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JERRY COULDN’T STOP EXCLAIMING ABOUT Mr. De Marco being a knight in shining armor.
Cara was just glad she was sitting in the back seat of a warm truck. The sedan they’d rented had started getting cold only minutes after the engine shut off. Good thing the brake lights had worked, although Jerry had complained about how hard it was to keep pressing them.
The little girl next to Cara kept staring at her with no reserve. Cara smiled, and the girl smiled back. Her name was Mia, and she was beautiful.
Not that Cara was surprised. Mr. De Marco was a handsome man, and she knew that he’d been married to a beautiful woman. When she had googled the producer, she discovered that his wife had died a couple of years ago. Pretty tragic. Although, he must have moved on if Cara were to judge by the date he’d brought to the restaurant a few weeks ago.
Confidence oozed from the man, and she wondered what it would be like to have so much power and influence in the film industry.
Jerry chattered as they drove about another ten minutes in the snowstorm. The ranch that spread before them was covered in snow, making it look like a postcard with the warm glow of lights coming from the spread of windows.
“That’s my house,” Mia said in a proud voice.
“It’s beautiful,” Cara said softly. “Do you like living in Wyoming?” She only asked because she knew Mia and her dad were transplants from California.
“The cows are cute.”
This caught Cara off-guard, and she laughed. “Are they, now?”
She felt someone’s gaze on her, and she looked up to see Mr. De Marco’s eyes on her through the rearview mirror as they waited for the garage door to go up. His eyes were dark in the dimness of the truck, although she knew they were a warm brown.
She gave a faint smile, because there was no way he didn’t notice their gazes connect. His attention shifted away, and he pulled the truck into the garage. What had he seen? A travel-worn, twenty-something woman, who was shivering despite her layers?
Inside the garage, they were protected from the swirling snow. Cara wasn’t a fan of snow, or the cold, which was why she’d layered every jacket from her suitcase before they’d walked out of the airport.
Now, Cara was quite toasty, and she hoped the ranch house had good heating.
“Here we are,” Mr. De Marco said in his deep voice.
A deep voice that could transfer to the big screen very well, even though he was on the production side of things. The man had a very soothing, pleasant tone.
Mia tugged at the clips of her booster chair. Frankly, Cara was surprised a girl her age would have a booster. She didn’t think her niece Ruby had one—and she was younger than Mia. “Do you want help?” she asked at the same time Mr. De Marco opened the back door.
“I’ve got it,” he said, glancing at her, then to his daughter.
There was something in his brown eyes . . . wariness?
“You all right?” he asked Mia as he unbuckled her.
“Yes, Daddy.” She scrambled down and moved past him. “I’m not a baby.”
Mr. De Marco seemed surprised at her words. “I know that, sweetie, I just—”
“Jerry, do you know how to make apple pie?” Mia asked, folding her arms.
“Mr. Bowson,” Mr. De Marco corrected as he lifted out one of the snowy suitcases from the bed of the truck.
“Jerry is fine.” The event planner grabbed Cara’s suitcase. “And no, I can’t cook a lick. Now, Cara here is the chef you need to be buttering up.”
Cara smiled as she looked toward the corner of the truck where Mia was standing. “No one needs to butter me up for anything.”
“I think you have a new best friend,” Jerry said, because at that moment, Mia scurried forward and latched onto Cara’s hand.
“Well,” Cara said, looking down at her new friend.
She felt the gazes of both men on her, anticipating her response. “I love making pies. What’s your favorite kind?”
It seemed to be the perfect question because Mia’s eyes gleamed. “Apple. Can you make apple?”
