“Why do you have forty-something potato cannons?” He couldn’t wait to find out, and distracting her might lessen her pain.
“I teach eighth-grade science. This afternoon, all of my students are coming over for Potato Cannon Wars. Since the school won’t let me do it on their property, I do it here. It’s kind of a rite of passage. We have a big barbecue, and all of the families of my students are invited. Everyone brings a side dish and blankets to sit on under the trees, and we fire off the cannons. We make a day of it. Uncle Milton dresses up as a clown and frightens small children with horrible balloon animals. No matter what he tries to make it always comes out looking like a giant penis. That sounds creepy, I know, but he means well.” She tried to put pressure on her injured foot and collapsed against him. “I refuse to cancel.”
He’d never been to a potato cannon picnic. It sounded like a lot of fun.
“Who said anything about canceling?” He was trying to figure out how to score an invite. “So, you’re the cool teacher?”
“Not really.” She thought about it. “I guess. Although, I’m hard on my students and I expect a lot from them, but they’ve never let me down.”
“I wish I’d had a teacher like you. I would have enjoyed making a potato cannon.” He couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday.
“I bet you went to a snooty private school.” She thought about it for a minute. “Not that I have anything against private schools. Just snootiness.”
“I wish. I didn’t go to school. I had tutors.” He’d always been jealous of kids who got to go to regular school. He’d started working in commercials at the age of six months, so regular school would have taken too much time away from his career. Since his mother was too busy partying, someone had to make the money.
Susie stopped and looked him directly in the eye. “I’m sorry. That sounds lonely. I’m sure you’re probably busy this afternoon, but if you’re not, I’d love to have you as an honorary potato cannon judge.”
“Now that’s the best invitation I’ve had in a very long time.” He should be running lines, but what the hell, how many times was a man asked to be a potato cannon judge? In his life, that was rarer than an Emmy nomination.
“Great. I promise it will be very interesting.” She smiled.
He wanted to lean down and kiss her … just a taste. But he couldn’t. He liked her too much to complicate her life. Fame was a burden and not something he would wish on his worst enemy.
“Can I ask you for another favor?” He hated to do it, especially since she had hurt herself saving him.
“Sure.” She bit her lip against the pain.
“I like that you treat me just like a normal person. People usually only see the fame. If it’s okay with you, today, I’m just a normal guy. Usually, when I meet people who aren’t in the business, it’s uncomfortable.” He wasn’t explaining this the right way. “I mean … well …”
She nodded like she knew exactly what he meant. “Say no more. I know exactly what you mean. I’m somewhat of a legend in eight-grade science circles. They call me Potato Cannon Susie. In some of the remoter parts of Borneo, I can barely walk down the dirt road without being mobbed by fans.”
“Ha ha. But I’m serious. Most of the time, when people meet me, they get weird. They either stare openmouthed or pitch me the best movie idea in the entire world.” Fame might seem trivial to her, but he’d spent his whole life trying to fit in.
“I get what you’re saying.” She thought about it for a couple of beats. “What’s your middle name?”
He was getting used to her subject hopping. “Stewart. Why?”
She held out her hand. “Nice to see you again, cousin Stewart. So good of you to agree to judge Potato Cannon Wars.” She winked.
He shook her hand, and that little zip zinged up his arm and made his heart go all pitter-pat. “It’s nice to be here.”
And it was. He had a feeling that it was nice to be wherever she was.
* * *
Chapter 3
* * *
Susie felt so comfortable around Dane. Handsome and charming men usually made her nervous, but he seemed genuinely friendly. While they weren’t destined to be the greatest love affair since Meghan Markle and Prince Harry, she did enjoy his company. Or possibly the reason she wasn’t nervous was that her foot hurt almost as bad as when she’d originally broken it. Every single step sent a bolt of fire up her leg.
“I can’t wait to meet your students.” He sounded like he was really into the idea of meeting them.
