“Who’s in charge of looking after the stock?” Clint’s gaze flicked to Baxter. “Not that guy, I hope,” he added in a lowered voice, looking back at her.
“Oh, God, no. That would be Charlie. He’s the head wrangler, and he’s very responsible. I haven’t seen him today, but he should be around... Older guy. White hair. Wears it in a ponytail.” She thought Charlie might be in town, but she glanced around anyway, because staring into Clint’s eyes made it hard to concentrate on anything but him. “I don’t see him. We haven’t had any other incidents with animals getting loose, though.”
“I’d like to speak with him before unloading my trailer.”
“Erin should know where he is.” Lila gestured vaguely, noticing that someone else now had her friend’s ear. Fine with Lila. It gave her more time to check out Clint. “She shouldn’t be long.”
“I’m in no hurry.” He lifted his hat and swept back a long dark lock of hair before settling the brim low on his forehead.
“Are you also an extra?”
“An extra what?”
“I guess not.” She smiled. “You said you were changing your shirt so I thought... We hire local people to be in the movie.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Most people like it. They don’t say any lines and it pays practically nothing, but they get bragging rights. Hey, if you’re interested—”
“No,” he said quickly. “No. No way. Not me.”
“You can’t be camera shy.”
He laughed. “Thanks anyway.”
Lila jumped when someone touched her shoulder. She instinctively recoiled when she saw it was Baxter, but then put on a neutral smile. Some actress she was.
“I need to talk to Mr. Landers,” he said with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.
She looked at Erin who now stood alone, motioning with her head for Lila to join her.
Glancing back at Clint, it was all Lila could do not to sigh. “Well, nice meeting you,” she said and realized she’d already mentioned something to that effect.
They exchanged smiles, and he politely touched the brim of his hat. But it was the dark penetrating look in his eyes that had her heart pounding as she turned and hurried the short distance to Erin.
“Come on,” Erin said with a little smile and started walking toward the trailers that were lined up out of camera range.
“What does Baxter want with him, and where are we going?”
“You’re wearing a T-shirt? Seriously?”
Lila looked at her, and Erin burst out laughing.
“Shut up.” Lila shook her head and then laughed, too.
“On a shitty note, Penelope is on the warpath.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot about her.” God, Lila was tempted to look back at him.
“No. Hell, no.” Clint’s voice had raised some.
Lila and Erin looked at each other, and then they both turned to see him walking away from Baxter, who stared daggers after him. Whatever it was the creep wanted, Lila doubted it was a face full of dust kicked up by Clint’s boots as he strode toward his horse trailer.
“What was that about?” Lila asked.
“Jason wants to use Clint in his next scene and said he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” she said absently.
As Erin continued to stare at Baxter, Lila could almost see the wheels turning in her friend’s head. She and Jason’s new flunky hadn’t gotten along from day one. Baxter was green and unfamiliar with the film industry, while Erin knew just about everything there was to know.
Since college she’d worked nearly every job there was behind the camera. She was supposed to be showing Baxter the ropes, which was probably why she’d been so grumpy lately.
This project was important for their future in the industry. Just like Lila, Erin’s big chance was coming up with the sequel. She’d been promised the first assistant director’s job.
“I know you,” Lila said. “You’re planning something evil.”
Erin smiled. “Who was it that said ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”
Lila’s gaze went to Clint, his back to them as he pulled on a long-sleeve shirt. “Friend? Oh, I want him for so much more than that.”
CLINT PARKED HIS truck close to the circular drive in front of his brother’s house. He got out and lifted a hand to Woody, the foreman, and a pair of Lucky 7 hired men walking toward the bunkhouse. The air was chilly, but he didn’t bother grabbing his jacket since it was a short walk to the fancy wrought-iron gate. He couldn’t stay long, but he had time to kill and something he wanted to get off his chest. Nathan was always a good sounding board.
After letting himself into the small courtyard, he went straight to the front door and wiped the bottoms of his boots on the mat. He rang the bell, glancing around while he waited.
The place looked nice. Even with winter threatening to roll in with a bang, his sister-in-law had spruced up the courtyard with Christmas wreaths and garland. Strings of lights were draped along the stone archway and wrapped around the porch columns.
He liked Beth a lot and not just because she’d been so good for Nathan, bringing him back to life after his first wife’s death. Clint admired Beth for leaving small remembrances of Anne, like her prized roses and topiary garden. Anne had liked everything manicured and perfect, and Beth was the total opposite.
The door opened. “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over,” Beth said, stepping back to let him inside.
“Yeah, I should’ve called first.”
“Oh, please. You know better. Nathan’s in his office, and I was just putting up some Christmas decorations.”
Clint smelled coffee as he walked into the large foyer. Pinecones and conifer branches littered the cherry console table. A ball of string had fallen to the hardwood floor. He scooped it up and gave it to Beth.
“I decided to make my own wreaths.” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I just came from Blackfoot Falls. I saw you have the inn all decked out. It looks nice.”
“Really? You don’t think I went overboard?” she asked, frowning and swiping back wisps of blond hair from her eyes.
His thoughts shot straight to Lila. Not a shocker. He hadn’t been able to shake the image of her the whole ride over. Her hair was a lighter shade of blond than Beth’s, and Lila’s eyes were blue, a real cornflower blue you just didn’t see every day. She was a stunner, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in person. Or more like ever. He’d never been a moviegoer or had much time for TV, but if he’d seen her starring in anything, he would’ve remembered.
“I did, didn’t I?” Beth was staring at him. “Was it the lighted Happy Holidays sign? I worried that might be a bit much.”
He frowned, then recalled they’d been talking about the old boardinghouse Beth had bought and converted to an inn. “No,” he said. “It looks nice. Very festive. Sorry, I was thinking about that coffee I smell. Any chance—”
Beth laughed. “Of course. Help yourself.”
Clint continued into the kitchen, poured a mug of the strong brew