Make Mine a Bad Boy (22 page)

Another lowlife was responsible for that—a lowlife who she hoped was getting pelted with golf ball–sized hailstones on whatever highway he was traveling down.

Pinning on a smile, Hope hooked an arm through Ryan’s and steered him down the street. As they walked along, she made the introductions.

“Hey, y’all, this here is my Hollywood agent, Ryan Seever, who just stopped by to see how I was gettin’ on. Isn’t he the sweetest?”

The entire Hollywood agent thing seemed to work. The women looked thoroughly depressed and the men seemed disappointed that they didn’t have an excuse to whip out their guns.

But it didn’t take long for Ryan to change their expressions. Always the charmer, he greeted the townsfolk as if he and Hope were walking the red carpet. And by the time they had reached Josephine’s Diner, he had the men laughing at his jokes and the women convinced they were all movie starlets just waiting to be discovered.

Even Rachel Dean fell under his spell when she brought their menus and water to the corner booth. Hope couldn’t blame her. Ryan had done the same thing to Hope when she first landed in L.A. It took her years to read through the layer of charming fluff and get to the egomaniac center.

“A Hollywood agent,” Rachel beamed. “Now ain’t that somethin’. I guess you’ve met plenty of stars. You know that Angelina Joe Lee? I like her movies and all, but if that skinny little gal didn’t have those lips weighin’ her down, she’d blow clean away in a puff a wind.”

Despite the Botox injections that left his skin scarily tight, Ryan’s smile actually looked real.

“I couldn’t agree more, Rachel. I think the days of skinny leading ladies are behind us. People want their heroines made of sturdier stuff.” He winked at her. “Now, I bet a woman like you would make a great action hero and could take down an entire third-world country of terrorists without even blinking an eye.”

Rachel blushed to the roots of her salt-and-pepper hair. “Well, I don’t know about that. But I’ve taken down a few steers in my day. And one time, when my first husband got a little too drunk for his own good, I had to wrangle him into a kitchen chair and duct-tape him until he sobered up.” She stared off and shook her head. “Although I feel real bad about that. The hair on his wrists and ankles never did grow back.”

Knowing the conversation would only get crazier, Hope jumped in. “Could you get us a couple of diet Dr Peppers, Rachel?”

“Shore thing, honey.” She gave Hope a direct look. “I guess this ain’t the one, either.” When Hope shook her head, Rachel’s shoulders drooped and she walked away, muttering to herself.

When Rachel was gone, Hope turned back to Ryan.

“Okay. What are you doing here?”

Shaking his head, Ryan stared out the window. “Unbelievable. It’s like Mayberry on crack.”

The accurate description almost had Hope smiling. “I mean it, Ryan. Cut the crap and explain to me what caused a man who delights in traveling first class to ride across country with Bear.”

He flipped open the menu and scanned it. “Surprisingly, it wasn’t really that bad—and since someone forgot to pay their cell phone bill, it was the only way to get a hold of you.” His eyebrows shot up. “Frog legs? People actually eat frog legs?”

“Only when they’re in season,” she said, dryly. “So why would you want to talk to me, when you dropped me as a client?”

Setting down the menu, he released his breath in a long sigh. “Fine. I made a mistake. I was thinking leading lady, when I should’ve been thinking…” he waved a hand at the window, “reality star.” A smile flashed. “I have a job for you.”

Since it wasn’t something she’d heard often, it took her a moment for his words to sink in. “A job on a reality show? You mean like the ones who run around half-naked, drinking from tree-bark bowls and foraging for beetles to eat? I think I’ll pass.”

“You would be lucky to get on that show.” He pulled out his cell phone and started texting while he talked. “But no, it’s not quite as intense. All you’ll have to do is what you’ve been doing for the last few years.”

“Fail?”

