by Cat Johnson
“It’s you.” I breathed out the word with as much vitriol as wonder over the coincidence.
He smiled wider. “Yeah. I know. You’ve probably seen my movies.”
His hand was still out, and manners and habit had me offering him my own even as I said, “No, actually, I haven’t.”
“Oh? Really?” His dark brows rose above deep green eyes. His surprise was soon replaced with what looked like a genuine smile. “That’s refreshing actually.”
I noticed he still held my hand about the same time I realized it wasn’t some soft pampered palm that gripped mine.
My gaze moved from where his work-roughened hand held mine in a strong handshake, up to the faded navy blue hoodie that stretched across his broad shoulders, then all the way up to his dark disheveled hair.
Damn.
I knocked myself out of the stupor that Jamey Garret caused with a cold dose of reality—I hadn’t seen his movies because I hadn’t gone out to the theater in years.
Ten years plus nine-months, give or take. Not since that date with Dusty. The night that had given me Charlie.
And that’s why handsome men were trouble and to be avoided at all costs.
There was no way in hell I was going to let myself be attracted to this man now.
No doubt about it, besides being a danger to man and beast behind the wheel, and incapable of the decency of making his lessons on time if at all, he was a player.
There was no question in my mind about that. He was hot as hell and he knew it.
Jamey Garret probably had more girlfriends back in Hollywood than I had horses. Though I couldn’t help but wonder why his hands were rough.
Movie stars didn’t do physical labor. It must be from lifting barbells at the gym. He definitely worked out, judging by the bicep I could see. The bulge of it was visible beneath the sweatshirt he’d left unzipped to reveal his tight T-shirt—so tight and clingy in all the right places.
My gaze dropped to his pectoral muscles and the nipples poking at the fabric.
Jeez. I was looking at his nipples? What had gotten into me?
“You’re late,” I said, shooting him a glare to put this conversation back on track and get back to business after I had strayed into dangerous territory.
His emerald eyes widened. “You said three.”
“Yup. And it’s—” I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and held up the display for him to see. “Three-ten.”
He dipped his dark head in a nod. “My apologies. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t. And those ten minutes are coming off your lesson time.” I spun and started toward the field.
He laughed, stopping me mid-step.
I turned back and asked, “You think that’s funny?”
“That you think I’ll care if my lesson is cut short? Yes, I do.” He smiled.
“If you don’t want to be here, Mr. Garret, you’re free to leave.” I planted my hands on my hips.
“If only that were true.” He drew in a deep breath, which made his chest rise. I did my best not to watch how his muscles moved beneath his shirt as he did. “Look, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot and that’s my fault. I apologize. I want to be here. So . . .” He spread his hands wide. “Do what you want with me. I’m yours.”
I lifted my brows. “Excuse me?”
“Teach me to ride,” he said, this time without the inappropriate tone that had turned his last statement into a double entendre.
I was getting paid well to teach him, whether I liked it or not. Right now, I was leaning toward not, but money was money.
“Follow me.” I turned and strode toward the field, not waiting to see if he followed or not.
I assumed he did when I heard the crunch of his sneakers on the gravel behind me.
I glanced back. “And you shouldn’t ride in sneakers. You’re going to have to get a pair of boots. They don’t have to be fancy. Just something with a heel for the stirrups.”
Not that I thought spending money on boots would be a hardship for this guy. Hollywood folk liked to spend money, didn’t they?
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
Shit. Why did he have to be so polite and apologetic all the time? I needed him to behave like the asshole I was sure he was.
Though if I remembered correctly, he’d said sorry after he’d almost flattened me and Stardust. He must be the kind of guy who thought he could get away with anything if he followed it with a sorry and a smile.
Yup. That had to be it.
Handsome men were like those boxes of cheap chocolates they sold at the gas station around Valentines Day. The outside looked perfect and enticing, but it had some gross filling inside. You’d never have taken a bite in the first place if you’d known what was hidden inside was so horrible, but by then it was too late. You’re already sunk in, teeth deep.
Yup. That would be Jamey Garret. A pretty exterior that’s hiding something that’s really bad for me inside.
I let out a huff. “You’re fine for today. Just have them by next lesson.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I didn’t like that he called me ma’am. For some reason his politeness, whether real or fake, pissed me off.
Five minutes with this man and he’d turned me into something completely unlike my usual self. I was acting like an old schoolmarm. Like Mrs. Winters when she used to work in the front office at the school and took such pleasure in reprimanding the kids for anything and everything.
Angry, at myself and at him, I stopped dead in my tracks and spun.
He had to do a quick step to avoid running into me. The question clear in his expression, he waited for me to say something.
“Why are you here, Mr. Garret?”
“To learn to ride, Ms. Holtz.”
“You know my name? How?” I frowned. I hadn’t told him. I was sure of it.
“Jerry emailed it to me along with your address . . . and your phone number.” His lips twitched at that last part.
Pfft. As if his having my number meant anything to him. He probably had so many numbers in his phone he had to scroll for days to find that night’s lucky booty call.
