The Cowboy and His Baby Read online

  It didn’t have to be more than that.

  * * *

  • • •

  The next day, with Katherine’s warning ringing in her mind, she vowed to herself that she wouldn’t call or text him. The shoot that day was long and difficult, and Sloane was in an exceptionally bad mood. To make things worse, the fields were muddy and so any shot with Spidey in it had to be paused so he could be scrubbed free of dirt so each frame would match the last one. The horses were cranky. The dog was cranky. The actors were extremely cranky, and by the time they wrapped for the day, she just wanted to forget all about The Goodest Boy and everyone involved in it.

  When she got a text from Dustin, it seemed like a sign.

  Moose says hello, he sent, along with a video filmed from horseback of the dog trotting alongside. Moose looked so happy that she had to respond.

  Her quick rejoinder turned into a dinner invitation, and when she told him she was too tired to go out somewhere, he offered to come by with sandwiches. And Moose, too.

  How could a girl refuse that?

  So one night turned into the next, and the next. The days were spent arguing with Sloane on the set as he came up with more and more ridiculous new ideas to try and film the climax of the movie. Luckily, the actors seemed about as done as she was and all the ideas were shot down, though not without furious arguing on all sides. Annie had never worked on such a disaster of a movie and told Dustin so. Strangely enough, though, she wasn’t looking forward to it ending, because that meant she’d be leaving.

  And she was having far too much fun with Dustin.

  Their dates weren’t really “dates.” She never went to the ranch. She’d offered a few times to meet him there, but he’d said it was too crowded, or they wouldn’t have privacy. She understood that. Most of the time they headed up to her room to relax and watch TV or to cuddle with the dogs. They’d grab the leashes and take the pair out for a walk up and down the main street of Painted Barrel and drop in at the local convenience store to pick up snacks. One night he brought food over to her place and tried his best to make her macaroni in the room’s coffeepot.

  It was all low-key, silly, and fun.

  She loved it.

  She loved his sense of humor, and how he never seemed to take life seriously. No matter how bad of a day he had on the ranch, he would always show up to meet her with a smile and a joke, and it was as if nothing could bring him down. Annie admired that. She worried too much, she knew, but when she was around him, she worried a little less about the things she couldn’t control.

  Heck, she just loved being around Dustin. She didn’t feel like she had to impress him, to be some LA glamour girl. She could just be Annie, a stay-at-home, dog-crazy sort of girl that liked long walks in the countryside and quiet evenings under the stars. She looked forward to her phone pinging with text messages from him throughout the day. He sent her all kinds of pictures from horseback, sometimes of a sea of cattle, sometimes of wide-open landscapes. Because she was quickly becoming besotted, she changed her wallpaper on her phone to a selfie he’d sent her when he was bottle-feeding one of the calves. Darn thing melted her heart every time she looked at it. She’d offered to come over and help with the calves, but he’d declined and showed up at her hotel, instead.

  Really, Dustin was amazing. And she wasn’t looking for a relationship, but the time she spent with him just made her so happy. So content.

  The only thing she didn’t like? She wasn’t exactly feeling the love from the locals. Not that she needed approval from anyone to see him, but things were a little . . . weird when they went out together. A few times they’d run errands around town, using it as an excuse to walk the dogs and stretch their legs. If they ran into an elderly woman, the stranger would give Annie a small shake of her head, as if disappointed in her. If they ran into a younger woman, she shot daggers at Annie with her eyes.

  All the men smirked at Dustin.

  And Katherine? Katherine just gave her pitying looks, as if Annie was so hypnotized by a handsome man paying attention to her that she didn’t know how to think logically.

  So it was . . . weird. It was as if they all knew something she didn’t, and she thought of what Katherine had told her, that Dustin was notorious around town for being a player and dating a lot of women. Well, he was gorgeous, so she could understand why the local women weren’t warm to her, but the whole “player” thing didn’t match the Dustin she knew. He was playful, yes. Flirty? Absolutely. Out to use her? It didn’t feel like it—he never did more than kiss her and tease her sweetly. He held her hand. He let her snuggle up against him on the small sofa in her hotel room. He never slept over. He never asked to.

  They kept things light and fun.

  They kissed. A lot.

  Oh, how they kissed.

  She’d done a fair amount of dating in the past, but no one had ever kissed her quite like Dustin did. He touched her like he had no goal except to please her. As if he had all the time in the world to do nothing but leisurely make love to her mouth with lips and tongue and need and lord have mercy, it was amazing. Toe-curling amazing. They could sit on the sofa for what felt like hours, touching and nibbling and tasting until her lips were swollen and she was dizzy with arousal, and she still never got enough.

  Katherine kept telling her to be careful.

  Of course, this all was temporary. None of it would matter in a handful of days, because she’d be heading back to Los Angeles, the movie wrapped. Dustin would more than likely be out of her life. It wouldn’t matter that he was a player.

  For now, she was just going to enjoy being with him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Her last day on the set was a nightmare.

  “I feel like we need to do the wildfire scene,” Sloane said again, gesturing at the script. “We still don’t have the punch we need to make this movie memorable.” And he looked pointedly at Annie.