“They are something. Every single one of them is smart, funny, and capable of doing and being whatever they want. I’m trying to get them to see that working toward a goal is an important life lesson.” She was doing her best to focus on Potato Cannon Wars instead of her throbbing foot.
“I’ve never met anyone as passionate as you.” He grinned at her. “And I work in a world with overly dramatic people.”
If passion only burned calories, she could eat a banana split the size of an SUV and never gain an ounce.
“That’s odd. I thought actors were passionate about everything. Aren’t y’all always out raising money for different causes?” She was trying to concentrate on anything but the pain, but all she could think about was how much her foot hurt.
“Yes and no. Lots of actors do raise money for different charities, and some of them actually believe in helping those causes, but it’s sad to say that more often than not, publicity is the goal and not the charity. Hollywood and even LA are more about being seen doing good than actually doing good.” He didn’t sound like he was bashing where he came from, it was more like he was just stating the facts.
“That’s just sad. You’re the first movie star I’ve met—well, except I think I saw Ryan Reynolds in Diagon Alley at Universal Studios Orlando, but my friend January says it wasn’t him. Anyway, are most film stars that self-serving?” She put her hand up. “I’m not trying to offend you or stereotype your coworkers, I’m just trying to understand.”
He shook his head. “No offense taken. And yes, most actors are at least a little self-absorbed. It’s hard not to be. The rest of the world sees us as demigods and treats us special. Pretty soon you start to believe the hype.”
“I can see that.” She thought about it. “I don’t think I’d like that. Don’t you have people watching you twenty-four-seven? That’s a lot of scrutiny.”
With all of those eyes watching, what if she sneezed and spewed snot everywhere or farted? Too much scrutiny was a very bad thing.
“It is, but fame is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it’s intrusive, but on the other, it’s living a life that most people can only dream of.” He punctuated that sentence with a fake smile. So fame wasn’t something he’d sought.
“The only scrutiny I have, besides from my students, is from my dog, several chickens, a goose, a blind donkey, a couple of pigs, and an old man who lives to irritate me.” It was kind of nice in a screwed-up way.
“Why do you have a blind donkey?” He sounded really interested and not like he was just making polite conversation.
“I found him wandering on the side of Highway 71. It was pretty clear someone had abandoned him. He was nothing but skin and bones. I was afraid he would get hit by a car so I brought him home.” The terrible shape she’d found him in still made her angry. “I didn’t find out until later that he was blind.”
It didn’t really matter, but finding out he was blind had certainly answered lots of questions.
“It sounds like you’re always taking in strays.” He glanced down at her.
“Huh, I guess I am.” She’d never thought of that.
“I guess I’m just another stray.” This time his grin was real.
“Yeah, but you’re not moving in, so I guess you don’t count.” Inadvertently, she put weight on her left foot and white-hot pain ripped up her leg. She bit her top lip to keep from screaming.
“Speaking of overly dramatic …” He swept her up Rhe
tt Butler style. “You need to stay off that foot. I can tell it really hurts.”
“This is a little overly dramatic. Put me down. I can walk.” She was sweaty and smelly and probably lots heavier than the actresses he carried in the movies. Had she put on deodorant today? She clamped her arms to her sides in case she’d forgotten.
“No, ma’am, I can’t put you down. You’re a lady in distress. That calls for drama.” He tried his hand at a Southern accent.
“Now you sound British.” She loved messing with him.
“Hey, that was Texas all the way.” He was all wounded ego. “Matthew McConaughey taught me himself. He said I was pretty good.”
“If I admit that, will you put me down?” She tried really hard not to notice that he had nice hard pecs and that now the shirt covering them was soaked with her sweat.
“I’m carrying you back to your house, so get over it. Besides, I’m calling this my workout for the day.”
“How flattering. I’ve always dreamed of being told that I was someone’s cardio.” She rolled her eyes.
