by Em Petrova
The corner of his lips twisted up but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He released her. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Well,” nervousness took hold, “I wondered if… If I might try the tractor again.”
His brows shot up. “The tractor.”
“Yes. I know that I made a huge mistake with it, but I know I can do it this time. I’d like to finish that field.”
“Wheeler wrapped up the mowing yesterday.”
She felt her face fall. “Oh.”
“But…”
Her gaze shot to his. “But?”
“If you promise to wear sunscreen and to be very careful, I might have another mowing job for you.”
“I’ll take it!” She went on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek.
She felt him stir, change from the stiff man before her to the one she knew who gave his all to her. Taking her in his arms, he leaned over her, breath warm and smelling of the lemon he used in his tea.
“Bellarose.” Her name came out as a deep rumble. “You know you have nothing to prove, right?”
“I know. I want to do it.”
“Then I’ll get you started right away. Are you free now?”
She inched closer until her hips sealed against his. His jeans began to bulge. She could easily seduce him, take what she wanted. But he seemed to be holding something back from her—her sixth sense was blaring like an alarm. And she wanted him to make the moves, to be unable to keep his hands to himself and claim her.
She waited for him to kiss her or start unbuttoning her top. He did neither and released her again.
She stood there a moment, stunned and wondering what had just happened. It wasn’t that she’d never been rejected.
It was that King had done the rejecting.
Floundering a little, she took up her water and sipped while watching him eat. Whatever was bugging him, he wasn’t saying, but she expected nothing else from the hard rancher.
“Is something worrying you?” she asked.
“No, why?” he asked between bites.
“Just wondered if there was a sick steer or something on your mind.”
“No, all healthy as of this morning.”
“Oh good.” Silence stretched.
“How was the scene today?” he asked.
This conversation was getting weirder. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her life, but he’d never questioned her about acting.
“Went well. It was a series of short scenes, actually. See, Raven is back in town and we all hate her. So it’s a lot of angst and tears on film.”
“Wait—is Raven another actor or a character.”
“Character.”
“I see.” Only he grew quieter, more distanced.
When he finished his meal, he dumped the tray in the trash and motioned for her to follow him. Usually he kissed her silly half a dozen times when alone with her, but not now. Whatever was going on was starting to give her a complex and question her feelings.
He led her to an outbuilding.
“I thought the tractor was around back of the barn,” she said.
“Not this tractor.” He opened a heavy metal door to reveal a lawn tractor, the kind you saw in rural areas all over America.
“King…”
“It’s not as big, but there will be some good chances to show your skill, because you’ll be mowing that slope by the driveway.”
She knew it, having passed it every day for a month now. “It’s steep.”
“Yep.” He arched a brow. “Are you up for the challenge?”
“Yes.”
Feeling humbled by the downgrade in tractors, she still swung her leg over the machine and plunked into the seat. He didn’t show her where the controls were, and she didn’t expect him to. So far, he’d given as little help to her as possible, allowing her to work through things herself, which she appreciated.
But he never walked away without touching her in some way—a hand on her back or a brush of her hair over her shoulder.
Or a kiss.
Leaving her longing could be a power play.
Then she remembered this was King, not some hotshot star that she always dated, making things work to their favor. King didn’t think that way, she was sure of it. He was holding back from her, and she was starting to fear the reasons why.
As she set off down the driveway to reach the spot he wanted mowed, her mind worked over the possibilities.
He’d heard rumors and taken them as true. So many men in her life had. It would make sense.
Or he’d seen her as a shallow idiotic female not worthy of standing alongside him as he worked his ranch. God, she hoped not. She bit down on her lip.
Suddenly, she stopped, realizing she hadn’t applied the sunscreen. She pulled a tube from her shirt pocket and applied it liberally to her face, arms and neck. She probably looked like a ghost but it was better than being burned to a crisp again.
A minute later she saw King’s truck trundling down the drive. He stopped and rolled down the passenger’s window. She cut the engine of the tractor to hear him.
“Got some things in town to do. I’ll be back by the time you’re finished.”
She nodded.
Without anything more, anything that told her that he might actually enjoy her company and want to see her again, he rolled up the window and continued on.
She watched the dust trail after his truck for a long minute before firing up the tractor once more. With each strip of the steep landscape she mowed, she sank more into a depressive state. Were things with King over?
When she reached the steepest part of the slope, her attention shifted to the task, focusing on not rolling the machine. There was one harrowing part where she had no idea if she could keep all four wheels in contact with the earth and gripped the steering wheel hard.
After a few tense minutes, she drove onto flatter ground. Blowing out a sigh of relief, she had a moment of dizzying joy.
Till she realized King wasn’t around to share it with her.
This was a change of pace for Bellarose. Since a young age, she’d been forced into self-sufficiency. While working on set, she typically didn’t have her mother at her side. Instead, she had her agent to look after her, tutors and several adult assistants who would do what needed to be done. But she’d grown up quickly and done for herself. It had only taken a hot second to understand that she had her own back, which also meant she worked hard for herself and was responsible for creating her own happiness.
