“And if it’s dorky, we can leave?”
“In a heartbeat.” She tried to not hope too fervently that Dylan would find it boring.
Minutes later, they reached the edge of the nostalgic town. Kate marveled at how little things had changed, but then remembered that nothing in the town had changed since the early nineteen hundreds. The fact that Hope, Texas had become nearly deserted in the middle of the last century, freezing it like a time capsule, had ultimately turned it into a small but thriving tourist destination. She hadn’t visited it since her college days, when she and her friends had made the trek through the Hill Country to browse the quaint shops and eat at the Ol’ Mill Restaurant.
The town charmed her now, even more than it had then. After she passed a former livery stable, she spotted a good number of shoppers strolling by clapboard houses. Craftsman bungalows sported a variety of paint colors while handcrafted merchandise filled the yards and porches. Traffic slowed as she reached the one main intersection where Mill Street ended at River Road. Motorcycles lined up at the hitching post before the general store, and directly ahead stood the town’s star attraction: Hope Music Hall, the oldest dancehall in Texas still in use. From the crowd milling about the front porch and side yard, the place appeared to be thriving more than ever. Turning right, she followed the road as it curved downhill, then crossed the river on a wooden, low-water bridge.
A short way upriver, she found a makeshift parking lot filled with semi rigs and bus-size RVs. A burly cowboy with a clipboard guarded the entrance to the lot.
Kate rolled down the window and felt a wave of warm air invade the air-conditioned car. “Is this where they’re filming The Seekers?”
“Yes, ma’am. Are you with the cast or crew?”
“Neither, actually. I’m Kate Bradshaw, a guest of Mike Cameron’s.”
The man checked his list and nodded. “Yep. Gotcha right here. You’ll need visitor’s passes.” He pulled two from beneath the clip on his board and handed them to her with instructions for her and Dylan to wear them around their necks.
“Thanks.” Kate rolled up her window and looked for a place to park. Finding one, she climbed out and glanced around. “Well, I guess this is it.”
“I guess so,” Dylan agreed as he climbed out his side.
“I suppose the first order of business is to find Mike.” Shading her eyes, she searched the area. The woody scent of barbecue drifted toward them from a white tent that looked big enough to host a circus. Other than the handful of people tending the smokers, however, the area appeared deserted. “Got any ideas?”
Dylan’s brow puckered in thought before he pointed toward a trampled path. “I’d try that way.”
Kate nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
They followed the path that curved even farther downstream, away from the river. The sun beat down on her head and bare arms, making her glad she’d worn a cotton sundress that allowed air to brush her skin. When they topped a hill, they stopped and stared at the scene below. Camera crews had set up along both banks, focusing their lenses on the section of railroad tracks that spanned the river. An ambulance waited nearby, as if anticipating the worst, along with a truck bearing the name of a veterinary clinic.
An old-fashioned train had stopped just before the bridge, looking impressive with its restored steam engine.
“Well,” she said, “I would definitely say these people are serious.”
“Yeah,” Dylan agreed, clearly awed. And then he pointed toward the crowd near the train. “Look, there’s Mike!”
Kate’s heart bumped with worry at the excitement in Dylan’s voice. Had she made a mistake bringing her son into closer contact with Mike?
It’ll be okay, she assured herself. A casual afternoon involving a lot of people wasn’t the same as inviting a man into her home as a new part of the family.
Then she glanced up and caught a glimpse of Mike’s trademark Hawaiian shirt, and warmth rushed through her, nudging her worry aside. He stood with a small crowd gathered around Trey Evans and a massive horse. Frank, the special effects supervisor, gestured with his hand as if describing how the jump should go. Trey appeared to be arguing over some point, with Jesse serving as interpreter.
Mike shifted, looking restless as his eyes searched the crowd. When he spotted her on the hill, he went still. He smiled slowly, and her body tingled with the simple pleasure of seeing him, of knowing that in a moment she’d be talking with him, laughing with him, just being with him.
The realization made her nerves jangle as she watched him excuse himself and stride up the hill to join them.
