Читать книгу Millionaire Cowboy Seeks Wife - Terry Mclaughlin - Страница 10

CHAPTER FOUR

ELLIE TENSED, READY TO CALL out and put a stop to the proceedings, but she bit her lip.

Why not Hannibal? Sure, he was a little green and more than a little headstrong, but if Fitz knew anything at all about horses, it’d only take a minute or two for him to figure it out. And if Fitz didn’t know as much about horses as he claimed, it would only take Hannibal a minute or two to figure that out—and then Fitz would be getting an education, fast and hard, down on the ground.

She watched Fitz sling the saddle over Hannibal’s broad back and then step aside to take the reins while Brady fussed over the cinch. The actor stood just to one side of the horse’s head, a serious and solemn look on his face, but whatever he was murmuring to Hannibal must have been amusing enough to have Brady throw his head back with a bark of a laugh.

And then Fitz stepped up into the saddle with the ease of a lifetime of practice and wrapped those long legs around Hannibal’s ribs, and the horse began to move. A leisurely walk, a smooth slide into a slow jog, a sudden turn to the center of the arena followed by a stiff-legged stop.

Ellie’s chest squeezed in suspended panic as she waited for the big horse to shimmy or break. But through the next few minutes of shifting gaits and motionless pauses, though she studied the way the actor’s boots rested in the stirrups and the way his fingers curled around the reins, she couldn’t fault his style. Heck, she couldn’t even catch half the cues he was giving. The gelding had never looked so good with someone on his back.

“Whoo-ee,” said Nudge, clambering up beside her. “Will you look at that?”

“I’m lookin’,” called Milo from another side of the arena. “Not believin’, but lookin’.”

“Hey, Ellie,” Jake shouted from his perch next to Chico, “Whad’ya think?”

“I think I’d better get back to work,” she answered.

Her comment cleared the hired hands off the rails faster than the dinner gong. Soon only a few film crew members remained with her to watch the rest of the show.

There wasn’t much left to watch. Fitz took Hannibal over a couple of low jumps and let him stretch his legs in another set of loping circuits, but soon he reined the horse into the center of the arena, where Brady waited with a halter and lead.

Will ambled over from behind the stables and headed toward Ellie. He waited for her to climb down, and then handed her half a sandwich and a bright red mug full of lemonade. “Heard Hannibal finally found himself a match.”

“Hmph.” Ellie bit into the sandwich and ripped off a satisfying chunk. “Probably having an off day,” she muttered as she chewed.

“Maybe he liked the signals he was getting.” Will turned his back to the arena, resting his elbows on the rail behind him. “Sounds like Fitz knows how to give ’em.”

“Maybe.” Ellie started to take another bite, but hesitated with the sandwich halfway to her mouth. “I wonder what Tom would have done about this, whether he would have put a stop to it. I mean, that crazy actor could have had a fall and broken his leg, and then where would we be? Maybe I should have done something. Tom would have, don’t you think?”

“I don’t spend too much of my time wondering what Tom would have thought or done about this or that. He’s not here, Ellie. You are. And you did the right thing. No broken leg today.” Will glanced over his shoulder. “That crazy actor could still break something, though. There’ll be plenty of chances.”

“Yeah.” She took a smaller bite as the first one tossed around in her stomach. “That’s what’s been keeping me up nights.”

Will gazed up into the cottonwood trees, squinting at the glare of the sun where it peeked through the fluttering, shimmering leaves. “You don’t like him much, do you, little girl?”

“Who?”

“Fitz.”

She shrugged and took a sip of lemonade. “What’s not to like?”

“Nothing much. Maybe that’s the problem.” Will shot her one of his painfully neutral looks and then climbed over the rail and dropped into the arena.

FITZ SWUNG DOWN from the big horse and rubbed a hand along its neck. “I’ve got a few minutes to kill,” he told Brady. “I’ll take him in, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” Brady handed him the tack. “I’ll set his things out by his stall.”

As Fitz looped the halter around Hannibal’s neck, he noted Ms. Pointy Nose watching him like a hawk from her perch on the rail as her sidekick made his way across the arena. He’d been pushing his luck, waiting for the two of them to be occupied elsewhere so he could take a closer look at their stock.

He stood his ground as the ranch foreman approached. “Afternoon, Will.”

“Afternoon.” Will lifted his elbows and arched his back a bit with a groan. “Is that all the later it is?”

Fitz smiled. “Heard you had an early morning.”

“Yep. Too early for these creaky bones.” Will glanced at the stable entry. “Brady comin’ back out?”

“Nope.” Fitz slowly ran his hand down Hannibal’s face, tracing the thin white blaze. “I’m going to take him in.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

Fitz glanced over Will’s shoulder at Ellie. “Figured you might.”

Trish jogged out of the stable and into the arena. “Fitz! Burke’s looking for you. Nora’s here, and Mitch wants to get some publicity shots of the two of you. And Van Gelder’s got some rewrites for tomorrow’s scene.”

Rewrites. Damn. He tightened his grip on the lead as he guided Hannibal past her. “I’ll head back in a while.”