The more annoyed I got, the more it seemed to interest and amuse him, which only frustrated me more.
With a humph I spun on the soles of my rubber mucking boots.
Walking as I talked, I strode fast toward the paddock. “Well, you won’t be doing any riding today, Mr. Garret. You have to learn how to be around the horses first. How to handle them. Be comfortable around them.”
Not run them over with your car.
I stopped and turned. “I’m assuming you’ve never been around horses before. Am I correct?”
“You most certainly are, Ms. Holtz.” Again there was the amusement in his tone.
“Not many horses in Los Angeles?” I asked, being snide.
“Or in Chino,” he added.
“Excuse me?” I glared sideways at him.
His legs were long enough that he’d caught up with my shorter stride easily and was next to me now.
“Chino. It’s where I grew up.”
That took me by surprise, although it shouldn’t. Most stars didn’t start out in Hollywood. They moved there to get their big break.
Of course he was from somewhere else, but I would have never guessed Chino. Though that explained why he dressed more ghetto than Gucci.
Interesting . . . or not. No. Definitely not. I was not interested in Jamey Garret or his past.
I shouldn’t have to remind myself of that.
Mad that I had to, I said, “Well, anyway, today we’re going to bring the horses in from the paddock and back to their stalls. Their feed, water and hay should be waiting for them there if my son did what he was supposed to do.”
“Your son? Huh.”
“Huh, what?” I planted one hand on my hip.
“I thought he might be your little brother, is all.” Jamey lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.
“I was young when I had him.” And I shouldn’t have to explain myself or my past to this man.
“Nothing wrong with that,” he said.
That was it. I was shutting down this discussion. I was not going to discuss my personal life with him.
Pulling my defenses firmly into place, to make sure I put him in his place, I said, “I’m glad you approve.”
His brow rising was his only reaction to what, if I didn’t have a good excuse for it, would be considered very bad manners on my part.
I’d better tone it down. He could complain to his agent and back out of our deal. Until I had that check deposited in my bank account, I’d better be nice. Or at least, not so snippy.
I grabbed the halter from the gate where it was hanging. “The gate is always to be closed and secured when a horse is inside. You let yourself in, then close and latch it behind you. Put this over his head, fasten it under his chin, hook the lead rope on the metal loop, and walk him to his stall in the barn holding the rope in your right hand while you’re standing on his left. You are always on his left as you walk. Got it?”
I could see city boy was having trouble following what I was saying, but the only way to learn was to do it. I thrust the halter and lead rope toward him.
Instead of taking it, his gaze moved past me, sweeping the landscape. “We’re bringing in all these guys?”
“Yes. Problem?” I asked, one brow cocked high, daring him to complain.
“Nope. No problem. Just want to make sure I know what I’m doing. So you do this first one so I can watch, then I’ll do all the rest.”
So pretty boy had a sharp mind and common sense. That made him even more dangerous for me to be around.
Seeing no need to reply, I let myself into the paddock, but I felt his eyes on me the whole time as I stomped across the dry dusty earth.
It was so damn distracting, I tripped over the toe of my boot and, knowing he wouldn’t have missed that less than graceful move, I felt my cheeks heat.
Why did I care what Mr. Hollywood thought of me anyway?
After the month was done, he’d go back to his movies and I’d still be here in Norco on the family horse farm, with a bit of extra cash thanks to his agent’s willingness to throw his client’s money around.
My libido was getting the best of me because it had been deprived of sex for so long. And he was an attractive man. That had to be it.
That’s all this was. Sexual frustration.
It had been about five years, maybe closer to six, since I’d weakened enough to give in to Dusty’s constant pursuit of me. Letting myself be tempted yet again by the man I knew from experience was bad for me had been a mistake then.
This man would be a mistake too. End of story.
Focusing on work, I whizzed through the process with the horse faster than usual, then turned to him. “Your turn.”
“All right.” He toward the next paddock, sending my attention right toward the tight ass of his jeans.
Shit. Men’s butts in well-fitted jeans were my downfall. Always had been. And this man was as attractive coming as he was going.
It was going to be a long month.
The sooner these lessons were over, the better.
SIX
JAMEY
“Did you have your lesson?” That question was delivered in the tone a parent would use with a child and it really pissed me off.
I’d spent my whole life without a real set of parents. I certainly didn’t need my agent acting the part now.
I drew in a breath. “Yes, Jerry. I had my lesson.”
“And did you do what else I asked?”
“And what was that?” I honestly couldn’t remember what else I’d promised. Jerry had been on me so much lately, who could keep track?
“Jamey. Hands off the teacher,” Jerry said with an air of annoyance.
I blew out a laugh at that.
Aside from the insult that Jerry really thought I was the kind of guy who would risk my career just to be a slime bag and hit on my teacher, the whole notion of Ms. Maisie Holtz wanting anything to do with me was absurd.
For some reason the woman seemed to resent me on sight.
