by Em Petrova
“Whoa there. Hold up. I don’t do wives.”
“I’m not asking you to take her as your wife. Just show her how she’d need to behave if she was one.”
He tossed around the idea for a moment. “I don’t think so.”
“Even if I offer you more money?”
He was silent.
“Enough to have a stallion with a solid record and impeccable breeding and a few more mares with racing records to complement the bloodlines.”
Now he was listening. He eyed the man.
“It’s no secret you’ve always dreamed of establishing a racing bloodline. Why shouldn’t you have that now that you’re set up for it?”
Because it was become homeless and penniless or own a prize-winning horse, that was why.
But Dickson was telling him that dream might not be so far out of reach. All he had to do was put up with some TV people stomping around his property and give a few lessons to a celebrity.
Still, both those things were plenty annoying.
Could he pass up a deal like this though?
“I feel I need to sweeten the deal for you. I know the owner of Fat Chance.”
His gaze shot to Dickson’s. The thoroughbred was infamous across the country, the epitome of perfect breeding.
He barked a laugh. “I’d never be able to afford a hair from its mane, Dickson. Hell, you probably couldn’t even afford a hoof with all your TV riches.”
“That’s true. But the owners of Fat Chance work with other breeders and I can pull strings to get you a cut on a race-ready gelding to begin training. I can’t guarantee that would include breeding rights with your mares, but I’ll see what I can do, since it’s your own line you want.”
King’s lungs burned as he held his breath. The prospect was so tempting yet would mean big changes in his life. Even when filming ended and he had his ranch to himself again, he would no longer be just a rancher with a half-ass dream.
Did he want it?
“I need time to think on this offer, Dickson.”
“Of course. I’d like to know in a day or two, though. I need the location contracted as well as an instructor for my actor as soon as possible.”
Ugh, yes, the person who was sure to be a pain in King’s backside.
Dickson stood, and King did as well. They faced each other. He could see Dickson was making a genuine effort with his offer and for that reason, King would ponder it from all angles.
They shook hands and Dickson went back to his rental car, leaving King looking out over his world and wondering what the hell to do about the excitement buzzing in his veins.
* * * * *
Bellarose wasn’t afraid of horses. She just had no idea how to keep them from being afraid of her.
The mare’s chestnut coat rippled with agitation as she stepped up to her. When she put her foot into the stirrup, the mare danced away, almost taking her leg with her. Luckily, she yanked it back in time and only stumbled a little.
“Dammit,” she muttered.
“Cut! Somebody get another horse. Same color,” Dickson yelled. It was clear he wasn’t all that happy with her performance either. Time was money, he always preached. In this scene Bellarose had to mount the horse and she’d been at it for an hour.
After the horse trotted off each time, the handler had to take precious minutes to soothe it again.
Bellarose paced the area, trying to calm herself too. Her nerves were shot and her anger flaring. Thing was, there was nobody to tell off. She was doing that all on her own. She always nailed her scenes within a take or two, and her reputation was on the line.
A bottled water was held in front of her, and she grabbed it as she paced away. Twisting off the cap, she brought it to her lips and sipped. On the way back across the grassy area, she handed it back to her assistant.
“I don’t want water. I want to nail this scene.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw looks being exchanged between assistant and crew. Then Dickson came toward her.
She stopped pacing to look at her director. “What am I doing wrong?” she asked.
He took her by the elbow and steered her away from the set. His voice low, he said, “You’re not doing anything wrong, Bellarose. You just need to remain calm and we’ll get you another horse.”
She shot him a look. “It’s not the horses and we all know it. It’s me.”
He contemplated her from beneath his cowboy hat. “Okay, you’re right. It’s you.”
She barely kept her jaw from dropping. In this business, the harsh realities were put out there with nothing withheld. But she still hated hearing it.
Before she could really start to panic, Dickson squeezed her shoulder. “Your skills with horses are lacking. We need you to look like the country girl you play. You’re about to become the wife of a rancher.”
She shook her head. Give her a volleyball and she could look as pro as she needed on film, just like the set of Sunrise Beach. Hand her a Glock and she could fire it like the assassin she’d played in Girl with a Gun. But it ticked her off that these skills were not as easy as they appeared.
She drew even breaths through her nose.
Dickson kneaded her shoulder. “I think we need to give you some lessons. I have an idea. That trip you wanted to take to a winery? We’re leaving in an hour. Knock off for the day and be ready.”
Her nerves jumped. Nodding, she circled around the barn that had been given a fresh coat of paint just for Redemption Falls so she could avoid the eyes of the crew. She was Bellarose Abbott—she was never sent off set. She never failed.
On her way past a wheelbarrow, she kicked the tire and only managed to scuff her cowgirl boot rather than alleviate her frustration.
Inside her trailer, the eucalyptus-scented candle Marissa burned to help relieve Bellarose’s stress didn’t help one bit either. She went into her small closet area and yanked out her own favorite comfortable jeans and a red cashmere sweater. Even after slipping on the cowgirl boots again she felt more normal.