“You came,” he said, sounding as breathless as she felt. Their eyes held for a moment and she wondered if he would kiss her. Not in front of Dylan, her panicked brain pleaded, even though her body argued strongly in the other direction.
As if sensing her quandary, he turned his attention to her son. “Hey, kid, what do you think?”
“I think Mom’s right.” Dylan nodded gravely. “Y’all are definitely serious.”
“Nah, this here’s fun and games. What I do on the computer, now that’s serious work.”
Kate looked about, desperate for a way to calm her pounding heart. “I can’t believe it takes so many people to film one scene.”
“It doesn’t,” Mike said, nodding toward the crowd. “Most of the people here are just using the stunt as an excuse to take a little time off. It’s not every day you get to see someone do something this stupid.”
“Stupid?” she asked.
“Well, I ask you—would you jump off that bridge? On horseback?”
From where she stood, it didn’t look that high. But then she tried to imagine standing on the bridge looking down with the added height of the train and horse beneath her. “Absolutely not.”
Mike nodded in agreement. “The one thing I’ve learned about stunts involving horses is that anything can happen. Like, what if Trey lands in front of the horse and gets pawed when the animal starts swimming? Or what if he gets kicked in the head on the way down? I’m telling you, anyone who does this kind of work for a living is nuts.”
“I think you might be right,” she said.
“What about the horse?” Dylan asked, and his hand tightened around hers. “Could it get hurt?”
“Nah.” Mike ruffled Dylan’s hair. “Trey would never do anything he thought might hurt one of his horses, even if the ASPCA would let him. With all the animal rights police running around these days, you could beat up a kid on a film set easier than you could abuse an animal.”
Kate sent him a teasing frown. “Well, I would hope you wouldn’t do either.”
“You sure?” He winked at her. “And here we were talking about tossing a kid off the bridge, just to see how he’d land.” He bent playfully toward her son. “What do you say, Dylan? You want to go for a swim?”
“No way!” Laughing, the boy ducked behind Kate.
“Ha, ha, very funny.” She tried to smirk at Mike but it felt more like a smile.
“Oh, well, if you want to be a killjoy.”
“Hey, Mike!” someone called from behind Kate.
She turned to see a couple coming over the hill, walking hand in hand. The woman she recognized as the singer from the party, but her eyes widened at the sight of her. She’d considered the singer pretty in a cocktail dress and flattering stage lights. In broad daylight, dressed in slim-leg blue jeans and a pink T-shirt, she was jaw-dropping gorgeous. Her fairly short, platinum curls were swept back from a face naked of any makeup beyond mascara and lip gloss, but her skin and features looked flawless. The wide belt that cinched in the oversized T-shirt emphasized a bombshell figure that would have men tripping over their tongues.
“Looks like we made it in time for the action,” the singer said, glancing toward the river.
“I thought you two were manning the barbeque pits,” Mike said.
“I think we were more in the way than helping out,” the man explained as they joined M
ike and Kate. In contrast to the singer’s over-the-top sexiness, the man had a conservative air about him, from the neatly cut dark hair to the white dress shirt he wore with an open collar and rolled up sleeves. He looked like he should be manning a desk rather than cooking barbecue. “We decided to get out of their way.”
Kate fought an instant twinge of dislike for the man, whose polished manner reminded her a little too much of Edward.
“Hi, I’m Riley Hope,” the singer said to Kate, holding out her hand. Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
“I thought it was Riley Stone.”
“That’s my maiden name, which I still use on stage. These days, though, it’s Hope.” She smiled up at the man beside her.
“Hope?” Kate asked. “Like the town?”
“Jackson’s family founded the town,” Riley explained.
“What she means is, her husband’s family owns the town,” Mike interjected. “Riley, Jackson, this is Kate and her son, Dylan.”
“Hi, Dylan.” Riley beamed at him. “Are you here to watch the stunt?”
“Yep.” Dylan nodded enthusiastically. “Mike invited us.”