  Not this again. “I know what my dog is capable of, and a wildfire scene isn’t it,” she told him, pulling Spidey into her lap. They sat under the big shade umbrella, and she was on the ground so to be at Spidey’s level. The dog was getting more nervous by the day, to the point that he was acting up even when simple tricks were required. It only made Mr. Sloane more agitated, which made Spidey even less likely to perform.

  In short, it was turning into a disaster.

  She couldn’t blame the dog, though. Heck, she didn’t want to be here, either. He was really giving her everything he had. He’d done the horse roundup scene perfectly, but when it came time to simple interactions with the actors (in a scene where he was supposed to be “listening” to what they were saying) he spent more time watching her than paying attention to his cues.

  He was done, poor little guy. And he wasn’t the only one. Because the last few days on the set were so stressful, everyone was cranky and on edge. They were all glaring at her like she was the holdup and the problem. No one wanted to be finished more than Annie, though. But she also knew her dog, and she wasn’t going to risk him.

  “Just a small wildfire,” Sloane told her, as if he was being reasonable. “We can manipulate the film after the fact to make it look bigger.”

  She shook her head. “He’s not prepared—”

  “You’ve had a whole week to prepare him! We talked about this the other day!” He threw down the script in front of her, and she felt Spidey cringe in her lap. “I specifically brought it up a week ago—”

  “And I told you a week ago that it wasn’t doable. I didn’t have the time and the dog doesn’t have the nerves. We just can’t do it. If you want to CGI it in, I’m more than happy to bring him to the studio and train him to do whatever you need for the motion capture.”

  “Do you think this picture is made of money, Miss Grissom? We’re already over budget as it is.”

  People were starting to stare and the looks she was gettin
g were distinctly unfriendly. Normally everyone on the set supported each other and worked well together, but things were running long and tempers were frayed. If she caused the picture to be delayed more than it already was, she’d be making enemies. She was already going to have a black mark against her reputation once word got out about how much she and the director clashed, and in a small business like movie making? Reputation counted for a lot. It was what got you hired.

  All of this made her stomach hurt, nerves starting to affect her, too. She knew how Spidey felt—right now Annie wanted nothing more than to run away from the set herself.

  So she tried a different tactic, stroking a hand down Spidey’s short fur to calm his quivering. “There’s another problem we haven’t considered—he’s a white dog and all that fire is going to leave him covered in soot. That’s going to be worse than the mud.” When Sloane frowned, obviously considering her words, she decided to push a little further. “It’s not the same as having, say, Chad Weathers do an epic wildfire scene.”

  Sloane’s eyes narrowed. He turned to his assistant. “Get Weathers out of his trailer. We can have him film this. He’s always talking about doing his own stunts—here’s his chance.”

  Saved. For now . . . though she was going to be in deep if Chad Weathers found out she’d hinted that he could do the scene, instead. She just hugged Spidey against her chest and waited for the day to be over.

  * * *

  • • •

  Dustin’s phone had been quiet that day. Normally they texted back and forth during slow periods. Annie would send selfies of herself or photos of Spidey, glimpses of the set, or just anything that crossed her mind. He wasn’t much for texting normally, but he found it fun to send her notes throughout the day. He even sent pictures of himself, though he felt a bit like a tool for doing so. She liked it, though.

  Today, however, she was silent. At first he thought she might be mad about something and wracked his brain as to what would have annoyed her, but then somewhere after repairing his fifth fence post, he remembered that today was the last day on set for her.

  It meant she’d be going home soon.

  He wasn’t all that sure how he felt about that. Normally by the time he and a girl split ways, it was a mutual thing. She’d have made it clear what she was looking for, and he’d have made it equally clear that he wasn’t it. They’d drift apart and he’d be glad of it.

  But he wasn’t quite ready to drift from Annie, not yet. Not when he was still utterly fascinated by her. Not when he thought about her endlessly all day and looked forward to each and every text, no matter how trivial. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her, or how soft her hair was, or how pink her mouth when they made out. No, he definitely wasn’t ready to stop seeing Annie. Maybe it was because he was very aware of how temporary it was between them that he’d settled in so easily. They’d seen each other every day, determined not to waste time.

  The afternoon filled up with a couple of calves that wandered into thick mud around the watering hole and had to be carefully retrieved so they didn’t break a fragile leg. After that, he and Eli and Clyde discussed moving the cattle to a different pasture in the morning that’d be less muddy. This particular pasture was still green with thick grasses, but the stock ponds here were also boggy and the animals had a hard time getting down to drink, especially the calves. It was a little early to switch fields, but if the calves were going to be putting themselves in danger, they needed to take action. So they rode out to the new pasture, checked the fences and the mud situation, and decided they’d move them there in the morning. For now, it was getting late and they were ready to head in for dinner. Eli kept glancing in the direction of the house, his horse nearly as antsy as he was, and it was clear he was ready to get back to his new wife.

  Dustin pulled out his phone and checked it. No messages from Annie.

  “We keeping you from your woman?” Old Clyde asked, and Dustin glanced up, expecting to see the weathered cowboy shooting a smirk at Eli. Instead, they were all staring at him.

