Page 14 of A Cameo for a Cowgirl

He finally managed to get his lines right, and Mal soon pronounced himself satisfied, then they were released for the day. He was sorely tempted to snatch a few minutes sleep, but figured that’d probably mess with his sleep cycles later, so he forced himself to stay awake through dinner and an hour of post-meal conversation. But his early start soon had him done for, and he made his excuses, showered, and went to his trailer.

He hoped Maxine had dealt with the mouse, and the trailer had been deep-cleaned as promised. It looked tidier and certainly smelled better, but who knew if that had actually done the job? He needed to get to sleep. Stat. And a full night’s sleep at that. He couldn’t afford another day feeling like his brain cells were operating through sludge.

After staggering to his bed, and checking the linens thoroughly—everything smelled fresh, as Maxine had promised—he got in, half wondering if he should have put on shorts and a t-shirt as well, just in case another early morning interruption occurred. No way did he want a repeat of this morning, and end up embarrassing anyone—or himself—with his night wear or lack thereof. At least he’d been wearing boxers.

He plugged in his phone, put it aside, then switched off the light. The phone’s charging mode sent a thin spear of orange light through the dark.

For some reason it made him think of that moment early this morning when the sun’s glow on the horizon had stolen through his embarrassment, reminding him not all was pain and trouble. And while today had held its share of highs and lows, tomorrow was always a new day.

He closed his eyes. Preferably, it would be a day without any further embarrassing moments with the wannabe cowgirl.

Four

Cassie lassoed the steer and directed it to the gate where her father waited. Once upon a time she’d had fun entering rodeos and had even scored cash prizes for her skills in breakaway and tied-down calf roping. These days she was always too busy.

“Thanks, Cass. He’s a stubborn one, this one.”

“No problem.”

“I mean it. I appreciate your help. Especially when you’re so busy, with the TV show and the wedding and all.”

She winced. The wedding. She still needed to organize the details for Hannah’s girls’ night in Calgary this weekend. Was three days long enough? She needed something spectacular and memorable, yet offering a degree of privacy. Something that wasn’t crazy expensive, but was still Instagram-worthy for a sports reporter who needed to keep her social media likes coming. She sighed. Looked like Poppy and Jess might need to help her out with some ideas.

Her father peered at her. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yep.” Dad didn’t need to know any of that. “Now that the show has clicked into gear I’m only checking on prop inventory today, so it’s fine. I’ll start on that when I’m finished here.”

“Okay,” her dad said slowly. “But are you doing okay?”

She nodded, pasting on a smile. “Nothing to see here.”

He studied her. “You were a little distracted last night, that’s all.”

There was a six-foot-one reason for that. And then the Holy Spirit may have whispered that her conduct wasn’t exactly shining a light for Jesus. And while a certain Mountie wannabe had the ability to annoy the snot out of her, it didn’t change the fact that God still loved him. Which was just as well, because she sure didn’t.

“I’m fine, Dad.” And she’d remain fine. Because doing inventory in the prop barn today meant she’d be guaranteed to stay away from the man who pushed her buttons like nobody else had in forever.

After unsaddling Ginger and releasing her to the horse pasture for the day, she went inside the ranch house and kissed her mom on the cheek.

“You’re up early,” Mom said.

“When am I not?”

After a quick breakfast of cereal and coffee—no way was she taking a chance she might bump into a certain actor again—she checked with her mom about the whereabouts of Miranda.

“I think she’s in the barn. Why?”

“I might need her for an inventory check.”

Her mom winced. “Not another mouse problem again?”

“I hope not. But if Miranda is there we’ll soon know.”

She blew her mom a kiss, collected the cat and loaded her in the cat carrier. Miranda had proved the most effective way of dealing with the troubles three years ago. Better than bait which mice ate before hiding in tiny crevices where they died, only to stink up the building, forcing days of arms-aching removal of thousands of items to prevent them from being contaminated. Miranda was a mouser, born and bred for such a task, and as valuable a member of the ranch team as anyone else.

She secured the carrier in the back of her battered old Ford pickup then drove to the prop barn. Part of the arrangement with TV and movie production companies was that they had access to the Three Creek props, many of which were leftovers from companies that hadn’t wanted the bother of taking them away. It meant their collection was vast, ranging from everything from period-appropriate furniture and bric-a-brac, to animal skulls (all real), to costumes and footwear and accessories for men, women and children. All in a variety of colors and sizes.

Because As The Heart Draws was a repeat customer, many of their costumes for returning cast members were held in a special shipping container, accessed each year by them and nobody else. Their prop department also had a solid idea of how they’d like to dress the sets, which meant they’d already checked out much of what they required. Rather than the tedium of arranging the rental of individual items, she’d organized a general fee for this crew. The lack of hassle probably helped to make the Three Creek Ranch a preferred destination for filming. Nobody needed more fuss in their life. She’d gotten enough fuss yesterday to last her all year. And she really didn’t need to discover another mouse colony in her barn.

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