Page 8 of A Cameo for a Cowgirl

“So, this Cassie chick. Does she always go around in a cowboy hat?”

“Usually.” Dana peered at him across the top of her mug. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I just wondered if all the crew were mandated to dress in western gear.”

Dustin shrugged. “Makes sense to me. If you’re out in the sun a lot, why wouldn’t you wear a hat?”

“I guess.” But a fringed jacket, cowboy boots, the whole she-bang? Screamed wannabe to him.

He stayed a few more minutes, enjoying the night sounds. From somewhere in the distance he could hear a cow mooing. Somewhere else a bird sang. The hush of cooler breeze rasped against his bristly cheek, found the back of his neck which had been freshly shaved. The production’s barber had been tasked with the job of making their hairstyles as period-appropriate as possible, which meant a number of men were looking a little more historically accurate than earlier today.

Another dance of coolness drew his shiver. Bedtime called. He pushed to his feet. Offered a smile. “Well, nice to hang. I guess I better go hit the hay.” Oh, look at him with the clichés.

Dana chuckled. “Good night, cowboy.”

“That’s Special Constable Fraser to you, young lady.”

Dustin’s laughter joined Dana’s, and Harrison grinned and tipped his imaginary hat at them both, before wending his way through the trailers to his own.

Home, for the next four months. Awesome.

He made a quick pit stop at the amenities, brushed his teeth, then got into bed. At least the sheets felt fresh and cool.

He plugged in his phone and checked it one last time. Imagine a time when there were no phones, and the only thing a man had was his thoughts. Thank God they didn’t live in those days now.

He checked the numbers that Maxine had given him. Then checked his social media, relieved to see his recent post about “a secret new project” was getting plenty of likes and comments. Richard had made it clear that part of the reason the producers wanted Harrison on board was because they thought he’d bring a younger audience. He hoped his posts would stir up interest and intrigue and add to that.

So he’d drop a few clues over the next month, until the As the Heart Draws current season finale had dropped, and people needed a new drawcard once they realized Tanner Pearson wasn’t returning.

Heartthrob was a funny hat to wear. Harrison had always been the side-kick, so progressing to leading man was an honor, if somewhat daunting. He wondered how the Brad Pitts or Lincoln Cash-caliber actors managed, always being photographed or judged on what they were wearing or who they were with. An actor might prefer the top billing and paycheck that came with the title of heartthrob, but it had a downside too. Any woman he was ever seen with was his latest girlfriend. If he dared to be seen out at night with her it was assumed they were sleeping together. It was partly why he didn’t go out with girls as much these days, as he didn’t want them to experience the level of harassment he’d occasionally been subjected to. Going out with Marcia, his most recent ex, had been okay, seeing she was as hungry as he was to reach the next rung in the ladder of fame. That relationship had been more for show than for anything real. Once he’d realized she was more into using him for her career rather than him it’d been a weight off, as they lacked any genuine connection. He hadn’t exactly pursued anyone since. Of course, not going out with women meant some people assumed he leant the other way, which wasn’t true at all.

And while some people assumed the worst, others thought his roles meant he was like the characters he played. After his time on Beach Guard, his agent had steered him to roles that were never too spicy, so his reputation meant the role of a morally upright constable now fit well, and wouldn’t be too far off his fans’ expectations. But that led to its own challenges, and fears that people would now forever pigeonhole him as only worthy of playing meek, nice guys. He wasn’t nearly as nice as some of his roles had made him out to be. Blurring the line between fact and fiction was something fans couldn’t always understand.

He closed his eyes. Exhaled slowly. Deep breath in, hold two, three. Let it out, two, three, four. And again. He really needed sleep.

Somewhere between restlessness and sleep he caught glimpses of the ranch, the hills, the vast openness of this place, and he drifted into dreaming about what Constable Fraser would have faced, had this fictitious story proved true. He knew As The Heart Draws was based on a famous Canadian author’s memoirs, so maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched after all.

He could try to channel the real man his character was based on. He could perhaps be the hero, save the girl, save the day. Be the tough guy his dad had never believed him capable of being. Prove him wrong. Win the plaudits, win the praise.

Memories tiptoed in. His dad’s words, worming inside: You should never have been born. You’re such a girl. You’re a mistake. Loser. Diva.

Memories of the fights, the arguments, the punches. Times when he’d cowered, just like his mom, helpless against his dad’s drunken rages. Wishing he was stronger. Wishing he could’ve protected his mom. Wishing he was braver. He didn’t need his therapist to explain why he was drawn to playing tough guy roles.

A creaking sound stole him awake. He squinted in the darkness, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. He closed his eyes again, imagining lifting a trophy and shoving it in his dad’s face and forcing him to realize that acting was a legitimate career choice as much as investment banking, and just because a man had a head for numbers didn’t mean he could also have a heart for storytelling too.

A rustling sound snapped his eyes open again. Then the cabin of his trailer echoed with his scream.

Three

The sound drew Cassie’s focus from the peace of the first soft golden lift of dawn to nudge Ginger to a gallop. Something was wrong. She cantered down the hill overlooking where the trailers were parked, relieved to see the security guard was awake and was hurrying to a lit-up trailer where she presumed the sound had come from. What had happened? This was terrible. How many other things would go wrong—and they hadn’t even started filming yet?

One of the trailers’ doors was flung open, and a figure staggered out in boxers. She blinked. Okay.

Wait. She squinted. Was that Mr. Grumble-bum from yesterday? Her lips lifted on one side. Had that been him screaming? Or—she frowned—someone else? As the person responsible for the site, she needed to find out.

She directed Ginger to the trailer compound and tied her to a wooden fence rail, then hurried to the trailer that had its lights on. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like others had been disturbed, although why the others had stayed asleep while she heard the cry for help was a mystery.

A rumble of low voices drew her then she stumbled to a pause. Up close, Harrison Woods, in almost all his glory, was certainly a sight to behold for a woman who had never seen a naked man. Not that he was naked, exactly. Thank goodness he wore boxers.

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