by Claire Marti
He belonged in L.A., where all the action happened. Where he could build and leave a legacy to make his mom proud. Maybe she would finally forgive him for not going to college. Wasting four years learning about chemistry or philosophy hadn’t appealed. His work ethic had enabled him to save enough money to buy her a house, to send money every month so she didn’t have to work, and fulfilled his promise to himself to be the man of the family.
Although contemplating Los Angeles, with its merciless traffic, isolated egotistical show business peeps, and concrete highways didn’t appeal either. His stable future would be built in the Hollywood movie industry and he would handle it despite the location.
The crunch of wheels on the gravel road next to him signaled he was no longer alone. Harry parked his shiny luxury SUV under the shade of a large eucalyptus tree. Holt dismounted from Rocco’s back, walked him over to the length of wood fence, and looped the gelding’s reins around one rail. Time to get to work. No time to brood.
“Ready to rock and roll?” Harry grinned at him, the eager anticipation of the opening days of filming lighting up his lean face.
“Definitely. This location is going to be perfect. The set designers did an amazing job. How does it look to you?”
“Let’s check it out. Was that Samantha riding over the hill?”
They walked toward the pasture where the crew continued to re-create the Wild West.
“Yeah, she was surveying the activity again.” Looking like a goddess.
“She’s a beautiful woman.”
Holt jerked his head and stared at Harry. “She’s kind of young for you. She could be your daughter.”
“Calm down. I wasn’t saying I was attracted to her, but you know I appreciate beauty. She rides like she was born on the back of a horse. What do you think of having her in a scene or two?” Harry studied him, his face impassive.
Holt snorted. “You’re joking, right? You’re really pushing the envelope with the McNeills. First Chris is directing and now you want Samantha in the film? She’d never agree to it.”
“Now you know how she feels? Doesn’t she think you’re an idiot?” Harry’s brows rose over his dark wraparound sunglasses. “I heard about the fluffer comments.”
A flush crept up Holt’s neck. “Look, I was just joking when I said that. I’ve gotten to know them all more since I’ve been staying here. Isn’t it enough they are letting you film here? Why stir up more of the past?”
Harry studied him like he was a bug under a microscope. “Huh.”
“Huh what?” A dull ache started at his temples and he ground his back teeth. He’d always looked up to Harry, but right now the older man was really starting to piss him off.
“You just seem awfully protective of my friend’s young daughter, that’s all. It’s not like you. I’ve seen you with other women and you may have liked them, but you never seemed to worry about them.” Harry shrugged a shoulder.
“I‘m not worried. I’m just––” He just what?
“Are you sweet on Samantha?” Harry’s black and silver eyebrows drew together.
“No, of course not. She’s like a little sister. That’s all. I feel bad for what they all went through.” So why was he talking so fast?
“Hmmm…protective instincts. Interesting.” Harry let out a low whistle.
Holt turned away from Harry’s scrutiny, whipped off his hat, and raked his fingers through his hair. “Are we going to get to work or what?” This conversation was off the rails. Time to slam on the brakes.
“Sure. We’ll discuss the horses in a bit. Let’s head over and survey everything.” Harry sauntered over and smacked him on the back. “I just think you’re sweet on Chris McNeill’s baby daughter. Never thought I’d see the day you’d step out of casual. That’s all.”
“Not another word, Harry.” Holt shook off his hand and stomped toward the split-rail fence. Sweet on Samantha McNeill, yeah right.
The universe was not conspiring to destroy him because Harry kept his trap shut for the next fifteen minutes while they perused the farmhouse and yard. This morning certainly wasn’t unfolding in the way he’d imagined.
Work, his focus was on work. Laser focus was one of his major skills––if he allowed his mind to wander during filming he could die or get seriously injured. No way in hell would he allow his attention to wander.
“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Sam’s dad asked from behind them.
Holt’s shoulders tensed and he forced a casual grin as he turned to face him. “Hey Chris, how’s it going?”