“That came out wrong. I meant to say …” He thought about it for a few beats. “How do you judge Potato Cannon Wars?”
“Subject change … smart choice.” She wanted to rest her arm across his back, but there was definitely a deodorant dilemma. From now on, she was caking on the deodorant in case she ever ran into another movie star while running. “You judge it like you’d judge anything else. Cannon that shoots the potato the farthest, most creative cannon, cutest cannon. You know, things like that.”
“How did you get into the business of potato guns?” To his credit, he wasn’t huffing or puffing under her weight. He must really work out.
“Growing up, my dad and I used to make them. I thought my students would like them. Last month, I mummified a Cornish game hen. I try to do things to keep my students engaged. In case you were wondering, it’s messy mummifying a hen.” She pinched her nose together. “And smelly.”
He laughed. “I can imagine that it’s a stinky process.”
“You have no idea.” She tried to shift her weight because his belt buckle was digging into her side. “Do you normally drive down winding two-lane country roads at four in the morning?”
“I was having trouble sleeping so I got up and went for a drive.” He didn’t seem to notice that his belt buckle was poking her. “I do that sometimes. I like the countryside. It’s peaceful. And I like to take pictures of old barns and houses.”
It was taking forever for them to get to her house.
“Kinda hard to do that in the dark. But hey, you’re into photography, that’s awesome. And I agree, it’s peaceful out here. To me, the city is very loud.” She turned her head to look at him. “Have you spent a lot of time in the country?”
“Not really, but someday I’m going to live there. I’ve always wanted a farm or a ranch. There’s just something about harvesting your own food that’s exciting.” His face seemed to light up with the idea.
“Fair warning, it’s also a lot of work. But even so, I still love it.” She nodded. “There is something satisfying about picking your own tomatoes. It’s good to know exactly where your food is from.”
“Back in LA, I have a huge garden. I love it.” He stepped onto the path that led to her house.
When they got to the gate to her front yard, she leaned over and opened the latch.
“Glad you’re not going to make me climb this fence too.” His eyes sparkled again.
“I told you. I was disappointed that you hadn’t climbed that fence in In the Middle of Love. I’m over it now.” She made the sign of the cross over him. “I absolve you of lying about the fence climbing. Although now that I think about it, you didn’t lie, so I just wasted a perfectly good absolution. Quick, do something that needs absolution or I’m going to feel cheated again.”
“I can think of a few things that would certainly need absolution.” His head lowered and he brushed her lips lightly with his own. He deepened the kiss and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Loud braying exploded from behind them.
Dane jumped and his forehead crashed into her nose.
“Ouch.” Her hands went to her nose. It felt like it was broken, but she didn’t feel any blood.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Gently he set her down next to the fence. “That donkey came out of nowhere. Let me see your nose.”
The braying got louder.
“That’s just Rodney. Hush, old boy.” The pain in her nose drowned out the pain in her foot. Had Dane Bennett really just kissed her? She couldn’t be sure. It was so quick.
Rodney stuck his head through the fence and nosed her hand. She stroked his head. “He takes home security very seriously.” She scratched behind his ears. “Yes you do. You’re just trying to keep us safe.”
“I’ve never heard of a security donkey.” Dane approached Rodney like the animal had smallpox.
“Donkeys are good for watching over livestock. They bray when predators are around, alerting everyone to the possible danger. They also circle around the herd, making sure everyone’s safe.” She nuzzled Rodney. “He’s a good boy.”
Dane put a tentative hand on Rodney’s neck. “Does he bite?”
“Not so far.” She glanced over her shoulder. “At least someone takes my safety seriously.”
He followed her line of sight to an extra-fluffy dog lying on a bed on the front porch.
“What kind of dog is that?” He looked like he was trying to make out the breed.
“The extra-large variety. I rescued her from Austin Pets Alive. Her name is Queen Victoria.”
At hearing her name, the dog cracked open one eye, yawned grandly, and went back to sleep.
