“We’re moving the shoot to Murphy Farms.”
“Hey, that’s where you—”
“Yeah.” Bo nodded. “Where I grew up.”
Vic chuckled. “Those cowboy days of yours are still coming in handy.”
“Seems like,” Bo said. “I’ve already told my crew about the switch. Just wanted to keep you up-to-date, have Claudia change it on the paperwork.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it covered.” Vic cocked his head, eyeing Bo. “You didn’t have to come in for that, though. My wife does know how to use the phone.”
“I wanted to talk to you.” Bo sat up straighter, hands braced on his knees. “This movie I’m working on…”
“It’s a big one.” Vic smiled. “People are already talking.”
“It has the potential to be big,” Bo agreed. “I’m thinking, now might be the time to start moving forward with the plan.”
Vic’s smile faltered.
“Just discuss it,” Bo hurried to add. “Start getting specs for how we’d make it happen. Maybe draw up some paperwork.”
“I don’t know, Bo,” Vic hedged. “The holidays are coming up and then it’s a new year.”
“My point exactly. Let’s start fresh with the new year. If we get WCS transferred fully over to me before Fair is Fair hits the market, that could be a great springboard to relaunch the company.”
“Relaunch?”
“You know what I mean,” Bo backed off. “Announce the changes, that’s all.”
Vic scratched his chin. “I’ll think about it.”
Right. Bo had been listening to that song for two fucking years. Frustration frayed the edges of his temper, but Bo reined it in. “Good.” He stood, before he said something he’d regret. “We’ll talk more about this later.” He held out his hand to Vic.
“Sure.” The old guy shook it, grip firm as ever. “Later.”
By the time Bo got to Murphy Farms, it was almost noon, and production trucks and vans were lined up along the gravel drive, crews hard at work. He decided to leave his motorcycle parked at his parents’ house and head over to where the filming was taking place on horseback. He still went riding on occasion, but he’d been more city boy than country boy for too long. It would do him good to warm up a bit on his own before starting in with the actors.
The stallions were kept in a separate stable on another part of the Murphy property, away from the mares, so Bo didn’t see Rogue unless he made a special trip. Murmuring softly, he slipped the bridle into place and cinched it before leading the horse out of his stall. Fall sunlight filled the stable yard. A brisk breeze swayed through the trees beyond the fence, sending leaves dancing across the thick grass.
Rogue tossed his mane, turning into the wind, nostrils twitching. “Feels good, huh, boy?” Bo chuckled, stroking the soft velvet of his muzzle. “Wanna go for a ride?”
The horse bobbed his head. Without preamble, Bo swung up, deciding he’d ride bareback. He didn’t want to waste time dealing with a saddle right now, and the urge to feel the wind in his hair, the glide and shift of smooth power beneath him, was a temptation he couldn’t resist.
Afternoon sun warm on his back, wind stinging his face and tearing through the horse’s mane, they crossed the open field. Rogue’s hooves thumped against the ground in time to Bo’s heartbeat. In no time, they’d reached the line of trees. With a tug on the reins, Bo slowed to a trot and guided the horse to run parallel along the edge of the meadow until they reached a break in the trees where an old dirt path wound its way through the woods.
Following a path in his mind as well-worn as the one beneath the horse’s hooves, Bo’s thoughts shifted to Sadie and their conversation last night. Did the universe really have a plan? He couldn’t shake the sense it was possible, that seeing Sadie again, being with her again, was inevitable.
In minutes, Rogue had reached the other end of the woods. For a moment, Bo stood at the edge of the meadow, watching the steady stream of activity flow around the estate as various crews carried out the business of prepping the location for filming. They were in for a couple of long days ahead. “Okay, boy,” he said, as much to himself as to the horse, “let’s go.”
* * *
A few hours later, Bo stood next to Sylvia in the south glen, comparing notes while Ryan and Sadie rode a practice route together. As he watched them move across the meadow, Ryan on the black gelding and Sadie on the caramel mare, Bo was struck by the fact he wasn’t jealous. Rather than a sharp pang of envy that she was in another man’s company, Bo only felt joy. She was beautiful to watch on horseback. How could he have forgotten? The flow and symmetry. The rhythm. It was like art or poetry. A piece of music.