“Pretty cool to have connections, huh?” Riley winked at him.
“What do you mean, they own the town?” Kate asked in an aside to Mike. “How do you own a town?”
“It started out as a company town,” Jackson answered, apparently overhearing, “for the German immigrants who farmed our land.”
“Until boll weevils destroyed the cotton industry in Central Texas.” Riley made a face of distaste. “In a roundabout way, though, becoming a veritable ghost town turned out to be a good thing, since it made Hope what it is today.” She swept an arm toward the opposite riverbank, in the direction of the popular tourist town.
“Actually”—Jackson slipped an arm around his wife’s waist and smiled down at her—“you made Hope what it is today.”
“Me and Dolly Dugan.” Riley grinned up at her husband.
The mutual admiration in the couple’s eyes shattered Kate’s initial impression of Jackson. He bore no resemblance to Edward when he looked at his wife. The pride on his face made her heart twist. That was how a marriage should be, filled with mutual respect. She couldn’t help but wonder if the journey to love had been effortless for Riley and Jackson, or a wild ride? They looked so mismatched on the surface that, if she had to bet money, she’d pick the latter.
“Who’s Dolly Dugan?” she asked, since probing the couple with personal questions wouldn’t be appropriate.
“The woman who ran the Hope Music Hall for so many decades, she’s a legend around these parts,” Riley answered, lighting up. “She had quite a scandalous past.”
Jackson chuckled as he slipped an arm about his wife’s waist. “Riley does love exposing my family skeletons.”
“Hey, it’s good for business.” Riley poked her husband in the ribs, then turned to Mike. “And so is this movie gig. Not just now, while y’all are filming, but imagine the boost this will give us when the film comes out.”
“Always a nice side benefit,” Mike said. “Speaking of the movie, does anyone want to go mingle with the crew while we’re waiting for Trey to do his thing?”
Riley shaded her eyes as she looked toward a row of folding canvas chairs set up behind one of the cameras. “Actually, I think we have a better view from up here.” She turned to Kate. “What do you think?”
Kate surveyed the scene. “I think you’re right.”
“How long before he jumps?” Dylan asked.
“Could be awhile,” Mike told him. “I think they’re pretty close, but they have to be sure everything is just right, since they’ve only got one shot at this. We might as well get comfortable.”
As they settled down amid the wildflowers, Kate gave thanks that Riley and Jackson had joined them. Their presence helped dispel the feeling of a date between her and Mike. A burst of laughter came from the crowd of other observers. In the distance, voices shouted over the drone of generators.
“So, what do you do?” Riley asked Kate.
“At the moment, nothing, other than—” She broke off, wondering how to explain that she worked for Mike. Except, she no longer felt like she worked for him. The remodeling project felt more like something she was doing out of friendship. Even if “friends” didn’t quite fit their relationship.
What was their relationship? She wondered.
“Kate’s a writer,” Mike supplied for her.
“Really?” Interest brightened Riley’s face.
“A currently unemployed writer,” she clarified.
“Temporarily,” Mike insisted with a pointed look. Then he turned at Riley to explain. “Kate writes an advice column called Dear Cupid. She’s in the process of syndicating it.”
“An advice column?” Riley’s eyes went round. “As in romantic advice?”
“Romance, dating, relationships.” Kate waited for the feeling of being a fraud to hit, since her own marriage had failed. For the first time, though, she thought maybe in some ways that made her more of an expert. She’d experienced the bitter side of love and she’d witnessed the sweet side.
“Kate has a knack for giving good advice,” Mike said with a hint of pride.
“Seriously?” Riley straightened. “I need to introduce you to Jesse.”
“Jesse?” That caught Kate’s attention. “I met her the other night, at the party.”
“Well, if ever anyone needed dating advice, it’s Jesse.” Riley leaned forward, lowering her voice in conspiracy. “She is so over-the-moon for Trey, but the man is completely clueless.”
“I thought the same thing!” Kate said.
“Then, what do we do?” Riley asked.
“Riley…” Jackson said, warning in his voice. “Are you sure it’s wise to get involved?”
