Wyatt’s assistant, Jeremy, banged his way through the door, carrying Wyatt’s luggage.
The noise shook his attention loose. “I’m not marrying you.” He pointed at Laurel and then jerked free of Ashley’s hold. “Or you. I don’t know what your game is, but—”
“You’re not marrying anyone.” A scowling man marched forward, putting his arm protectively around Laurel. “No one’s asking or expecting or even wants you to do that.”
“What a relief.” And yet Wyatt worried because the situation could still spiral out of his control. “Your little dating game came at quite the cost, didn’t it?” A glare at Ashley was called for.
“This is no game.” The middle-aged woman narrowed her eyes at him. He recognized her now. The short red hair. The fierce expression. She was Genevieve Monroe, Ashley’s momager. “We’ve brought you here to talk through the steps of how to explain this to the public and to the industry. We don’t want anyone’s future derailed by this news. Especially Ashley’s.”
“We want you to relinquish your parental rights to Laurel’s babies.” The scowling man must be Laurel’s ever-so-lucky groom, Mitch Kincaid.
“Do we need to spring everything on him at once?” Ashley asked in that deceptively sweet voice of hers. “Look at him. He’s in shock.” She laid her hand on his forearm once more.
The last thing Wyatt wanted was for Ashley to defend him. This mess was all her fault. She should be defending herself! He brushed her hand away.
But maybe he was in shock. He couldn’t seem to focus. Twins switching places...dang. And babies...plural. Wyatt had vowed not to repeat his father’s mistakes and make a baby with a woman before deciding whether he wanted to get married or not.
How’s that plan working out for you?
Was that his father’s voice in his head? Wyatt gritted his teeth.
“We were all in shock when we learned the truth,” Genevieve said sharply. “But Laurel’s about to give birth and a way forward needs to be finalized.”
At the check-in desk, the girl with strawberry blond hair handed Jeremy a room key without taking her wide eyes off Wyatt. She’d be asking for his autograph any minute. She was the one member of this ensemble who wasn’t contributing to the scene. The one contradiction to the scam the Monroes were trying to sell.
“I’m out.” Wyatt stood. “Nice try putting one over on me, Ashley, but not even your hack of a brother could write a screenplay this far-fetched.” Jonah Monroe was well-known for his smarmy teenage rom-coms. Wyatt signaled for Jeremy to reverse directions. “Send all future communication to my lawyer.” He couldn’t get out the door fast enough.
“Wyatt!” Ashley followed him to the porch, closing the door behind her. “Hear me out.”
Where had shy, timid Ashley Monroe disappeared to? Where was the subdued actress who almost always wore pink in public and never had a bad word to say about anyone? This woman was dressed in a white blouse and black leggings. And she stood her ground as if she’d been doing so all her life. While he... He was running away.
Wyatt squared his shoulders. He was Wyatt Halford and didn’t have to explain himself to anyone.
Except he would if word got out. If the Monroes confirmed to the world that announcement he’d had removed... They lived in a cancel culture. Granted, his bankability was largely based on his playboy image. But this...
“I was wrong to send my sister on a date with you,” Ashley said levelly. “I’m sorry about that. But you were wrong, too. You didn’t call me back the next day. You didn’t text. Or send flowers. What does that say about you?”
“I’m not on trial here.” Not yet. “You are. You and your sister and—”
“We’re at a crossroads, Wyatt.” Ashley cut him off smoothly. “You don’t want to be a father, right? This could be a public relations nightmare for both of us. Or you can just walk away. No strings attached.”
Part of him wanted to do just that. But only chumps grasped at solutions they hadn’t reviewed with their lawyer. And that man in there... Laurel’s fiancé... If those babies were Wyatt’s, who was to say Mitch would be a good father? Kids needed good fathers. He knew that better than anyone.
No. Wyatt wasn’t signing anything. “Goodbye, Ashley.” He shoved his sunglasses in place and his cowboy hat on his head.
Behind her, Jeremy hammered the door frame with their luggage on his way out.
“I’m sorry, Wyatt, but...you can’t go.” She sounded apologetic, but adamant.
