The Littlest Cowgirls--A Clean Romance

by Melinda Curtis

  “They’re not having them together,” Ashley mumbled. “Can you just do what I’m asking you? For once, can we not argue? I’m the client here. What I say goes.”

  “Not if it’s against your best interest. Then I step in. I always have.” Said the woman who’d locked herself in the bathroom and wasn’t stepping anywhere.

  “Mom, I hate to do this. In fact, it might be better to do this after the wedding.”

  The bathroom door swung open. Mom had floss wrapped around her two index fingers. “Don’t tell me you’re having Wyatt Halford’s babies, too.”

  “No.” Ashley scowled.

  “What else could be so bad that you wanted to wait until after the wedding to tell me?” She wrapped the floss tighter around one finger. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to stay in Second Chance. I tell you, there is something about this place... It must be in the water.”

  “I’m not moving to Idaho, Mom.” Ashley took her mother by the shoulders and gave her a little shake to make her pay attention. “I’m thinking about firing you.” She frowned. That could have come out stronger.

  Mom scoffed. “You can’t fire me.”

  “I can.” She should. If she was the confident Ashley she presented to Wyatt, she would.

  Mom wrenched herself free of Ashley’s grip and tossed the floss into the trash. “I’ve laid this out beautifully, as if you’re the next big Hollywood power couple.”

  “A lie.” It was Ashley’s turn to scoff.

  “You can pretend for photos you post online that you’re a couple, but you can’t ride that wave to network among your peers?” Mom grabbed her empty tea mug and clutched it to her chest as she walked to the door. “You’re going to ruin that, too.”

  “Too?” Ashley struggled to keep from shouting. “What else are you claiming I ruined?”

  “Everything.” Mom whirled at the door. She may have been drinking. She may have smelled like distilled spirits. But she had the balance of a cat in heels. “We could have signed an eight-figure deal to do three rom-coms this year. A few years back, you turned down a lucrative television role that is now netting an actress five million dollars an episode. And before that, you had to drop out of a film and threatened to quit a television series because of some boy.”

  “Caleb. Say his name, Mother. It was Caleb.” Ashley felt sick inside. “You’ve been holding a grudge for eleven years because a boy I loved died and I was grieving? You thought at sixteen that I should just pick myself up and return to the soundstage the next day?”

  “Yes.” Her tone was icy. “It’s what professionals do. And you didn’t love him. You broke up with him the day before.”

  “Because I discovered he was addicted to opioids. Because I told you, and you said I should give him an ultimatum.” To go into rehab if he wanted to be with her. “What horrible advice that was.”

  “I was afraid he’d get you hooked on pills.” Her mother’s eyes took on a faraway look and the icy tone warmed to a chilling fog. “And you were afraid, too. That’s why you told me he was using. That’s why you broke up with him.”

  “I shouldn’t have left him at a hotel. I should have driven him to rehab.” Tears rolled down Ashley’s cheeks. Big, ugly tears. That was what they felt like because her guilt was big and ugly.

  “Now who’s carrying a grudge?” Mom’s voice had softened, as much as her voice could. She came forward and wiped away Ashley’s tears with her thumbs. “Darling, you have immense talent. But someday, you’re going to fall in love and have babies of your own. You need to grab the brass ring now before something else distracts you.”

  “Mom, I haven’t dated seriously in eleven years.” She wiped her nose. “What makes you think Mr. Right is going to present himself? I have commitment issues bigger than Wyatt’s. Something inside of me is broken and I...I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.” Her mother’s expression relaxed until she looked exactly the way Ashley had always wanted her mother to look at her—with love and understanding in her eyes. “Once you caught the acting bug, you elbowed us all away, even Laurel. And when those teenage hormones kicked in—” she gave her head a little shake “—you noticed boys, but deep inside you couldn’t shake free of the desire to work. Bringing fictional characters to full bloom was more important than anything else.”

  Ashley agreed, but she felt cold. All the way down to her toes.

  “You see it now, don’t you? It’s a sign of all the great creatives. They love deeply, but most of them don’t love well or for long stretches of time.” Mom touched Ashley’s cheek gently. “For people like you, people blessed with great gifts, life is one big empty canvas that is filled with opportunities, achievements and, yes, a backdrop of those left behind.”

  This wasn’t the speech Ashley had been expecting.

  “As long as a handsome action film star doesn’t come along who isn’t going to let you keep your guard up—” her mother paused to let that sink in “—you’ll be fine. We’ll get you a little dog to fill the empty places. And we’ll discuss how to gracefully exit all those little friendship circles of yours.”

  “Those people are my friends. They need me.”

  “At a distance, yes.” Mom sighed. “I suppose we could hire someone to respond and pretend to be you.”

  “That’s not happening.” And Ashley needed to talk to Mackenzie over at the general store, because her mother didn’t need to be drinking and jumping conversational tracks at the speed of an express train. “I’m not going to get distracted by my friends.”