Trish hesitated before ducking into the breezeway behind the men. “How’s it going?” she asked.

“Fine,” Fitz said. “If I get the okay from the people in charge, I’d like to work with Hannibal here.”

Trish frowned. “He certainly is…big.”

“With a big, easy way of moving.” Fitz poked the lead through a ring on the wall near Hannibal’s stall and glanced at Will. “Maybe I could work with him whenever I had some free time. Off the set.”

Trish looked from Will to Fitz and back again, her pen hovering over one of her little note papers.

“I s’pose he could be made available on that basis.” Will bent down, pulled a hoof pick out of Hannibal’s bucket of brushes and handed it to Fitz. “He’s sort of Ellie’s boy. She likes to keep him close to home.”

Fitz pressed his shoulder against one of the horse’s hind legs and pulled his foot off the packed-dirt floor. From beneath Hannibal’s belly, he could see Trish shift impatiently from one foot to the other, waiting for information she could process and file.

“So, are we going to use the horse or not?” she asked.

Fitz finished cleaning the hoof and straightened. He looked to Will to make it official. The foreman tipped his hat back to scratch at his head. “I s’pose we should check with Ellie first.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Trish said. As she scrawled a note across her clipboard, she glanced at Fitz. “Burke said he’d meet you at Nora’s trailer.”

“Got it.” Fitz unleashed his do-me-a-favor smile. “Oh, and Trish?”

“Huh?” She blinked once, twice, and then she stilled.

He kicked it up a notch. “I’d appreciate it if you’d call him on your phone, let him know I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Oh. Okay.” She backed out of the breezeway, into the sunlight.

“Thanks, Trish.”

“Uh…sure.” She tripped over a dip in the ground. “Anytime.”

Will glanced at Fitz as he tugged a curry comb through Hannibal’s long mane. “Wonder if someone’ll want this trimmed up a bit.”

“We’ll find out the first time the wind blows all that hair up into my face and ruins a shot.”

“Must be something, a face like that.” Will tossed the comb into the bucket and moved out of Fitz’s way as he bent to check a front hoof. “Using a smile to get pretty young things to do what you want.”

“It’s something, all right.” Fitz stood and rested an arm across Hannibal’s back. “It’s also a target for every camera in zoom-lens range and for boozed-up jokers in late-night bars.”

Will grunted. “Gets in the way sometimes, I imagine.”

“Sometimes. And sometimes people forget there might be something going on behind the smile, too.”

“Seems a clever fellow could take advantage of that.”

“Seems so, doesn’t it?” Fitz traded the hoof pick for a brush. “So, this is Ellie’s horse.”

“His dam was Ellie’s. She handpicked his sire, was there at the foaling. She’s the one who lead broke him.” Will gave him a friendly slap on the hindquarters. “Rides him, too, every now and then. But he’s a mighty big boy. Last time she took him out she told me she felt like a no-see-em up on his back.”

“A no-see-em?”

“One of those little gnats you swallow before you know they’re there.”

“A no-see-em.” Fitz smiled and shook his head. There was something seriously twisted about the way his gaze kept settling on the pointy little woman with the big brown eyes. She wasn’t much of a looker, and he usually didn’t do much looking unless a woman was.

She had a way about her, though, that prickled like a case of poison oak. Hot and tingly, and begging to be scratched, even though he knew he shouldn’t. “I have a hard time imagining Ellie Harrison fading into the woodwork, even if she is a bit of a gnat herself.”

Will chuckled. “She’s always been on the small side. But she does tend to make her presence known.”

Fitz worked the brush along the horse’s hide. “Do you think she’ll loan out Hannibal for the duration?”

“She wants things to go well.”

“But she won’t be happy about it.”

Will shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know that Ellie puts all that much stock in happiness as an end product.”

Fitz’s brushing stilled. “Tough life, huh?”

“Don’t s’pose life is meant to be easy. Just lived.” Will stepped aside as Fitz swung under Hannibal’s neck. “I’m thinkin’ you’ve lived part of yours around horses.”

Fitz grinned at Will’s matter-of-fact change of subject and mosey into an interview. “S’pose I did, yes.”

“Ranch work?”

“Some. More than I cared for, at the time.” Fitz started in on Hannibal’s thick tail. It needed some trimming, too. He’d check with Ellie before he hunted up a razor. “My grandfather was raised on a ranch not too far from here, as a matter of fact. Big Hole country.”

“Imagine that.”

“I’m trying to imagine it, now that I’m here. Nice country, from what I’ve seen. Wouldn’t mind seeing more.” Fitz gave up on doing anything more than a basic job on that tangle of a tail. He dropped the comb into the bucket and opened the stall door to lead Hannibal inside. “Gramps saved up enough to buy himself a ranch in Southern California. I spent most of my summers there. Most of the year, sometimes.”

“It’s a good life.”

“It can be. If it’s what you want.”

