He kept massaging her shoulders and whispering that everything would be okay in that low velvety tone that was beginning to hypnotize her into believing him.
“I’m not complaining.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“Oh, Lord. Why am I even telling you all this? You’re a stranger.”
“Sometimes it’s easier,” Clint said, and rubbed a knot in back of her left shoulder.
“Well, fine, feel free to unload. Whatever you want to get off your chest, go for it.”
“If I think of something, I will.”
“Oh, so your life is perfect? That makes me feel so much better.”
He laughed, the sound a low quiet rumble that wrapped her in his warmth. “It’s not perfect,” he said. “More like...predictable.”
Lila couldn’t tell if he thought that was good or bad. She lifted her chin and was rewarded with a smile that reached his eyes. “Want to hear something really sad?”
“What’s that?”
“As horrifying as this pit is, I don’t care half as much as I do about not having a tub. We have a shower. A tiny stupid shower. I would kill for a tub. Any plain generic one would do.”
“I’m surprised you’re not sharing a trailer with Erin.”
“Ah.” Lila nodded. “Normally we would have. But she met someone. He lives here, actually. Spencer Hunt. He owns Moonlight Mountain. So she’s been staying with him at his ranch.”
Clint’s hands stilled and his brows rose. He looked shocked, confused, curious. All appropriate reactions, but only for someone who knew Erin. Lila had no idea what was going through Clint’s head.
“Do you know Spencer?” she asked.
“No. I’ve heard of him, though. He’s been volunteering at a local animal sanctuary.”
“They’ve invited me to stay with them,” she said. “But Shadow Creek is too far.”
“What is it, about thirty minutes?”
“I don’t have my own car, and I never know when I’m needed on the set.” She skipped the part about feeling like a third wheel. And the odd feeling she’d been having just recently that something was bothering Erin. Lila hoped it had nothing to do with Spencer. But, she was sure Erin would fill her in soon. “Anyway, predictable doesn’t describe my life, that’s for sure.”
“You have anything pressing to do right now?” His eyes were beginning to darken, a clear hint that he had something in mind for her, something she was going to like.
“Nothing at all.”
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her toward him. “How badly do you think Baxter needs me to agree?”
Unprepared for the switch in gears, she laughed. “I’d say he’s pretty desperate if he asked me to help. I know he’s zero for three with Jason.”
Clint wrapped his arms around her. “Tell Baxter to put you up in the motel in town, and I’ll do whatever he wants.”
Lila stared at him. “Huh?”
“With his own money.” Clint paused. “Or his uncle’s, I don’t care which.”
“But—I—” She laughed. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” He brushed a kiss across her mouth. “Would you rather I call him?”
“No.” She couldn’t think. Not when her body was flush against his and she could feel him getting hard. “I don’t know.”
“Whatever you want, Lila,” he whispered, his lips searing a path to her throat.
She swayed in his arms. His strong, muscled arms. How weird was it that she didn’t feel nervous with Clint? She’d never kissed a man five minutes after meeting him. Okay, it had been longer but not all that much. She was always careful about not playing into the Hollywood stereotype. She didn’t play fast or loose. Actually, it just wasn’t her style.
She felt the tip of his tongue trace her collarbone. Her nipples tightened. She squeezed her thighs together. Her breathing was off, and she couldn’t seem to drag in enough air.
“Tell me what you want, Lila.” His voice was low and rough, his breath hot on her skin.
Her sweatshirt was too thick. She couldn’t feel him pressed against her the way she wanted to...
He stopped kissing her and lifted his head. The second he stepped back, she heard the laughter just outside the trailer. She recognized Shannon’s loud snort.
Lila stepped back, as well.
“So, you can tell him,” Clint said when they heard the doorknob turn, “or you can give Baxter my number. That’s up to you.” He turned and nodded causally at Shannon and Diane as they entered, both of them speechless, eyes full of curiosity.
“I have to think about it,” Lila said, her voice hardly shaking at all. But she almost lost it when he took off his hat and held it in front of himself. “I’ll need your number.”
Her cell signaled a text. They needed her on the set.
Clint surprised her with a business card. “I should probably get your number, too.”
5
THE NEXT MORNING Clint delegated the few chores he normally handled to Heath, the new man they’d hired last month. Then Clint left a note for his dad, letting him know he was taking some time off, and another note for the other three men who worked for them. He hadn’t mentioned where he was headed, just that he’d be gone all day.
They’d all razz him if they knew he’d be standing around like some jackass while someone shot film of him. It wasn’t as if he could keep it a secret. Eventually word would spread. He just didn’t want anyone showing up to watch—or asking him why he was charging out of the house in his good clothes.
He filled a to-go mug in the kitchen and made it to his truck without anyone seeing him. But he managed to spill coffee on the new jeans he’d just put a crease in and cussed up a storm, trying to figure out what he should do about it. He decided the spot would be fine once it dried. And anyway, he didn’t have time to change.
He reversed out of the garage and drove all of ten feet when he saw his dad coming from the stable. Clint considered pretending he hadn’t seen him...then his dad motioned for him to stop.
