STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) (16 page)

“I’m surprised Lizzie hired you.” His gaze flickered over Emily’s face and then back to her hands.

“She didn’t hire me. Dan did.”

“That explains it.” He gave a wry chuckle. “Well, you just relax. My name is Monty. I’ll move the rest of the hay. You look beat.”

“I can do the job,” she said defensively.

“So can I.”

“How far does the cardboard extend?” Dan studied the white strip of fence surrounding the track. It looked like a normal rail, but tomorrow morning a horse and rider were going to cause a spectacular crash. Any mistakes could be fatal.

“Twenty feet.” The man adjusted his tool belt, his gaze sidling away.

“Dammit. I requested thirty.” Dan calmed his voice, aware it wasn’t the set crew’s fault. “We need thirty feet minimum for this stunt. How long to add ten more feet?”

The man glanced at the setting sun. “Could start first thing tomorrow. Finish by noon. We’ll need to add more foam grass though.”

“Do it,” Dan said. He turned to Lizzie. “Looks like we won’t need Bruno tomorrow. Anthony wants this filmed at sunrise. Just a sec.”

He walked a few feet away before pressing Anthony’s number, conscious of the curious ears of the construction crew. “Anthony,” he said into the phone, “I’m on the track now. We need more work on the cardboard section of rail. For some reason, it’s way too short.”

There was a long silence, punctuated by Anthony’s resigned sigh. “A horse is only two feet wide. Twenty feet seemed like plenty.”

A muscle ticked in Dan’s jaw. “At a gallop. Dawn light. Be like threading a needle.”

“That means we can’t shoot it tomorrow.”

“That’s right,” Dan said. “Unless it’s done at a trot.”

“No,” Anthony said quickly. “I want it at a gallop. Go ahead and tell them to add the cardboard.”

“I already have.”

“I’m sure you did.” However, Anthony sounded more resigned than irritated, and he was even chuckling by the time they cut the connection.

Dan turned, almost bumping into Lizzie. He hadn’t realized she’d been standing so close. “No horses on set tomorrow,” he said. “That gives us some breathing room.”

“Okay,” Lizzie said. “And I sent the hay back like you asked. Maybe we should inspect the next load before it’s shipped. Drive out to the farm and take a look.”

“Yeah,” Dan said, absently skimming his messages.

“It would be nice to get away for a day.”

The wistfulness in her voice made him glance up. She worked hard, always stuck close… Sometimes too close. She probably needed a day off. “You want a break?” he asked. “Go ahead. I’ll have a rental car delivered in the morning.”

“But I’m not used to driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“Take Monty with you,” he said. “Have some fun. You should do some sightseeing.”

“What about you?”

He deliberately misunderstood. Had been avoiding far more aggressive women for so long, it was second nature. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Going to work a bit with Bruno. I want the rail stunt to be perfect.”

“Naturally you do,” she said.

He caught something in her voice and glanced up. Lately she’d been on edge, snappy with all his crew. She was returning to New Zealand after this shoot and probably antsy about going home.

On the other hand, her tone had been borderline insolent and that was something he couldn’t tolerate. “Something wrong, Lizzie?” he asked.

“No.” She gave a quick smile and shook her head. “Not really. It’s just…well, the new girl, Emily. She’s neglecting the horses in the little barn. The bay was in distress today from the hay dust. I had to take him outside to breathe. She didn’t even notice.”

“Did you give him some Dex?”

“Not yet, but I’ll check him again tomorrow. It’s just that she creates more work.” Lizzie paused as though reluctant to say more, then her words escaped in a rush. “I had to send Monty over to help. She’s too green to understand how dust affects horses. And with the company trying to cut costs, she seems somewhat redundant.”

Redundant.
Not a word he’d ever attach to Emily. She had far too much presence, a vibrant energy that he appreciated. Granted, maybe his interest wasn’t solely professional. “If someone’s working hard to get ahead, I like to help,” he said. “I recall you were in that position before.”

“Yes, but I did my job.” Lizzie’s mouth pinched. “And I don’t think I was in danger of getting hurt.”