She walked to the makeup vanity and found a wipe, using it to scrub all the heavy makeup off her face.
She sat in an overstuffed chair and grabbed one of the books on horses. Flipping through the pages offered her no help on getting a horse to stand still while she mounted it.
She slammed the book shut and dropped it to the side table. She sat there brooding over each of her actions on set. She had done everything per the handler’s instructions. So why wasn’t it working for her?
Maybe it could be the handler. The thought was a wisp in the back of her mind she rejected immediately. The woman knew her stuff—it was all on Bellarose.
Her mind worked over the situation for long minutes and she lost track of time. When Dickson rapped on her trailer door, she jolted to her feet.
He held out a hand to her. She took it and descended the few steps to the ground. “You look lovely as always, my dear.”
She said a quiet word of thanks. She heard this daily and it meant nothing to her really. She knew her looks had gotten her into the biz. Had probably kept her here for longer than most too. But she didn’t want to be known for her fresh face, her ginger hair and her amber eyes that had earned her that first job at the age of twelve.
She might be one of the longest working actors without an Emmy. Redemption Falls was supposed to do that for her. When she’d signed the contract, she’d been excited for the challenging work as well as a chance to show the world that she could work outside of her box.
Except, it seemed she couldn’t.
She followed Dickson to his rental car and he opened the door for her. “Is Chaz coming too?” she asked.
“No. I think we need to concentrate on you right now. Chaz has his own issues, but we won’t discuss them between us.” He got behind the wheel and they started out of the lane leading to the highway.
After a couple miles, Bellarose felt herself relaxing in the leather seat. “The scenery is breathtaking.”
&
nbsp; He nodded. “I did some exploring earlier in the week after your assistant told me your request to visit the winery.”
“I have some ideas for scenes to do there, in the vineyard I saw behind the place.” But really she’d wanted to reconnect in some way with her roots, even if she wouldn’t be running in between the vines as she had in her grandfather’s vineyard in Napa.
He nodded. “It’s a good idea, and I can definitely have the writers work something up for a vineyard.” He arched a brow. “A romantic place for Amelia and Cutter.” He spoke of their characters.
“Perfect.”
They drove a bit longer until they reached a gravel lane with a wooden gate that read Blackwater. As he turned to navigate the bumpy drive, she took in everything. Mountains in the distance and everywhere she looked, trees. But when they got a short distance up the drive, the trees fell away, opening up to a sprawling vista of fields and fence. A cabin was nestled in the center and a barn off to one side.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. She turned to Dickson, excitement flooding her system. “It’s our ranch.”
He nodded. “I’ve made a deal with the owner to shoot here. But there’s more.” He parked the car next to an old pickup that no prop designer could possibly make look as perfectly beat up as it already did. “Come on.”
She climbed out of the vehicle and stood there for a long minute just turning in a circle and drinking in the atmosphere. Something about this place excited her, made her eager to get in front of the camera. Blackwater. Could that be the owner’s last name?
Dickson was already on his way up to the front door of the house, which was actually a large cabin with log siding and a front door that looked as if it’d been pulled off a much older, grander home. The sparse grass gave way to thick turf, seemingly like an island surrounding the house.
Bellarose followed him. The front porch held a charm all its own, with two battered chairs and a bucket full of beer caps. A shiver ran through her. Oh yes, she was excited to work here. Dickson had mentioned there was something else, and she couldn’t wait to see what it was.
He rapped on the door and she turned her attention to the wood with iron details, waiting to see who lived here and worked this land.
Nobody came to the door even after her director knocked again. When he lifted his fist a third time, a deep voice came from behind them.
“Didn’t know when to expect you.”
She whirled.
Her gaze landed on the hardest, most rugged man she’d ever set eyes on. Wearing denim that had seen better days and was in need of a good wash, a black shirt worn open at the collar and a black cowboy hat, she was starting to see why the place was called Blackwater.
She sucked in a shallow breath as he turned his attention to her. His eyes crinkling at the corners but not with a smile—it was more like he narrowed them to appraise her.
What was he seeing?
Wait, she never thought such things. She knew from the internet exactly what people thought of her and they didn’t matter anyway.
She lifted her stare to his and a sharp pang struck her, like an electric wire had fallen on her and frozen her in place. He didn’t move for a full heartbeat but then tore his gaze away and looked to Dickson standing behind her.
“King. Sorry we didn’t call ahead.”
“Wouldn’t have been in the house to answer the phone anyway.” The cowboy called King strode forward, jingling slightly as he walked.
Her eyes shot to his boots and the real-life spurs he wore.
King shot her a sideways glance and then reached out to shake Dickson’s hand. As he brushed past her, she caught the scent of growing things and leather.
Her mind swirled this cocktail around and around, trying to make sense of it compared to what she knew of cowboys—which was made-for-TV and actors in costume. Chaz smelled like Gucci cologne and even in character, did not carry himself like this cowboy. Rancher. Whatever he was.
