“I’d love to have breakfast and lunch here, but I want you to be comfortable first.” I lift my head from my hands where it had fallen and smile as his features very subtly soften. “If you’re really sure then, yes, I’ll eat with you guys.”
“Quinn,” he says. “I really do want you to have a great experience in Sable Sky, and I want you to make the film you came here to make. I’m sorry about… I don’t know,” he says, gripping at the back of his neck as his handsome eyes find his boots for a moment. “I’m not used to someone being around so much, and I’m just trying to do right by Sadie, but also honor you and what you’re here to do.” He looks up at me again and desire curls my ribs at the intensity bubbling in his blue eyes. “I’ll explain to Sadie anything that needs explainin’, so that’s on me, don’t worry about that.”
I swallow the knot of emotion in my throat that comes from his raw honesty. Simultaneously I struggle to hide the rush of excitement hitting my cheeks like a tidal wave. I’m going to be spending a lot more time with him. And Sadie. “Okay,” I breathe, my chest tight and hot. “Thank you.”
He wastes no time telling me what’s on his mind this morning. “You’re… welcome.” He hesitates, then adds, “I am sorry, I’m not used to all this attention, is all. But… I’ll adjust.”
I draw a heart on the dirty barn floor with the tip of my boot. “Not used to attention?” I kick dirt over it, then draw a curlySfor Sadie. “You were the Sable Sky champ, the fan favorite. Seems like you’re still the favorite, Landry.” Everyone I talk to adores this man and his skills.
He tips his head to the side, somewhat analyzing me, the depth of his blue eyes knowing no bounds as they search my gaze. “I mean, from a woman.”
Relentless heat spears through my core and my cheeks heat. The back of my neck grows damp, and I curl my toes into my boots. “Oh.”
What do I say here?
I don’t believe that for one second because you look like the modern-dayMarlboro Manwithout that whole cigarette addiction thing.No.
“You meet anyone else here in Sable Sky yet?” he asks, rerouting my brain, causing me to mentally stumble.
“What? Yeah, um…” I trip a little, racking my brain for names of people I’ve talked to about Landry. He’s back onto the film, and that’s where I need to be too. That’s why I’m here. Wednesday I went to the saddlery, and met Lansing Vernon, one of Landry’s old school friends.
“Lansing Vernon,” I remember aloud, hoping I’m pronouncing his name correctly. “And, well, you know, I still have lots of interviews to do. I plan to talk to a ton of folks.” His face is difficult to read, so I nervously add, “I can get you the roster of folks I’m planning to interview, if you’d like to approve it.”
He ignores that question, and instead asks, “Is that who you were out with last night?”
Huh?“What?”
“Gettin’ home late.” A beat ticks by, then another few seconds, and finally the subtext of those three words crashes into me. My nipples stiffen to a needy ache immediately as I lift my chin slightly, and shake my head.
“No.” Icouldtell him that I went outside of the inn, and sat on the porch with the lantern lit, editing footage with my headphones on under the beautiful Texas night sky. But Icouldnottell him and see if what he really just said is,I’m jealous.
We hardly know each other, so the idea that Landry wouldn’t want me to go out with someone else is pretty far-fetched.
But cars can drive themselves now, and phones are basically computers. We’re like a year away from living in the world of The Jetsons.
Maybe Landry Vaughniswicked obsessed with me.
The thought of it excites me unreasonably so.
There’s no hurt in not telling him that I wasn’t out with a guy last night. No hurt at all. Though I do have a conversation with Mabel in store for tonight. She’s great at running the inn, but it seems like she prefers moonlighting as Cupid.
“Hmm.” That’s all he says in return, then as if this whole exchange never happened, he nods toward my mug. “There’s cream and sugar inside.” Then he gets to his routine, not another word.
There’s something incredible about watching Landry Vaughn in his daily routine. He’s so hardworking and reliable, I can’t imagine knowing what it’s like to be in his hands, under his care. His animals all adore him, and though I can see the ranch is in disrepair, it’s got nothing to do with his love, effort or capabilities.
It’s financial.
When a man works this hard, it’s unfair that he doesn’t have more financial security. I don’t quite understand the position he’s in, and even with shadowing him near night and day for a few weeks, I can’t pretend to understand ranching, the horse business, and what his life costs.
Still, he deserves wealth, because to a man like Landry, wealth isn’t glam or clout, it’s security and freedom to breathe. He deserves a minute to breathe.
Landry asked UBS if they could pay him, and he is clearly a prideful man. Filming him has given me the innate privilege of learning and coming to know his expressions, what his features are saying about how he’s feeling based on the way he uses them. When his shoulders tense, and he’s staring a million miles away… he’s worrying. It’s obvious.
I just wish whatever problem is bothering him didn’t exist.
During the last week of filming his chores—mucking stalls, hauling hay bales—we’ve begun chatting. Landry initiated. He’s also brought me coffee every single morning, too, ever since that day when he brought it to me and asked me if I went out with Lansing Vernon.
Last week, when he was repairing the saggy gate at the east end of the pasture, he asked me why I wanted to make the documentary about him.