“Really?” He stomped down the stairs. “Why not?”
“Because my cousin Shane removed your spark plugs.” Ashley gestured toward the truck idling behind Wyatt’s rented SUV with Shane at the wheel, right before he drove off. “I’m not going to make excuses for him. He’s gone rogue.”
Shane Monroe? Wyatt seethed. He hated that dude. He’d shown up on the set of Wyatt’s film to hand-deliver a wedding invitation and a barely-veiled threat about what would happen to Wyatt’s reputation if he didn’t make an appearance in Second Chance.
Wyatt drew his cell phone from his jeans pocket faster than a sharpshooter in a gunfight. “I’m calling the police.”
“If you won’t listen, that’s your right.” Ashley shrugged and turned toward the door, sidestepping Jeremy. “Make sure the police spell your name correctly. It’ll make it easier for the paparazzi to find us.”
CHAPTER TWO
“YOU KNEW I WOULDN’T have enough cell phone signal to call the police.” Wyatt spun toward Ashley, taking the porch stairs two at a time, long legs quickly eating up the distance between them.
“Well, I was hoping your phone carrier was prone to low signal and dropped calls.” Ashley lingered near the door, refusing to acknowledge her pounding heart, staying in character. “If this were a horror movie, we’d send Jeremy down to the basement to access the only working landline.”
Jeremy sagged against the log wall of the inn, looking horrified. He didn’t know there was no basement.
Scowling, Wyatt continued coming toward Ashley, but he slowed.
“And then, of course, we’d send Wyatt Halford to find Jeremy’s body.” Ashley’s chin was high. Her voice clear. Inside, she was trembling, every instinct urging her to flee. “There’d be a scuffle with the unholy terror that’s plaguing this mountain town. But Wyatt would live to see another day.”
Wyatt stopped in front of her, angry eyes only partially hidden behind those dark glasses. “I am not amused.”
She shrugged. “I come from a large family. Twelve Monroe grandchildren. When we got together, which Grandpa Harlan frequently encouraged, there was a lot of drama. My grandfather taught me that you can face adversity one of three ways.” She held up one finger. “Hide in the basement and wait for the ghost to come find you.”
“I take offense to that remark,” Jeremy mumbled, having been the example in her metaphor to hide in the basement.
She held up two fingers. “Charge into the basement ready for battle.”
Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest. “Or?”
“Or collect the facts and make a rational decision.” Ashley held up three fingers.
Wyatt smirked. “In this film of yours, you’d be the plucky, bookish character who helps the star save the day. A sidekick.”
At this point in her career, there was no way Ashley was settling for a sidekick role that didn’t benefit from a plot twist that made her the heroine on the last page. “It depends on whose story you want to tell, Wyatt. Personally, I prefer the unexpected one.”
“I get it. You want me to read your indie script.” Wyatt heaved a sigh. “You can’t afford me, Ashley. Especially not now. Haven’t you heard? I charge an annoyance fee.”
Jeremy glanced from the pair to the SUV to the woods, and then sat on a suitcase, seemingly settling in for the verdict of whether they’d stay or go.
“Let me be clear, Wyatt.” Ashley pointed toward the door. “The most important person in the world to me is inside this inn.” Her sister, Laurel, to whom she owed so much. It was Laurel who’d made it possible for Ashley to retreat from the world when the pressure of stardom became too great. Those twin switches had allowed Ashley a safe space but had driven a wedge between the sisters. Still, wedges didn’t have to be permanent. “I realize you don’t want to be part of my project, Wyatt. But you have to be part of Laurel’s, even if it’s just to agree to step aside.”
A car made a slow stop at the intersection and then turned toward the heart of Second Chance.
Wyatt kept his back to the vehicle, not even looking around. He had a reputation for vehemently protecting his privacy.
And Ashley couldn’t blame him. Adoring fans could make even the simplest activity in life a stressful production.
The car was packed to the ceiling with luggage and pillows. The driver pulled into a parking space at the Bent Nickel Diner, two doors down.
