Hope Ignites

Page 3

“They’re ready for you, Des,” Jessica said.
Des nodded. “I’ll be right there.” She turned back to Logan and Martha. “I hope you enjoy it. The scene is fairly short, so I’ll be back to check on both of you after.”
She walked away and was soon joined by a tall, sandy-haired man dressed similarly to Des.
Martha gripped his arm again. “Oh, my Lord. That’s Colt Stevens. Isn’t he handsome?”
The guy was muscular, for sure, showing it all off in his half-ripped sleeveless top. Colt and Des smiled at each other as they got into position. The director—or Logan guessed it was the director—started calling out something. Des pulled her weapon and crouched down behind one of the buildings, Colt right next to her in a similar position. Several other actors dressed in black combat gear and wearing some type of creature makeup were on the other side of the buildings. They were armed, too. It looked like it was Des and Colt against an army of at least a dozen.
When the director called “Action,” Des and Colt started talking. It appeared as if they were trying to strategize an escape, but the guys in black made the first move, firing their weapons. Des and Colt fired back. No sounds came from the guns. Logan assumed those sounds would be dubbed in later. The firefight lasted only about a minute, but Logan had to admit he’d leaned forward, getting into the action, especially when Des and Colt bolted from their position of security, the aliens advancing on them. When her gun was out of imaginary ammo, she holstered it and slung the rifle over her shoulder and began to fire.
Logan smiled at the way she held the rifle. Des needed some lessons on rifle fire. If it were an actual shoot-out, she wouldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with that thing. Then again, this was all make-believe, so it didn’t matter.
She was hit, presumably in the leg, because she dropped her weapon and went down, clutching her thigh. A bright burst of red came from her thigh and the aliens advanced on her.
Des was captured, dragged away through the dirt by one of the taller men. Colt started to come for her, but he was jolted back as if he had been hit by gun or laser fire, though, of course, there was no gunfire sound.
Des screamed out, arms flailing, yelling for Colt to run, not to come for her. Colt hesitated, special effects smoke billowing all around them.
Nice. It was over in a minute or two, the director yelled “Cut” and everyone got up.
“That was a good take, everyone,” the director said. “We’ll regroup for scene seven in thirty minutes.”
Des brushed herself off and went over to Colt. Heads bent in conversation, gesturing and pointing over the scene they’d just shot, Logan studied the two of them as they talked. The connection between them was obvious. The smiles they shared and the way Colt touched her made it seem as if they were intimate. He wondered if they were dating.
“Wasn’t that exciting?” Martha asked.
“It was interesting.”
“Interesting?” Martha nudged him. “I barely breathed the entire time.”
“Okay, it was a pretty good scene.”
“Look, she’s bringing Colt over.” Martha straightened her blouse, and Logan rolled his eyes.
“You gonna leave Ben for this guy?”
Martha shot him a look. “Of course not. Colt’s young enough to be my son. He’s younger than you, for heaven’s sake.”
“Then I don’t think you need to primp.”
She slapped his arm. “You’re a mean man, Logan McCormack.”
“How did you like the scene?” Des asked.
“Oh, my,” Martha said. “It was amazing.”
Des waited.
“It was good,” Logan said.
“Logan, Martha, this is Colt Stevens.”
Colt gave them a genuine smile and shook their hands. “Pleasure to meet both of you. And, Logan, thanks for the use of this ranch. I’m hoping to get out and explore, that is, if you don’t mind.”
Logan was predisposed not to like Colt, but he was friendly and not arrogant. “Do you ride?”
“Some. I spent time on a ranch in my errant youth, but I’m a little rusty.”
“Oh, you have to come over to the ranch. In fact, you and Des should come for Sunday dinner.” Martha frowned. “What do you eat around here, anyway?”
Des wrinkled her nose. “Either takeout from town or whatever catering gives us.”
Martha crossed her arms. “Which is?”