He didn’t even crack a smile as his thumbs flicked over the small screen. “Exactly. Except you’ll get paid for it. It’s tentatively called
Hollywood Dreams,
and it will follow the story of five different people who are trying to make it big in Hollywood. The producers are looking for
unique actors who have their own distinct personality. And I immediately thought of you. I sent them the audition tape you did for that criminal show, and they loved it.”

Hope’s eyes narrowed. “The one where I played the corpse?”

“That’s the one.”

“But I couldn’t get my eyelids to stop twitching.”

Ryan shrugged. “They obviously know talent when they see it.”

She reached out and jerked the phone out of his hands. When he looked up, she shot him a skeptical look.

“Okay,” he said as he leaned back in the booth, “so maybe they’re not looking for talent as much as entertainment. And what could be more entertaining than a feisty little Texan with a cute country twang? The audience is going to eat you up like
crème brûlee
.”

He leaned up and started rattling off the details of production dates and offers, but Hope wasn’t listening. Her mind had finally settled back on the one thing she didn’t want to think about. The one thing that kept her from jumping up and down with excitement over the fact that her goal of becoming an actress was within her grasp.

Fate was more than cruel; it was downright devious.

“… so they loved the tape, but they want to meet you in person. When I found out where you were hiding out, I called them back and scheduled a meeting for the end of next week. I figure that will give you plenty of time to tie up any loose ends you have here.”

Loose ends? She had more than loose ends. It seemed her entire life had come unraveled.

“So when do you think you can leave?” he asked, just as Rachel walked up with their drinks.

“You feelin’ okay, sugar?” Rachel’s gaze dropped to the hand Hope rested on her stomach—a hand she hadn’t even known was there. “You want me to get you some of them saltines?”

Hope shook her head. “I’m okay,” she said, although she did feel slightly nauseated. But crackers weren’t going to help.

The bell jingled over the door, and both she and Rachel turned to look at the three men who stepped in. It was clear that they were strangers to the area. Instead of finding a place to sit down, they stood just inside the door, waiting to be seated. They wore business casual attire—creased pants, lightly starched shirts, and high-polished laced shoes. If Hope’s mind hadn’t still been on Ryan’s offer, she might’ve given the three men’s presence in Bramble more thought. Instead, she turned back around as Rachel went over to greet them.

“I could be pregnant, Ryan,” Hope stated. The words came out much easier than she expected.

Ryan had gone back to tapping out messages on his phone and didn’t even glance up.

“Did you hear me? There’s a good chance I’m pregnant.”

He held up a finger; then, after punching the screen one more time, he set the phone down and looked at her. “Bear might not be a big talker, but I got that much out of him. And he was terribly disappointed to learn I hadn’t seen you in over six months.” A grin tipped up one corner of his mouth. “I take it the father is still on the loose?”

“Long gone.”

“Good.” A sly smile eased over his face. “There is nothing more appealing to an audience than a single mom
who is struggling to feed her child.” The smile turned blinding. “The producers are going to love it.”

Ryan might not have a sincere bone in his body, but he knew the business inside and out. And if he thought the producers wouldn’t care that she was pregnant, Hope believed him. What she couldn’t believe was that all her prayers had suddenly been answered and all she could do was sit there and stare at him. Was she crazy? This was her chance, her chance to become—if not an awarding-winning actress—at least rich and famous. And she would be a fool not to take it.

“I have an appointment on Monday, but I can leave anytime after that.” She forced the words out of her suddenly dry throat.

“Good.” Ryan patted her hand. “I think this is going to work out well for both of us.” He slipped out of the booth. “I need to go to the bathroom and make a few calls.” He motioned at his drink. “While I’m gone, do you think you could get me a cappuccino or maybe some carrot juice? Carbonation sucks all the elasticity right out of your skin.”

Her gaze wandered over his taut, spray-tanned face.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

But once he was gone, Hope didn’t wave Rachel over. Instead, she just sat there staring out the window.