Ryan wasn’t half bad either. “I’m impressed,” Bo admitted to Sylvia. “He really does know how to handle himself on a horse. I knew Sadie could ride, but I had my doubts about Gratt.”
Sylvia chuckled. “I had my casting people do their due diligence. I’m well aware of an actor’s inclination to pad resumes.”
“If what we’re seeing now is any indication, as long as the weather holds, the next few days of shooting are going to be a breeze.”
“Don’t jinx us.” Sylvia watched as they finished the circuit. “But yeah, they do look good out there together.”
He nodded. “Not trying to jinx anything, but I think we’ll get this wrapped up by Sunday morning.”
“Perfect.” Sylvia turned to her assistant. “Did you get that, Tanya?”
Tanya mumbled under her breath, scribbling notes on her clipboard. Bo wondered if the girl slept with that thing under her pillow.
On Sunday morning, as Bo had predicted, the crew was prepping for the final sequences with the horses. The plan was to film during “magic hour”—the time just before dawn when natural light spreads evenly across the sky, and Mother Nature provides breathtaking lighting, no special effects or fancy filters required. From his standpoint, it was an easy sequence to shoot, the focus of the scene more on atmosphere than action.
By the time the sun was full up, golden October sunlight streaking through the copse at the edge of the meadow, the shoot had wrapped. Bo did his part, checking in WCS’s safety equipment as it was loaded on the truck, all the while tracking a thatch of spiky blond hair. He and Sadie hadn’t had a moment alone since that night in her apartment.
All through the shoot, they’d kept their distance and stuck to the provisions of Sadie’s dare. Professional. Courteous. But it had been almost a week since they’d talked about anything not related to the movie. A week since he’d touched her. Kissed her. Bo was dying to steal just a few minutes with Sadie.
While the crew packed up the last of the equipment, Bo waved at Sadie. She moved toward him, the rose and auburn shades of the fall morning bathing her in a warm glow. He sucked in a breath. Christ, he could look at her all day. Watch the color of her eyes change with the light. She was so radiant, it was like the dial had reset on the clock, and the sun was rising again.
“What is it?” she asked, catching him staring.
“Nothing. Just … you’re beautiful,” he replied honestly.
A shy, pleased smile curled in the corner of her mouth. The sweet mouth he’d been wanting to kiss for days. Bo glanced around, most of the strike team had finished up. The coast seemed clear for the moment, so he took a risk, leaning in and kissing her. Briefly. Softly.
It wasn’t enough. “Come on,” he whispered, taking her hand and tugging her toward the stable.
“Where are we going?” she whispered back.
Bo didn’t answer, but pulled her inside the tack room, shutting the door and pressing her up against it. “I’ve been thinking about doing this for days,” he said, dipping his head and pressing his mouth to hers.
“Why, Mr. Ibarra, this is highly inappropriate.” Sadie giggled. “Are you calling off the dare?”
“No. But can I call a time-out?”
“Hmm,” she mused, face scrunching in exaggerated contemplation. “I’ll
have to consult the rule book. Any other requests?”
“Actually,” he began, mouth moving along her neck, “I was wondering…”
“Yes?” Her breath tickled his ear.
“My folks still insist on family dinner every Sunday night.” He molded his hands over the curve of her jean-clad hips.
“Uh-huh.” She strung her fingers through his belt loops.
He slid his hands up under her sweater, caressing the smooth, satin skin. “And since today is Sunday…”
Sadie leaned into his touch. “It is…”
“Well, if you don’t need to get back to the city right away…” He flicked his thumbs over her nipples.
“I don’t,” she breathed. Her fingers had moved from his belt loops to his buckle.
He chuckled, filling his hands with her breasts, squeezing gently. “Would you like to come over for dinner?”
“I’d love to.” She slid her hand inside his jeans, wrapping her fingers around his cock.
“So,” Bo groaned, “it’s a date?”
“It’s a date.” She grinned up at him.
