“Yeah.” Eve chewed her thumbnail and stared across the restaurant. “It’s a big-money cowboy monster movie. I’ve got a couple of ideas. A place I did a magazine shoot at a couple of years ago, but it’s probably a little too modern-looking.”
“I have an idea for a place.”
“You? I thought you just got to town.”
Grace took a deep breath and told herself to ignore the self-doubt that rose up, telling her to be quiet. “I did just get to town. I’m sure you know of a dozen other places, but… I went for a drive yesterday. Have you heard of a ranch called Easy Creek? It’s rustic and beautiful. A little brutal-looking and isolated enough that you can do panoramic shots with no interference. I know they said they could eliminate other buildings in editing, but the isolation of this place might make things a little simpler.”
“Depends on how far away it is.”
“Not far, from what I remember.”
“You know how to get there?”
“Yes.” Probably.
Eve grabbed her purse and stood up. “Then let’s go check it out. I need to get out of here for a few minutes anyway. You might be used to this, but I’m not.”
“It gets easier,” Grace said.
“Really?”
“No, not really.”
Eve’s face broke into a wide smile, and her bright laugh surprised Grace. She hadn’t realized how tense Eve was until she’d relaxed for a moment. She looked younger and softer, and Grace found herself wondering what her story was. Oh, well. None of her business.
“Come on. Let’s save Madeline Beckingham’s ass.”
* * *
THREE HOURS LATER, Grace left the Easy Creek Ranch in shock.
They’d done it. They’d really done it. Because of her.
She’d never experienced anything like that before. She’d come up with an idea, put it out there and everything had just fallen into place.
Well, it had taken a little more work than that.
Somehow, she’d managed to direct Eve back to the Easy Creek Ranch with only two false turns. And as they’d driven down the long ranch road, Grace had realized she’d been right. The place was perfect. Exactly the location that had been described in the location list. Low hills obscured any views of civilization, but didn’t rise high enough to block out the Tetons. The buildings, clustered in a loose circle at the end of the drive, were sturdy but ancient-looking. Dark wood aging to gray. Easy Creek looked like a symbol of American ranching.
And somehow…somehow it had worked out.
Granted, the production people still had to approve it, but how could they possibly walk away from such an ideal location?
Mr. Easy, the owner—and, she assumed, Cole’s boss—had initially been skeptical. In fact, he’d said no. They’d laid it out for him, offering the same amount of money that had been offered to the previous site owner. Then they’d upped it. But he hadn’t seemed tempted until Eve had mentioned Madeline Beckingham by name. The man was obviously a fan, because he’d perked right up.
“Three weeks,” they’d explained. “One week now and then two weeks of filming in a month or so. That’s it.” There would only be two scenes filmed here, after all. The rest of the movie would be filmed in California and on soundstages to accommodate the special effects.
Easy had finally agreed. Now they were armed with crude measurements and dozens of pictures Eve had snapped. If Madeline Beckingham liked it, the place was theirs.
As soon as they pulled away from the ranch, Grace and Eve smiled at each other.
“They’d be crazy not to use this place,” Eve said.
Grace sighed. “I know. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Amazing. How’d you find it?”
“A neighbor showed me around. Cole Rawlins?”
Eve shook her head. “I don’t know him.”
“He works on the ranch.” Grace braced herself, thinking Eve was going to follow up with more questions, and Grace wouldn’t know how to answer them. But Eve’s frown had nothing to do with Grace.
“All right, let’s make this happen. I’m already sending the files.” She glanced down at her open laptop. “Production needs to get out here and approve the site and the money. They’ll take care of the legal stuff this time. I don’t have the experience. But you and I will deal with the county, since I know the council members. But it’s private land. There shouldn’t be any issues.”
There were egos to stroke and payments to negotiate. But hours later, production finally gave the go-ahead. By 9:00 p.m., when Eve dropped her off at her apartment, Grace was exhausted, and the next day would likely be busier. But she realized she hadn’t been worried about the mess she’d left behind in L.A.
This felt like good, honest work, even if she couldn’t call herself a good, honest person. It felt…nice.
Despite that her bed was no more than a cheap sleeping bag on a wood floor and she hadn’t had dinner, Grace drifted almost immediately into sleep. But she promised herself an air mattress the next day. She deserved it.
* * *
SWEAT SLID DOWN his neck as Cole pushed himself to finish his last twenty lunges. His muscles burned and his leg ached, but there was no sharp pain, which was an improvement. At first the pins in his leg had made him nervous. He’d been afraid to push it. Afraid something would come loose, afraid his femur would break into four pieces again, and it would be over. He hadn’t realized that the leg wasn’t the problem. It was the cracked pelvic bone that might not heal right. Some sort of separation that might need more plates, more screws. And maybe no more riding.
That couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t.
He had to ride again. He was going to own land. Run his own ranch. Live exactly the way he wanted to and answer to no one. He’d been saving for thirteen years, ever since he’d woken up to the knowledge that he’d become someone else, and his father had died disappointed in him.