Fitz stood in Hannibal’s stall for a moment, feeling the warmth radiating off his big body. He inhaled the blend of manure and wood shavings and horse, and listened to the snuffles of that big sorrel nose at it poked through the hay net hanging in the corner. He soaked up the simple, earthy atmosphere, waiting for the high he knew would come, riding it like a hit from a drug. He knew what to do around horses, how to work with them and tend to their needs. He knew who he was when he was on a ranch and understood his place in the simple scheme of things. This life, this place was real, unlike the make-believe and special effects that filled most of his days and nights.

The echo of his own words bounced around inside his brain and tickled through his gut. If it’s what you want.

He had what most people wanted—talent, money, success. Just because he hadn’t chosen those things for himself didn’t make him value them less now that he had them. Life didn’t always hand a man what he wanted, but it was his job to make the most of what he’d been given. Most people thought that’s exactly what Fitz Kelleran had done—made the most of the talent, the money and the success.

He was an actor, after all.

Most people probably thought a profitable acting career was enough, too. He just wasn’t sure he was one of them, not anymore.

EXACTLY TWENTY MINUTES LATER, showered and changed into comfortable khakis and a linen shirt, Fitz knocked on the door of Nora’s location trailer. She opened the door herself and, with one of her trademark lusty laughs, launched herself off the top step and into his arms.

Delighted to see her, he swung her around in a big, wide circle. “Darlin’,” he said, “just when I think you could never look better, you go and prove my imagination is a weak and pitiful thing.”

“Oh, you old smooth talker, you.” She pressed a loud, smacking kiss against his cheek.

He gave her one last squeeze before setting her down on her own feet. “It’s not just flattery. You look…”

His gaze swept over the dark, lush features that were such a stunning contrast against her ivory skin. There was something new here, something softening. “Wonderful,” he said, for lack of anything more precise.

“Well, there’s a wonderful reason for it.” Her smile spread, wide and defiant and a little terrified. “I’m pregnant.”

Fitz whooped with joy and stooped to sweep her up again, but changed his mind at the last moment and settled for a gentle, rocking hug. “Congratulations, little mother.”

“Oh.” She shoved him away as her eyes filled with tears. “Look what you made me do. It doesn’t take much to make me tear up these days, so don’t. Just don’t.”

He tucked her thick, wavy black hair behind her ears and leaned in close. “What does Ken think about fatherhood?”

“Not much.” Her lower lip trembled, and one tear escaped to slip along an extravagantly curved cheek. “He says he needs some time to think about the whole thing. And he moved out to do his thinking alone.”

He brushed a thumb over her cheek and clamped down hard on the impulse to pound something, anything that could serve as a substitute for Nora’s selfish bastard of a husband. Speaking of bastards… “Does Van Gelder know?”

“No.” She ran her hand down his shirt front. “I’ve got such rotten timing, Fitz. Ken, the film, everything.”

He clasped her fingers in his and curled them against his heart to comfort them both. “Babies choose their own timing, from what I’ve heard.”

She squeezed his hand. “I want to do this movie, Fitz. I’ve been waiting so long for a chance to work with you again. And I need to hitch a ride on a Kelleran vehicle right now, especially after my latest disaster limped straight to video. I just hope I—we can all get through it in one piece.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “You know I’ll do what I can to help.”

“I know.” She sniffed and smiled up at him. “I’m counting on you.”

“Who else have you told?”

“Sasha in wardrobe. Marlene in make-up.”

“The first ones who’d guess.”

“That’s what I figured.” She sucked in a deep breath. “They’re sworn to secrecy, of course, but you know how things are on a set.”

He wished he could reassure her on this point, but she knew the score as well as he did.

“Oh,” she said, “and I told Burke, because I figured you’d tell him eventually, anyway.”

“You told Burke before you told me?”

“Well, I wanted to tell you first.” She slipped her hand out of his to scrub at her lipstick smudge on his cheek. “But you were busy playing cowboy.”

“Well, I’m here now.” He looped his arm around her shoulders and turned them both back toward her trailer.

“Yes, you are,” she said, leaning her head against his chest with a sigh. “The Fleischners send their love, by the way, and Harry says if you don’t behave yourself, he’ll hunt you down and cut out your liver, since you don’t have a heart.”

“I need to find some new friends.”

She laughed and wrapped her arm around his waist. “You better just hold on tight to the ones you’ve got. No one else would want you.”

They paused at the foot of her trailer steps. “Van Gelder’s fighting with the screenwriter again,” she said.

“I heard a rumor to that effect.” He ground his teeth in frustration. The last thing Nora needed after a long day of travel was stress over last-minute script changes. “How many new pages do we have to learn?”

“I haven’t looked yet.”

“Well, let’s not look for a little while longer. Let’s find something cool to drink, put our feet up and have ourselves a nice visit. I’ll send Burke out to find something to eat, and we can have a rehearsal party over dinner.”

“Oh,” she said with another sigh, “that sounds perfect.”

Fitz helped her up the steps and opened her door while he treated himself to a string of silent curses over his multiplying problems: a shaky movie deal, a costar with a crumbling marriage and a secret pregnancy, a neurotic director with delusions of literary talent.

What else could go wrong?

Burke handed Fitz a cell phone the moment he stepped inside. “Greenberg wants to talk to you. Now.”

Stupid question.