“You’re a disgrace to watchdogs all over the world.” Susie glared at the dog.
Dane squinted, trying to get a better look at Queen Victoria. “Is that a stuffed goose she’s snuggled up to? It looks so real.”
“That’s because it’s a real goose. That’s Prince Albert. He and Queen Victoria are an item.” She shrugged. “Their love is unconventional, who am I to judge?” She turned back to Dane. “Please don’t make,” she whispered, “Prince Albert–in-a-can jokes—”
Prince Albert started honking and flapping his wings.
Dane lifted a shoulder. “I don’t even know any Prince Albert–in-a-can jokes, so we’re good.”
“Oh. Well that’s good. He’s very touchy.” She cupped her hands to call to Prince Albert. “I didn’t mean it. Go back to sleep.”
Prince Albert turned around and gave her the butt. He shuffled around and finally found the right spot and snuggled up to Queen Victoria.
“So, you have a blind attack donkey, a lazy dog, and a goose that’s in love with the dog. Are all farm animals this quirky?” He looked around.
“Mine all seem to be.” She watched the first rays of sunshine turn the horizon from black to pinkish-gray.
Across the yard, the pigs snorted in their pen.
“I know. I know. Y’all are all hungry.” She grabbed onto the fence post and tried to shuffle over to the house, but the pain in her foot was blinding.
“Let’s get you comfortable.” Dane scooped her up again and took her to the front porch. Gently, he deposited her in the rocking chair next to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. “I’ll take care of feeding time, but first I should get you some ice for your foot and your nose.”
“Oh no, I should feed them. You’re the guest. You sit down.” She rocked back and forth a couple of times, trying to get her momentum to stand.
“No.” He put a staying hand on the arm of the rocker. “I’m happy to do it.” He looked around. “Where do I start?”
“There are several cold packs in my freezer.” She looked down at her foot. It was swollen to twice its normal size. How was she going to host Potato Cannon Wars if she couldn’t walk?
He pointed to her with his index finger. “You stay put. I’ll be right back.”
> She nodded and tossed him her house keys. Some people still left their doors unlocked, but she didn’t like to make things too easy for Uncle Milton.
He ran into the house and was back less than a minute later. He grabbed the small table between the rocking chairs, moved it in front of her, propped her foot on it, and gently laid the cold pack on top of her foot. He took the other cold pack and handed it to her. “For your nose.”
“Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “You make a nice nurse.”
“Since both of your injuries were my fault, I need to take care of you.” He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the front yard. “Who should I feed first?”
“Usually, I start the feeding with the Governor and Ima Hogg.” She nodded in the direction of the pigpen.
“The Governor? And I’m a Hog?” He arched an eyebrow. “Where do you get these names?”
“The Honorable Jim Hogg was the twentieth governor of Texas. He named his daughter Ima. There’s an urban legend that he named his other daughters Ura and Weera, but according to Wikipedia, he only had one daughter. He had three sons, but he named them regular names.”
He shot her an I’m-not-buying-that look. “You made that up.”
She crossed her heart. “Cross my heart, hope to die. Ima Hogg was a real person. Check it out.”
“It must have been hard growing up with the name Ima Hogg.” He looked around the front yard again. “Where’s the animal food?”
“Yeah, I feel for Ima. But she never let it get her down. She was very successful in her own right.” She pointed to the gray-metal barn. “All of the food is in the barn. The pigs eat pig pellets, the dog food is in there, there’s chicken feed, and inside the house there’s a glass bowl full of leftovers for the pigs. Rodney eats grass, but he’ll love if you hand feed him an apple or two.”
He nodded. “You stay there. I got this.”
He headed off to the barn.
It was impossible that Dane Bennett was here at her house and feeding her livestock. She watched his fine butt as he walked away. Yep, impossible. She aimed to enjoy it while it lasted.
Sweet Susie Sweet Page 3