  Mom gave a little shrug. “But someone will slip out of your circle whether it’s because of your work or a man who wins your heart.” She smoothed Ashley’s hair away from her face. “And when that happens, you can’t beat yourself up inside. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Ashley nodded. She understood. She understood more than her mother realized. She understood that Mom’s heart beat differently than hers. Mom’s drummed in crisp, staccato beats, and Ashley’s pounded a great booming rhythm. They lived differently and they loved differently.

  “Good.” Mom patted Ashley’s cheek, as if she was still five and worshipped the ground her mother walked on. “Now, take a bath and get cleaned up. You’ve got a date with Wyatt in an hour. Give me the high sign if you need rescuing.”

  Mom turned and almost made it out the door before Ashley said, “I should still fire you.”

  Because they didn’t see eye to eye on anything.

  “That won’t change anything for you.” Her mother paused, not turning. “In fact, it might make things worse.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “YOU CLEAN UP WELL,” Ashley told Wyatt when he came downstairs to escort her to Laurel’s baby shower.

  Wyatt reached the ground floor of the Lodgepole Inn and stopped.

  Not because Ashley hadn’t cleaned up pretty darn well herself. She wore a yellow sundress with a white sweater that had tiny flowers stitched around the edges. Her deep red hair cascaded over her shoulders like fine silk. And the small smile she gave him almost made him forget why he was going to a baby shower.

  But no. It wasn’t Ashley’s beauty that stopped him at the bottom of the staircase. It was the quiet.

  No one was around.

  “Come on.” Ashley reached out a hand. “Everyone else has already left.” Her words sounded warm, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “The place is empty.” Wyatt came forward, not sure whether he should follow his impulse and take her arm or play it like friends and head for the door. “Our words echo.”

  The inn was empty, but so, it seemed, was Ashley. It was as if a light inside of her had extinguished.

  “You found an iron.” She straightened his tie. All without meeting his gaze. “You know what this feels like?”

  “A date?” Because
that was what it was supposed to be—on the exterior, at least.

  “No.” Ashley hurried toward the door and opened it herself. “A dream sequence in one of those apocalyptic films. You know, where everything looks normal but then the hero notices something is off, like you just did. That jars him awake and into the world of the apocalypse.”

  “Why do you do that?” He closed the door behind them and followed her down the steps at a slower pace.

  “What?” Ashley waited for him at the bottom, hair lifting in the breeze.

  “Put situations into the context of a film genre.” When she quirked her brow, he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. “Which way?”

  “To the medical clinic.” She tugged him forward, not checking for traffic before crossing the road. There was rarely any passing traffic in Second Chance, and tonight was no exception, so she was safe. But he wondered what went on in her head to distract her so. “We thought it would be cute to hold the shower at the clinic. And there’s the added bonus that it’s just been updated.”

  “Not to mention, no doctor is living there at the moment.” He’d heard Emily say that as he lay in the dirt this afternoon.

  “You paid attention.” She graced him with one of her slow-building smiles.

  “Hey, this is not just a pretty face.” He leaned down so he could whisper in her ear. “I have good ears, too.”

  That brought a more natural smile to her lips.

  The clinic was in sight. A log cabin built on the hillside across from the diner, it had a nice big porch. Baby-shower guests were milling about on the porch and inside, illuminated by soft lighting and the setting sun.

  “Wait.” He tugged Ashley to a stop. “What is it about you and movie genres?”

  She stalled, only for a moment, but in that way that told anyone acting opposite her that something had gone off script. A forgotten line. An unexpected change in dialogue. A crew member moving into her line of sight.

  Wyatt glanced around, but they were alone.

  “I was raised in movie speak.” And Ashley was the master of the brush-off, looking away when he wanted to see into her eyes to read what was going on in that sharp mind of hers. “Raised...” She huffed. “Lately I’ve been feeling as if I was raised like Rapunzel in a locked tower without a key to the door.” Her gaze swung around Second Chance. “Do you know my father canceled my studio contract in January, because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t inherit twenty-five percent of my grandfather’s wealth? And my mother sees my lips move but doesn’t seem to hear a thing. What does that mean?”

  “I take it you argued with your mother?” Wyatt said tentatively.

  “Yes. And I almost fired her. Twice.” Ashley glanced up toward the clinic, where people were chatting and laughing. “She’s up there now, pretending to have a good time.”

  The same way Ashley was going to, he would bet. “Or maybe she’s relieved she’s almost been fired. I hear Ashley Monroe is a handful to work with.”

  She squinted up at him. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “I’m making light of the situation.” He rubbed her upper arms, because a cool breeze was kicking up as the sun was going down. “Ashley, you’re one of the most generous people in this business, made even more amazing because most people know your mother received the Grinch model of hearts.”

  “Two sizes too small.” But she didn’t fill the air with her lyrical laughter. “Do you have many close friends?”

  He drew back slightly, a learned response to any question that bordered on the personal.

  “This isn’t an interview,” Ashley said softly. “I really want to know. I realized today that I nurture a lot of relationships, but none of them are close, not even the one with my sister.”

