by Cat Johnson
My father took one look at me after opening the door and frowned at the sight I must be. But he didn’t comment on my puffy eyes and red nose.
“Hey, baby girl.”
“Hey, Dad.”
“There’s something you might be interested in.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I asked with a sniff.
“Remember that trail cam I set up along the fence line between the road and the paddocks after I found those animal prints?”
Vaguely I remembered a discussion about footprints and my father being concerned about whether it was just a dog or a coyote snooping around the farm at night.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“Well, I pulled the memory chip out of it today and look who I caught on camera.” He turned his cell phone toward me and I saw a grainy picture of two men.
I zoomed in and though it wasn’t the best quality, it was still obvious that one of the men was Dusty.
“What does this mean?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me. I just think it’s a pretty big coincidence that Dusty is shaking hands with a stranger in front of our fence the same day Belle got out. And the day before a photographer was sniffing around Charlie’s school.”
I zoomed back out and saw the time stamp on the corner of the photo. My father was right about the date. “What the hell?”
“And there’s something else. Charlie said his daddy called him and told him he was going to take him shopping for a four-wheeler.”
I frowned. “Dusty has no money to buy anything, never mind a four-wheeler.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Unless he’s suddenly came into some money,” my father said.
“By selling the information that Jamey was here to the tabloids,” I continued.
“Yup.” My father folded his arms. “You might not have shared everything with me but people talk. I heard about the pictures of you and him and Charlie. I’m not completely ignorant when it comes to the internet, so I looked them up and found them.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want you to know. It’s embarrassing.”
“Hell, who cares what people think. I wish Jamey was Charlie’s father.”
I let out a sad laugh. “It’s a good thing he’s not because he’s gone back to Hollywood where he belongs and I’m sure we’ll never see him again.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Dad. No. Don’t get your hopes up. He hasn’t even called or texted since he left.”
It didn’t matter how the paparazzi had come to be here. The fact was Jamey had gone running the moment they had shown up. That he still hadn’t been in contact showed he was good and gone.
“Maybe he’s busy with work,” my father said.
“He shouldn’t be because he had a month off before the movie and he was supposed to use the time to learn to ride here.”
“Well, I do know they’re gearing up to start shooting soon.”
“How do you know that?” Was my dad watching Access Hollywood when I wasn’t around?
“Guess who got the stock contract to supply the horses for his movie.”
My eyes widened. “Us?”
He nodded. “Yup. So you’ll be seeing him soon enough. They called for us to be there with the horses in two weeks.”
My broken heart sped. Just when I didn’t want to feel hope and be disappointed again, the damn feeling crept up on me.
Judging by his smile, my father thought he’d delivered good news. He turned for the door. “I’m gonna go start dinner.”
“Okay.” I hated to burst his matchmaking bubble but I wasn’t so sure Jamey would want to see me. Or if I really should want to see him.
Maybe it was time for a little online recon to find out what he’d been up to the past few days, beside being busy not contacting me.
It didn’t take long to find him. Though it wasn’t on one of the gossip sites that I found Jamey. It was on Instagram.
A simple hash tag search of his name brought up the picture that took the air out of my lungs.
The pain in my chest was only rivaled by the nausea in my stomach at the sight.
A pretty blonde smiled as Jamey wrapped his arm around her.
Apparently the man had a type. Blondes. He’d gone right from me to her. To her hotel room, apparently, judging by the décor.
No wonder Jamey hadn’t been in touch. He had already moved on to his next girl.
TWENTY-ONE
JAMEY
“Another beer?” Rick asked. “Or you want something stronger?”
I let out a snort. Staying drunk until I wasn’t sad about having to leave the farm, and leave Maisie, sounded like a pretty good idea at the moment.
It didn’t matter that I’d done it to protect her and Charlie. It still sucked.
“Possibly. I’ll let you know. I’m good for now.” I raised the warm beer bottle to my lips.
“So you ready to talk about it yet or you just want to keep moping?” Rick cocked a brow.
I frowned. “I’m not moping.”
“Uh, yeah you are. The one and only time I saw you smile since you got here was when you were posing for that picture with my sister.”
“Gotta smile for the fans.” I forced a fake smile now, but my heart wasn’t in it. I hoped in the shot that Darci had posted to Instagram I looked better than how I felt.
“No, you don’t have to. You can tell my sister no, you know. The only one legally bound to keep her happy is her husband. Let Chris worry about her and you tell me what’s up with you.” Rick leaned forward in the chair opposite me, his forearms braced on his knees. “Who’s this woman you needed the security for?”
“I—” I didn’t get to finish. The sound of a doorbell interrupted me.
“That should be Jon and Zane. See. Now you waited too long to talk and the guys are here. But maybe seeing them will cheer you up. I know you’re a big fan. Or are SEALs no longer exciting for you now that you played one in the movies?” He laughed, standing.
I rolled my eyes at his joking as he opened the door and his two teammates and their wives and a toddler all came in.