“Hurt?” He immediately stiffened. Now that was serious. His foremost goal was to keep his people and horses safe. No movie warranted an injury.

“She was almost kicked turning the chestnut out.” Lizzie wrung her hands in agitation. “Stood right behind him. His hoof just missed her face.”

For a moment Dan stopped breathing. He hadn’t really vetted Emily, just watched her lead Bruno. But damn, she was plucky. He loved her buoyant spirit, that deep-throated laugh, the way she tackled life head on. Her sheer presence gave him a lift.

But he’d never forgive himself if she were hurt.

“She’s an actress, not a wrangler,” Lizzie added. “It’s asking a lot for anyone to look after two spirited Thoroughbreds. And she’s not the type to admit she needs help. She’ll work until she drops.”

Probably true. He dragged a hand over his jaw, warring with himself. Emily had looked so relieved that she could stay, seeming to need either the money or the job, perhaps both. He didn’t need another race advisor, although her tips about the race shoes and whips had been helpful. Mainly though, he liked her company—and that was a damn selfish reason to put her in jeopardy.

Lizzie stepped closer. “Want me to talk to her? Let her down gently?”

“No.” He blew out a regretful sigh. “I’ll do it.”

The lights of the small barn shone through the gloom. Dan walked across the clearing and through the doorway. Both horses poked their heads over the stall doors. Hay protruded from their mouths and they chewed rhythmically, their eyes quiet and content.

Neither of them looked in respiratory distress. He checked the bay, but his vitals were normal. The horse’s hay had been soaked and even the aisle gleamed, as though recently dampened.

Thank God for Lizzie. Whatever breathing problems the bay had experienced earlier, the horse was certainly stable now. Tomorrow, Dan would try to find a portable pen so the horse could stay outside. The pens were small enough so the gelding wouldn’t be too exuberant and re-injure his leg, but at least he’d be in the fresh air.

And there would be better quality hay soon. Even though they were running low, Dan certainly wouldn’t feed garbage. The delivery today had been so dusty he’d only cracked a few bales before rejecting the entire load.

He glanced over the door of the empty stall, checking if there was enough hay to last another day. His breath leaked in a groan of despair. Even though he’d found Emily a safe place to sleep, she was curled in the hay. Not really curled. It looked like she’d sat down in the corner and fallen asleep. A leather halter was still clutched in her hands.

He pushed open the door and crouched beside her, shaking his head with regret. The skin on her arms was red and blotchy, and welts laced the palms of her hands. She must be cold too. Her T-shirt was thin and though the days were comfortable, the temperature plummeted at night.

He touched her on the shoulder. She didn’t move. He leaned closer, alarmed by her raspy breathing. It seemed she had more respiratory problems than either of the horses.

“Hey,” he whispered, giving her a gentle shake. “You should go upstairs.” She was the soundest sleeper he’d ever met. He shook her again. This time her eyelids drifted open.

“I have to watch the horse,” she said before closing her eyes and snuggling against his arm.

“Emily.” He tried to make his voice stern but at the same time couldn’t resist tucking her into his chest. Her hair smelled of hay and sunshine, and he dipped his head a little closer, adjusting her in his arms. “The horse is fine,” he whispered. “You need to go to bed.”

Her eyes opened again although clearly it was a colossal effort. And while he appreciated her dedication to the horse, it was doubtful she’d notice if the bay toppled in his stall.

“Come on,” he coaxed, rising to his feet and pulling her up. He half carried her down the aisle to the apartment, keeping his arms around her while she stumbled up the stairs.

He tried to guide her to the bedroom but she resisted so he scooped her up and carried her into the room. Paused in confusion. The bed wasn’t even made. The mattress was completely bare.

“I sleep on the sofa,” she said, her sleepy breath fanning his throat.

He turned and carried her back into the living room. The moon glimmered through the windows, but he didn’t see any blankets. And the apartment was frigid. No wonder she hadn’t been in a hurry to leave the stall, warmed as it was by the horses’ body heat.

He sighed. It was probably best to move her to the spare room in his trailer. However she’d already fallen back to sleep, her cheek pressed trustingly against his shoulder, her blond-streaked hair fanning his arm. Something tightened in his chest.

