Chapter 5
Londyn lay in the bed,her pulse thrumming, heat radiating throughout her body for a long time after that kiss. She gripped the sides of the bed to keep from marching out onto that porch and demanding another kiss to prove to herself it had been an anomaly. Like he’d said, she was still in a bit of shock after that explosion.
She’d never felt as deeply impacted by just a kiss before in her life. It couldn’t be real. Could it?
Midnight came and went before Londyn finally fell into a fitful sleep. Only to dream about the man whose kiss had rocked her world so thoroughly, she was certain she’d never be the same.
She woke before the alarm she’d set on her cell phone, before the sun had chased the gray light of predawn from the sky and stretched, groaning at the aches and pains presenting themselves from the previous day’s trauma.
She listened for sounds of movement from the room in the little cabin. The silence was only broken by the chirping call of an early bird getting a jump on the day.
Like she should. Since it took over thirty-five minutes to drive to the film location, she needed to get a move on. She knew that when the director cast her in the lead female role, he’d taken a big chance on her. Lead rolls usually went to famous actors with a following that would bring movie-goers to the theater to see them.
Londyn had none of that, and because she looked nothing like her famous mother, playing that marketing angle would have less of an effect.
Thankfully, Craig Ryland was a big name in the industry. From the rumors Londyn had overheard, he’d been paid ten times what the studio had offered her. They were banking on his marketability to make that money back at the box office and more.
He’d be hard to replace at the last moment.
Londyn, on the other hand, had come cheap. If they had to replace her, she figured it would be no big deal. In fact, Julia Banes knew the script. She could wear dark contacts to cover her green eyes and straighten her wavy hair. She didn’t have the dark skin and high cheekbones like Londyn, but makeup could hide those facts.
The point was that if she wanted to see this project through and save her ranch, she couldn’t give them any reason to replace her, like showing up late on the set and holding up production.
It was bad enough that the attempts on her life had put some kinks in the schedule and caused some crew members to start spreading the rumor that because they were trespassing on sacred ground, the movie was cursed. Bad things would continue to happen until they left Yellowstone to the ghostly ancestors watching over it.
Londyn padded barefoot through the cabin to the front door, praying she didn’t find the bloody remains of Nash spread across the porch due to being mauled by a bear.
She shook her head at her morbid thoughts. The noise of a bear mauling would have woken her in the night.
Despite that supposedly reassuring idea, she held her breath as she twisted the lock and pulled the door open.
The porch was empty, the sleeping bag and Nash nowhere in sight.
Londyn frowned and stepped outside.
A cool mountain breeze whipped around her bare legs, raising gooseflesh across her skin. She wrapped her arms around her middle and searched the immediate vicinity for the man who was supposed to be protecting her.
She didn’t see any sign of him in his truck, but he could be lying across the back bench seat. Determined to find him, she crossed the porch and was about to descend when a movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn toward the corner of the cabin.
Nash jogged into view, stopped, dropped, and did a burpee. He dropped again and pumped out ten pushups, then leaped to his feet and resumed jogging.
When he spotted her at the top of the steps, he slowed to a stop, barely breathing hard, his skin glistening with a light coating of sweat.
“Good morning,” he said. “Ready to head out?”
She shook her head. “How long have you been awake?”
He glanced at his watch. “Forty minutes.”
“No unwanted visitors last night?” she asked.
“Just a couple of curious coyotes,” he said, his lips twitching. “They were as surprised by my presence as I was by theirs.”
Londyn shook her head. “You aren’t sleeping on the porch tonight.”
Nash didn’t argue.
Londyn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to do whatever the hell you want to despite what I say, aren’t you?”
He nodded slowly. “I need a shower, then I’ll be ready to go.”
She led the way back into the house where it was warmer, even though the fire had burned out in the potbellied stove.
Nash crossed to his duffel bag and dug out a pair of heather-gray sweatpants. “Catch,” he said. He tossed the pants toward Londyn.
She caught them with one hand. “What do you want me to do with these?”
“I think they’ll go great with the boxer briefs,” he said with a wink.
Her lips twitched. “Thanks.”