Good thing Sierra and Rick had the biggest suite in the hotel, because with their friends from Virginia all here early for the engagement party at Spago tomorrow night, they needed the room.
Rick led the group over to the living room area and introduced me to Jon’s wife and their son, and then Zane’s wife. There was a lot of handshaking and smiles but luckily no one asked me for a picture since I wasn’t feeling it.
“Where’s Chris and Darci?” Jon asked.
“Sierra took Darci out to get their nails done. And Chris went along because . . . I don’t know.”
“Because he’s being an overprotective watchdog?” Zane suggested.
“Yeah, good chance.” Rick laughed.
As Rick poured champagne for the two women, Zane and Jon flanked me on the sofa.
“Can we talk a little business for a minute?” Zane asked.
“Sure. Is everything okay?” I trusted them and their company but that didn’t mean my heart didn’t pound at the thought they might have bad news about Maisie.
“Everything’s status quo.” Jon’s answer didn’t exactly ease my anxiety.
“As you predicted, there’s been a photographer trying to gain access to the property,” he continued.
Just because I’d expected it didn’t make it any less maddening.
“Our guys have reported all it took was one knock on the window the first time they saw him and he took off. Now, they just show themselves and he leaves.” Zane grinned.
Knowing that Jon and Zane’s security company mostly hired former Navy SEALs, I had no doubt the photographer was scared shit after that one close-up look.
“Good. And Maisie still isn’t aware anyone’s there?” I asked.
“Correct.” Zane nodded.
“I’m not sure why you’re insisting on that. For the boy especial
ly, our guys would be much more effective if they weren’t hiding in the bushes fifty feet away from his school,” Jon pointed out.
“I know, but my bringing the paparazzi into her life was bad enough. I’m not going to cause more upheaval by throwing bodyguards she didn’t ask for at her and Charlie too.”
“Understood.” Jon bobbed his head. “We’ll keep you informed. When our team stops seeing any more photographers, we’ll contact you about discontinuing protection.”
“Perfect. Thanks. “Although there was nothing perfect about this situation. I wanted to be in her life and until I figured out how without messing it up, I couldn’t be.
“Why do you still look unhappy?” Zane cocked one brow high.
The man liked to solve problems. They both did. It must be ingrained in SEAL training. See a situation. Deal with it. Move on to the next challenge.
They’d all proved they could solve pretty much any issue when they’d swooped in and saved the movie I’d filmed with Sierra.
These guys were like the fixers in the mob, except they used their powers for good. Maybe they could fix my problem now.
“I’m trying to figure out how to get rid of the paparazzi for good.”
“We can do that for you.” Zane’s voice, low and grave, made me wonder exactly what services their company provided for the right price.
Cringing, I decided I’d better clarify, just in case. “I don’t want them dead. Just off me.”
“You know, some people would do anything to get half the amount of press these guys are giving you for free. If I were you, I’d figure out a way to use them to your advantage,” Jon suggested.
My agent usually had a stack of scripts on his desk for me to choose from so I wasn’t sure the questionable publicity I could gain from the paparazzi would benefit me in that way.
Sure, someone unknown and looking to break out in this business maybe could work the media to their gain.
Or even a small business might be able to—the idea hit me like a physical blow. Suddenly I knew what to do and how to do it.
It could solve so many problems. And it was all thanks to one sentence from Jon.
I threw my arms around the man and pressed a big Hollywood-worthy kiss to his cheek before I jumped up from the sofa.
“What was that for?” Jon asked, looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
“You just saved my life. Thank you.”
Jon laughed. “In that case, you’re welcome.”
Now that I had the beginnings of an idea, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “Tell Rick I had to run. I’ll see you all at the engagement party.”
Zane nodded, an amused smirk on his face. “All right. Call us if you need us.”
“I hope I won’t, but thanks.” I was out of the suite’s door and pulling my cell from my pocket before the elevator doors opened.
Jerry answered my call on the first ring. “What happened now?”
I rolled my eyes at his rude assumption. “Hello to you too, Jerry. And nothing happened. Do you have a good lawyer I can use?”
“Oh, God. What did you do?”
Jeez. I really wish I had an agent who had some faith in me.
“I didn’t do anything. This is a good thing. Something I think you’re going to like. So stop insulting me and give me the name and number of the damn lawyer you use. I have a crap ton to do and not much time to do it.”
TWENTY-TWO
MAISIE
“The horses are all loaded in the trailer, ready for their close-ups.” Dad grinned at his own lame joke. The same one I’d been hearing since I was small. “You sure you don’t want to drive ’em to the lot?”
“Very sure.” After seeing the picture of Jamey and that blonde? Yeah, no. I’d rather poke my own eyes out than go to the one place I was guaranteed to find him.
Although a perverse side of me did want to see Jamey again, I wasn’t going to put myself through the agony.
A part of me wanted to make him look me in the eye. Wanted to see his expression at having to face me again. Or maybe I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t able to completely forget me.
