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He made sure everyone watching caught his condescending smirk before he stuck out his hand. Clint clasped it and gave Baxter a couple of firm pumps. Baxter looked as though he was about to choke. If his face had been red before, now it was turning scarlet.
Clint pumped his hand a couple more times. “No hard feelings...pal,” he said with a big smile and released Baxter’s hand.
He immediately flexed it, while subtly trying to draw in some air.
“I don’t think anything’s broken,” Erin said with a straight face.
Lila pressed her lips together and quickly turned her head. And met Clint Landers’s eyes. They were brown. Light brown with gold flecks. And he had thick dark lashes that took nothing away from his rugged good looks.
The man was positively dreamy.
She needed a little air herself. But she managed to give him a smile without hyperventilating.
“Clint Landers,” he said in the same deep, velvety tone he’d used with the stallion.
“Lila Loveridge.” She stared down at his extended, bone-crushing hand. “Um, I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” he said, amusement curving his mouth in a slow smile. “Live dangerously.”
With a laugh, she dragged a palm down her jeans before letting his large hand engulf hers. His grip was firm, yet gentle. He was the real deal. A genuine cowboy who did physical labor, and with rough, callused palms to prove it. And those muscled arms and shoulders? Not bulk, just lean muscle. Oh yeah, he looked darn fine.
And the other thing about him—he had no problem looking a person directly in the eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, pulling back her hand and lowering her gaze to his chest. “You’re wearing a T-shirt.”
He glanced down. “I am.”
Lila sighed. “It’s December.” Why did the really hot guys always have to be crazy? “And it’s freezing.”
“Also true.” He glanced at the horse. “I was changing in my truck when this guy here decided to make a break for it.” He held out his hand and the horse nuzzled it. “You know if he belongs to Ben Wolf?”
“No, I don’t.” She turned to ask Erin, but one of Jason’s flunkies had pulled her and Baxter aside and was whispering something to the two of them.
Whatever it was, Baxter stopped glaring at her and Clint and gave the young man a sharp look. Then he turned toward the set, where Jason was setting up the next shot. His uncle expected a big return on his investment, and Jason’s word was gospel. The project’s success trumped Baxter’s self-importance. It had to.
“Who’s in charge of looking after the stock?” Clint’s gaze flicked to Baxter. “Not that guy, I hope,” he added in a lowered voice, looking back at her.
“Oh, God, no. That would be Charlie. He’s the head wrangler, and he’s very responsible. I haven’t seen him today, but he should be around... Older guy. White hair. Wears it in a ponytail.” She thought Charlie might be in town, but she glanced around anyway, because staring into Clint’s eyes made it hard to concentrate on anything but him. “I don’t see him. We haven’t had any other incidents with animals getting loose, though.”
“I’d like to speak with him before unloading my trailer.”
“Erin should know where he is.” Lila gestured vaguely, noticing that someone else now had her friend’s ear. Fine with Lila. It gave her more time to check out Clint. “She shouldn’t be long.”
“I’m in no hurry.” He lifted his hat and swept back a long dark lock of hair before settling the brim low on his forehead.
“Are you also an extra?”
“An extra what?”
“I guess not.” She smiled. “You said you were changing your shirt so I thought... We hire local people to be in the movie.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Most people like it. They don’t say any lines and it pays practically nothing, but they get bragging rights. Hey, if you’re interested—”
“No,” he said quickly. “No. No way. Not me.”
“You can’t be camera shy.”