“Believe me. You don’t have to worry about that. She wants nothing to do with me.”
“Why? What did you do?” There was a warning in Jerry’s tone that put me on the defensive.
“Nothing. I mean I guess maybe she’s pissed because I missed that first lesson. I don’t know.”
“Yeah. I could see that. She was one tough negotiator on the phone.”
Coming from Jerry, who swam with the Hollywood sharks daily, that was saying something.
He continued, “But she’s got a good reputation in the business, and more importantly, her farm is far enough away from LA you won’t see anyone you know and they won’t see you. I don’t want any embarrassing pictures of you looking like a city boy on horseback. That’s not the image we want to portray.”
“But I am a city boy,” I reminded him.
“Today you are. But next month you are Bonner ‘Blue’ Boyd, the hero who will make women swoon in Cowboy Blue.”
I rolled my eyes. Why had I signed that contract again? Oh yeah, because Jerry wouldn’t leave me alone until I did.
Portraying the hero in the romantic comedy movie adaptation of a romance novel. Yeah, so not what I was used to.
And becoming a cowboy, even just on screen, had never been on my bucket list either. But I was stuck doing it now.
Next movie—if there was a next movie and I didn’t crash and burn in the box office with this one—I was going to be more selective.
And that summed up my existence in Hollywood in a nutshell. My fame had come so fast from out of the blue I truly anticipated it to disappear just as quickly.
It was why I stashed away most of my pay in a high yield investment account. Why I lived well below my means in a rental without a view.
No mansion in the hills. No sports car. No designer clothes. No throwing expensive parties or taking whirlwind trips.
When the bottom fell out of my career, I could go back to living like I had before, but with a damn nice financial cushion.
Maybe I’d buy out Walt. The old man should be about ready to retire. He could still stay around and run the place to keep busy for as long as he wanted, but it would be mine.
My post-Hollywood career. My adult life’s second act.
If I didn’t break my neck falling off a horse before then because holy hell one of the stallions I’d had to lead scared the crap out of me.
Snorting when I tried to put the halter on. Dancing around on the rope until I was afraid the damn thing was about to take off and run away. Kicking the wall of the stall after I’d latched the door shut—luckily with me on the other side.
I’d been lucky to get out of the wooden death trap before the damn thing had turned itself around. Those were some powerful kicks.
It was a beautiful horse though. Muscular and powerful with a shiny black coat. Just the kind of horse the producers would probably think would look great on camera, and the kind of horse that would happily toss me on the ground then stomp on me. There was no doubt in my mind.
Yup, I definitely had to make sure no one from the studio ever visited the Holtz place. And if they did, I’d have to beg Maisie to hide the stallion and only show them the nice old gelding with the one cloudy eye that walked so slowly I had to pull him along.
Yeah, right. Like the director would ever go for that horse. Hollywood was ageist, even as far as animals. Besides, it was unlikely my lovely teacher would do anything to help me out.
I might know nothing about horses but I knew women and this one would probably delight in making sure I had to shoot this whole movie on top of the crazy stallion that hated me as much as she apparently did.
Pity, since we were going to have to be together five times a week until the filming started. If she didn’t warm up to me, it was going to make for a long month.
It was odd. Most women liked me.
Apparently, my charm didn’t extend to horsewomen.
Yet another reason I should have never agreed to do a western. I shook my head and let out one more sigh over the insane direction my career had taken.
“Where are you now?” Jerry asked very pointedly.
I shook my head. The man was still checking up on me like I was a child.
Now I was really in the mood to mess with him. “Why do you ask?”
“Jamey! You have morning lessons scheduled all week.”
A satisfied smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “I know. And I’m about to pull into the driveway of the farm and take that lesson, if you’d let me get off the damn phone and freaking trust me for once.”
He expelled a breath. “Okay. Good. You’re there.”
I let out a snort. Jerry wouldn’t think it was so good if he’d met that stallion.
If my teacher decided I was worthy of getting on a horse today instead of just leading them around by a rope, and if she chose that devil, there was a good chance I’d be violating that mortality clause in my contract.
There was definitely a risk of bodily harm there. In fact, there was a good chance I’d end up dead.
Would I do it if she asked me to get into the saddle on that beast?
Hell yes, I would. I’m not going to look like a coward in front of my snippy but sexy as fuck teacher. There was probably something wrong with me, but that was a problem for another day.
I spotted motion out in the field.
“Good bye, Jerry. I’m hanging up now.” I punched the screen with one fingertip and disconnected the call, not waiting for Jerry to say goodbye.
It looked like the esteemed Ms. Holtz was walking a horse out. That made sense. Since we’d walked them all back in yesterday afternoon, she must bring them all out in the morning.
Pretty sure I’d spend another lesson in what amounted to being a dog walker but with a bigger animal tied to the leash, I tossed my cell into the console so I wouldn’t be disturbed and hopped down from the Yukon.
Hands in my pockets, I strode across the drive.
Maisie was on her way back to the barn by the time I made it over there. “Good morning.”