Up close, Clint Landers was even better looking. Beard stubble darkened his square jaw and almost hid the dimple in his chin. His bottom lip was considerably fuller than his upper one, which appealed to Lila in a big way. She worked with a lot of smoking hot guys, but she couldn’t recall the last time one of them made her feel all tingly inside.
“We’re damn lucky he was there,” Erin was saying. The smile she’d given Clint vanished as she switched her focus to Baxter. “We owe him our thanks, and an apology from you.”
Baxter’s pale face flamed.
Erin wouldn’t give an inch. Her glare narrowed meaningfully. Advising everyone to play nice excluded her and Jason.
“Hey, it was an honest mistake,” Clint said, making sure the gate was latched before pulling off a leather work glove and extending his hand to Baxter. “No harm done.”
Baxter hesitated, clearly unwilling to give in. But it was equally clear that he had no choice. What an idiot.
He made sure everyone watching caught his condescending smirk before he stuck out his hand. Clint clasped it and gave Baxter a couple of firm pumps. Baxter looked as though he was about to choke. If his face had been red before, now it was turning scarlet.
Clint pumped his hand a couple more times. “No hard feelings...pal,” he said with a big smile and released Baxter’s hand.
He immediately flexed it, while subtly trying to draw in some air.
“I don’t think anything’s broken,” Erin said with a straight face.
Lila pressed her lips together and quickly turned her head. And met Clint Landers’s eyes. They were brown. Light brown with gold flecks. And he had thick dark lashes that took nothing away from his rugged good looks.
The man was positively dreamy.
She needed a little air herself. But she managed to give him a smile without hyperventilating.
“Clint Landers,” he said in the same deep, velvety tone he’d used with the stallion.
“Lila Loveridge.” She stared down at his extended, bone-crushing hand. “Um, I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” he said, amusement curving his mouth in a slow smile. “Live dangerously.”
With a laugh, she dragged a palm down her jeans before letting his large hand engulf hers. His grip was firm, yet gentle. He was the real deal. A genuine cowboy who did physical labor, and with rough, callused palms to prove it. And those muscled arms and shoulders? Not bulk, just lean muscle. Oh yeah, he looked darn fine.
And the other thing about him—he had no problem looking a person directly in the eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, pulling back her hand and lowering her gaze to his chest. “You’re wearing a T-shirt.”
He glanced down. “I am.”
Lila sighed. “It’s December.” Why did the really hot guys always have to be crazy? “And it’s freezing.”
“Also true.” He glanced at the horse. “I was changing in my truck when this guy here decided to make a break for it.” He held out his hand and the horse nuzzled it. “You know if he belongs to Ben Wolf?”
“No, I don’t.” She turned to ask Erin, but one of Jason’s flunkies had pulled her and Baxter aside and was whispering something to the two of them.
Whatever it was, Baxter stopped glaring at her and Clint and gave the young man a sharp look. Then he turned toward the set, where Jason was setting up the next shot. His uncle expected a big return on his investment, and Jason’s word was gospel. The project’s success trumped Baxter’s self-importance. It had to.
“Who’s in charge of looking after the stock?” Clint’s gaze flicked to Baxter. “Not that guy, I hope,” he added in a lowered voice, looking back at her.
“Oh, God, no. That would be Charlie. He’s the head wrangler, and he’s very responsible. I haven’t seen him today, but he should be around... Older guy. White hair. Wears it in a ponytail.” She thought Charlie might be in town, but she glanced around anyway, because staring into Clint’s eyes made it hard to concentrate on anything but him. “I don’t see him. We haven’t had any other incidents with animals getting loose, though.”
“I’d like to speak with him before unloading my trailer.”
“Erin should know where he is.” Lila gestured vaguely, noticing that someone else now had her friend’s ear. Fine with Lila. It gave her more time to check out Clint. “She shouldn’t be long.”
“I’m in no hurry.” He lifted his hat and swept back a long dark lock of hair before settling the brim low on his forehead.
“Are you also an extra?”
“An extra what?”
“I guess not.” She smiled. “You said you were changing your shirt so I thought... We hire local people to be in the movie.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Most people like it. They don’t say any lines and it pays practically nothing, but they get bragging rights. Hey, if you’re interested—”
“No,” he said quickly. “No. No way. Not me.”
“You can’t be camera shy.”
He laughed. “Thanks anyway.”
Lila jumped when someone touched her shoulder. She instinctively recoiled when she saw it was Baxter, but then put on a neutral smile. Some actress she was.
“I need to talk to Mr. Landers,” he said with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.
She looked at Erin who now stood alone, motioning with her head for Lila to join her.
Glancing back at Clint, it was all Lila could do not to sigh. “Well, nice meeting you,” she said and realized she’d already mentioned something to that effect.
They exchanged smiles, and he politely touched the brim of his hat. But it was the dark penetrating look in his eyes that had her heart pounding as she turned and hurried the short distance to Erin.
“Come on,” Erin said with a little smile and started walking toward the trailers that were lined up out of camera range.
“What does Baxter want with him, and where are we going?”
“You’re wearing a T-shirt? Seriously?”