“Great, great. The set looks amazing. Great designers, Harry.” Chris looked around, his stance relaxed, yet in command. He looked like he was in charge.
“I’ll let you guys get to it. I’m going to head over and check on the horses.” No need to spend too much time with Sam’s dad this morning, he wasn’t uncomfortable or guilty. Nope.
“Wait one second, let’s run my idea past Chris and see what he thinks.” Harry said.
Damn it. Holt pivoted back to face the men. Chris looked between them with lifted brows.
“It’s your idea, Harry.” No way did he support having Sam around even more. No need to create temptation.
“What?” A thread of impatience ran through the ranch owner’s voice. Like daughter, like father.
“Well, Holt and I both noticed what an incredible horsewoman Sam is. I could use a talented female rider. How would she feel about being in a few scenes? She wouldn’t have to speak or anything.”
Chris whipped off his sunglasses and stepped closer to his old friend. “What? Are you kidding me? Hell no, Harry. You’re really pushing me too far.”
Harry held up his hands in front of him in a protective gesture. “Hear me out.”
“Screw you, Shaw. You know she was on set when Pamela was killed. What are you trying to do?” A red flush traveled up Chris’ neck and his eyes blazed.
Not an opportune time to point out how Samantha’s temper must have come directly from her father. Holt kept his mouth shut and observed the verbal volley between the two older men.
“Listen to me.” When Chris took another step, Harry’s voice rose. “Listen.”
Chris paused, his broad shoulders vibrating with temper.
“You helping direct this movie is going to help you move beyond the past. Do you want Sam to suffer from this phobia forever? Maybe if she actually participates in a scene or two, it might help her too? Maybe she’ll be able to move past it?”
“What’s your deal, Shaw? Are you on a mission of redemption or something to heal my family from losing Pamela? None of us are the same and we never will be.” Chris paused and exhaled a deep breath. “My daughters don’t have to deal with Hollywood if they don’t want to. I know you may have lost perspective, but we do just fine without it here.”
“It was just a suggestion. If you don’t want me to ask her, I won’t. Just an idea. I’m sorry.” Harry backed away. “Well, let’s get back to work. How about we walk over to the trailers and make sure everyone is arriving on time and we can start tomorrow morning. You still going to observe first?”
Chris didn’t move, his jaw clenched. Then, his shoulders softened and he nodded.
“Later.” Holt escaped before they could stop him. What was going on with these guys? Harry was pushing the envelope with the McNeills. If he didn’t know for a fact the ranch up near Cambria had been damaged due to fire, he might have believed the director had engineered the filming of his Western on Pacific Vista Ranch all along.
Did Harry have some kind of agenda? Holt couldn’t forget seeing Samantha sobbing yesterday morning or wiping away her tears last night. Or the feel of her in his arms. He stiffened. Time to head back to the stables and check in on the horses. He’d do his job and keep to himself.
For the first time, he regretted accepting the invitation to stay in the McNeill’s guesthouse. Space would be preferable.
Miles of space.
He’d stay out of Samantha’s
path for good.
18
Cocoa is going to be okay, isn’t he?” Sam loved being able to assist her sister in the rehab facility off-season, but hated seeing any animal suffer.
Sam stroked the beautiful brown gelding’s dark mane and cooed comforting words in his velvety ear. Cocoa lived on a neighboring ranch and belonged to the Smythe’s fourteen-year-old daughter, Ashley. Unfortunately, on a recent outing along one of the winding Rancho Santa Fe riding trails, Cocoa had sprained his foreleg. He needed physical therapy to fully recover before he could carry even the slight load of a petite girl.
“Yes, he’ll be fine. The sprain should heal quickly.” Amanda smiled at her from the other side of the horse. Cocoa had just been treated to a soothing saltwater bath and was now on the Equisizer to walk and restore his strength.
“I’m so glad. I know the Smythes are thrilled you’re the one taking care of him.” Their small community held Amanda in high regard for her veterinary skills and practical demeanor.
“I’m happy to help our neighbors. So, what’s the latest on the movie? Is the crew all here? Are they filming today?” Amanda asked.
