Page 75 of A Cameo for a Cowgirl

He grinned. “Yes.”

“No smiling,” Mal called. “This is serious. Now, remember, you need to look like you’re in trouble.”

“Oh, I am,” Harrison murmured. “I’m standing next to her, and all I can think about is the last time we were here.”

She bit back a smile.

“That’s it, Cassie,” Mal called. “Look like you’re in pain.”

“Are you in pain?” Harrison asked.

“No.” Except, the weight of all her clothes was making it hard to stand steady on the rocks below. She could suddenly understand why fully clothed people drowned. She grasped for the handrail. Couldn’t find it. It had to be here somewhere.

Her booted feet were unsteady, unable to get grip, and the water was deeper. And all these clothes felt so constricting. Mal’s instructions to appear like she was struggling suddenly wasn’t so hard to do.

“Cassie?” Harrison murmured.

That’s right. She’d missed her cue. “Help me!” she called.

Then a stick floated past, and she recognized those orange and brown markings, and she screamed.

* * *

Harrison pivoted sharply, losing his footing as Cassie’s eyes grew large. Screaming wasn’t in the script. She moved sharply, and threw a stick. Huh? That wasn’t either. She cried out again, then her head ducked underwater.

No. That definitely wasn’t in the script. His heart hammered. This suddenly didn’t feel like acting anymore. “Cassie!” He ducked under and grasped her, boosting her to break the surface.

She sucked in air, and while Mal might call “good, good” from the sidelines, she seemed to be really panicking, gasping and choking like she’d taken in water and couldn’t breathe. His role on Beach Guard had taught him a few skills—and the mouth-to-mouth and CPR had proved handy—and he recognized that she needed to get out of the water. Pronto.

But the creek bed was too slippery to find his footing, her skirts too heavy, so he tucked her close as the cameras rolled from all directions around them, oblivious to any danger. Her eyes were huge as she peered up at him. She was frightened, she needed him, needed him to be the strong one for a change. Lord, help us.

He finally got a firm footing, and lifted her, and staggered to the shore. This might’ve been scripted but it felt plenty real. Memories flashed of when he’d last cradled her close. This time held a similar edge of panic and concern, but without her wanting to get away from him. Instead—praise God—she snuggled in close, one hand grasping his coat, even as she hauled in deep breaths that ended in spluttering.

His heart hammered. He couldn’t lose her. He’d never met anyone who could measure up to his grandma before, but this woman could. She was special, and he couldn’t believe no other man had recognized that before, but he was glad for his sake that they hadn’t. Because he wanted to be the one who helped her. Not just today, but every day. Cassie James might be strong, but even this tough cowgirl needed someone to support her, and he wanted to be that man. The kind of man she could trust. The kind she deserved.

Tenderness filled him as he drew her to the shore. “You’re safe now.” His line might be scripted, but it fitted just the same.

She snuggled closer, and he wrapped his arm around her like he was meant to, like he wanted.

But her hand was bleeding. Blood? That wasn’t in the script. “Why are you bleeding?”

Her eyelids were heavy, her breathing shallow. “I saw a snake.”

His heart tensed. “No way.”

“Way.” Her eyes closed, and her head tipped against his shoulder, and he automatically cradled her head.

Oh man. This definitely wasn’t in the script. He glanced across, but Mal hadn’t moved, apparently unaware of what had happened.

But there was no time to waste in for calling for a medic, especially as he knew what to do. So he laid her gently down on the grassy embankment, and ripped out his sodden handkerchief from his pocket then wrapped it tightly around her hand, pressing it in place. “I’ll get help,” he murmured, then grew aware of a camera in his face.

He glared at it, then glanced up, over his shoulder at where Mal stood. “She’s injured!” he called.

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

“No, she really is,” he insisted, before Cassie’s other hand grasped his.

“I’ll be fine,” she murmured. “I’ll bleed a bit but I’ll be fine.”

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