  He ached at the regret in her tone and reached to smooth the silken hair over her shoulder because he wasn’t sure he could smooth whatever was bothering her inside. “I used to have a circle of friends from high school. In between movies, I’d take them somewhere fun, like the Bahamas or the Cayman Islands, where we could cut loose. I’d pay for everything, of course. But then their lives tied them down—work, spouses, kids. And they seemed so torn that they had to refuse my invitations.” He shrugged. “So, I just stopped inviting them. Now in between films, I sleep. I rest. I visit my family.”

  “And stay in a hotel when you go home, I bet.”

  The gates he’d locked around his private life threatened to shut, but not before one last admission. “They have their lives, too.” And hurt feelings no amount of money could erase.

  Ashley wasn’t focusing on him. And there was a faraway look in her eyes that told him she wasn’t following the thread of conversation.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Something my mother said.” Ashley’s gaze brushed over the town before painting over him. “I’m probably boring you.”

  “A phrase taught to you by your parents to cover a momentary mind drift. Either I was boring or a bright shiny thought refused to be ignored.”

  That earned him a smile. “It was a thought, although perhaps not so bright and shiny. You probably experience this, too. When I’m working on a project or even evaluating a role, and I’m digging down deep to fathom the nuances of the character...” Her gaze drifted once more.

  But he thought he knew where she was going with this. “When you’re concentrating on bringing someone to life by more than words on a page.”

  “Exactly.” She nodded, smile growing. “In those moments, I need time alone, time apart, sometimes big stretches of time where I live mostly in my head.”

  Wyatt nodded. He wasn’t going to admit out loud that those instances were rare for him lately. This conversation was pointing out flaws in the quality of his work. Or at least, what his critics and peers termed as his shortcomings. He had a type of character that audiences paid to see—flawed and tough, with a strong moral code. It was lucrative. Why deviate from the path?

  And right there—in the middle of their conversation, in the middle of Second Chance, with whispering pines and a glorious mountain sunset framing a beautiful woman within reach—Wyatt acknowledged an unwelcome thought.

  Playing to type isn’t just lucratively safe. It’s stupid.

  And, of course, he dismissed that thought almost immediately, because who was going to turn down tens of millions of dollars to play the same character type in a different plot and fictional world? Not him.

  But while he fought through a crisis of confidence, albeit briefly, Ashley was working her way through her own epiphany, and looking to share it with him, if the warmth in her blue eyes was any indication.

  “I’m comforted by knowing my family and friends are there if needed,” she was saying. “But maybe...they don’t feel the same way?” Ashley glanced up at him, expecting an answer.

  “Maybe they feel they aren’t as important to you as they used to be.” And, boy, didn’t that hit home?

  “Oh, my gosh. You get it.” Ashley laughed self-consciously, reining in that delicate laughter.

  The wind seemed to pick up strength. The trees seemed to move closer. But in the center of it all was Ashley. Bright red hair and sunny yellow dress a reassuring beacon that whatever had happened in the past... whatever was happening right now...nothing was as important as this woman in front of him and the soul-touching conversation they were having. Because Wyatt didn’t have deep conversations with anyone. Nor did he look deep inside himself very often. He was too busy rehearsing, reading scripts, working out, planning his life twelve to eighteen months out. Sometimes more. And yet this woman—the introverted actress who’d made a muddle of his life—she was splashing around for a personal life vest and towing him along with her, expecting this experience to bond them somehow. And the mind-blowing part was that Wyatt wasn’t taking a step back and having none of it.

  “Having my father cancel my
contracts was like having a rug pulled out from under me,” she was saying. “And while I was picking myself up, I realized there were some relationships I couldn’t keep tethered at arm’s length.”

  “Like Laurel.” She’d told him her sister was the most important person in the world to her. And she was doing something about mending that rift, unlike Wyatt with his family.

  “Yes.” She ran a hand down his arm, as if needing to touch the person who was on the same wavelength as she was. “It’s easy to hide myself in my work. I feel the temptation of it even now with this new direction I’m taking. But I have to tread carefully. I don’t want to make the wrong choices again. I mean, Laurel...” Her expression turned pained.

  “Loves you. Anyone can see that. Your relationship with her isn’t a switch, flipped on or off.”

  “But if it’s a dial, I’ve turned it too far to one side.” Her fingers knotted together at her waist.

  “Maybe. But if it’s a dial, you can turn it back until you find the right balance. Isn’t that why you’re here now?”

  Ashley nodded and then drew a deep breath. “Listen to me. I’m the one being maudlin when we’re about to go to a party.” She graced him with a smile that millions of fans would recognize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t congratulate you earlier on being in the running for a Jess Watanabe film. I was a little distracted by my anger over my mother turning my sister’s wedding into a Hollywood East meet and greet.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But...” Ashley worried her bottom lip. “Here I go again into downer territory. I hear he’s a stickler about not wanting any trouble around his set.”

  Wyatt nodded. “He replaced Amanda Fox two days before filming was to begin on his latest movie, because her divorce proceedings blew up in court. A couple of people were even arrested.” Everyone in Hollywood knew this. “Can I assume your mother extended Jess an invitation because she wants me to go down in flames on Saturday?”