by Burton, Jaci
Where memories of her dad were.
Now she had to change her focus.
Why had she agreed to do this? This wasn’t what she wanted to do anymore.
Was it?
She sat on the bed.
Follow your dreams, Haven.
She still heard his voice so clearly in her head. Maybe he was trying to tell her something. She didn’t know if this was her dream anymore, but she’d agreed to take this job.
With Trevor Shay, of all people. She hadn’t seen Trevor since her dad’s funeral. She wondered how he’d react knowing it was her doing this assignment.
He’d probably ignore her, just like he had in college.
No, wait. He’d specifically asked for her. He’d agreed to the interviews, so this time, she wouldn’t allow him to pretend she didn’t exist.
She got up and went to her closet to grab her suitcase.
Her and Trevor Shay. God, she’d had such a crush on him in college, back when she was tutoring him. All those nights they’d spent shoulder to shoulder, when she’d done her best to try and convince him to focus on his books when all she’d really wanted was for him to notice her as a woman.
He’d been more interested in trying to finagle a way to get her to do his homework.
Now she was going to be in the driver’s seat.
She stared out over the boxes, debating whether to unpack them.
She’d leave them, see how this assignment went. If it didn’t work out, if it didn’t light the fire under her after a few days, she’d call Chandler and tell him she was out.
But she’d give it a try. For her dad.
HOPE IGNITES
LOGAN MCCORMACK HAD TO HAVE BEEN DRUNK OR out of his goddamned mind to have agreed to let a movie crew film on his ranch.
Why he thought it had been a good idea was beyond him. But Martha, the ranch cook and house manager, was starstruck, and when she’d heard who the lead actress was—some name Logan had already forgotten, alongside some freakin’ heartthrob-of-the-month as her costar, Martha gone all melty and told him it would be good for business.
Plus, the production company had offered a buttload of cash, and he wasn’t the type to turn down extra money. Since they’d be filming on the east side of the property, which was mostly hills and grassland and nowhere near their cattle operation, they’d be out of the way. At the time it had seemed like a good idea.
They’d come in a week ago, a convoy of semis and trailers and black SUVs. Logan had been working the fence property and had seen them driving in. Hell, it had looked like some Hollywood parade. The whole town had shown up at the gates to the ranch to witness it. He’d gotten all the gossip when Martha had served up dinner. She’d talked it up nonstop, her voice more animated than he’d heard in a long time.
“I’m pretty sure Desiree Jenkins and Colt Stevens are on our property as we speak,” Martha had said as she’d put the salad on the table. “Are you going to go check it out, Logan?”
“Why would I want to do that?” he’d asked, way more interested in eating than he was in the goings-on at the east property.
“You rented them the land. It’s your responsibility to make sure they’re settled in.”
He’d said no, and Martha had argued. And when Martha argued about something, it was best you just do whatever she wanted, because she wasn’t the type to let a topic die.
“I’ll go see about it in a few days.” That few days had turned into a week, and Martha had been nearly apoplectic that he hadn’t checked it out yet. Which could affect his dinner, since Martha in a snit meant she could take to her room with some kind of mystery ailment and he’d end up eating baloney sandwiches instead of a hot meal.
So after he was done with his work the next day, he climbed into his truck and drove over to the site. Crews had already finished building the set for . . . whatever movie it was they were filming. Some post-apocalyptic futuristic something or another, supposedly set on another planet. The sparse vegetation, scrub, and hills of the east property would work just fine for it, he supposed. He’d signed the contracts and deposited the check, but hadn’t bothered to pay attention to the name of the film. He wasn’t much of a moviegoer. To go to the movies meant heading into town, and he’d rather sit on the porch and have a beer at night. He liked the quiet. If he wanted to see a movie, he had a television and one of those subscription accounts. That was good enough for him.
Martha was right. It already looked like they’d built a small town on some of the flatlands out there. He parked his truck on the rise, popped open the beer he’d shoved in his cooler, and leaned against the hood of his truck to watch the hustle of people moving back and forth. Trailers had been set up as living areas, though these trailers looked way more expensive than anything Logan could afford. They were more like big houses on wheels. Probably what the stars lived in while they shot the movie.
An SUV came up the road, dust flying behind it. A couple of burly guys wearing all black and sporting dark sunglasses rolled out of the vehicle.
“This is a closed set.”
Unruffled, Logan stared at them. “Okay.”
“You aren’t supposed to be on this property.”
“I own this property.”
One of the guys in black frowned at him. “You’re the property owner?”
“Yeah.”
“Got ID?”
Logan let out a short laugh. “I’m not about to show you my ID Like I said, I own this land and you’re renting it.”
“We’ll still need to see an ID,” burly guy number two said.
Logan folded his arms. “Yeah? You can kiss my ass.”
