Or her own.
The fact that he found her grit and determination incredibly appealing should not be on his mind right now given how much production the Creek Spill Ranch lost every day that shooting continued on his property. Carson had his overly cautious twin brother to thank for all the added clauses in the contract with the film company that said the McNeill family had the last word on safety for the duration of the shoot. Normally, Carson was the easygoing twin and Cody took care of being the hard-ass. But Carson had needed to step in and fill his brother’s shoes. Cody had a lot on his plate with his girlfriend expecting a baby. And now they were dealing with a new crisis: Cody and Carson’s stepmother was in a coma.
Paige had been in intensive care after a fall while hiking in Yellowstone, putting the whole family on edge the same week the film company came to town. Making matters more complicated, just a day before the accident, Carson’s youngest half sister, Scarlett, had received a blackmail note threatening to reveal some secret from Paige’s past that would damage the family.
While hell broke loose all around them, Carson was left to oversee the Creek Spill, plus make sure Cody didn’t overlook anything at the other major family holding, the Black Creek Ranch, while everyone took turns sitting with Paige at the ICU in Idaho. Thankfully, Paige was being transported to the Cheyenne hospital today, now that she’d shown signs of coming out of the coma.
Still, it definitely wasn’t a good time to be noticing the sex appeal of Emma Layton, who stared him down as though she wished he was the one driving a car into a burning building. Preferably at full speed. More often than not, women found him charming. How damned ironic that the one woman to turn his head in recent memory looked like she wanted to take his head off.
“I want you to feel more at ease on horseback,” he told Emma finally, reminding himself he was not the demanding, inflexible McNeill brother. “That will decrease your risk of injury considerably.”
Once he felt assured of her competence, he would return to work. She was a professional, after all, and she had a stunt coordinator watching over her shoulder. The company was insured for this kind of thing and the ranch wasn’t liable.
Except Carson had a conscience to answer to, and damned if it hadn’t grown bigger with his ever-responsible twin out of the picture. Their own mother, an experienced rancher, had died from injuries sustained while trying to separate a bull from the cattle. Carson had been four years old at the time, and he’d been there, along with his older brother. Her death had haunted the family and changed their father forever. He knew all too well that animals could turn unpredictable.
Emma lifted her riding helmet and strapped it on her head. “I’m ready.”
“I sent your two colleagues out to the arena to work on their leg positioning.” He pointed out the track his younger brother, Brock, used to show and train quarter horses, a lucrative side business at the Creek Spill. “There’s a training area beyond that, next to a tack shed. Let’s take your horse out there and we’ll start working on your hands.”
“Her name is Mariana.” She pointed toward the horse as he began leading the gray mare out to the training field. “And what do you mean about my hands?”
He took the quieter shady route behind the barn, his boots finding the worn grassy path that hadn’t been trampled to dirt yet. He thought he’d been prepared for the added activity of a film production on his property, but he’d underestimated how much equipment and manpower it required.
“They’re too stiff.” He hadn’t given riding lessons since Scarlett was a girl. “You need a more elastic hold that doesn’t place extra pressure on the bit. As it is, Mariana will get confused about what you want from her if she feels like you’re tugging.”
“I’m a fast learner.” Emma slanted a look his way, peering over the horse’s nose. “Just tell me what you want to see from me, I’ll do it. I can’t afford to lose this job.”
There was more to that story. He could hear it in her voice. See it in the hint of vulnerability in those dark brown eyes. And he regretted that he couldn’t give her the reassurance she clearly sought.
Opening the gate to the training area, he waited until Mariana and Emma were through before he latched it behind them. “And I can’t afford for anyone to get hurt on my property. I made it very clear to the production manager when I signed the contract that a ranch is a dangerous place. I won’t allow you to continue if I think you’re at risk.”
She huffed out a breath, regarding him with frustration she didn’t bother to hide. Hands on hips, she faced him.
“Every single thing we do in my business puts us at risk. In my last job, I once had to reenact a knife fight over twenty times before it was right. The take they liked best was the one where I took a slice to the right calf that sent me to the ER. That comes with the territory and I know that going in.” Her cheeks flushed with color.
He’d hit a nerve. Or else just wounded her pride.
“I’m more concerned about head trauma. If your horse throws you—”
“I’m trained to fall the right way,” she reminded him.
“For a woman who is concerned about keeping her job, perhaps you should listen more and interrupt less,” he suggested mildly, even though she was beginning to get under his skin.
She pursed those full lips thoughtfully. Then her shoulders eased a bit. “You’re right. I’m nervous and defensive, and that isn’t going to help. What should I do first?”
He had to admire how fast she shifted gears.
“Hop on your mount and I’ll show you.” He watched as she placed a boot in the stirrup and swung her leg over. Smoothly. Easily.
He amended his earlier assessment of her skills. She had more in her background than a weekend at a dude ranch.
