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“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.”