He shouldn’t get to put me totally out of his mind and go on with his life as usual, as if nothing had happened, because I sure as hell wasn’t able to do the same.
The pain of losing him followed me everywhere, day and night.
It sucked during the day, doing the chores that he used to help me with. Every damn thing reminded me of him. Especially the tractor. I pictured him grinning in the seat while firing it up to drive a load of manure out to the pile. Even Lucifer made me think of Jamey.
But the nights were just as bad, worse really, when I was in bed with nothing else to think about except the hurt.
My father watched me. If he was waiting for me to change my mind, he might just get his way because I was crazy enough to still want to see Jamey even though I knew it would hurt like hell.
Desperate—or stupid enough to still hold on tight to the pain of loving him, finally I grew a spine and said, “Dad, just go.”
“All right. Suit yourself.” He turned with a wave and headed for the truck, his limp from an old bull riding injury more pronounced today than usual.
I was really going to have to crunch the numbers and figure out how to make my plans for this place a reality. My father had worked hard during his life, but he couldn’t keep going at the same pace forever.
It would be so nice when we had another income that wasn’t dependent on horses or that year’s hay crop. Or stupid movie stars from Hollywood.
My cell phone rang and I jumped, grabbing it with the undying vain hope that it might be Jamey calling.
It wasn’t his number, but it was an LA area code.
Hope and stupidity had me answering with a breathless, “Hello?”
“Is this Maisie Holtz?”
“Yes, ma’am. It is.”
Another mom wanting to book riding lessons for her daughter, no doubt. Fine. I could use the money if I was going to save enough to build the bunkhouses for the camp.
“Ms. Holtz, I’m Rachel Klein. I’m the attorney handling the set up of the not for profit. I need to speak with you about the transfer of the funds.”
My bullshit radar kicked into high gear as I saw my potential new student turning out to be a scam artist. Next she’d want me to wire her eight thousand bucks to cover the bank fees to transfer me the six million dollars some long lost relative overseas had left me.
“I’m sorry, but I know nothing about this.”
“Oh, wait. Hang on. There is a note on the file that it was set up by a third party. I just took over this case for one of the partners. I can forward all the paperwork to you but it appears as if an anonymous donor has set up an account with the sum of one million dollars for an organization named Kamp for Kids.”
I rolled my eyes. Only one million? I wasn’t even worth the big money to the scammers? That figured.
I let out a huff. “And let me guess. You need me to send you money to get it?”
“No, ma’am. All fees have been covered. Why I’m contacting you is because once the application for the 501(c)3 status has been approved, we’ll want to set up control of the funds for you, as you’re the party named as a principal in the organization.”
It was a really elaborate scam. This fake lawyer had thrown a lot of detail into her story, but there was no way it could be real.
People didn’t just give other people a million dollars. And I’d never heard of this Kamp for Kids so how could I be named on their paperwork?
Nope. Definitely something fishy here.
“I’m really sorry and I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve never heard of this Kamp for Kids and I know nothing about any million dollars.”
“May I put you on hold for one moment?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure.”
Why not? I had nothing else to do and since I’d already invested so much time into this scam call, I kind of wanted to see h
ow it would play out.
What would she come up with next? The mind boggled.
She was back after I’d spent a couple of minutes on hold enjoying the soothing classical music while holding the cell in one hand and scooping feed into the buckets with the other.
“Ms. Holtz?”
Hey, at least she’d gotten the Ms. correct. Score one point for the scammers. “Yes?”
“Okay, I spoke with the partner in charge and things have become more clear. The donor was afraid you might not be comfortable receiving funds from an unknown source and although he preferred to remain anonymous, he did give us permission to reveal his identity if you insisted.”
He.
She didn’t need to say the name. I already had my suspicions.
I flashed back to a conversation with Jamey. He’d asked me if I’d ever wanted to do anything besides teach riding and I’d told him about my idea for the camp. He’d said he wished he had a place like that to go when he’d been growing up.
“Ms. Holtz. Are you authorizing me to reveal the name of the donor?”
It was hard to breathe as I said, “Yes.”
“It’s a James L. Garret.”
The feed bins in front of me blurred as my eyes flooded. “Oh. Okay. Thank you.” I swiped away the tears. “Um, did you say you needed something from me?”
“Yes. We’ll need you to sign the papers so we can put your name on the bank account so you can access the funds. I can have the paperwork delivered to you there, if it’s more convenient, but you will need to sign in front of a notary. Or you can come here to our offices instead.”
I couldn’t think. I certainly couldn’t process details about the new non-profit and its one million dollars I was suddenly in charge of.
One million. Holy hell. That was a sizable hunk of the money Jamey was going to get for this next movie—and he’d given it to me to help make my dream come true.
“Um, yeah. Can I get back to you on that?” I asked.
“Of course. Do you need the phone number?”
“Uh, no. Not if it’s the one on the caller ID.”
“It is. I’ll look forward to hearing from you, Ms. Holtz.”