He laid her on the sofa and draped his jacket over her. Stared for a moment, then stretched out alongside, tucking her in the warm spot between his chest and the back cushions. A tendril of silky hair curved over her eyebrow. He gently brushed it back. Her cheekbones seemed more prominent and her shadowed eyes increased that hint of vulnerability. She’d hate that, he knew. She made a habit of hiding behind a careless nonchalance, as if she had something to prove.

It was obvious she really wanted this job. And would work her fingers to the bone to keep it.

He lifted her left hand, examining the welts. He tried to be gentle but she winced and her eyes opened.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “What the hell happened? Do they hurt?”

“Not one bit.” Sleep thickened her voice. “I can still clean stalls or lift hay. Anything you want.”

“It looks like you were already moving hay.”

“The load was too dusty so I had to carry it back.”

He frowned. The hay had been inspected before it was off the truck. Delivery had been refused.

“Barney is okay though,” she added groggily.

“Who’s Barney?” he asked, his confusion growing. He had no wrangler by that name although he didn’t doubt that any member of the production crew would drop their duties to help Emily. Any male member. Lizzie clearly wasn’t a fan.

“Barney’s the bay. If you don’t like that name, I can call him something else. But horses need names, don’t you think?” Her question contained a streak of defiance.

“Names are pointless if they’re temporary,” he said. “It only makes it harder to say good-bye.”

“You don’t like good-byes?”

“You need to get some sleep.” He realized he was still holding her hand and slowly released it. “I’ll come back with some blankets and salve.”

“Is that why you don’t date actresses? Because of the good-byes?” She twisted and sneezed into her arm. “Excuse me,” she murmured, turning back to him, her eyelids drooping. “You’re lovely and warm. Hope my cold doesn’t scare you away…”

She was so tired she couldn’t finish her sentence, and he protectively wrapped her in his arms.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s going to,” he said.

Emily wiggled contentedly. She hadn’t felt this warm in days, completely cocooned in strong arms and a chest that reminded her of a rugby player she’d once dated. Her eyes whipped open. Dan’s face was only inches away, the dark stubble on his chin giving a rakish appearance. He looked sleepy and sexy and good enough to eat.

While she looked like a dog’s breakfast.

She drew in a careful breath, trying not to wake him. Colorless light filtered through the windows but it was early dawn and the room wasn’t too bright. Maybe he wouldn’t look closely at her hair or face. Dammit. The nicest man she’d ever woken with and she looked like a witch.

She jammed her eyes shut. But then her awareness of him only rocketed. She could feel each strong heartbeat, the ridges of his toned chest, and how the third button on his shirt pressed against her breast. One muscular leg draped over her calf, and his body blasted heat like a furnace. He’d done her a big kindness last night, staying to keep her warm. She wished it had meant more.

It was tempting to linger in his arms but she needed to untangle and duck into the bathroom before he woke. Even if it was just to brush her teeth.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” His deep voice rumbled above her ear, and he lifted her right hand, the pad of his thumb inspecting her palm.

Darn. He was moving. And he’d already straightened his legs. Unlike her, he seemed to be one of those rare people who awoke to complete alertness.

“Nice and warm, thanks,” she said, keeping her face averted. “You’re much better than a newspaper.”

“Don’t knock paper. It’s always good in a pinch.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve slept in weird places too?”

“My brother and I followed the rodeo circuit when we were young. We weren’t very good so we didn’t make much day money.”

“Oh,” she breathed, rather entranced. “That sounds like fun. Traveling around. Seeing new places and people.”

“The life is fun but it was a lot of work for very little money. And it leaves worn and broken bodies.”

“Broken? Are you talking about horses or people?”

“Both.” He released her hand, setting it on her hip. “Some people I know can barely walk. Movies are much safer. And I can control the environment.”

She tilted her head, curiosity now outweighing any concern about her appearance. “So that’s why you hung around the movie set when you were young. What kind of movie was it?”

“A western. I dogged those poor wranglers.” He chuckled, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “They either had to run me off or shoot me. I’m glad Dad told me to be persistent.”

“What about your mother?” Emily asked.