  “What woman?” Jordy asked. “You got another girlfriend?” He made a sound of disgust. “Is there a woman in this town you haven’t dated?”

  “Plenty,” Dustin said defensively. He didn’t say who he was seeing, though. He didn’t want to hurt Jordy’s feelings.

  “The redhead?” Old Clyde guessed. “The one with the dog. I saw you with her on Main Street the other day.”

  So much for not hurting Jordy’s feelings. “We’re just having a good time,” he said evasively. “She’s not staying long-term.”

  “The redhead from the bar?” Jordy asked, tugging on the reins of his dancing, high-strung horse. “With the freckles?”

  “Yeah. You mad?” He felt a surge of guilt. Annie was fantastic, and Jordy had been interested in her. It didn’t feel right to steal her from him.

  “Me? Nah. She didn’t like me at all. No violation of bro-code here, buddy.” Jordy gave him an easy smile. “But if she’s got a hot friend, you could hook me up.”

  Dustin chuckled, shaking his head. “Most of her friends are four legged and have tails.”

  “That why we got a new dog?” Old Clyde asked.

  “Not the only reason,” Dustin admitted, scanning the landscape for Moose. The dog was at the edge of the herd, parked in the grass, watching happily. He’d taken to ranch life as if it was utterly familiar, and he suspected it was. The dog had settled in right away, a gentle giant among the other ranch dogs and an adoring shadow to Dustin. He liked the big guy and had no regrets about adopting him. He needed to be wild and free, that was all. Dustin knew what that was like.

  “Well, if you’ve got a lady to impress, we should head in.” Eli pulled off his hat and wiped at his brow. “And I want to check on my wife. She was sick all night.”

  “You could text her,” Dustin suggested.

  Eli just stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Why?”

  “Because that’s what modern people do?” Jordy countered. “This ain’t the 1870s, bud.”

  Eli snorted. “I don’t need a phone. I can go talk to her.”

  Dustin shook his head, amused. Of all of them, Eli was the one most resistant to the constant connection to others. He was pretty sure the guy would be perfectly happy completely isolated from the rest of the world as long as he had his wife at his side. Once, Dustin might have thought that was insane—he liked people, liked their stories, liked getting to know strangers. But now, well . . .

  Maybe he could see it, if it was just him and Annie.

  Of course, he might be mooning over a woman that wasn’t interested in him any longer, and wouldn’t that just be ironic. He did his best not to frown as the other cowboys teased him and they all headed in out of the pastures and back toward the ranch, the dogs chasing around the horses with excitement. He’d give Annie a call—a real call, not this texting crap—when he got out of the shower. Texting was far too easy to avoid. If he could talk to her, he could find out what was going on.

  * * *

  • • •

  You realize you’re screwing your career, here,” Katherine told her as they got off the crew bus and went inside the hotel. “You think Sloane’s going to stay quiet about how big of a pain in the ass this movie was? That all will be forgiven the moment he gets back home? He’s married to the freaking producer.”

  “I know,” Annie said, her stomach churning with nerves. They’d gotten steadily worse throughout the day and right now she felt like throwing up. Everything Katherine said was true. “But . . . he wasn’t being reasonable.”

  “He doesn’t have to be reasonable! He’s the director!”

  She hugged Spidey in her arms, ignoring the dog’s squirming. “And I’m the dog trainer. If I don’t think the dog can do it, it’s my responsibility to say so.”

  “No,” Katherine snapped, shoving the door open and
then holding it for Annie, as if she couldn’t decide whether or not to be angry enough to be impolite. “Your job is to make the dog do tricks. It’s the Humane Society’s certification expert’s job to determine whether or not it’s unsafe. I think you’re just being an ass because you don’t like Sloane.”

  “That’s not true,” Annie protested, but the moment the words left her lips, she wondered if Katherine was right. Was she deliberately being difficult? She’d certainly worked with a lot of bad directors before . . . and she probably would again. The thought was depressing. Why was she doing this job when she despised all the people she worked for? “At least I’m pretty sure it’s not true.”

  “You’ve been distracted all week,” Katherine lectured. “You know what I think it is? I think you’re too busy giggling with your cowboy to focus on the movie and because the movie stars your dog, we all have to suffer.”

  That stung. “What, I’m not allowed to date someone? That must be a new rule on set, because no one else is paying attention to it.”

  Katherine paused at the foot of the stairs. “All I’m saying is I hope he was worth it, because you know that it’s going to get around that you were difficult to work with on this movie. I’m your friend and I’m trying to give you advice because this industry sucks, and there’s no need to make it harder on yourself.”

  She didn’t know if she was touched by Katherine’s words, or irritated. The bad day was polluting her thoughts and all she wanted to do was forget anything and everything related to the stupid movie.

  “Except you, buddy,” she murmured to Spidey, rubbing his head as she headed up the stairs.

  Once inside her room, she unharnessed Spidey and put down a bowl of fresh water, then flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Now that the movie was done, there were still a million things to do. Head to the laundromat. Pack her clothes. Decide if she was going to rent a car or fly home with Spidey.