She took another two steps back, and I could tell she was preparing to leave, feet bouncing slightly with unspent energy.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I said just as she started to move.
Her feet picked up the pace, and she took off down the dusty path in a relaxed, effortless stride that spoke of years of experience and athletic prowess.
I watched, trancelike, as her body moved. The calm, cool efficiency, something to behold. Her tiny ponytail was actually pretty cute as it bounced. And her backside was?—
“I didn’t throw it,” she called over her shoulder.
I felt my lips part around my grin. “I’m Ian, by the way.”
“So you said,” she hollered without turning.
I chuckled and could not help the absolute delight I felt at being so instantly disliked and disregarded by this mystery woman. She’d been surly and unfriendly, and that only made me more determined to win her over.
It had been a minute since someone overlooked my fame and stardom. Then again, the hat and sunglasses did cover most of my face. And I’d introduced myself as Ian instead of the name everyone knew me by.
Dorian Masters was the action hero. Dorian Masters had the best smile in Hollywood. Dorian Masters was the man everyone wanted to know.
Ian Wells was just a kid from Ohio who’d made it to LA. In a place where personal training and modeling and waiting tables could land you a chanceencounter, I’d been one of the lucky ones, in the end. I’d met my agent, gotten auditions, and after years of commercials, voiceovers, and even that one romance audiobook I’d narrated, I’d landed my big break.
Now I was a “fan favorite” with “staying power” in an industry that could change overnight. I knew celebrity status was an illusion. I was one bad decision or social media mishap away from being a has-been or a never-was. But right now, I was on top of the world.
And that farm girl with the great ass in running shorts and a ball cap hadn’t given me the time of day.
My face could barely contain my award-winning grin.
“Nice to meet you!” I shouted at her rapidly retreating form.
She tossed up a hand that would have won an Academy Award for the most impatient and halfhearted farewell of all time.
This little town was getting more interesting by the second.
I stood there like an idiot, luxuriating in my own hubris and the midmorning sunshine, before I remembered I still had a one-mile trek back to the rental house.
“Shit,” I huffed.
Then I reached down to touch my toes in an attempt to stretch and heard my spine crack in three places. Alright, never mind. I’d just walk it.
My sneakers scuffed along the dirt of the tractor path and dislodged tiny pebbles as I began the long trudge back to the main road.
I’d work up to running, I decided. Maybe I could even find a workout partner to teach me their ways. Someone with a penetrating stare and an uncompromising scowl.
And I knew just where to look.
two
JOAN
There was a kid standing over my shoulder.
I wasn’t sure when he’d arrived or how long he’d been there, but he stood quietly, about six feet away, watching as I worked on the conveyor belt.
The machinery had been acting up, sensitive to too much weight on the ramp. I’d been waiting for some downtime to take a look inside and tune up the conveyor that delivered the apples to the press. Today had been good enough.
It was early November. The u-pick apple season was over, and we had another week before the Christmas tree lot went up. So there was a bit of a lull in tourist traffic.
The kid shuffled more to the right to see around my elbow as I worked the crescent wrench around a stubborn bolt.