When she nailed her lines in one take, she didn’t care much about pleasing others—she did it for her.
So wanting to show off her success to King was new.
And scary.
Changes were taking place inside her and she was unsure if they were for the better. After all, she’d leave Washington, Blackwater… and King… behind. Once she touched down in California again, she’d only have herself.
Confusion wasn’t something she dealt with much. Her biggest dilemmas involved receiving two offers for parts at once, but she’d always gone with her gut on those. If she listened to her gut in reference to King, she only grew more lost.
When it came down to it, she had her work and that was number one. She was here at Blackwater to improve her skill set. King had been a bonus but if he didn’t belong in her life, then…
She bit her lip. She wasn’t into bullshitting herself. King meant something to her—and if he was finished with her then she had some serious breakup emotions to work through. She wondered if Marissa could organize a cheese platter for binge-eating and get her bathrobe ready for watching chick flicks. She sensed some Meryl Streep in her future.
Chapter Eleven
King whipped out an arm, shoving open the flap of the tent housing the crew. His gaze latched onto the first person he spotted.
“You. Get your boss and come with me.”
The young man fumbled with some small brushes he was holding. “But it’s raining
out there.”
“This is exactly the shit I didn’t want to deal with. I said get your boss.”
“All right, well, I think he’s taking lunch in the other tent.”
“Lead the way,” King snapped.
He turned and stomped back out. Tugging down his hat against the onslaught of rain being driven down from the mountains along with a stiff wind. It was filthy weather—and he was in a filthy temper.
Not because of the rain. He worked in that plenty. Rain, sleet, snow, didn’t matter. Ranch life went on.
Fuming, he spun when he saw the young guy coming toward him with another man at his side.
“Hello, Mr. Yates. Jeffrey said you wanted to speak with me. What can I help you with?” The man had slicked back hair graying at his temples and a neckerchief at his throat that cost as much as some of King’s tack collection.
He cast a look at Jeffrey, who was wearing a green gingham shirt that made him look like a little boy in an Easter photo.
He swung out an arm toward the barn. “Someone left my water pump going. Again. I’ll have you know this electric bill is on my dime, not the production’s. And I clearly stated that the water was to be shut off.”
“I see. Yes, I recall a directive like that.”
“A directive? It’s a damn order.”
The man turned to Jeffrey. “See to it that everybody knows about the water.”
“That’s not all,” King said, voice raised as Jeffrey took off back into the tent. He suspected he just didn’t want to get his shirt wet. Probably needed dry-cleaned and would shrink two sizes in the cold rain.
“You have more complaints, Mr. Yates?” The older man raised his brows in an accommodating way.
“I damn well do. Keep your damn people out of my bedroom. I don’t know what kind of fucking scenes are taking place there, but you can use any other room in the house except that one.”
“Oh. Yes. That was twenty-one in the lineup, wasn’t it, Jeffrey?” Jeffrey had disappeared, and the man had nobody to question about the situation. Seeing he was alone with King’s wrath, he slapped a smile across his face. “I’ll see to it. I apologize on behalf of the staff, Mr. Yates.”
“See it doesn’t happen again.” He started to turn away when he caught sight of a mass of gleaming red hair. Before he could stop his feet, he was headed that way.
Toward her.
God, she was fucking gorgeous and he was half hard by the time he reached the tent she was stepping out of.
“King.” Their gazes snagged and were locked in an electric moment that made his balls ache and his fingers twitch to grab her.
“Bellarose,” he said, low.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her voice was soft and she let her gaze skitter away from his.
“Been busy. Lawn looks great. You did a fine job.”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t tell her that from a high point on the ranch, he’d watched her every pass through the yard. He’d seen her manage that steep slope and had silently thrown out a mental victory shout or two for her.
Thing were off between them, and he knew he was to blame. She’d been hot but he’d been cold, standing back since realizing she would never truly want a man like him. It was put distance between them or die of a broken heart when the time came. As it was, he was dealing with a bone-deep stab of pain.
She glanced up at him. “Well, I’m wanted in the barn.”
He cocked a brow. “Dressed like that? With your hair like…” He waved his hands around his head to indicate her polished look.
“Yes.”
“What is the scene?”
She darted her tongue over her plump lower lip, inviting him to bite it. He stood strong. Giving into his urges now would only perpetuate the pain.
Perpetuate? Bellarose’s manner of speaking and use of big words was rubbing off on him.
“In this scene, Amelia is running after Cutter. He’s gone off after an argument between them.” Her words faltered and she met King’s stare again. “She’s going to take the horse and has to gallop through the rain.”
He looked at her.
“Won’t be safe for galloping on muddy ground like this in another half hour. You’d best get started.” His horses could suffer injuries if they pushed them in deep mud, but he did trust the animal rights people to watch over the stock.
