Читать книгу That Wild Cowboy - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 15

CHAPTER SEVEN

CLINT COULDN’T SLEEP. Nothing new there. Normally when he had insomnia he’d get dressed and head into town for some nightlife. Sometimes, he’d stay out all night and sometimes he’d bring the party home.

But lately, even that temptation had gone sour. Maybe he was getting old. The things that used to get him all excited and happy now only made him tired and cranky. And bored.

Then why are you putting on this show for the entire world?

Why, indeed?

He got up and pulled on some sweatpants and threw on an old T-shirt. Maybe a nightcap.

Padding through the quiet coolness of the house, he noticed Tessa’s light was out. She deserved her sleep because she was a kind, spiritual soul. She probably slept like a baby.

Susie had long ago left the house to do her own late-night kind of thing, whatever that was. She wanted in on this new gig, but Clint couldn’t allow that. Not that he could stop her, technically, but he could stop her with a big brother clarity that would protect her and the rest of the family. His baby sister wasn’t known for being discreet.

He had a feeling that after today, however, he’d lose that battle. And how could he blame her for wanting to be noticed? She’d had a good thing going for a while there out in California. Sure she missed the spotlight.

Clint grabbed some milk and a hunk of Tessa’s sour cream pound cake and headed out to the patio, where he’d left his guitar. He liked to sit here back in the shadows late at night and stare at the heavens while he tried to come up with another perfect song. Tonight, the moon was as close to full as it could be. It hung bright and punch-faced across the lush blue-black sky. A few bold stars shined around it just to showcase the whole thing.

Beautiful.

Then he was startled by a splash and watched as two slender arms lifted out of the water and two cute feminine feet kicked into a slow, steady lap across the pool. Curious as to who could be swimming at this late hour, he waited to see.

And watched, fascinated, as Victoria walked out of the water and pushed at her long, wet hair.

Beautiful.

Clint took in her white one-piece bathing suit and her glistening skin. The suit shimmered like pearls against the darker pale of her skin. She walked toward a table and picked up a big bright towel, then started drying off. How long had she been here? Did she know he was hidden up under the covered patio?

Clint set down the napkin full of cake and lifted out of the wrought-iron chair. The slight scraping of metal against stone brought her head up.

Her eyes widened. “Clint?” She grabbed the towel again and held it to her.

“Yeah.” He walked out toward her. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I...I couldn’t sleep.”

She pushed at her damp hair. “I...I couldn’t, either. I hope you don’t mind if I took a quick swim. We have a pool at my apartment building and this helps me settle down.”

He moved closer, liking how the moon highlighted her pretty skin and wide pink mouth. “Don’t mind at all. Don’t let me stop you.”

“I’m done,” she said, already gathering her things. “I did a few laps and sat awhile—that moon.” Her head down, she added, “I just took one last lap and I really should try to get some sleep.”

“Sit with me awhile.”

She looked as surprised as he felt but nodded. “We could talk about today.”

“We could. Or we could talk about something else.”

Wrapping herself with the big striped towel, she asked, “What else is there?”

Clint could think of a lot else but he didn’t explain that to her. “I don’t know. You. Me. I don’t know much about you but you know a whole lot about me.”

“Just my job. I have to ask the intimate questions so I can understand things and get a storyboard going for the show.”

He motioned to two chairs by the shallow end of the pool. “I want to hear how you got this job.”

He was shocked that he really did want to know about her life, but he was even more caught off guard because he just wanted to sit here in the moonlight with her and enjoy looking at her.

Full-moon madness?

Or just a man tired of chasing and ready to settle down.

But he wasn’t that man quite yet, was he?

* * *

VICTORIA THOUGHT SHE should probably go back into the pretty little pool house and call it a night. She’d wondered at the wisdom of staying on-site but in the end, the crew had decided it would be easier to stay on the ranch rather than drive back and forth through heavy traffic each day. Clint had agreed and had graciously offered Victoria and some of the other crew members the use of the pool house. The pool house where she should be right now, working, instead of visiting with her new star.

But something melancholy drew her to Clint. Or maybe his open shirt drew her. Either way, it would be rude to leave now that he had asked her to sit down.

“What’s that?” she asked, her gaze hitting on what looked like food. She’d skipped supper and now her stomach growled with a vicious plea.

“Tessa’s pound cake,” he said, sliding the napkin over to her. “Did you forget to eat again?”

How did he already know that about her?

“Yes,” she admitted, comfortable with him knowing. Liking that he’d noticed. “I love pound cake.”

He chuckled. “Want something to drink?”

She nodded between bites. “Milk?”

He pushed his glass toward her. “You eat and drink and I’ll go get us more food.”

“But...”

“Hey, the cameras are off. We follow my rules now, okay?”

“Okay.” She sat and glanced around. No one in sight. Then she noticed his guitar on the other table. She’d have to play up that angle because he obviously loved to play the guitar and he had mentioned his songwriting dreams. She liked that about him.