Quickly, he ran down what he wanted to see from her, starting with an explanation of what her hands were telling her horse. She practiced gripping the reins farther apart so she could feel the horse’s natural movement, allowing her to stay in sync with the animal. While the horse trotted around the track, Carson stepped out of the practice yard to check in with the two male riders in the arena. They looked better, but Carson wasn’t releasing them yet. He called over Nate—a ranch hand who’d been working closely with Brock and the quarter horses for more than a year—and tasked him with giving the riders a few more tips.
“Me? I’m no riding instructor.” The younger man scratched his head under his hat as he stared out at the arena, planting a dusty boot on the lowest fence rail. “I train horses, not people.”
“But if you had to give these guys a handful of tips to make sure they survive two weeks on horseback, what would you say?” Carson glanced back to check on Emma, who had slowed to a walk.
“I’d say I’d rather work the hot brunette.” Carson followed Nate’s gaze, and noted the appreciative grin pulling at his mouth as he watched Emma.
His protective instincts stirred, surprising him.
“Seniority has its privileges.” Though Carson didn’t plan on pursuing his attraction for the prickly stunt double, he needed to keep safe for two weeks, especially after seeing that vulnerable look in her eyes.
Then again, he wasn’t ready to walk away yet, either.
“You’re the boss,” Nate told him agreeably, turning his attention back to the stunt actors riding circles around the dirt track. “But the dude on the left rides too high in the saddle. Guess I could pull off his stirrups. Get him to work on his seat.”
Carson clapped Nate on the shoulders. “Good thinking. Whatever you can do. By the end of the week, they’re going to be racing and fighting on horseback, so I’d like to do whatever we can to keep them in one piece.”
Leaving Nate to take over with the men, Carson returned to the practice yard, his attention fully on Emma. The thought of her racing at breakneck speed in just a few days from now made him edgy. He didn’t want to tic
k off the stunt coordinator any more than he already had, and he had to get back to overseeing ranch operations, so he didn’t have time to interfere with the filming. But he wasn’t impressed with the level of safety he’d seen on set so far.
“Am I doing it wrong?” Emma called over to him as he neared her and Mariana. Her lean body swayed in the saddle. “You’re scowling.”
Of course he was. He wanted to drag her off her horse and see if those full lips were as soft as they looked when he kissed her. Instead, he was stuck teaching her how to stay on her horse before she broke her neck performing unwise stunts on his property. The thought of something happening to her only made him scowl more.
“Your hands are fine, but your seat is all wrong.” Had it been a mistake to work with her? To get involved when he had a multimillion-dollar ranching operation to oversee?
Heat crept up his back as he stared at her, an amused smile playing around her kissable mouth.
“My seat.” She forgot about her hand position and let the reins go slack as the horse halted beside him. “I didn’t know I could mess that up.”
He would have preferred crooning extravagant compliments in her ear about the tight curve of her ass, but that wasn’t going to help her stay upright during a race scene. Tightening his hold on his control, he reached to touch her left hand, nudging it higher.
“You need to be aware of your body at all times. Right now your hands are sending a bad message.”
Her eyes widened for a moment before she redirected her focus and moved her hands to the exact position he’d shown her ten minutes earlier. Away from his touch.
“Right. Like this.” Her cheeks pink, she stared down at Mariana’s head. “What else?”
He shouldn’t touch her again. Not when the point of contact from the first time still supercharged the air between them. He hadn’t gotten involved today because he wanted to hit on her, damn it. He was only trying to keep her from getting hurt.
“You’re sitting too far back in the seat.” His gaze veered to her hips as she edged forward. Saddle leather creaked. She used a hand on the pommel to inch along.
Killing him.
Making his throat dry as dust.
“Better?” she asked, her voice a quiet stroke to his ears.
He nodded. Then, forcing himself to finish the instruction since it was damned important, he touched the back of her thigh.
“Legs should be directly under you.” He let go almost instantly, backing up a step.
Still, the feel of her—lean muscle under those body-skimming jodhpurs—imprinted itself on his brain. He would be tracing a lot more of her in his dreams later.
“Is this better?” Her voice took on a husky note that he told himself must be from the dust in the air and not because the touch affected her as much as it had him.
“Looks good,” he managed. “Take a lap or two and see if you can maintain it.”
She rode off in a hurry and it was all he could do not take off his hat and use it as a fan.
Damn.
He’d exchanged far more provocative talk—and touches—with willing strangers in bars that had left him cold. Why was this bristly, defensive stunt performer getting under his skin so fast?
The sooner he finished the riding lesson the better. He had a ranch to oversee, a family falling apart and a blackmailer to catch. Thoughts of Emma Layton would have to wait.
Copyright © 2018 by Joanne Rock
ISBN-13: 9781488092176
A Snowbound Scandal
Copyright © 2018 by Jessica Lemmon
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