“I’d better get started then,” she said, moving to pass him.
“Wait.” He reached out for her. She turned to him.
For a heartbeat, his hands hovered around her hair. Then he crushed his palms to the mass and dug his fingers through the perfect curls. He mussed it, and she let out a gasp that had him leaning in and stamping a hard kiss over her lips. When he came away, her mouth was slightly swollen.
“A rancher’s wife wouldn’t look so perfect. Now go do your scene.”
Her eyes lit in a way he hadn’t seen in a couple days, the amber shimmering as her lips tipped upward into a smile. She stepped past him and a woman appeared with a large umbrella, covering her steps as she made her way to the barn.
King watched her go, hands fisted at his sides.
He was in so much trouble. Bellarose had gotten her hooks into him, and yanking them out was far too painful. As long as she was on his land, within reach—and dammit, looking like a fucking bombshell—he wouldn’t be able to stick to his guns and keep his hands to himself.
He had plenty of work to do but it seemed she had a lasso around him and tugged him along after her. He followed her to the barn. There the cameras were set up at three different angles.
King had never watched Bellarose in action, and his nerves kicked up as soon as she took her place.
She dropped her head and pressed her fingers, which she made tremble, to her lips. “Cutter. Oh God, what have I done?” Her whisper came out hot with pain and she rushed to the stall, which was already open for her.
Mare-ida was already tacked and ready to ride. She took up the reins and led her to the open door. There, she stopped and stared into the heavy rain.
It was going on too long.
Was she hesitant to ride?
Suddenly, she whirled to King. “I can’t take the mare out in this, can I?”
Behind him, he heard, “Keep rolling. We’ll cut what we need to.”
King gave a nod. “You got the time. Make it count, darlin’.”
He saw her breasts swell outward with the deep breath she took. Still, she didn’t take the mare outside and swing into the saddle.
“We have a body double for you, Bellarose. She’s ready to go,” Dickson said from a few feet away behind the cameras.
Her gaze skittered to King once again. He saw the struggle on her beautiful features.
King stepped up to her and took her by the hands. Bending over her, he whispered, “Just watch how well you do this. Now go, baby girl.”
She let out a huffing breath and almost in real tears, surged upward to plant a kiss on his lips, right there for everyone to see. Then she took charge, led the mare outside and threw herself into the saddle.
With a grin on his face and pride welling in his chest, he watched her gallop through the rain. What a beautiful sight.
* * * * *
Bellarose didn’t often feel shy, so this was as distanced from her comfort zone as possible. Standing under the tent, taking shelter from the rain with the big cowboy who was beginning to rule her every thought, had her quivering with the need to touch him.
She’d kissed him for all to see, but she withheld from taking his hand while so many gathered here with them, waiting out the rainstorm.
The wind drove the rain into the sides of the tent, making her jump. King slanted a look at her, and she offered him a small smile.
“The radar says another two hours of this rain, but we’re on a tight schedule. The weather app is reporting clear skies after that, so if we just hang out here a bit longer, we can get some beautiful shots of water dripping off roofs, that so
rt of thing,” Dickson was saying.
“Two hours is a long time to wait,” one of the crew said.
Dickson gave him a sharp look and the man shut his mouth. Her director threw King a look, and she saw determination cross King’s face.
“Only one thing to do in the wet when you can’t work,” he said.
“What’s that?” Dickson asked.
“Find some entertainment.”
She could think of plenty of things to occupy her and King’s time, but they’d need to slip away.
King jerked his head toward two men. “Come with me.”
They left the tent. Bellarose and Dickson exchanged quizzical looks and in seconds, they were back carrying several folding tables. They went back out and returned with chairs. As they began to set them up, Bellarose drifted to the tent opening to see King striding back from the cabin.
Head bent against the wind, hat jammed down hard to keep it from blowing off. Watching the man walk was almost as yummy as seeing him coming toward her completely naked, cock standing proud and ready.
A shiver ran through her, and someone slung a heavy coat with shearling lining over her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she murmured to the woman. Washington sure had the strangest summers, but she was getting used to the bipolar weather.
King reached the tent and offered a grin. It shocked her how personable he was being, especially when he pulled several decks of cards out of his inside coat pockets and held them out in his broad palms.
“Anybody up for poker?”
A cheer went up and the chairs were spread around the tables. Food and drinks were produced and dispersed between groups. King eyed her. Tipping his head toward a table with a couple open spots, he arched a brow.
She’d much rather be alone with him, but disappearing suddenly would only alert the crew and rumors would fly.
She shrugged and was just moving to one of the seats when Marissa held a phone out in front of her. “Bellarose, I hate to interrupt, but this is Mrs. Francis from the kindergarten class calling about the day trip you set up.”
King was watching her as she took the call. She moved away to make arrangements, making note of how freakin’ hot he looked sprawled out in a folding chair, elbows on the table and cards fanned in his big hand.
