Chapter 21
After a workout, shower, and another small meal, Windsor stood beside Bo on the steps of the ranch house as a line of vans and trucks drove up the driveway.
“Here comes the cavalry,” he said.
“Should I be here? With you? Will it be too obvious?”
His aqua blue gaze locked on her face. “Too obvious that you’re sleeping in my bed and not alone?”
“Yeah. That. People will talk.”
He threaded his fingers through hers. “Then let them talk. I’m not planning on hiding anything, unless you really insist. Why not just begin as we mean to go on?”
Windsor worried her lower lip, knowing it was a huge decision. Or is it?
“If I were just … going with the flow”—she let out a pent-up breath—“I’d just … let things be how they are.”
“And how are they?”
“I’m sleeping in your bed and not alone, and while it may be temporary … a big part of me would be easily convinced that it sounds like a great long-term plan as well.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“People can draw their own conclusions.”
“They’re going to anyway.”
What had felt big, scary, and hard suddenly became very simple to Windsor. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“You can’t control the river.”
“So, we go with the flow.”
He tugged her hand. “Come on. They’re going to the bunkhouse. Let’s welcome them to Granite Point.”
Together. She heard the unspoken last word.
Because that was what they were doing, and they were doing it together.
Bo thought Windsor was adjusting rapidly and ideally to the conditions.
He hadn’t known what to expect, so he hadn’t expected anything.
But this—walking hand in hand with her toward the line of vehicles holding everything and everyone else it would take to make this film—was beyond anything he might have guessed.
As soon as they parked, doors flew open, and people poured out.
Out of one black truck, he recognized Butch and Sylvia, and climbing out of another was Mitch Stark, director extraordinaire.
As everyone stretched from the two-hour drive from the Missoula airport, Bo yelled, “Welcome to Montana, y’all. Hope you love it here.”
Sylvia spun toward his voice. He saw when she instantly clocked him and Windsor holding hands, but said nothing. Instead, she elbowed her husband, Butch Connolly, who was playing the ranch foreman. He and Butch had made a fighter film together several years back, with Butch as his cornerman.
“Hey, bro. Good to see you. Shit, man, Montana looks good on you.” He looked at Sylvia. “Told you he was gonna be the perfect cowboy after kicking the city life.”
Bo let Windsor’s hand go to hug his buddy. “Good to see you. How’s life?”
“I’m pregnant,” Sylvia blurted out. “Yes, Mitch knows. And wardrobe. He said we’ll work it into the script. I am so sorry, you guys. This was not planned.”
“Sorry? Never. Are you kidding?” Windsor rushed forward to hug her. “Congratulations, you two. It’ll make the movie even better. Talk about authenticity. How amazing! How far along are you? Girl or boy?”
Bo shook Butch’s hand as his old friend beamed. “Congratulations. Super happy for you guys. Wow. That’s definitely news.”
“It’s a girl,” Sylvia said. “I just started showing. I’m about five months along. Let’s just hope we wrap before I pop.”
“It’ll be perfect,” Bo said. “No worries. No stress. Not in your condition.”
“I told Mitch I’d bow out and just hang with Butch off set, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I actually think he was kind of excited.”
Speaking of Mitch, the director came toward Bo. “What a place you got here, kid. When I saw that drone footage you gave the studio, I thought I’d died and gone to director’s heaven.” He held out his hand, and Bo shook it.
“I am glad you like it.”
“And this one made sure we’re keeping a timetable and shooting quick.” He pointed a thumb in Sylvia’s direction.
“I’m so sorry, Mitch.”
“Never. That’s a blessing.” He reached out an arm and hugged her against his side. “Never apologize again for that.”
He shook Butch’s hand. “Congratulations again. You guys will be great parents.”
Butch looked around and said, “And this makes me think after the baby is born, it’s time for us to start looking to get out of LA.”
“Terrible place to raise kids.” Mitch glanced at Windsor. “Present company excluded, of course. You grew up in a different era. That world doesn’t exist anymore.”
“It’s good to see you, Mitch. It’s been a while. You look great.” Windsor leaned in to hug him.
“It’s been since Casablanca, hasn’t it?”
“I think so,” she replied.
“You haven’t aged a second. Still stunning, just like your mother. I swear, she was forever young. I’m so sorry for your loss. I sent flowers.”
“I got them. They were greatly appreciated.”
“You doing all right?” Mitch looked from Windsor to Bo, and Bo knew he hadn’t missed them walking up, holding hands.
“Better than ever,” Windsor said.
Mitch nodded at them both. “Glad to hear it. It’ll make filming easier too. Especially since the entire industry was shocked that you’d agreed to do full nude.”
Bo appreciated how quickly and easily the director glossed over and approved of them being together.
Thanks, Mitch, he thought.
“As my agent said, times have changed, and I have to either change with them or admit this stage of my career is over.”
“What a prick,” Mitch said.
“That’s Maurice,” Windsor replied.
“That’s what he told you?” Bo stared at her with shock and disgust for her asshole agent, not her. “This phase of your career is not over, regardless of whether you do nude scenes or not.”
“I agree,” Mitch said.
“I’m thirding that,” Sylvia chimed in.
“I’m gonna keep my mouth shut because my opinion isn’t fit for polite company,” Butch added.
“You need a new agent,” Bo said. “Fire that asshole.” And he meant it too. He was glad she had taken the part, but not about how that prick talked to her.
“That’s a conversation for another day,” Windsor said with a smile that covered her real feelings.
He knew she was right, and it was a conversation they’d definitely be having.
“You guys want a tour? I can’t wait to show you around,” Bo said instead. “But first, we’ll show you to your accommodations. Mitch, your trailer should be here in about thirty minutes.”
“Perfect,” the director said. “Let’s do this.”
It was officially time to make a movie.