Lila looked at her, and Erin burst out laughing.
“Shut up.” Lila shook her head and then laughed, too.
“On a shitty note, Penelope is on the warpath.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot about her.” God, Lila was tempted to look back at him.
“No. Hell, no.” Clint’s voice had raised some.
Lila and Erin looked at each other, and then they both turned to see him walking away from Baxter, who stared daggers after him. Whatever it was the creep wanted, Lila doubted it was a face full of dust kicked up by Clint’s boots as he strode toward his horse trailer.
“What was that about?” Lila asked.
“Jason wants to use Clint in his next scene and said he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” she said absently.
As Erin continued to stare at Baxter, Lila could almost see the wheels turning in her friend’s head. She and Jason’s new flunky hadn’t gotten along from day one. Baxter was green and unfamiliar with the film industry, while Erin knew just about everything there was to know.
Since college she’d worked nearly every job there was behind the camera. She was supposed to be showing Baxter the ropes, which was probably why she’d been so grumpy lately.
This project was important for their future in the industry. Just like Lila, Erin’s big chance was coming up with the sequel. She’d been promised the first assistant director’s job.
“I know you,” Lila said. “You’re planning something evil.”
Erin smiled. “Who was it that said ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”
Lila’s gaze went to Clint, his back to them as he pulled on a long-sleeve shirt. “Friend? Oh, I want him for so much more than that.”
2
CLINT PARKED HIS truc
k close to the circular drive in front of his brother’s house. He got out and lifted a hand to Woody, the foreman, and a pair of Lucky 7 hired men walking toward the bunkhouse. The air was chilly, but he didn’t bother grabbing his jacket since it was a short walk to the fancy wrought-iron gate. He couldn’t stay long, but he had time to kill and something he wanted to get off his chest. Nathan was always a good sounding board.
After letting himself into the small courtyard, he went straight to the front door and wiped the bottoms of his boots on the mat. He rang the bell, glancing around while he waited.
The place looked nice. Even with winter threatening to roll in with a bang, his sister-in-law had spruced up the courtyard with Christmas wreaths and garland. Strings of lights were draped along the stone archway and wrapped around the porch columns.
He liked Beth a lot and not just because she’d been so good for Nathan, bringing him back to life after his first wife’s death. Clint admired Beth for leaving small remembrances of Anne, like her prized roses and topiary garden. Anne had liked everything manicured and perfect, and Beth was the total opposite.
The door opened. “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over,” Beth said, stepping back to let him inside.
“Yeah, I should’ve called first.”
“Oh, please. You know better. Nathan’s in his office, and I was just putting up some Christmas decorations.”
Clint smelled coffee as he walked into the large foyer. Pinecones and conifer branches littered the cherry console table. A ball of string had fallen to the hardwood floor. He scooped it up and gave it to Beth.
“I decided to make my own wreaths.” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I just came from Blackfoot Falls. I saw you have the inn all decked out. It looks nice.”
“Really? You don’t think I went overboard?” she asked, frowning and swiping back wisps of blond hair from her eyes.
His thoughts shot straight to Lila. Not a shocker. He hadn’t been able to shake the image of her the whole ride over. Her hair was a lighter shade of blond than Beth’s, and Lila’s eyes were blue, a real cornflower blue you just didn’t see every day. She was a stunner, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in person. Or more like ever. He’d never been a moviegoer or had much time for TV, but if he’d seen her starring in anything, he would’ve remembered.
“I did, didn’t I?” Beth was staring at him. “Was it the lighted Happy Holidays sign? I worried that might be a bit much.”
He frowned, then recalled they’d been talking about the old boardinghouse Beth had bought and converted to an inn. “No,” he said. “It looks nice. Very festive. Sorry, I was thinking about that coffee I smell. Any chance—”
Beth laughed. “Of course. Help yourself.”
Clint continued into the kitchen, poured a mug of the strong brew and took it with him to his brother’s office down the hall. The door was open. Nathan was sitting at his desk working on his laptop.
“Hey, got a minute?”
Nathan looked up. “I thought I heard your voice. Everything okay?”
“Hell, it hasn’t been that long since I’ve visited.” Clint settled in the brown leather chair across from his brother.
“Yeah, but in the middle of a weekday?”
“You got me there.”
Nathan’s cell rang, and Clint gestured for him to go ahead and answer. It dawned on him that he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to say. Or even how to broach the subject without sounding as if he was complaining.
Naturally the call was short—bought him all of five seconds.
Clint took a slow sip of coffee, then cradled the warm mug in his hands. “I got the talk from Dad last night.”
Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “Did you tell him you already know storks have nothing to do with it?”
“Hell, no. I’m not sure he and Mom have figured it out yet.”
“They have three grown sons. I think they might’ve put two-and-two together by now.”
“Stop.” Clint shook his head. “There are some things a man just can’t ponder. No matter how old he is.”
“Amen to that. So, last night, was Seth there, too?”
“He’s still in Billings.”
“Partying with his old college buddies?” Nathan’s expression hardened when Clint shrugged. “When does Dad want you to take over?”