Sam shook her head. “No, it starts tomorrow. The rest of the cast and crew arrive today.” She sighed. “Dad was down in the stables and he seems so excited. I still can’t really process it.”
“I know.” Amanda’s voice was quieter than usual. “It feels surreal to me.”
“I guess I assumed he wanted to be away from it all forever as much as we did.”
“We never really discussed it, did we? I mean, we were kids.” Amanda monitored Cocoa’s pace.
“Nope, definitely not. If the damn media hadn’t made our life hell, who knows what would have happened?”
“Dad would still be making movies, you would be a principal ballerina, Dylan would still be an artist, and I would still be a vet. So you and dad are the ones who really ended up on a new path.”
“Maybe. I can’t think about what might have been––I love the horses and I love this ranch. And dad wouldn’t have met Angela.” Sam squashed down the memory of her former dreams.
“True. You’re amazing at what you do, little sis. Who knows, this might be good for him, heck maybe for all of us. Help put it all in perspective. How do you feel?” Amanda stepped around Cocoa and hugged her.
Sam bit the inside of her lip. “I cried.” She blurted it out.
“Oh sweetie, that’s normal.” Amanda squeezed her in tight to her slender yet strong frame.
“No, you don’t understand, yesterday morning I rode over to the set. When I saw it, everything flooded back and it was like mom died yesterday.” She pressed her fingers against her eyelids to stem the tears threatening to spill over. Damn it, was she going to turn into a crybaby now? “The pain was just as powerful as it was the day it happened.”
“You never cried when it happened. I always worried about you bottling it up and quitting dancing at the same time. Crying is okay.” Amanda rested her cheek on the top of Sam’s head.
“I hate crying. I even cried in front of––” Oh crap, TMI.
“In front of who?” Amanda stepped back, her emerald eyes wide.
Sam hesitated. Her sisters were her only true confidantes. Maybe Amanda could help her sort out what the hell was going on inside her jumbled brain. And heart. Dylan hadn’t been much help.
She stared down at Cocoa’s shiny chocolate coat. “Holt, I cried in front of Holt last night.”
“Holt? Last night? When last night?”
“Um, after dinner.” She dared a glance at her sister.
“After dinner?” Amanda’s voice rose an octave and her eyebrows flew up.
“Well, I was upset about dad’s announcement and I decided to swim it off. I was doing laps and heard a noise. Holt was down at the cabana.” The words tumbled out.
“So how did you go from hearing a noise to crying in front of him? I don’t understand.” Amanda’s eyebrows drew together.
“Well, I snapped at him for being there––” Was it possible she sounded even more idiotic out loud than in her mind?
“Seriously?” Amanda’s shoulders shook with laughter.
“I know. I know. Well, he just brings out the worst in me. And then somehow I ended up spilling everything about the paparazzi after mom died and he ended up being really sweet.” She rubbed her eyes, making sure they weren’t leaking again.
“Hmmmm…” Amanda nodded and tilted her head. “So, what did he do when you cried?”
Sam opened her mouth. Promptly closed it. Tried again.
“He was just nice. But this morning he was back to being cocky Hollywood guy.” She cleared her throat and stared over her sister’s shoulder. Was he really unaffected? Her gut tightened when she recalled his indifference.
Nothing like the charismatic seducer he’d been at the pool when he’d ignited their passion with his blistering hot kisses and hard calloused hands. Not the arrogant smartass he’d been when he’d invaded her breeding barn cracking jokes. Was he the player she’d initially assumed he was?
“This morning? What?” Amanda’s brow creased. “I can’t keep up. What am I missing?”
“Oh, I saw him over at the set this morning.” Looking like a Greek god carved from marble. And acting just as cold.
Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “And was he a jerk?”
Sam ran her tongue around her teeth. Although she’d told Dylan about the kiss, at the time she’d assumed they would continue flirting or kissing or whatever they had been doing. Now he’d morphed into Mr. Ice King and she would rather pretend nothing happened. If she admitted he was a jerk, her astute sister would suspect she was hiding something.
