Page 3 of A Cameo for a Cowgirl

The door pushed open, and he slunk back further, thankful for its screen. Now to hide behind the door and hope nobody came in. From his position, behind the door yet near a window, he could see people standing outside on what looked like a real wooden boardwalk. He sure hoped they’d all stay outside. It’d be just his luck to have—

Oh, great. Someone entered, moving inside far enough that he could see it was a woman. His nose wrinkled. Her white cowboy hat and leather-fringed jacket marked her as a production assistant who’d gotten a little carried away with the western theme.

She turned on her booted heel, her blue jeans clinging to long legs, one arm gesturing inside as she smiled to those still outside, before pivoting back slightly.

Then her gaze met his, and her smile fell away as she gasped. But before he had a moment to process what was happening, she’d grabbed the door and rammed it into him.

He yelped, rubbing the side of his head as he saw stars. “What the—?”

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

Great question. How to explain without looking like even more of a fool than he already appeared?

He knew this was a day he should’ve stayed in that cozy hotel bed.

Two

“Cassie?” someone asked.

Cassie ignored him, laser-focused on the suspicious guy still hiding in the saloon’s shadows. Her fist clenched. She wasn’t opposed to violence—hello, her brother played pro hockey in the NHL, and she knew how to use her fists as well as a gun—and this stranger had to be shady. Why else was he still hiding?

“Who are you? What are you doing in here?”

“Cassie?” Mal Hendricks, the director and one of the show’s producers, moved inside. Peered behind the door. Then chuckled.

Um, excuse me?

Then the creepy dude seemed to transform before her eyes, straightening, his shoulders broadening as he moved from the shadows, slapped on a grin and held out a hand. “Mal.”

“Harrison! Glad you could make it.”

Wait. They knew each other?

“Yeah, sorry about that. Blame poor directions.”

Cassie stiffened. Hello? Her directions were perfectly fine, thank you very much. Everyone else had managed to get here on time without any problems.

Mal chuckled again. “We wondered if you’d gotten a little lost.”

“Lost in a saloon?” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Mal glanced at her. “What was that, Cassie? Oh, I should introduce you to Harrison Woods, our leading man.”

His leading man. Definitely not hers. She eyed the hand Harrison offered, taking more than a speck of pleasure as he lowered it, unshaken. “Why exactly were you hiding in here?” she demanded.

Harrison’s blue eyes narrowed, his features losing any hint of apology from seconds earlier as he shrugged. “Obviously I wasn’t hiding, but merely checking to make sure the place is habitable.”

“I beg your pardon? Of course this place is habitable. It’s been used by dozens of productions over the years. Who do you think you are?”

“Aw, come now, Cassie,” Mal gently protested. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to offend you.”

Yeah, judging from the way he was eyeing her, there was nothing to be too sure of there. She crossed her arms. Yes, she might be making a mountain out of the proverbial, but thanks to His Royal Lateness, who apparently couldn’t be bothered to tell anyone he’d be delayed, she’d been forced to delay the tour, which meant putting off helping her dad. Her heart panged afresh. Her dad was only getting older, and she hated letting him down. This, along with two phone calls—one involving a burst pipe, the other cancelling their next movie booking in four months, so goodbye financial buffer—meant her patience, never her strongest virtue, was even thinner than normal. Besides, she’d encountered too many guys who thought themselves better than everyone else, like Mark, a high school ex who used to mock her math ability. She’d never had time for arrogance or divas. And everything about this man, from his leather jacket to his tanned face and carefully sculpted hairstyle—how much gel had he used?—screamed arrogant diva. So not her cup of tea.

Still, the fact he’d be on her set for the next four months meant she couldn’t afford to let him get under her skin. She drew in a steadying breath. She’d just need to ignore him. She faked a smile and spun on her booted heel, putting her back to Harrison as she beckoned the remaining cast to come inside.

“So, as I was saying before, this building is what we call Harry’s Saloon, which must be why certain people seem to want to claim it as their own.” She quickly stepped aside, gesturing like a game show host at the man standing behind her.

A trickle of laughter was quickly followed by murmured welcomes and a few hugs from some of the younger cast members. Mostly female, but whatever. Obviously, there was no accounting for taste. Ainsley Beckett, Cassie noticed, only offered a smile and a greeting, like it didn’t matter that her brand-new co-star was late.

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