His attention turned to a slight woman—a girl, really, running up the hill. She wore jogging clothes, tight pants that just went past her knees and a sleeveless top that hugged her slender body. She had dark hair pulled back in a braid. The guys suddenly stepped in front of Logan as if he was going to pull a gun on the woman.
When she reached them, she stopped, drawing in several deep breaths.
“What’s up, Carl?”
“Saw this guy parked up here and came to check it out. He says he’s the property owner but he won’t show ID to prove it.”
She finally straightened and stretched her back. “Is that right? And are you the property owner?”
“So it says on the ranch deed.”
She walked over and held out her hand. “I’m Des.”
Logan shook her hand. “Logan McCormack.”
“Nice ranch, Logan.”
“Thanks.”
“Have you been down to watch filming yet?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
She quirked a smile. “I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d find it interesting.”
“Are you working on the film crew, Des?”
Her lips curled into a smirk. “You could say that.”
One of the big guys stepped forward. “Miss Jenkins?”
“It’s okay, Carl. You and Duke can take off.”
Carl shook his head. “Not a good idea.”
She shot him a look. “And I said I’m fine.”
With another serious death glare, the guy named Carl and the other guy got into the SUV and drove back down the hill.
“Are those your bodyguards?”
She laughed. “No. Well, sometimes.”
“So you must be the star of the show.”
She shrugged. “Well, I’m the lead. I don’t know about star.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“Taking a break. And getting some exercise.”
“Not really a gym on site for you to work out in, is there?”
“No. This is better. You must love it here.”
“It’s home.”
She leaned against the front of his truck, g
rabbed his beer from his hand, took a long swallow, and handed it back to him. “Thanks.”
“I don’t recall offering it to you.”
She turned to her side. “You’re not very friendly, are you, Logan?”
“I try not to be.”
“Yeah? And why’s that?”
“It keeps people away.”
“Oh, so you don’t like people.”
“I didn’t say that.”
She laughed, and he liked the gravelly, raspy, sexy sound of it. Which he shouldn’t.
“Do you have any more of those?” she asked, eyeing his beer.
“I might.”
When she cocked a brow, he added, “Front passenger floor of the truck. Help yourself.”
She went around and grabbed a beer, bringing him another one, too. “Yours looked about empty.” She popped the top and took a long swallow.
“You sure you’re old enough to be drinking those?”
There went that laugh again. “I’m sure.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Are you old enough to be drinking them?”
“Funny.” He took a long swallow.
She leaned next to him, against the truck, and looked out over the valley.
“Just how big is this ranch, Logan?”
“It’s pretty big.”
She shot him a look. “Pretend I’m smart and just tell me.”
“It’s a little over a hundred thousand acres.”
“Holy shit. That’s a lot. No wonder you could afford to lend us a small piece of the pie.”
“I didn’t lend it. I’m renting it to your movie-making company. Which means I make money. Working a ranch is costly business.”
“I’m sure it is. Though honestly, I wouldn’t know.”
He took another swallow of beer as he studied her. “City girl?”
“A little of that, and a little country. I’ve been around. Never lived on a ranch, though.”
“Where are you from?”
“Just about everywhere.”
“Military?”
She tilted her head and looked up at him. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t think anything at all. Just guessing.”
“Good guess. Yeah, my dad was army. We moved around a lot.”
“So you’ve seen the world.”
She didn’t smile this time. “You could say that.”
“You probably still see a lot of it, being an actress.”
“Sometimes a lot more than I want to.” She took a couple sips of her beer and kept her gaze focused below, where the movie was being filmed. And she stopped talking.
Logan didn’t know what to make of Desiree Jenkins. She couldn’t be more than mid-twenties at best, which put her firmly in the close-to-ten-years-younger-than-him category. Scrubbed of makeup, she looked like a teenager, but there was a worldliness in her eyes that made her seem a lot older.
She sure was pretty with her long dark hair and wide eyes that he couldn’t quite get a handle on, color-wise. Every time she shifted position, so did the color. At first they seemed blue, but now they were more like a brownish green, with little flecks of gold in them.
“You’re staring.”
He frowned. “Huh?”
“You’re staring at me. Do I have dirt on my face?”
“No. I’m looking at your eyes. The color of them.”
“Oh yeah. My dad told me I had chameleon eyes. I figure they’re just hazel, with a little of every color in them. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Huh. I guess so.”
She leaned back against his truck again. “Not much impresses you, does it, Logan?”
“Nope.” But her eyes did.
“So tell me about your ranch. What do you do here?”
“Work.”
“Wow, so descriptive. I’ll bet you’re a great conversationalist at parties.”
“Don’t get to a lot of parties around here.”
“Maybe you don’t get invited to a lot of parties.”
“Can’t say that breaks my heart any.”
She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, about the ranch?”
“We work cattle. We also have horses, but they’re wild mustangs so we don’t mess with them except to feed them in the winter.”