Damn.
Clint let down his window. “Hey, Dad. What were you doing in the stable this early?”
“Just checking on Hazel. I thought she might be favoring her hind leg,” he said, frowning as he got closer. “That a new shirt?”
“I left you a note. In the kitchen. So, how’s Hazel?”
His dad chuckled, looking younger than he had in a long while. Now that he’d filled out some, his clothes were starting to fit him again, and his coloring was better. Years of stressing over finances had aged his father.
“I think she’s okay. I’m not gonna call Doc Yardley yet.” He paused, obviously waiting for Clint to say something. Then he smiled. “It’s okay, son. You’re a grown man. No need to tell me where you’re going. It’s none of my business.”
Clint laughed. “I might’ve believed you if you weren’t staring me down like I was sixteen again.”
“I won’t deny you got me curious.”
“Dad, if a man puts on a new shirt and it’s not Sunday—”
“It’s a woman.”
“That’s right.” Clint gave him a nod. “And that’s all I’m saying about it.”
“Your mom’s going to be real happy.”
“Only if someone opens his big mouth,” Clint said and powered the window up, cutting off the howl of laughter that had him chuckling along with his dad.
He drove slowly down the gravel driveway, glancing in the rearview mirror and watching his dad dab at his eyes. How long had it been since he’d laughed like that? Too damn long. It was a great thing to hear. Despite the guilt tightening like a fist in Clint’s chest.
For four decades Doug Landers had struggled with the responsibility of running Whispering P
ines, choking from fear of failure and nearly destroying the legacy entrusted to him. What he knew about raising cattle, which was a hell of a lot, was equaled by how little he knew about business. But now that he saw an end in sight, he could finally breathe.
And Clint was that end.
It didn’t seem to matter that he’d taken over the books years ago. And that he’d been the one going to auctions, deciding when to send the cattle to market and handling the daily operation of the ranch. Something about his dad knowing he’d soon officially hand over the reins had given him a new lease on life.
Dammit, how could Clint make any other decision but to take over?
He’d made it halfway to town before his brain finally settled. Thinking about Lila and knowing he’d be seeing her soon calmed him down some.
That she’d called soon after he’d left her last night had given him hope. Hope for what exactly, he wasn’t sure. Sex would be a good start.
Damn, but he liked her. For so many more reasons than he could’ve guessed, considering she was beautiful and lived in a sophisticated world that was foreign to him.
After he parked in the same spot as yesterday, he checked the visor mirror to make sure he didn’t have shaving cream on his face. He dragged a hand across his jaw. Smooth as a baby’s behind. Hadn’t missed a single spot.
Most of the people milling about were movie folks. He didn’t see Lila, though he was early. Catching sight of Baxter, Clint wondered what exactly she’d told him. By the time he’d gotten her voice mail and returned her call she was busy working, and they had all of twenty seconds to talk.
Clint decided to stay put for now. Wait until he got the chance to talk to Lila. He was dead serious about the motel being the thing that sealed the deal. Other than getting to see her, he wasn’t looking forward to this bullshit. He would have rather paid for her to stay somewhere nicer, but he knew she wouldn’t have accepted the offer.
He still hadn’t made sense of her involvement with the film and why she’d invested her own money. She’d really confused him.
Thinking he saw her walking with Erin near the corrals, he straightened. Yep, it was her. His heart kicked into high gear. He paused long enough for a final inspection of his good boots, then he got out of the truck.
Lila spotted him right away. She waved, said something to Erin and the two of them veered toward him. He started walking to meet up with them, enjoying the snug fit of Lila’s jeans and the curve-hugging sweater that showed off a lot more than yesterday’s sweatshirt.
A good four yards away, Lila stopped and gaped at him.
“Something wrong?” he asked, and did a quick fly-check.
“What happened?”
Erin was shaking her head, not bothering to hide her amusement.
Clint loosened his collar. Damn shirt was a little stiff. “What do you mean?”
Lila advanced slowly. “You’re not supposed to look like this,” she said, eyeing his jeans, his boots before glancing up and sighing. “You shaved. Why would you do that?”
Yes, Erin was her friend, but Clint looked to her for help, anyway.
Erin smiled. “Yesterday you wore faded jeans, scuffed boots. I don’t remember the shirt—”
“Yeah, I was working.” He swung a gaze at Lila. She was still frowning.
“Anyway,” Erin continued. “That rugged, unshaven, hard-riding cowboy look you had going on? That’s what Jason wanted.”
Clint didn’t know what to say. He rubbed his smooth jaw. “Baxter didn’t say anything.”
“I’m sorry,” Lila said. “It’s my fault.”
“So...” Clint noticed people were staring. Yeah, just what he wanted—to be the center of attention. All because he’d cleaned up? There was something wrong with these people.
“Don’t worry. Lila can fix you right up.” Erin glanced at her friend. “Jason doesn’t need him for another hour.”
“He’ll be ready,” Lila said, checking her watch.
“Either Baxter or I will come get you,” Erin told him. She turned to leave but glanced back with a grin. “Oh, and nice move getting Lila set up at the motel.”