Bo stared down at her, brain a little numb as he basked in the warmth of her smile. Also, there was the fact his dick was in her hand—that tended to make his brain go on hiatus. Which was probably why he was taken completely off guard when the handle to the tack room jiggled.
“Hello?” a female voice called from the other side of the door. Not Sylvia. Maybe one of her assistants.
Shit. Bo jerked, pressing his palms flat against the door, holding it shut.
Sadie yanked her sweater back down. With lightning reflexes, she sprang into action. While Bo continued to keep the door shut, she made quick work of his buttons, tucking his shirt back in his jeans.
“Easy there,” he growled softly. “Watch the equipment.”
A snort of laughter escaped Sadie, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Is someone in there?” The door jiggled again.
“One minute,” Sadie called, eyes on Bo, warning him to stay silent. “I’m, uh, just changing.” She pressed her back against the door and pointed to an alcove on the other side of the room. Bo got the hint. He nodded and hurried over to it, careful to keep his feet silent. Once he was hidden from view, Sadie opened the door and slipped outside.
Fuck, that was close. From the other side of the door, he could hear Sadie weaving some form of explanation. Bo crouched in the alcove, feeling like a naughty little boy. Like Toby when Luna put him in a corner for a time-out. Which, let’s face it, he needed a time-out. What had he been thinking?
That was the problem, He hadn’t been thinking. From now on, if he and Sadie were going to play this game, they’d have to stick to the rules.
CHAPTER 20
HOURS AFTER ALMOST getting caught with her hands inside his pants, Sadie rode behind Bo on Rogue, holding on as he cut through the meadow to his parents’ house. She relished the contact. Thanks to the close call in the tack room, they’d agreed to keep their hands off each other on set. No more time-outs. No more risks. They were adults, not horny teenagers. They could act like it.
Unfortunately, being around Bo made Sadie feel exactly like a horny teenager.
Bo kept the pace steady, and in minutes, Rogue was trotting up the drive to the carriage house. Originally established as the coachman’s residence, it now served as the home for the estate’s stable manager. A position Bo’s father had held since before Sadie was born.
In the distance, Sadie could just make out the lights of her grandma’s house on the hill beyond the trees. The Murphy mansion was gorgeous to look at, stately and impressive. But Sadie had always thought the carriage house was the loveliest building on the property. It was certainly cozier.
Sadie thought again about what Bo had said that night in her apartment. How his family owned nothing. How everything they “had” belonged to her family. She’d never considered what it would have felt like if someone else owned everything she believed was hers. Had never really thought about it. Guilt cramped in her belly. That’s what privilege was, right? To have so much you don’t even know it.
The baying of hounds startled Sadie out of her musings. As Bo guided the stallion past the main horse barn and toward a smaller stable sitting at the edge of a pasture, the barking grew louder. Sadie glanced toward the kennel, where the pack of hunting dogs were kept. Luckily, Rogue was accustomed to the cacophony and paid it no mind.
A moment later, Bo pulled the stallion to a stop and dismounted before helping her slide down. Sadie assumed they’d have to see to the feeding and rubdown of the horse themselves, but as Bo walked Rogue to his stall, she was surprised to see a groom emerge from the tack room. The two men exchanged a few words, and Bo handed off the reins, patting Rogue’s rump affectionately. “Good job today, boy.”
“He is a good boy,” Sadie agreed, cooing to the stallion as she reached out and stroked his soft muzzle, hot puffs of breath tickling her fingers. The groom nodded politely at her before guiding Rogue away. Now that she thought about it, she shouldn’t be surprised her grandmother had hired more staff. Bo was gone, and his father …
“Come on.” Bo tugged on her arm. They jogged across the yard toward the house. With each step, Sadie grew increasingly nervous. Why had she agreed to do this?
Because you want to see if things can work with Bo. And spending time with his family is a logical step in the right direction.
It may be logical, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. Sadie didn’t know why she was so scared. She’d met Bo’s family countless times. His dad was gruff and rough around the edges and his sister hated her guts, but his mom was wonderful. Thinking of Bo’s mother, Sadie relaxed a little. It would be nice to see Mrs. Ibarra again.
