Page 12 of A Cameo for a Cowgirl

Harrison peered down, pulled out the reverse image. Man. So it was. He glanced up quickly, caught Miss Cassie smooth away a smile. Wait—had it been inside out earlier too? This day was going from bad to worse.

Still, this was something he could fix now. He tugged off his shirt, heard a wolf whistle from the cook, and caught a glimpse of Miss Cassie’s wide eyes before she pivoted away. Aww. Was she shy? He was half tempted to brazen it out and give her a good eyeful of his pecs, then realized it had been a long time since he’d met a woman who averted her eyes. Which was actually not a bad thing. He didn’t want to come across as a tool, even though it was probably too late for that. Especially with that particular move.

“Am I late for the party?” One of his female co-stars asked, smirking as she entered the room.

“I’ll leave you all to it,” Cowgirl Cassie mumbled, her cheeks still pink as she hurried away.

He watched her exit, feeling ten shades of fool, when a cough swung his attention back to the actress. He frowned. What was her—?

“You can’t remember my name, can you, Harrison?”

He winced. How he loved it when someone called him out on that while proving they remembered his. “I’m sorry. There was a lot going on yesterday.”

“Dana.”

“Hey.”

Dana waggled her eyebrows. She had to be about his age. “So, can we expect breakfast and a show each morning?”

He coughed. “No.”

She laughed, and a second later Annie joined in, leaving him feeling even more foolish than before. Good thing the cowgirl wasn’t still here.

He shuffled to the coffee cart, tempted to stomp, but figured that wasn’t about to win him any favors, either. Then he mumbled a goodbye and hurried out the door.

Outside, the air held a heavy quality, like the weight of dew. He usually preferred never to see this time of day, and in his life had been blessed with only a handful of necessary pre-dawn arrivals on set. But here, there was something about the light, the way it appeared to hold new promise, that meant maybe he’d been missing a thing or two. And maybe having a mouse wake him from his slumber wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.

He moved to the fence, then glanced along the wooden rail and recognized the blonde-brown braid hanging under the white hat. Then cringed. It was bad enough to have proved his complete wimpishness this morning, squealing like a little kid over a stupid mouse. It was quite enough to then follow up that routine with his failure of a shirtless moment. Clearly, she hadn’t liked what she’d seen. Either time. He was half tempted to apologize—obviously they’d gotten off on the wrong foot—but something held him back. Pride, probably. It was a good thing she was only a lowly production assistant and not someone with any real clout. Imagine if she was connected to Mal.

Still, the thought she wasn’t into ogling him, her manner in complete contrast to the two women inside, and Marcia before them, intrigued him. Miss Cassie certainly didn’t lack confidence or courage, judging from the slammed door of yesterday. And, now he thought about it, he actually could kind of understand why a woman would act in that way. He must’ve looked a little suspect, hiding in the shadows like a criminal. So, yeah, okay, respect for standing up for herself instead of being like his mom. And it wasn’t her fault he’d been late. So her actions were perhaps justified, and maybe he did owe her an apology after all. Because she clearly thought him weird, and while he was definitely not your average dude, and originating from Portland he’d always happily own a little weird, he didn’t want her thinking him as more off than merely slightly odd.

He glanced back at her, and she shifted, almost like she’d been watching him too but hadn’t wanted to be seen doing so.

He swallowed the rest of his coffee then moved closer, employing stealth ninja moves that might’ve once made an appearance on a kids’ TV show a million years ago, back when he’d been green and looking for his break and willing to dress in cringy costumes on a show he now sure hoped nobody would ever see.

She didn’t move, her gaze fixed on the sunrise, as if lost in its beauty, one arm loosely over the wooden paling as he crept closer. Then he cleared his throat.

And she yelped and spun around, her coffee flying from her cup and landing on his chest.

“Ahh!”

She jumped back, one hand over her mouth, eyes wide with shock. “I’m so sorry!”

He peeled his t-shirt away from his skin with a wince, thankful her coffee had cooled and was only tepid in temperature.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I’ll survive.” Although this top wouldn’t, and would likely never be white again. Which was a shame, as it fitted really well, and he’d picked it up on a trip to Mexico so it wasn’t exactly easy to re-purchase. Still, he couldn’t blame her for her reaction. At least she hadn’t bashed him with a hunk of wood like she had with the door last time. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” Wait, said like that, just made him sound like a stalker. “I mean—”

“So why did you?” She balanced her mug on top of the wooden fencepole and faced him.

Good question. How to explain he didn’t want to interrupt her moment of peace? “I, uh, didn’t want to disturb you?”

“And look how well that turned out.”

Hmm. In his career, he hadn’t come across too many production assistants so skilled in the sarcasm department. Weren’t they supposed to be nice to the cast?

She fisted her hips, her chin tilting. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I don’t appreciate men skulking around, sneaking up on people or hiding. That just makes you look strange. Normal people don’t do that.”

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