Clint wished she’d kept her voice down. A couple of complete strangers strolling by grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
“Come on,” Lila said, “and don’t worry about the crew knowing. Everyone would’ve heard even if Erin and I hadn’t spread it around.” She tugged on his arm, trying to get him to move.
“Why would you let it get out?”
“Once the crew found out, which was inevitable, I couldn’t let them think Wild Coyote—our production company—was footing the bill.”
“Explain something to me,” he said as he walked alongside her. “You mentioned you’d invested money but you’re working as a hairstylist instead of acting. Why?”
“I think I also said we don’t have a big studio behind us. Erin and I met Jason and two of his friends, David and Brian, in film school. We hung out together, worked on projects together and really clicked. None of us had any connections in the business, so after school we looked out for each other—” Lila shaded her eyes from the sun and squinted at something. “Excuse me for just a sec.”
She flagged down a young woman with short blue hair carrying a clipboard and then walked briskly to meet up with her. Lila’s worn jeans really showed off her long slim legs, and her hair, tousled by the breeze, glinted gold in the sunlight.
Granted, he knew less than nothing about the entertainment business, but it was mind-boggling that a woman like her wasn’t doing something more than grunt work behind the scenes. She wasn’t just gorgeous, she seemed smart, level-headed, dedicated. The fact that he’d showed up at all, had agreed to act like a fool—and come to think of it, he didn’t remember her even asking him to do it. He’d volunteered. Yes, the woman had a gift.
After she confirmed the hair-and-makeup trailer was available, they resumed walking.
“You were telling me about how you and your school buddies got to this point,” he reminded her.
“Oh, right. About a year ago we realized none of us were getting anywhere and knew we had to make something happen. So we formed Wild Coyote Productions. Westerns have been in need of a revival, so that’s where we’re focusing our efforts. Lucky for Jason—for all of us actually—he inherited a nice chunk of money he was willing to sink into the project. That’s why he’s directing and not Erin. But this is still her best shot. She’ll be first AD—that is, assistant director—for the sequel. David’s a writer, so he and a friend collaborated on the script. Brian, Erin and I made the smallest financial contribution, but we’ve been working our tails off and paying ourselves just enough money to cover our expenses.”
When they arrived at the trailer, Lila opened the door and peeked inside. “We have the place for thirty minutes, but it won’t take that long.” She turned and regarded him with a critical eye. “I don’t suppose you have an old shirt in your truck.”
“A T-shirt. Maybe. And an old denim jacket that I should’ve tossed in the rag bin.”
“Oh, good.” She gave him a smile that could turn winter into spring. “We’ll get it later.”
He followed her inside the trailer, mulling over what she’d just told him. It still wasn’t clear what she’d end up getting in return for her investment.
“Go ahead and have a seat,” she said, gesturing at a row of stools, and then crouched to rifle through a set of plastic drawers.
The stools were adjusted to different heights and faced a wall made up of mirrors. It resembled the beauty shop where his mom got her hair done once a month. He took a sniff. Kind of smelled like it, too.
He glanced around. More mirrors. Lots of them, on the opposite wall, some floor length, and there was even a mobile unit stashed in the corner. A few round handheld mirrors and blow-dryers h
ung from nearby hooks.
“Finding anything interesting?” Lila asked, an amused lilt to her voice.
“Hollywood people sure like looking at themselves.” He turned, and, momentarily blinded by a glaring white light, ducked his head. “And they want a lot of light while they do.”
Lila grinned. “You’re wrong. They’d prefer next to no light and that high-def be banned forever.”
Yep, there were a lot of light fixtures. They just weren’t turned on. The sheer number of tubes, jars and various other stuff lying around astounded him. Yet somehow everything seemed orderly.
“Ah.” Clint didn’t know what triggered it, but he finally figured out what Lila had to gain from her investment. Oddly, if he was right, he couldn’t say the notion pleased him. “Will you be starring in the sequel?”
Lila looked at him and laughed. “Starring? Try supporting actress.”
“Why?”
“Because no one knows who I am. We need actors the public likes or at least has heard of. Obviously they aren’t big names because we couldn’t afford them.” She rose to her feet, gracefully, just like she did everything else. “Penelope Lane, for instance. You’ve heard of her, right?”
“Nope.”
Lila frowned at him. “Really?”
“Really.”
She turned away and flipped through a folder. “Here,” she said, showing him a picture of a twenty-something blonde. “Now do you recognize her?”
“Sorry.”
“Do you go to the movies at all?”
“Not much.” He hated that she was staring at him like he was a dumb hayseed. No, that was unfair. She just looked surprised.
“Should I ask which movie you saw last?”
“Probably not.”
Grinning, she squeezed his arm. “It’s nice to know someone whose life doesn’t revolve around Hollywood.” She didn’t move her hand, the heat from her palm seeping through the cotton shirt. “By the way, thank you.”
“Just make sure Baxter holds up his end.”
“I meant for fixing the railing after I left.”
Hot Winter Nights (Made in Montana) Page 5