After that time in L.A., he’d had a little money in the bank. He’d rather have burned it than use it as a foundation. It was tainted. And ugly. But it was also fifteen thousand dollars, and he wasn’t naive or idealistic. Ranch work didn’t pay much. Hell, it really didn’t pay anything at all. The only saving grace being that room and board were provided if you were willing to live in a bunk.
But now, the money was trickling out of his account. He had to get back to work.
He pushed himself to do ten more lunges, even though his muscles shook and his shirt was soaked with sweat.
“Four,” he ground out past clenched teeth. “Three.”
He had to ride again.
“Two,” he grunted. “One.” He groaned through the last lunge and then stood straight and hung his head.
Two weeks. Two weeks and then he’d be cleared to ride.
He grabbed some ibuprofen and did some stretches to loosen up, then headed for the shower.
Sighing, he tried to relax his shoulders under the hot spray, but the tension stayed. Another night when he didn’t feel tired. Another night of lying there in the dark, his mind working and turning and trying to skip over the worry.
He had too damn much time on his hands. Grace distracted him, but there were only so many hours of the day he could spend thinking about her.
Jesus, she was bad news. Foulmouthed and bad tempered and itching to get out of Jackson the moment she’d set foot in it. She was also fascinating. The look on her face when she’d seen that river valley… He wished he’d been able to capture that moment. Ensure that he’d never forget the way her suspicion and wariness had softened into wonder.
That had been a surprise. How her lush mouth had relaxed into a sensuous curve. How her eyes had lost their darkness completely. Not like when she laughed, and they sparkled for a moment as if she were surprised. The darkness had simply opened up. There was something pure there, past the pitch-black perfection of her makeup. Something young and untouched.
He wondered if she looked like that when she came.
“Sh
it,” he muttered, wondering where that thought had come from. It didn’t matter. It was there now. And his cock thickened at the thought of her beneath him.
What would she be like? Wild and rough? Quiet and solemn? He had no idea. He’d never so much as dared to stroke a finger over her skin. Hell, he’d hardly seen any of her skin at all. But he could imagine what she looked like beneath her clothes. She was small. Five-two or five-three without her heels. Delicate bones. Small breasts. But her ass… He’d checked it out, and his fingers curled with the need to cup her ass. Squeeze it. Pull her tight against his hips.
His cock swelled as he imagined her yielding to him. But any yielding on her part wouldn’t last for long. She’d fight for her pleasure.
Cole ran the bar of soap down his body, then wrapped a hand around his hard shaft.
He’d strip off her sweater first, and then her jeans. He imagined her standing before him in black panties and a wife beater, her nipples hard against the thin fabric.
He’d get down on his knees for her, put his mouth to her and suck her right through the fabric. Tease her nipples until she was arching into him, her fingers clutching his hair. She’d be rough, and he’d love that. It’d give him permission to be rough in turn.
He’d shove up the beater and close his teeth over her bare nipple. Slide both his hands down the back of her panties and spread his fingers over the warm flesh of her ass.
Stroking his cock, Cole imagined shoving her panties down and putting his mouth to her pussy.
He groaned, putting one hand against the cold bathroom tile to support himself as he jacked off. Water beat against his back. His hand was slick and tight as he imagined her gasping at the way he’d suck her clit.
Christ, he’d love to do that. Make her arch and whimper. Taste her as she got wetter and wetter against his mouth. He couldn’t imagine her still and quiet. No, he was pretty damn sure she’d writhe and moan and fight toward her climax. The way she fought everything.
He tightened his grip on his cock and stroked faster, imagining the way he’d suck her. Lick her. Reach up and squeeze her nipples as he pushed her toward orgasm.
Heat swept over his skin. Steam filled his lungs. And in his head, Grace shook and screamed, and the taste of her flooded his mouth as she came. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned as his own orgasm slammed into him.
Afterward, he spread his fingers against the tile and took a deep breath. He rolled his shoulders. Stretched his neck. And realized he felt great.
He was going to get some sleep tonight. Finally. And tomorrow he’d go back to work. It’d be a good day. He could feel it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
COLE STEPPED OUT OF HIS TRUCK and straight into chaos.
The ranch yard was usually quiet, aside from the sound of horses and a few men, but now it was packed. With vehicles. Equipment. And people. Strangers doing strange things in this familiar place.
Suddenly, the chaos coalesced. The random pieces joined together to become something solid, and Cole recognized what was happening. Ice swelled from deep inside him and turned his skin cold.
This was a movie set.
He shook his head and looked around again, disorientation making it hard to process what he was seeing.
It looked like a movie set, but there were key parts missing. Cameras and cranes and huge light towers. And crowded as it seemed, there weren’t enough people. There was only one trailer, parked next to the barn. If this were a real movie set, there’d be a dozen trailers and a couple of awnings set up for the lower-level actors, not to mention all the space for wardrobe and makeup.
What the hell was going on at the Easy Creek? This was a bad dream. It couldn’t be real.
His pounding heart helped to drown out the noise, but Cole still flinched at the sound of something hydraulic firing up behind him. More equipment. Maybe they were just starting the setup. Maybe a caravan was coming down the dirt road like a circus arriving in town. A circus from hell.