As they neared the house, the screen door swung open and a child stepped onto the porch. Sadie staggered to a halt. It was a little boy. Blond hair the exact shade Bo’s had been as a child. The same golden curls she remembered from that first morning they’d met. No. It’s not possible.
The earth tilted sideways. Sadie hunched over, hands on her knees, and breathed in through her nose. Don’t pass out. Do not pass out. She exhaled slowly. Eyes squeezed shut, she could still see the image of the boy, his face lighting up with Bo’s trademark mischievous grin.
“Abeja?” Bo asked, voice filled with concern. “What’s wrong?” She felt his hand on her back, warm and gentle.
She shook her head, unable to speak, the lining of her throat singed with bile.
“Uncle Bo?”
Sadie swallowed. The burning sensation retreated to her stomach. Uncle? That made sense. She forced another series of slow, deep inhales and exhales to cycle through her lungs. Finally, she unfolded her body and stood. God, she was an idiot. She glanced back at the porch, at the little boy who still stood there, watching them, head cocked to the side, eyes bright with curiosity.
“Who’s she?” the boy asked, directing his question to Bo.
“An old friend,” Bo replied. He wrapped an arm around Sadie’s waist and asked her quietly, “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.” She gave him a cheery smile, hoping it didn’t look as forced and ghastly as it felt. “Just a dizzy spell.”
“Let’s get you inside and get you something to eat.”
Sadie nodded, grateful she didn’t have to explain further. After all, how did one go about explaining you’d almost fainted because you saw the ghost of what could have been?
The bile began to creep up again, and Sadie pushed everything back down. The thoughts. The fears. The worry. Back in the box. Lock it up. Nail it shut.
Letting Bo lead her up the porch steps, Sadie shuffled along next to him.
With polite formality that she would have found adorable if she wasn’t about to have a nervous breakdown, Bo introduced them. “Toby, this is my friend Sadie. Sadie, I’d like you to meet my nephew, Toby.”
Again, hearing the word nephew helped quell the panic. “Nice to mee
t you, Toby,” Sadie said, even managing to offer her hand to the boy. Up close, she could see he had blue eyes. Robin’s egg blue. A lovely shade, but nothing like the jewel tones of Bo’s amber-brown eyes or his sister’s emerald-green. And not the violet of her own eyes either.
Toby shook her hand, mouth quirking as he stared up at her. He didn’t have to look too far.
At barely five feet, she wasn’t much taller than a … “How old are you?” she asked the boy abruptly.
“I’m seven,” Toby announced proudly.
That’s good. Seven. See? He’s not ten. He’s not the same. It’s not the same. But even as Sadie told herself that, her mind was doing other calculations. If Bo was Toby’s uncle, then that must mean this was Luna’s child. Sadie was three years older than Luna. Which meant …
Sadie’s head began to swim again. It was all too horribly, ironically similar.
“How old are you?” the little boy demanded, pulling Sadie back to the moment.
“Toby, you’re not supposed to ask a lady’s age,” Bo admonished.
“She asked me first!” Toby protested.
“He’s right, I did.” Sadie smiled at the boy, the first genuine smile she was able to muster since laying eyes on him. “I’m twenty-nine now, but I’ll be turning thirty soon.”
“Wow! You’re almost as old as Uncle Bo!”
“Thanks, kid,” Bo grumbled, taking the words right out of Sadie’s mouth.
“When’s your birthday?” Toby asked, ignoring his uncle.
“On Halloween.” Oh, God, that was less than a month away.
“What? Cool!” Toby’s button nose scrunched up in thought. “Does that make you a witch?”
“Tobias!” a voice called sharply from the house. “Supper’s ready. Get back inside this instant!” The door swung open and Bo’s sister appeared. She turned, green eyes growing cool as she noted Sadie. “Oh. It’s you.”
“This is Uncle Bo’s old lady friend,” Tobias explained helpfully. “She’s a witch.”
The trademark Ibarra smirk tugged at Luna’s lips, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she held the door open for Toby. “Did you wash your hands?”
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