She might even like the way he always took charge and made her feel safe and cared for, too. But she couldn’t handle that for too long, she was sure. She was used to being in charge and being in control. And she really liked being single and independent.

Comparing the way Clint Griffin made her feel to her need to take care of herself was like comparing apples to oranges.

She liked both but they were two different things.

By the time he’d returned, she’d polished off the cake and downed most of the big glass of milk. And she’d talked herself out of any notions of a big strong man in her life. How old-fashioned and clichéd did that sound?

He had brought more food. A whole tray full of sliced cake, cold chicken and steak strips, tortillas and chips and salsa. And a bottle of sangria.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he spread out the food with all the flourish of a maître d’.

“I’m feeding you,” he replied with a grin. “Now eat up, and between bites tell me about you.”

She grabbed a soft tortilla and threw some meat and salsa on it then rolled it tight and started nibbling. Clint poured them both some sangria and pushed a goblet toward her.

After she took a sip, she sat back to stare over at him, thinking he really was a paradox. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Where were you born?”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“I have a lot of catching up to do, remember?”

She nodded, smiled, glowed with a full tummy and a nice calm. “I was born in Dallas, of course.”

“But you’re not the cowgirl type.”

“No, I grew up in a trailer park. It was nice and clean but crowded and...certainly not upper class.”

“Class isn’t in the upper or lower,” he said. “It’s all in how you handle life.”

She lifted her goblet to him. “A cowboy, a playboy and a philosopher, too. You never fail to surprise me.”

“Sometimes, I surprise myself.” He gave her a look that seemed to include her in that realization. “But back to you. So what happened with your life?”

“You mean did I have a happy childhood?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“My parents got a divorce when I was a teen so my childhood pretty much ended.” She shrugged. “But it wasn’t all that great to begin with. I learned to fend for myself since they didn’t seem capable of taking care of business.”

“That’s tough.” He pushed more cake toward her then broke off a piece for himself. “But you survived.”

Victoria thought about that, memories filtering through her mind like falling leaves. “Barely. My mother worked hard and my dad—he sent a little money but it was never enough.”

“Did he leave y’all?”

“He did. He traveled here and there, always looking for some sort of dream. He died never finding that dream, but he sure had some tall tales to tell.”

“Don’t we all?”

She wiped her mouth and put down her napkin. “I suppose so. I think I like this job because even though our show is based in reality, we always manage to get into people’s heads and find out what really matters. Most people have dreams they keep to themselves.” She motioned to the guitar. “Like you. You should pursue that again.”

“Maybe.”

Clint went silent, his head down, so she pushed on. “You have this big vast family. Noise and laughter, shouting and drama. But it’s kind of nice to see you all living together. Not what I expected at all.”

He shrugged, gave her a soft smile. “I know—it makes for good television.”

“No, I mean, I didn’t have that growing up. It was quiet and sad most of the time around my house. Like we were mourning.”

“Maybe you were.”

She glanced out at the lights shimmering in the pool. The water glistened in shades of aqua and azure. A group of palm trees swayed in the wind near a constantly streaming foundation that emptied into the deep end. It felt foreign, being the one on the hot seat.

Finally, she turned back to Clint. “Are you mourning for anything?”

He looked shocked then he gave her an evasive gaze. “I do miss my dad. We didn’t see eye to eye, but I thought I’d always have him.”

Victoria zoomed in on that admission. Here was something to bring out, something the audience could understand and identify with. So could she.

“I miss my dad, too,” she said, hoping to draw him out. But her words were the truth. “He just never got it together and I always wondered what my life might have been like if he’d had a different mindset.”

“You might be a different person now,” Clint said. “Or I might not have ever met you. And that would have been a shame.”

Okay, she needed to steer this back around. “Tell me more about your daddy.”

He didn’t speak for a minute, then said, “He didn’t like me dabbling in songwriting, so I gave it up and became a rodeo star.” That evasiveness again. “Among other things.”

Back on track, she continued probing. “Did you like being on the rodeo circuit?”

He nodded. “I did. It was dangerous, a challenge, and I had friends all over the place. But a lot of times after a big event, I’d sit in my hotel room, alone, strumming on my guitar.” He grinned over at her. “I think I’ll write you a song.”

Victoria lifted her head, grabbed her towel. This was getting way too intimate for her. A song? Soon he’d have her bawling like a baby. Or worse, pining away like a forlorn lover in a twangy country song. “It’s late. I’d better get inside. Early day tomorrow.”

“Victoria?”

She didn’t dare turn around. How had he dragged that out of her about her father? She didn’t miss people. She put people in little compartments and shut the door on her feelings about them. She needed to do that with Clint, too. She also needed to remember she was the one good at digging up secrets. He had no reason to delve into her hidden places.