“Nothing edible, that’s for sure,” Colt said with a laugh.
“Then you definitely have to come for Sunday dinner. I make home-cooked meals every night, and it’s not that far. It sure beats takeout and whatever your catering truck is going to fix for you.”
“We wouldn’t want to put you out, Martha,” Colt said. “We’re used to eating in our trailers.”
“Nonsense. You’ll come for dinner. I insist. Besides, it’ll be a treat for me. I’ll get to pick your brains about the movie business.”
Des looked at Colt, who then grinned at Martha. “Sounds like a win-win to me. Besides, I’d really like to get back on a horse again, provided Logan doesn’t mind.”
If he said he minded, Martha would likely kill him. “I don’t mind. Come for dinner, like Martha said. The more people Martha can cook for, the happier she is.”
“This is true,” Martha said with a smile. “Sunday dinner is my specialty.”
“Sunday dinner it is, then,” Des said. “And thank you. If I never see a Chinese-food box again, I’ll be happy.”
When the bell rang, Des and Colt had to leave to get ready for their next scene. Colt was talking to Martha, and Des moved in next to Logan. “You sure you’re okay about us coming to the ranch house for dinner?”
“Hey, I’m not the one cooking. If Martha wants you, consider yourself invited.”
“Still, I’d hate to intrude.”
“You’re already here on the land. A couple extra people at the house won’t make any difference.”
She patted him on the chest. “That’s what I like about you, Logan. So warm and inviting.” She tilted her head back, and he was caught again by her ever-changing eyes. “See you later.”
“What was that about?” Martha asked after Colt and Des left.
“Nothing.”
“I think she likes you.”
“I think she likes Colt.”
“And I think you know nothing about acting. Or women.”
“That much is true.” What he did know was they were going to have guests for dinner on Sunday. And one of them was Des, a woman he didn’t understand at all. Not that he understood any woman, but her in particular.
And when she’d touched him, he’d felt something, which bothered him.
He liked the type of woman he could categorize—the kind you took to bed and the kind you stayed away from.
He’d like to stay away from Des.
He’d also like to take her to bed. She had a smart, sassy mouth, a sexy smile, and an attitude a mile long. But he figured that Colt guy was her boyfriend, and he didn’t get in the middle of a relationship, so he planned to steer clear of her.
He was good at staying away from women, had lived thirty-four years without tangling himself up in a woman. He had enough trouble just managing the ranch, which was enough to handle.
Women were a lot more work.
A woman from Hollywood? No way in hell was he tangling with that.
Chapter 3
“THIS ISN’T EXACTLY a Hollywood premiere, Des. Let’s get a move on.”
Colt paced impatiently in Des’s trailer while she put the finishing touches on her hair, which had decided not to cooperate today. Damn Oklahoma humidity. Her hair was flat and uncooperative and looked like a mop. Ugh.
Not that she was trying to impress anyone or anything. That someone she was definitely not trying to impress would likely not even notice her, anyway, so why would she even bother? She was only going over there for the home cooking.
She finally gave up and pulled it back in a high ponytail, slipped on her boots and came out of her bedroom.
“I’m ready.”
Colt gave her the once-over. “You look cute.”
She looked down at her dark blue short-sleeve button-down shirt, shorts, and boots. “Not too casual?”
“No. It’s cute.”
She leaned into him. “And you look hot.” Then again, he always did, even in jeans and a button-down shirt.
“What do you think about the boots? Too city-boy-trying-to-look-country?”
“Not at all. Your boots are scuffed, and you’re not a city boy.”
“Tell that to my house in the city.”
She laughed. “Let’s go. I’m seriously craving some home cooking.”
They made the drive over to the main ranch house. Des stared out the window at all the land. Stuck in L.A. all the time, where space was at a premium, she gaped at the free expanse of land here, couldn’t fathom what it must be like to look out your front door and know the land as far as you could see was yours.