“Okay. Do you raise the cattle for beef?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t strike me as a dairy farmer.”
“Really. And what does a typical dairy farmer look like to you?”
She shrugged. “No idea. Not like you. You’re more the rugged, work-the-land type, not the milk-the-cows type.”
He wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment, or whether she’d just insulted dairy farmers. Either way, it was obvious she had no idea what she was talking about. Then again, he didn’t know shit about movie making. But he wasn’t spouting off about that, either.
“Well, I gotta go.”
She pushed off the truck and handed him the empty beer bottle. “Thanks for the drink. You should come down and watch filming.”
“No, thanks. I’m plenty busy with my own work.”
“You might find what we do interesting.”
“I’m interested enough in what I do.”
She cocked her head to the side, revealing the soft column of her neck. He didn’t want to be interested in her neck, but he was. “Afraid you might linger a little too long? Maybe get bitten by the acting bug?”
He laughed at that. “Uh, no.”
“Then come on down and watch us work. I’ll make sure the big burly guys won’t bother you.”
Martha would have a fit if he got an invite and he didn’t say yes. “Martha, my house manager, is a big fan.”
“Bring her down to watch a day of filming. We’re doing a big dramatic scene tomorrow. She’d probably love that.”
“She probably would.”
“I’ll have to warn you there’s a lot of standing around and waiting in between takes, but I promise you the end result is always worthwhile. You and Martha come on out to the set. I promise it’ll be fun.”
There were a million reasons this wasn’t a good idea. But then there was Martha, and he hated the thought of cold sandwiches. “What time?”
“I’m usually in makeup by six a.m., so we should start shooting by eight.”
“You get up that early? I thought all you movie stars slept ’til noon.”
“Now who’s funny? I’ll let the crew know you’re coming.” She lifted her arms over her head, stretched, then kicked off into a run, waving at him. “See you tomorrow, Logan.”
Why the hell he’d agreed to that, he had no idea. He had more than enough to do, and losing a day would put him behind.
But at least Martha would be happy.
• • •
DES MADE IT BACK TO THE FILM SITE AND RAN STRAIGHT into Theo, her director.
“Des. Where’d you go?”
“I took a run to get some exercise. Did you need me for something?”
“Yes. We need to reshoot one of this morning’s scenes. I told you not to disappear.”
“Sorry. I’ll head over to makeup and hair.”
“Too late now. I’ve already dismissed the crew for the day and the lighting isn’t right. We’ll pick it up later.” He walked with her as she headed to her trailer. “I wanted to go over tomorrow’s scenes with you, though. How about dinner tonight? My trailer?” He put his arm around her shoulder.
Her skin crawled and she immediately wanted to shrug him off. Theo was a notorious, disgusting, very married womanizer who liked to hit on his leading ladies, especially on location. But he was also a brilliant director, so one had to take the bad with the good. “I need a shower after my run, Theo. And I’ve already made plans to run lines with Colt over dinner. You
’re welcome to join us, though. We could knock out discussion about tomorrow’s scenes then.”
Theo paused, then shook his head. “No, that’s all right. We’ll do it in the morning during prep. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow, Theo.”
She stepped up her pace before Theo came up with any more pervy ideas.
“Cornered you, did he?”
She smiled as Colt Stevens, her costar caught up with her. “Why weren’t you here to save me?”
“Sorry, babe. I was on the phone. I saw Theo hook on to you as soon as you got back on set. Did you have a good run?”
“I did. Did you have a good phone call?”
His eyes gleamed. “I did.”
Des looked around to make sure they were alone. “And how is Tony?”
“Pining away for me, as always. I wish he could be here.”
“I wish he could, too.” Des wrapped her arm around Colt’s waist. “Why don’t you just come out of the closet and be done with it already?”
They’d reached her trailer. Colt opened the door for her and Des stepped in. Colt followed and shut the door. “Oh, right. Smokin’ hot movie star who gets all the sexy roles comes out as gay.”
Des shrugged. “So? It’s the twenty-first century, Colt. And you kiss better than any leading man I’ve ever worked with. I doubt any of your future leading ladies would be deterred.”
Colt sat on her sofa, stretching out his long legs. “Thanks, babe. Tony thinks so, too.”
She laughed. “Seriously, though. We have chemistry through the roof and it shows on screen. If you can pull that off, who cares who you love off screen?”
“Well, I sure don’t. And you don’t. And probably most of America doesn’t give a shit, either. But my management team does care. And they say no to coming out.”
She plopped onto the sofa next to him. “I’m sorry. You should be able to live your life freely and not have to parade around with a bunch of women you don’t care about while Tony is stuck loving you behind the scenes.”
Colt let out a sigh. “I know, love. But it is what it is, and I guess it’s going to stay that way for a while. Maybe someday we’ll be able to change that.”