“Not really a jerk. He just seemed sweet last night and this morning he was back to being Mr. Too Hot Hollywood.” She shrugged. Time to change the subject pronto.
“Hmmm.” Her elder sister pursed her lips, her eyes assessing.
“What are you hmm-ing about?” Uh-oh.
“I think Mr. Too Hot Hollywood has a crush on you.” Amanda made a few smooching sounds.
“Oh please. He doesn’t have a crush on me. He treats me like an annoying younger sister.” Well, except for at the pool last night. Warmth crept up her neck, gathering at her nape where his perfect lips had lingered.
Amanda grinned. “Well, you’ve been my annoying younger sister for years and I adore you so…”
“Very funny. Enough about him.” She’d already been thinking about him, dreaming about him, and talking about him way too much for comfort.
“Enough about who?” A masculine voice inquired.
Sam jumped and pivoted. Her dad stood a few feet away from them. How much had he heard? He was smiling, so it couldn’t have been too much.
“Hi, Dad.” Amanda strolled over and hugged their father. “How are you?”
Thank goodness Amanda was so much like their mother––she was quiet and tended to keep her emotions and thoughts behind a serene smile. Her tranquility balanced out their dad’s strong energy and also served to distract him from asking too many questions. Sam and her father were too much alike with their hair-trigger tempers and utter lack of patience.
“Good, good.” Chris walked over to the Equisizer. “Who is this beauty?”
“This is Cocoa, one of the Smythes’ horses. He’s a real lover. Slight sprain, he’ll be fine in no time,” Amanda said.
Lover. Sam’s cheeks heated again. What if she’d taken Holt as her lover last night? Would he have blown her off like he had this morning?
“Oh, good. Glad it’s nothing serious.” Chris nodded and focused his gaze on Sam. “Well, I came down to talk to Samantha, but you should hear this too.”
“Is everything okay?” Sam’s spine stiffened. What now?
“I was just down on set, and it looks amazing. Harry and I were talking and he mentioned he saw you this morning, Sammy?” Her dad was speaking faster than usual.
“Did he? I didn’t see him. It was super early an
d I was on my morning ride. Just checking everything out.” Sam stared down at her scuffed black boots. Had Harry witnessed the scene between her and Holt?
“Well, he said he saw you and Holt together?”
“Together? What do you mean together?” Her already rigid spine turned to steel. Crap.
Chris arched a brow. “Were you with Holt or not?”
“What do you mean with Holt?” Now she’d transformed into a parrot. Her brain had closed up shop for the day or possibly forever.
“Sam.” Amanda laid a cool hand on her forearm. “Dad is asking you if you and Holt were down at the set this morning.”
“Oh the set, right.” She shrugged. What was wrong with her? “Yeah, he was there when I was checking it out.”
“Are you getting sick, Samantha? Why are you so flushed?” Her dad asked, his eyes full of concern.
Why wouldn’t he be worried? She was acting like a lunatic.
“I’m fine, Dad. Sorry, I’m just starving and you know how I get if I don’t eat every few hours. My blood sugar must’ve dropped. You know how loopy I can get.” Stop babbling or he’ll have you committed.
“Why don’t we head up to the house and get you some food. I’ll share Harry’s suggestion.” Her father turned toward the rehab clinic door.
“No, just tell me now.” Thus far, Harry Shaw’s ideas did not rank among her top ten list. What now?
“I’m curious too, Dad. What suggestion does Harry have now? Filming in the house?” Amanda was rarely sarcastic, so her clipped questions carried weight.
“Girls, please don’t be angry with Harry. I owe him.”
“You owe him why?” Amanda demanded. “Because mom chose you over him? That was decades ago.”
Chris closed his eyes for a moment and the tic at his left temple appeared. “Look, you’re right. It is old history. But Harry was in love with your mother, hell, everyone was in love with your mother. I’m pretty sure he never married because it was always her.”
“Wow.” Samantha and Amanda exchanged glances.