She rented a condo and she could hear her neighbors argue. She made good money, but she invested it. One of these days she’d like to have property somewhere remote, where she could be alone . . . like this. Someplace to call her own, where she could establish roots and never have to pick up and move again.
“You’re quiet.”
She turned to Colt and smiled at him. “I’m enjoying the view. Isn’t it magnificent here?”
“It’s pretty damned awesome.”
He pulled into the driveway and parked. Dogs suddenly appeared and started barking, their tails wagging furiously back and forth. And, oh my, there were a lot of dogs.
“Oh, my God, they have dogs,” Des said with a wide grin. She opened the door and slid out of the SUV, suddenly surrounded by yips and wagging tails as the dogs greeted her. She crouched down to pet them, all various breeds and shapes and sizes.
“Hi there, cuties.”
“I see you’ve met the dogs.”
Logan’s voice was deep and entered her senses right away. There was just something about him that got to her. She lifted her head and smiled up at him. “I have. What are their names?”
He stepped down off the porch and gave a low whistle. In an instant, the dogs ran to him.
“Sit.”
It was like magic. They all sat at his feet, clearly knowing who their master was.
She stood and followed while he pointed down the row.
“This is Whip, Duke, Maisie, Sally, Cinder, and Punk. We have a couple of cats around, too, but they’re harder to spot. They like women, though, so they might come out today to see you.”
Des crouched down to pet them again, shoving her face in their fur. “They’re gorgeous.”
In the meantime, Colt went over to shake Logan’s hand. “Thanks for letting us come over today.”
“You can thank Martha for that. She’d have invited the whole crew if I’d let her.”
Des looked up at him. “I take it she likes to entertain.”
“She thinks everyone needs a home-cooked meal.”
Speaking of Martha, she opened the screen door. “Oh, you’re here. Welcome. What are you doing in the dirt? Dogs, shoo.”
They must listen to Martha, too, because the dogs all took off. Logan held his hand out for Des. She slipped her hand in his and he hauled her to her feet.
“You’ll get dirty down there on the ground,” he said.
She met his gaze and her stomach fluttered. “I don’t mind getting dirty.”
His gaze held hers, and it was like something she’d never felt before—an instant connection, something hot and primal that she’d just love to explore with him—in the dark, just the two of them, alone. But just as quickly as it was there, Logan looked away.
“Come on inside. It’s hot out here.”
The house was magnificent. Old, but in great shape, with its two-story charm, and, oh, rocking chairs on the front porch to enjoy that amazing view. She loved all the flowers pouring from pots on the porch. The added color was a burst of sunshine, as well as the gardens growing off to the west side of the house. She wanted to investigate . . . everything.
Inside was just as charming as out, with polished dark-wood floors and a pretty damned amazing kitchen, with high-end appliances, everything so modern in contrast to the old-country charm of the home.
“It smells so good in here,” Colt said. “If it tastes as good as it smells, I might never go back to the set again.”
Martha’s cheeks blushed pink. “I can guarantee it’s better than takeout.”
“I’m sure it is,” Des said. “Thank you again for inviting us.”
“I’m thrilled you’re here. Logan, show them the house. Provided you’d like to see it.”
“I’d love to see it.” Des looked to Logan.
“I’ll let Martha show me around later,” Colt said, pulling up a chair at the island. “I’m going to sit here and filch some of these corn bread muffins from her. I’m starving.”
Martha laughed and grabbed a plate, setting it in front of Colt. “All right. Logan, show Des around.”
Des figured Logan was about as excited at giving her a tour as he would be at having makeup put on for a scene. But he nodded and led her out of the kitchen and into a very expansive living area. He stood in the doorway. “This is the family room.”
She walked in and perused the furniture, some modern, such as the flat-screen television, but there was a sprinkling of antique furniture, too, no doubt handed down by generations of family. She went and got a closer look at an old cabinet. She loved that it was scarred, wondering about the history of the piece.