Had Ashley thought she was immune to Wyatt’s charm? More like, he was her kind of charming. “So your housing search has nothing to do with a decision about fatherhood?”

  Wyatt shook his head slowly. “Does that disappoint you?”

  “The clock is ticking, Wyatt. Once those babies are born, there needs to be only one name listed as their father.”

  “Whoever is listed as their father contributes to their identity for the rest of their lives.” His voice took on a rare, grave quality. “Since I’ve been here, I’ve had a lot of time to think about family and what it means to do the right thing.” His gaze took in the shabby cabin.

  Ashley didn’t know what he was seeing. She only knew what she saw—a handsome man who normally had the world at his feet; a man’s man who’d fought his way to the top of a highly competitive field; an intelligent man who must know that no one stayed on top for long; a man who—

  His gaze
turned her way and the complexity of emotion in his dark eyes surprised her. Anger, pain, remorse.

  “My parents met at a church dance. My mother used to say it was love at first sight.” Anger burned down the other emotions in his eyes.

  “In the midst of one of their arguments, my father would accuse her of trapping him into marriage. Dad had dreams of going to college, but instead, he took a job in a coal mine because he always did the right thing.” And there was pain.

  “That resentment ate him up inside almost as efficiently as cancer devoured my mother’s lungs.” A dimming flash of remorse.

  All subtle emotion that she couldn’t remember seeing him convey on camera.

  “I don’t want to make a choice that eats away at me, Ash. Or at Laurel. Or Mitch. Or...anyone.” He ran his fingers over her hair, as light as the ripple she imagined he hoped his final decision regarding paternity would cause.

  “Come on.” He tugged her toward the door. “Let’s go see the other cabin. It’s a bit bigger, more modern and farther away.” He led her confidently through the forest, as if he’d been hiking these woods all his life.

  Ashley was still on bear watch, alternating between surveying where she placed her feet and scanning the slopes for grizzlies. Until something unexpected caught her eye, and she pulled Wyatt to a stop.

  “Look at this.” She pointed at the trunk of a thick, tall pine tree. About six feet up, someone had dug a rectangle in the bark, inserted an old photograph and then covered it with a sheet of clear plastic. The tree had since grown around it, closing in on the three men in the photograph. “It’s my grandpa Harlan, his twin brother, Hobart, and Percy Clark of the Bucking Bull.” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “Shane and Jonah told me these were scattered around Second Chance, but other than the one at the Bucking Bull, I’ve never seen one.”

  Wyatt stared at the yellowed photograph. “Why would they do this?”

  “I’m not exactly sure, but it had something to do with their hunt for Mike Moody’s gold, like trail markers or something.” Ashley reached up to run her fingers over her grandfather’s familiar face. “The thing about Grandpa Harlan I admired most was that he always seemed to know who he was and where he was going.”

  “Now, there’s an actor’s job hazard, not knowing where you end and a character begins.”

  Ashley allowed her gaze to go where it was constantly drawn—to Wyatt. She didn’t think she raised so much as an eyebrow—he had, after all, played a certain type of character repeatedly; who was he to be talking about a lack of character identity?

  Wyatt held up his hands, much like one of Mike and Letty Moody’s victims at the beginning of a holdup. “Busted.” There was no tease in his tone. None of that bravado either. “I don’t like taking a good long look inside to dredge up my messy emotions, much less use them take after take. I keep my characters as separate from myself as we keep our friends.”

  “I’m not surprised that you take the easy way out in a role.” She softened her words with a slight smile. “But I am surprised you admit it. Like you, I’ve been typecast.” She ignored his rumbles of dissent. “From the age of five, I’ve been asked to play a variation of the same role. I laugh. I cry. I’m the sweet, open sister and the delicate, slightly crushed flower of a daughter that everyone wants to protect. Audiences love to see me put through the emotional wringer and triumph over adversity with love beneath my wings. And what they don’t know, what not even my family seems to guess, is that I draw inspiration from Laurel.”

  Wyatt’s eyes widened slightly.

  “Yes. America’s Sweetheart should have been her. From the innocent way she looks at the world, taking it at face value, trusting what she sees is true.” Ashley’s words thickened, as if her confession had been stuck too long in her throat. “Her joy. Her disappointment. Her...betrayals.” She’d been the cause of too many of those.

  And then the words stopped, and the simple peace of the forest tried to envelop her. The rustle of wind in the pines. The chattering of a blue jay. The dappling of sunlight on their feet. But nature’s beauty couldn’t settle the lump of guilt and shame she was unable to swallow.

  Wyatt cleared his throat. “You told Gabby you were discovered because you used to act out scenes from TV and movies for Laurel. To please Laurel.”