Bramble Elementary had just gotten out. Kids raced by with backpacks flopping, while other children meandered at a slower pace, stopping to kick an aluminum can down the gutter or peer in the window of Duds N Such while moms waited on almost every street corner to greet their children with warm hugs and bright enthusiasm for whatever they pulled from their backpacks.

Moms who didn’t look terrified at just the thought of motherhood.

“… as far as I’m concerned we shouldn’t have any problem whatsoever taking over Dalton.”

The words cut into Hope’s thoughts, and she quickly turned her head to stare at the bald spot of the man who sat in the booth directly behind her.

“I agree. The guy is so deep in debt—” The dark-headed man in the ivory dress shirt, seated on the other side of the booth, stopped talking when he noticed Hope peeking over his friend’s shoulder.

Caught eavesdropping, Hope’s eyes widened. But she recovered quickly. “Mercy sakes.” She jumped up and glanced down at her bare wrist. “Would you look at the time? It seems my breaks are over before they even start.” She gave them all a sassy wink. “Now you boys don’t go anywhere, and I’ll be right back to take your orders.”

They looked more than a little confused as she hurried across the room and slipped behind the counter.

“You change your mind about them saltines, honey?” Rachel asked as she poured some coffee for Rossie Owens.

“Actually,” Hope grabbed an apron off a hook by the door that lead to the kitchen and tied it around her waist, “I had a spurt of energy. And since you’re so busy, I thought I’d help you out.”

Rachel’s face scrunched up as she looked around the near-empty diner. “Well, that’s real nice of you, honey. But I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Now, I won’t hear any more about it.” Hope steered Rachel around the counter to the bar stool next to Rossie. “You just sit right down there and take a load off those bunions of yours.”

“Well, they have been hurtin’ a little today.” Rachel sighed as she took a seat.

“You tell her, Hog,” Rossie said. “She works way too much for her own good.”

As Rachel blushed, Hope moved back around the counter and quickly filled three glasses with water. But before she lifted the plastic tray, she grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser and shoved them in her bra. She adjusted each cup, flipped open two snaps on her shirt, and then picked the tray back up.

When she turned, both Rossie and Rachel were staring at her like two dogs looking at a rabid cat. She flashed them a weak smile before she walked back to the table, adding a little extra wiggle to her hips.

“So where you boys from?” She laid the accent on nice and thick as she handed out the water.

“San Ramon,” the balding guy said, with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. Since it appeared that he was the most talkative of the bunch, Hope tucked the tray under her arm and moved over to his side of the booth.

“San Ramon? Ain’t that in Mexico?”

They laughed, all except for the dark-headed unfriendly one.

“California,” the skinny man with glasses finally spoke up.

She widened her eyes. “Don’t tell me, y’all work in movies. ’Cause you’re sure good-lookin’ enough.”

There was more laughter before the balding man answered. “We work for Pacific Coastal Energy.”

Hope’s smile dropped, but only for a second. “No foolin’? Is that like Red Bull? I tried one of those drinks once and stayed up for most of the night with more energy than
a cat on a hot tin roof. You plannin’ on sellin’ that stuff here? ’Cause I know a few lazy cowboys who could sure use a little energy.”

The balding man started to speak, but the dark-headed man cut him off. “We’re just passing through, ma’am.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay in Bramble.” She took out the pad and pen from the apron pocket. “So what can I get y’all?”

It was a good thing that Hope could take orders in her sleep, because her mind was a whirl, trying to piece together the information she’d just learned. She didn’t have a clue why executives from Pacific Coastal Energy were thinking about taking over Dalton Oil, but she wasn’t about to let it happen.

“I’ll have that right out,” she said as she headed back to the counter.

In no time at all, she had placed their orders with Josephine, stripped off the apron, and headed for the door. On the way out, she ran into Ryan, coming back from the bathroom. But she didn’t stop to talk.

Hollywood would have to wait. Her Mayberry was in trouble.