Wyatt gave the car a sidelong glance. “Do you know how impossible this situation is to unravel? If word gets out, chances are one or both of us will be relegated to bit parts in B films and mediocre TV comedies.”
“True.” Ashley kept her voice just as low as his. “But we’ve had a few months to wrap our heads around the challenge, and we believe we’ve found a solution.” A way to ensure Laurel’s happiness. It just so happened that their course of action—Wyatt giving up a claim to the girls—also protected Ashley’s career. And his.
“We? Your team?” he said sardonically.
“My family,” she correctly gently.
He scoffed, nodding toward the nearest window, where her mother, Laurel, Mitch and Mitch’s daughter, Gabby, gathered.
Ashley wished her so-called team wouldn’t so obviously eavesdrop. “There’s been some anticipation about your arrival.”
“And there’s been a leak on your end.” Then he said two words. The name of the online encyclopedia site that had reported Laurel’s pregnancy with Wyatt.
Ashley had her suspicions about the post. Her cousin Shane was the most likely choice since he was meddlesome when it came to protecting family. He’d traveled recently to South America to find Wyatt filming on location, where he’d floated the idea of Wyatt being Ashley’s wedding date. Wyatt hadn’t welcomed Shane with open arms, and the inflammatory post had gone up almost immediately afterward. Yeah, that had to have been Shane’s doing. But Monroes didn’t throw each other under the bus. Instead, she glanced significantly at Jeremy, trying to cast suspicion on Wyatt’s team.
“Nice try.” Wyatt shifted his weight, easing between her and the Bent Nickel Diner. “But I have tight control of my staff. Take another shot at it.”
Whether on purpose or not, he’d hidden Ashley behind his broad shoulders, away from the hungry travelers in the parking lot. She shrugged. “There’s no point in casting stones.”
“I enjoy casting a few stones.” Wyatt’s tone had regained its edge, and his body seemed to be expanding. Not the swell of an egotistical chest, but the bunching of muscles by an elite athlete.
“You can blow off steam at the river behind the inn,” Ashley said. “There are plenty of rocks you can toss. And if you’re hungry, there’s the diner.”
His features turned stony. Incredible talent, that.
“Lucky for you,” Ashley continued, “Chef Camden Monroe is cooking at the Bent Nickel Diner part-time.” She leaned to the side to speak to Jeremy. “They offer a to-go menu.”
Her movement brought her closer to Wyatt. His anger hadn’t diluted the smell of a green forest glade. Such a tranquil impression. So at odds with the tumultuous man before her.
Ashley smiled. “Or you can stock up on food items from the general store. Keep in mind that the inn only has a microwave for guest use.”
Wyatt chewed the inside of his cheek. “Jeremy, you’ve got to find me a nearby house rental. ASAP.”
“Best of luck with that.” Ashley reached for the door handle. “Oh, and Gabby has a room ready for you. Apologies, but you’ll have to double up.” Like she was doing with her mother. Mitch’s family was arriving soon, as were more Monroes.
Wyatt covered her hand on the doorknob. His touch was gentle, yet strong.
Ashley didn’t move, soaking in the layers of his character as if she was reading a really good script. Under pressure, he seemed strong, steady and single-minded, although she’d heard he was also demanding, difficult and bad-tempered.
“Sharing a room with my assistant?” Wyatt tsked, lips close to her ear, warm breath tickling her skin. “That’s not how I roll.”
Gone was the instinct to push him away. In its place was the draw of a moth to an irresistible flame. There was a reason Wyatt Halford had earned the “sexiest man alive” title. In her experience, he was quite literally the sexiest man she’d ever encountered.
“Dave. Dave. Would you look?” a woman called from somewhere near the diner. “Isn’t that Ian Bradford? I mean, what’s his name? The guy who plays Ian in those films you like.” The woman gasped. “And that girl from that show we watched as kids. The redhead. Ashley something?”
Wyatt didn’t move, but he seemed to shrink in on himself, as if doing so would make him invisible.
Oh, he was vulnerable, all right. A man in need of soothing. Or shaking up.
She had him right where she wanted him. Ashley would have smirked...
