Debbi Rawlins - Hot Winter Nights

“I’m not worried,” Lila said, and dipped the brush into the dye solution. Frankly, it hadn’t occurred to her. She was more concerned about making it home to spend the holidays with her family. “Has Jason mentioned anything about breaking for Christmas?”

Penelope checked her watch, ignoring Lila, as usual. “Would you hurry this up? I have a dinner date.”

“Going to the diner?”

Penelope met her eyes in the mirror. Miracle of all miracles—she laughed, instead of looking as if all crew members were barely tolerable. “I honestly don’t understand how anyone can live in this town.”

“Oh, I don’t know. The place has a certain charm.” Lila meant it, even though she’d grown up in Southern California. The people in Blackfoot Falls were friendly, and of course curious.

Clearly Penelope interpreted the comment as sarcasm and mistook Lila for a kindred spirit. With a little smile, Penelope went back to reading the script changes.

Fine with Lila. She didn’t want to make small talk. She preferred having the time to think. If she could finagle four days off, she could get home for Christmas. It wouldn’t be easy. The round-trip drive would leave her with only a day and a half with the family. Flying was out of the question since she was almost broke.

The quick turnaround wasn’t ideal, but it would be worth it. She’d already missed decorating the house with her mom and sister. Even though she knew that some people thought it was silly, not being with her family, everyone singing carols while they cooked Christmas dinner together, was unimaginable. Her brother’s wife, Cheryl, had joined the tradition last year. For Lila, Christmas and home were synonymous.

Just as she applied more solution to Penelope’s dark regrowth, a scream pierced the low hum of the crowd milling around outside.

People started yelling.

“What was that?” Penelope pushed to get up, then must’ve remembered what she looked like with her hair plastered to her head and sank down again.

“I don’t know.” Lila rushed to the window, couldn’t see anything, so she went to the door.

“What is it?”

“I can’t tell.” Lila tried to see past a crowd of extras blocking her view. “Hold on a second.” She pulled off the plastic gloves and took the three rickety steps, her beat-up Nikes touching the hard ground just as she heard the distressed neighs of a horse.

“Stand back, everyone. No one needs to get hurt.” The man’s deep, steady voice drifted in the chill air as smooth as fine, warm brandy.

“Right now, people.” That was Erin, from somewhere in the direction of the catering truck. “Give him room.”

Lila found a narrow gap in the crowd and pushed through.

A beautiful black horse reared and let out a high, extended whinny. He wasn’t penned or tethered but cornered by a cowboy with longish dark hair, wearing a tan hat with the brim pulled low. The man threw a rope around the horse’s neck, and the animal tossed its head and stamped the ground.

A collective murmur rose from the crowd.

“You know who that stallion belongs to?”

Lila turned to the unfamiliar voice behind her. But the older, bearded man wasn’t talking to her.

“Nope,” the guy next to him replied. He smiled at her and touched the brim of his hat. “Afternoon, ma’am.”

They were probably locals hired as extras. Quite a few were standing by, waiting to be called for the next scene.

Lila returned his smile, then resumed watching the scene unfolding in front of her.

Moving in slowly, the cowboy whispered something to the horse. He didn’t stop, just kept speaking in a low, hushed voice. Whatever it was, the stallion began to calm down.

“Is that Clint Landers? I think it is. I see his Whispering Pines trailer over there.”

Lila shuddered. Partly because the stallion had a fierce look about him, but there was something about the tall, lean cowboy that had her wrapping her arms around herself to ward off another shiver.

Stepping aside, she turned to the two men. “Do you know what happened?”

“That black broke loose. Someone didn’t tether him proper. He should’ve been left in the corral.”

“What’s the Whispering Pines?” she asked just as she spotted the white horse trailer.

“It’s the Landers family’s ranch,” the bearded man said. “That fella with the stallion is Clint Landers.”

Hmm. He looked to be in his early thirties. Probably married.

“Are you an actress?” The younger guy hadn’t stopped staring at her.

“Not exactly,” she said. “I do hair and makeup.”

“Well, that’s not right. You’re too gorgeous not to be a movie star.”

She just smiled and turned to watch the cowboy. She could’ve told him she was an actress. It was the truth. She just wasn’t acting in this particular film. But she’d played a few bit parts here and there, and soon enough she would make the transition from struggling wannabe to an honest-to-goodness, card-carrying member of the Screen Actors Guild. But lately, probably because of how tired she was, how tired everyone was, she wasn’t quite as thrilled as she had been about her long-held dream.

The action had died down. The cowboy and the horse seemed to have reached an understanding, and the crowd started to thin.

Clint Landers.

Huh. For some reason she thought the name suited him. He was still talking to the animal in a hushed tone, and she stepped closer, wishing she could hear his voice again.

“Ma’am?”

She stopped and turned.

The bearded man had left, but the younger one, who was about her age, stood there, hat in hand. “My name is Brady.” He had a great smile. “Sorry about sounding like a starstruck hayseed.”

“I’m Lila,” she said, but didn’t extend her hand. It was too darn cold. Instead, she hugged herself tighter. “You paid me a compliment. I should have thanked you.”

“Ah, no worries. You must hear stuff like that all the time.”

She did, but she wasn’t about to admit it, so she just smiled. After six years of trying to make it in this brutal business, she’d made peace with comments like his. But she had done nothing to earn her looks, and lucky for her, she’d been raised to believe praise was reserved for merit.

“Are you staying in town?” Brady asked.

“No. Most of us are camped out here.” She spotted Erin and waved to get her attention. “I’m sorry, Brady, I’m actually working. Would you excuse me, please?”

“Sure.” His smile faded as he stumbled back a step.

Erin walked up. “Are you an extra?” she asked him, and he nodded. “The director needs you on the set.”

“Yes, ma’am. Bye, Lila. I hope to see you around,” he said and jogged off.

“Yet another heart you’ve broken,” Erin muttered, watching him for a moment. “He’s cute.”

“Yes. But the guy with the horse? Holy cow.” Lila ignored her friend and watched Clint lead the horse toward the corrals. “I wonder if he’s married?”

“Clint?” Erin gave her a long look. “Why, Lila Loveridge, I’m shocked. Are you interested in that cowboy?”

Lila frowned at her. “You know him?”

“Not really. I signed for some stock he’s delivering. Seems like a nice guy. I was about to go thank him for saving our asses. Want to come with?” Erin’s grin died as she looked past her. “What the hell is he doing?”

Lila saw right away that she meant Baxter, the new investor’s nephew, with whom the crew was supposed to play nice. He was headed toward the corrals with a scowl on his pasty face. Another annoying person with an ego issue. He and Penelope would make a good—

Penelope.

Lila glanced toward the trailer. She’d completely forgotten about her. Tough. Erin was already on the move, and Lila wasn’t going to miss this.