“Good to see you again, Dickson.”
And that voice… so perfectly low and rumbly, like he’d drank more than beer on his front porch.
“You too, King. I must say I was surprised as hell to receive your call.”
King only grunted in response.
She eyed Dickson, waiting for an introduction.
“Kingsley Yates is the owner of this ranch, Bellarose. Bellarose Abbott is our leading actor on Redemption Falls.”
Now that she was in the spotlight, nerves hit. Something she had rarely felt since her first audition for the all-girls’ school movie. Even when she met film icons, she found she was comfortable conversing with them. But this man—and his intimidating good looks—had her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth.
“Miss Abbott.” He lifted a work-hardened hand and touched his hat brim in greeting.
“Mr. Yates.”
He chuckled. “If we’re gonna be working together, you’d best call me King.”
Her gaze shot to Dickson. “Working together?”
He nodded. “King has not only graciously given us the run of his ranch…”
“Within limits,” King interjected.
“Of course. But he has agreed to work with you to hone your skills with horses.”
Her stomach did a little flip, and she didn’t know if it was her excitement to at last get the training she needed so she didn’t look like a fool on screen, or if it was the idea of training with this man.
This very tall, rugged, beautiful, earthy man.
She shook herself. “How kind of you.”
“Bellarose is the hardest worker in our industry.”
She smiled at Dickson’s praise. “Thank you.”
King was looking at her as if he would be the judge of that. And she supposed she was in for a few hard knocks with the horses. But she was prepared.
“I can’t wait to begin,” she said to him.
The corner of his lips twitched. A wide mouth and full lips added to King's rugged appearance, as if he'd been chiseled from the very bedrock of the surrounding mountains.
“You have a beautiful…” Mouth. She recovered and said, “Ranch.”
What was wrong with her? She encountered people who made sure they looked perfect every day.
Maybe it’s because King doesn’t seem to care.
She sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t make a fool of herself.
“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he said.
“Do you ever hold weddings up here? You know, rent out as a venue?” she asked.
Judging by the look of disgust on his face, the answer to that was no.
“Not my thing,” he replied.
“So Bellarose, you’ll start working with King over the weekend.” Dickson interrupted the moment and reminded her she was here to do a job.
King’s thick brows crinkled. “This is just a meet and greet?”
“Yes, she has—”
She cut across Dickson. “Well, I could stay and begin my lessons if you have time now.”
“Was just about to mix the feed.” His direct stare had her boots melting to the ground again.
Her reaction to him was ridiculous. Surely a man like this would already have been snatched up. She took a peek at his left hand and saw he didn’t wear a ring, but maybe that was because it was dangerous to work around cattle with one.
He shot Dickson a glance. “Leave her.”
Dark heat slithered low in her belly at both his words and tone.
“If you’re certain. We don’t have the details hammered out yet. I wanted to make sure Bellarose was on board with the training first. There will be union hours to adhere to and—”
“Leave her,” King repeated in his no-nonsense tone.
“I’ll be fine.”
“All right. See, King? I told you she’s the hardest worker in the business. Bellarose, I’ll send a car for you later.”
She nodded.
Dickson walked off, leaving her standing in the yard with a virtual st
ranger she was far more attracted to than she cared to admit. Funny how most women would go weak at the knees thinking of kissing Chaz but she felt no sparks at all. For her, it was part of the job. But looking at Kingsley Yates, if he were her costar and kissing was written into the script… she might get swept away.
He cocked his head as if contemplating what to do with her now that he had her here. “You don’t have a hat.”
“I didn’t realize I was coming here and to train. Dickson said he was showing me something but we were supposed to be visiting a winery and vineyard.”
“Plenty of those around here. You’ll want a hat to keep your hair out of your eyes. I got an extra. C’mon.” Without the manners to allow her to walk ahead of him, something she was used to, he strode toward the barn. She followed, taking two steps to his one in order to keep up. Inside, his barn was pristinely clean.
“Ohh.”
He threw her a look.
“It’s lovely.” High windows shed light on the space, and she could see why Dickson wanted to shoot here.
He grunted and walked over to a wall where all sorts of items hung from nails. Including a hat. He pulled it down from a place she couldn’t have reached without a stepstool. Then he handed it to her.
Battered and soiled around the brim, it couldn’t get more authentic than this. When she settled it on her head, it slipped down a bit and she pushed it up to see.
His lips tugged at the corner again, a mesmerizing sight. “Good ’nough. Now back to work.”
She followed him back outside and around the barn to a huge machine.
“This here’s a grinder. We mix our own feed. Got two hundred head o’ Felton steers, a few calves and a handful of fall-birthing cows.”
“Okay,” she said faintly, trying to keep up with the terms he used.
“You know anything about Angus?”
“I know you can buy it in a grocery store.”
He snorted. A more masculine sound had never been made, she was sure of it. “That you do, miss.”
“Please call me Bellarose.”
“Not Bella?”
“No, that’s a character who fell in love with a vampire.”