He cursed and set off across the yard, heading straight for the big house. There were more people inside.
“Where’s Easy?” he asked the first familiar face he saw. Manuel tilted his head toward the kitchen. The guy didn’t talk much, which was fine with Cole at the moment. There was only one person he wanted to talk to.
“Easy,” he ground out when he spotted the old man seated at the kitchen table. Papers were strewn about him like evidence of a crime. “What the hell is going on here?”
Easy’s body might be giving out on him, but his mind was sharp as hell, and he sent Cole a warning look that would’ve felt like a knife if Cole had been able to feel anything. But adrenaline meant he didn’t feel a thing except anger.
“Easy—”
“You’d better watch your tone when you talk to me in my own kitchen, boy.”
Cole crossed his arms and glared. Easy had been around since Cole was in diapers, but that didn’t mean Cole liked being reminded of it.
“Your kitchen, huh? I guess I was confused because the whole damn place looks like a Hollywood soundstage. Why is that?”
“It’s preproduction,” Easy said slowly, as if that explained something. As if that explained anything.
“Preproduction?” Cole yelled.
“Yep.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making an easy buck.”
Cole waved his arm toward the front of the house. “Like this?”
“What do you mean, ‘Like this?’ They’re not filming a porno in the barn, they’re just shooting a few scenes for a big movie. A couple of weeks of distraction, and I’ll have a few more dollars in my retirement fund.”
Cole ground his teeth together. He knew Easy was close to retirement. In fact, no one knew that better than Cole, which was why Cole thought of this place as his ranch and why he didn’t want these scavengers on it.
Damn it.
“This is a ranch,” he made himself say calmly. “In the middle of summer, for godssake. How are we going to take care of the cattle and—”
“They’re my stock, Cole. You think I’d do this if it put them in harm’s way?”
Cole shifted and jerked his chin in acknowledgment, the most acquiescence he could manage at the moment.
“The stock’s all up at summer grazing anyway. At worst, it’ll inconvenience the men. You’ll have to work around these folks, and they might be underfoot around the bunkhouse. But you don’t even have to worry about that, so what’s the problem?”
“You know what my problem is.”
“This ain’t the past, Cole.”
“Isn’t it? Because it sure as hell feels like you trucked in a scene from my life I’d rather forget and set it up like a damned surprise party for me!”
“This might be a good thing for you.”
“Good?” he snapped. “How do you figure that?”
“You can’t work full-time. Not on a horse and not doing physical labor. But this kind of thing is mostly waiting around. Maybe you can put in a few extra hours. You know about this film stuff. Maybe you could—”
“Easy! Jesus. You want me to jump back into this? Christ. We haven’t talked about it much, but I’m sure my dad filled you in on it before he died.”
Easy took a slow drink of coffee and kept his eyes on Cole. “I know he didn’t like what you were doing,” he eventually said. “He said it was trouble, but—”
“Trouble,” Cole growled, wishing he could put everything he was feeling into that one word. Trouble. Right.
“You’re not a kid anymore, Cole. And this ain’t L.A. You don’t have to piss your pants over it.”
“Jesus. Are you kidding me?”
“I ain’t gonna allow mischief out here, and if these people want to party, they’ll go into town.”
“Easy,” he said, but the words he wanted to say slipped away. His face burned with shame. They’d never talked about it, not in anything more than the most general terms. The
parties and money and sex. “I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can.”
Just three words. A few letters each. But they went through Cole like a blast of heat. Easy didn’t sound the least bit worried. And the surety in his words made Cole’s stomach twist into a hard ache. “I’m not working with them.”
“It’ll make you money.”
“I can earn money working the ranch. I can earn even more when I’m back in the saddle. Two weeks—”
“Farrah said it wasn’t definite. Has anything changed since then?”
Goddamn it. He really wished he hadn’t used Easy’s niece as a physical therapist. After all, for a small town, Jackson had quite a few PTs. Skiing meant lots of broken bones and a high density of world-class athletes.
“I’ll be fine,” he managed to grind out.
“You might be, but if you ain’t, then you need all the hours you can get without a saddle.”
“You know why I don’t want these people here. What the hell are you trying to do to me, Easy?”
“What the hell are you so afraid of, Cole?” Easy countered.
“Are you honestly asking me that question?”
“I honestly am. You went out to L.A. as a kid. And you screwed around. That’s it.”
“I screwed around?” Cole growled.
“Yes,” Easy said. He wasn’t shouting anymore, but his voice was still rough with anger. “You screwed around the way that kids do.”
“My dad—”
“And you’ve been hiding from it ever since.”
“I haven’t been hiding from shit! I came back home. It’s where I belong.”
“Is it?”
The quiet words froze Cole to the bone. “Excuse me?”
“How do you know you belong here when you’ve never done anything else?”
He didn’t like this at all. He didn’t like the sad look in Easy’s familiar eyes. “Why are you asking me this, Easy?”
“Because you came back here to lick your wounds. Then you just never left.”
“I didn’t leave because this is where I belong.”
“Maybe.”
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