  Ashley nodded, unable to look at him, afraid of what she’d see. Now he knew her truth. She wasn’t the best person on the planet. “And there’s irony. I started out genuinely trying to please her, and I ended up needing her authenticity to please the world.”

  His fingers traced the line of her jaw, gently lifting until their gazes met. “It sounds like you know exactly who you are.”

  He recognized this? Why, then, was his gaze so accepting?

  “But what if I don’t like that person?” Her words, just a whisper, were immediately stolen by the wind.

  And like her words, the touch of his lips was also here and gone, featherlight on hers. “Then you make amends, as you seem to be doing now. And you forgive yourself.” But a shadow crossed his features when he spoke of forgiveness, as if he hadn’t found a way to forgive himself some offense.

  Ashley wished she were normal, not an actor trained to detect subtleties, not a professional drawn to gradations of character. She wished she could take Wyatt’s words and his kiss as a balm to her soul and not worry about his wounds or his burdens. She had enough of her own.

  He stared at the picture framed in the bark. “Someone should do a documentary on your grandfather. He sounds like an interesting man.”

  “He was.” And she should consider it. But just now, she was considering the man standing before her.

  Wyatt took her hand, turning his attention forward, not back. “Come on. The next place is just over the rise. They’d have to drive to the inn every day.”

  He left her no choice but to shift gears and move on. “Good, because I can’t imagine walking that far with babies and bears.”

  They came over the rise to the front yard of an A-frame.

  Immediately, Ashley was lovestruck.

  Or maybe that was because Wyatt draped his arm over her shoulders and gave her a side hug. “Isn’t it great?”

  “It is.” A flat area in front for a place kids could play. The porch was wide and had enough room to decorate with planters. The front of the house was a wall of gleaming windows.

  They hurried inside.

  The kitchen looked as if Roy had been working on it. There was a new faucet, but the appliances were dated, and the cabinets... Ick.

  “This one has three bedrooms and two baths.” Wyatt led her down the hallway. “There’s a detached garage out the back and a small barn in case they want to raise those kids as cowgirls.” He glanced over his shoulder.

  She recognized longing in his gaze. He’d buy those girls ponies. And later, horses. But would he teach them how to ride?

  The bathrooms also looked as if they’d been given new plumbing fixtures, but the flooring was peel-and-stick tiles that were no longer sticking. And those cabinets... Ashley couldn’t get over the thin wood and its cracking paint.

  “This isn’t exactly move-in ready.” Ashley couldn’t contain her disappointment. “And I want my sister to have a home where she feels spoiled.”

  “In Second Chance? Because she’s not exactly living in the lap of luxury now.” Wyatt glanced around. “Look again, Ashley. The fixes here are cosmetic. But the energy here is fantastic, a place where you can regroup from the day.”

  “A place where memories can be made,” she murmured, envious of her sister once more, wishing for a home like the one he described and a man like the one he gave her glimpses of. “I can talk to her about this place.”

  “Good.”

  They stepped out on the porch, which had a lovely view of the southern side of the valley. It would have the morning sun
and afternoon shade.

  Ashley leaned on the porch rail. “I could get used to this view.”

  “Me, too.” Wyatt’s arms came slowly around her, so gently that she could have moved away.

  He gave her space. And yet he’d welcome her closer. And not just in the physical sense. To engage in verbal sparring matches. To defend her choices and to challenge his, in turn.

  Eleven years ago, when she’d been crushed by Caleb’s overdose, she’d vowed never to trust a man again, certainly not one in the entertainment industry, where buzz and public adoration could trump talent and reason. And then when Mikhala had tried to end her life, Ashley had put a bubble into place regarding all relationships. With Laurel’s help stepping in as her double, she had been able to keep her distance from the world.

  She didn’t have Laurel as a buffer anymore. And she could feel herself falling in love with this talented, charming man who hid the sweeter side of himself from the public. But not from her. There was nothing pretend about it.

  “Where have you been hiding, Ashley Monroe?” It was a tenderly spoken question and he didn’t seem to require an answer, because he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

  And while she enjoyed that kiss, she wondered if he was asking the wrong question.

  It wasn’t where had she been hiding.

  It was where would she hide when he broke her heart.

  * * *

  “I NEED TO HURRY. We’ve got dress rehearsal in five.” Ashley bounded up the stairs. “See you later.”

  Wyatt watched her go. Had he thought their attraction was simple? He’d been wrong.

  They’d walked back from the A-frame house, not hand in hand as some women might expect after a few kisses, but side by side. He’d always considered himself standoffish, but Ashley was proving to be more so. Or maybe she was being careful. There was still the issue of paternity claims to settle. Or perhaps Genevieve was right: the actress with the biggest heart in Hollywood was afraid to fall in love.