If she hadn’t given in to impulse, risen up on her toes and kissed him.
* * *
PREVIOUSLY, ON THE life and times of Wyatt Halford...
He’d kissed Ashley Monroe on New Year’s Eve in Hollywood.
Or at least, he’d thought that woman was Ashley Monroe. That woman had been charming and soft, blushing when their eyes met, fitting the image of the former child television darling turned beloved rom-com star. He’d fallen for her the same way he’d fallen for the on-screen version of her. Growing up, her long-running television show had been his guilty pleasure.
The Ashley Monroe filling his arms in Second Chance, Idaho, wasn’t charming or soft. She kissed like a woman who knew what she wanted, who’d laugh at his jokes without blushes, who’d return the heat of his kiss unabashedly and wouldn’t stumble over her own two feet trying to stay out of his way.
Both versions of Ashley Monroe had bright red hair and a petite frame.
Wyatt opened his eyes to stare down at this Ashley.
Not that he stopped kissing her. He was a red-blooded man, for Pete’s sake, not a fool.
“Get my phone out of the diaper bag, Dave,” the woman in the diner parking lot said.
Wyatt tensed. People intruding on his privacy wasn’t his favorite thing.
Ashley’s hand curled around Wyatt’s neck just as her eyes opened to meet his gaze. Her lips curled into a slight smile. All without breaking that heart-thumping kiss!
He felt as hot as if he were still in South America. His arms had somehow managed to wrap themselves around her. His brain forgot to care about their audience.
“Your phone’s not in the diaper bag, babe,” a harried man’s voice said. “And Bobby needs to eat. We’re going inside.”
Ashley’s smile expanded, reaching her eyes. All without breaking the intensity of her kiss.
Who smiled while kissing?
Who knew he liked women who smiled while they kissed him?
“No. Jeez, Dave. Come back here,” the woman called out. “We can sell that photo.”
“Sorry, babe. No can do.”
Near the parked car, a door rattled open. A bell tinkled. A door clattered closed. Wyatt assumed that was the diner door. Someone made a sound of frustration and the door ran its lines again—rattle, tinkle, clatter.
And then everything slowed to a stop. The commentary. The smile. The kiss.
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Reality came crashing back. He wasn’t ready for fatherhood. He wasn’t ready to be knocked off his Hollywood pedestal by scandal. And he really wasn’t ready for this version of Ashley Monroe, because he was very much afraid that this woman could upset everything in his apple cart.
In the circle of his arms, Ashley took charge of the conversation the same way she’d taken charge of him with that kiss. “You’re not in Hollywood, Wyatt. And much as I’m trying to make you comfortable, this is my sister’s wedding week. The Lodgepole Inn is all booked up. Two twin beds are all they’ve got to offer.”
Wyatt’s arms fell away from her. “I’m not cowed by you or the Monroes.”
Her gaze lost its appeal. “I wouldn’t expect you to be. The only thing I ask is that you be my wedding date to help shield my sister and her babies from speculation. It seems far-fetched for you to be their father if you’re with me at Laurel’s wedding. For everyone’s sake, we need the public, the press and our peers to doubt the rumor.” Ashley opened the door for Wyatt much the way he’d planned to open the door for her before she’d kissed him, because his mama had taught him manners.
Though he didn’t feel like using them right now.
* * *
WYATT HALFORD STOOD within touching distance.
Of Gabby.
At the Lodgepole Inn.
Wearing cowboy boots and a cowboy hat.
She should have been speechless. She should have held out her copy of that magazine with him on the cover, silently pleading for a signature. Instead, she was living up to her name as she came out from behind the check-in desk to show Wyatt and his assistant to their room. “The kitchenette over there is for guest use. Microwave, fridge, sink, single-cup coffee maker. The coffee, tea, cereal and oatmeal are free and available 24/7.” Gabby pointed toward the alcove as she hopped up the first few stairs toward the second floor. “The Lodgepole Inn is old. I mean, really old. I’ve done a book report on it and my dad fought to have the spot declared a historical landmark.”
The Littlest Cowgirls--A Clean Romance Page 2