“Soon. He’d like an answer by Christmas.”
His brother’s brows shot up, but he quickly masked his surprise. It didn’t matter. Clint knew Nathan had expected him to run Whispering Pines eventually. Everyone did. The ranch had survived everything from droughts to poor financial management to be passed down through five generations of Landerses.
Nathan was two years older and a hard act to follow. He’d begun building the Lucky 7 from practically nothing while he was still in college. And now, at thirty-five, he owned one of the most profitable ranches in the county.
“Did Dad tell you to think about it? Or was that your suggestion?”
“It was mutual. He told me to take some time off, to really think. I don’t see Seth wanting any part of it. Do you?”
Nathan shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know what’s going on with that kid.”
“He’s almost thirty.”
“And acting like he’s ten.”
Clint rubbed his jaw. Man, he needed a shave. “Think it’s time for his two big brothers to have a sit-down with him?”
“Maybe after the holidays. We don’t want to stir things up and ruin Christmas for Mom.”
“Good point.”
“I’m more concerned about you right now.”
“Me?”
Nathan was studying him a little too closely. “You’re not jumping at the chance to take over—” He held up a hand. “And I’m not saying you should. After you quit college, I guess I just assumed you missed ranching.”
“So did I, but...” Clint hesitated. Damn, he should’ve thought this thing through. Not five minutes ago he’d realized he wasn’t prepared. He could’ve talked about the weather, the Denver Broncos making it to the playoffs, the price of alfalfa... The last thing he wanted was to make Nathan feel guilty for breaking tradition. The oldest son had always taken the reins. But that didn’t mean anything.
Yep, Clint should’ve waited. Although the talk with his dad had completely caught him off guard, and he’d been having trouble thinking straight, or about anything else—that was until he’d met Lila.
“Did you ever think about doing anything other than ranching?”
Nathan leaned back in his chair. “No, I haven’t. But clearly you have.”
“No. Well, nothing specific. It’s just getting pretty real is all. It’s a damn serious commitment.”
“Hell, you’ve been in charge since before Dad made you foreman,” Nathan said. “The men go to you when they need something, and we both know Dad likes it that way. Making it official won’t change much. Unless there’s something else you’re not saying?”
“That’s just it. I don’t feel as though I’d be losing out on anything, but I don’t want to just slide in because it’s what’s expected of me either. On the other hand, if I don’t step up and Dad were to get sick again, or if Seth doesn’t come around and start pulling his weight, I’d feel like shit.”
“I understand,” Nathan said. “So would I, but it didn’t stop me from building the ranch I wanted.”
Clint just nodded, but that was the difference between him and Nathan. His brother had always known what he wanted, and Clint wasn’t sure. He still loved ranching, and it would kill him if anyone but a Landers owned the land. Wasn’t that enough reason for him to step up? He’d never been commitment-phobic, so why was the thought of sealing his future making him twitchy?
“Sorry t
o interrupt.” Beth poked her head in. “I’m going to run into town for some ribbon. Do you need anything?”
“Blackfoot Falls or Twin Creeks?” Nathan asked with an amused gleam in his eye. Twin Creeks was closer to the Lucky 7 but half the size of Blackfoot Falls.
“Oh, please... Blackfoot Falls, of course. Who knows?” She batted her lashes. “I might get discovered.”
Clint shot a look at his brother. The night Anne had died in the accident, she’d sneaked off to audition for a play.
Nathan didn’t seem bothered, he just laughed. “Well, you call me before you sign any contracts.”
“Deal,” she said, padding in to give him a quick kiss. “Text me if you think of anything you want.” On her way out, she squeezed Clint’s shoulder. “We’re having chicken and tortilla casserole for supper if you want to stay.”
“Thanks. Another time.” The second she was out of earshot Clint grinned at his brother. “She’s got you eating casseroles?”
Grunting, Nathan leaned back. “Wait till you get married. You’re gonna find yourself doing a lot of crap you swore you wouldn’t do. Hey, you still seeing Kristy?”
“Not for months. It wasn’t going anywhere.” He shrugged. “I think she might have itchy feet. Wouldn’t surprise me if she moved away from Twin Creeks.”
“Is that what’s got you hesitating to take over from Dad?”
“Nah.” Clint shook his head for emphasis. “Anyway, it’s nothing. Just thinking things through.”
“You guys having any financial problems I should know about?”
“Nope.” It was a fair question. Years ago their father had made some poor decisions that had nearly bankrupted them. “We’re in the black.”
“Thanks to you,” Nathan said, his worried pucker beginning to ease. “But I heard you leased horses to the Hollywood people, so it made me wonder.”
“Didn’t do it for the money. Ben Wolf asked me for a favor. They wanted a couple of showy chestnuts. We have geldings with cream-colored manes and tails that fit the bill.” Clint had unloaded the horses without talking to the head wrangler. For some reason, he’d trusted Erin Murphy’s word the runaway stallion was an isolated incident. But he had every intention of driving back later to make sure they weren’t being careless with the animals. “You ever heard of Lila Loveridge?”
Hot Winter Nights (Made in Montana) Page 2