“Oh, hush.” Riley waved a hand at her husband. Kate saw Jackson and Mike exchange shrugs as if to say wise men should stay out of it while Riley turned back to Kate. “How can Jesse get in touch with you?”
“I actually still have my Dear Cupid email address,” Kate told her, then rummaged through her purse for a scrap of paper and a pen. “Let me give it to you.”
She’d been glad to discover that, even though her page had vanished, Gwen hadn’t deactivated the email. Of course, that also meant she’d spent a lot of time all week answering questions about why her column had disappeared. She’d chosen vagueness as the best approach, with hints that she hoped the column would be live again soon, just not at Gwendolyn’s Garden.
“Here you go.” She handed Riley the scrap of paper.
“Fabulous!” Riley grinned. “I can’t wait to give this to Jesse.”
“Please do.” Kate’s spirits lifted at the thought of helping Jesse and Trey. That little thrill let her know that pursuing Mike’s idea to syndicate her column, even though it scared her, was what she needed to do.
“Look!” Dylan pointed down the hill. “The train’s moving. Is he gonna jump now?”
“Not yet,” Mike said. “See the guys with the survey equipment? They have to figure out all of the measurements from the cameras to the opening of the freight car.”
“What do you mean?” Kate asked.
“The animation has to be the same scale and angle as the live-action shot. This scene will be the climax of the movie when the train explodes, destroying my robot. Kevin Lee’s character will barely escape by leaping from the train on horseback. In order for the effect to work, all the technical data has to be accurate.”
“Cool!” Dylan’s face tipped up toward Mike’s. “So, we’re gonna see the train blow up too?”
“Not today.” Mike smiled at the boy. “That’s what the audience in the theater will see. Today, all we’ll see is Trey doing the stunt. The rest of the animation team will create the fireball on their computers back in California, while I finish creating the robot here. Once everything’s done, a film compositor will combine all the elements to make it look as if everything
happened at once.”
“And it’ll look real?” Dylan asked.
“As real as the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park.”
“What’s Drassic Park?” Dylan scrunch up his face.
“Something that makes me feel very old.” Mike shook his head, then regaled Dylan with stories from the making of Jurassic Park and some other movies he’d worked on.
The awe on Dylan’s face had Kate’s fear of hero worship returning. She pushed it back with reminders that she couldn’t seal Dylan off from every single thing that might cause him emotional hurt any more than she could seal him off from every airborne particle that might cause an asthma attack.
Where did she draw the line between being a good mother and an overprotective one?
Was it as vague as the line between guarding her own heart and sealing herself off?
“Here we go,” Mike said, standing up.
Kate stood as well, focusing her attention on the train as it moved onto the bridge. The director motioned with his hand and the mechanical arm holding his seat and camera rose. Downstream, near the ambulance and vet’s truck, Jesse mounted a second horse and rode to the water’s edge.
“I didn’t realize Jesse was in this shot,” Kate said.
“She’s not,” Mike explained. “She’s waiting out of camera range to catch Trey’s horse if it gets away from him.”
Someone hollered for quiet. The director spoke into a walkie-talkie and Trey appeared on foot in the doorway of the freight car, waved to Jesse, then disappeared back into the car.
“What you can’t see,” Mike explained in a hushed voice, “is the platform attached to the other side of the train. Trey will back the horse onto that, so the horse can take a full stride before he jumps.”
Kate nodded, her gaze riveted on the train.
Then, suddenly, the horse and rider shot through the opening of the freight car to arch through the air. Trey leapt sideways, free of the saddle, his arms cartwheeling as he fell. Horse and rider landed with a splash several feet apart and disappeared beneath the water. The instant they resurfaced, Trey frantically swam toward his horse and grabbed hold of the saddle horn as the animal splashed and pawed its way toward the bank. Kate’s breath caught as she watched them struggle not to drown. Something must have gone wrong. Glancing toward Jesse and the rescue team, she wondered why they weren’t doing anything.
Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set Page 21