“Do you want a different T-shirt?” he asked.
“I assume they’re all the same size.” Londyn shook her head. “In which case, no. I can make do with this one until I can get the clothes from my ranch or stop at a store somewhere and buy something that fits a little better.”
“We can stop by the park gift shop later and see if they have any shirts and sweatshirts,” Nash said.
Londyn wasn’t a fashionista or in any way particular about her clothes, but not having any was proving to be frustrating. At this point, she would gladly wear a Yellowstone National Park sweatshirt. “That would help since we’re not sure when Hank and his wife will head this way.”
He snagged a clean T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans from his duffel bag. “I’ll be back in two shakes.”
Londyn’s gaze followed him as he ducked into the bedroom. If she wasn’t mistaken, the man hadn’t taken any underwear with him. Were the boxer briefs an anomaly for Nash? Did he prefer to go commando beneath his jeans?
Her heartbeat kicked up a notch at the thought of his naked, fine ass inside the snug denim jeans.
Her lady parts tingled at the thought of slipping her hands beneath the waistband of his jeans and cupping his bare skin.
Londyn threw her hands in the air.
What is wrong with me?
She dropped the sweatpants on the sofa, marched into the little kitchenette and yanked open the refrigerator. “I don’t know him from Adam. He could be a serial killer, a mama’s boy, or worse.” Yet, she was fantasizing about putting her hands down his pants to cop a feel.
Her core heated as the image filled her mind again. “Eggs.” She grabbed a carton of eggs and stopped short of slapping it on the counter. She found bacon in one of the drawers. This time, she did slap it onto the counter, finding it strangely satisfying to take her frustration out on a package of bacon.
After she located a pan and spatula, she made quick work of frying the bacon and then cooking scrambled eggs in the bacon grease.
She’d just scraped the eggs onto two plates when Nash emerged from the bedroom, barefooted and wearing nothing but jeans.
The view of his broad, bare chest sucked the air right out of her lungs. Her hand loosened on the handle of the frying pan, and it slipped free.
Londyn dove to grab it before it hit the floor. Instead of catching it by the handle, she caught the hot pan with her fingers. “Fuck!”
Rather than drop it again, she tossed it toward the sink, where it clattered against the stainless steel.
Nash rushed forward. “Hey, did you burn yourself?” He took her hands in his and frowned down at them.
“It’s okay,” she said, her left hand turning red where it had connected with the hot pan.
“No, it’s not,” he said, guiding her toward the sink. “Let’s get it under some cool water.”
Still holding her injured hand, he turned on the sink water, checked that it was cold and then moved her hand beneath the spray.
Though the water was cool on the burn, having Nash as close as he was and half-naked was making Londyn hot everywhere else but her hand.
Hell, he even smelled good.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath through her nose, letting the scent of the man fill her lungs.
Wow.
No man had the right to smell that good.
“Are you okay?” his voice brought her back to earth.
Londyn’s eyes popped open.
Nash was studying her face, his own so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.
Heat rose up her neck and filled her cheeks. She snatched her hand away, dripping water across the floor. “Breakfast is ready,” she said, her voice tight and embarrassingly squeaky.
He grabbed a dishtowel and reached for her hand. “Let me dry your hand.”
She plucked the towel from his grasp. “I can do that. You’ll want to eat while the food is still warm.”
He frowned but didn’t push the issue. Instead, he carried both plates, full of fluffy scrambled eggs, to the small table.
Londyn carried the plate of crispy bacon and sat opposite the man who’d haunted her sleeping and waking dreams, keeping her head down and her gaze on the food.
Knowing she didn’t have much time to get to the movie set, Londyn ate in silence, finishing quickly. She carried her plate to the sink, washed it and dried it.
When Nash brought his plate, she held out her hand.
He shook his head. “I can take care of my plate. You should go change.”
Londyn hurried away from him and snagged the sweatpants from the back of the sofa where she’d left them. She passed through the bedroom into the bathroom, closed the door and leaned against it. From where she stood, she looked directly into the mirror over the sink, barely recognizing the woman in the reflection.
Her cheeks were a ruddy red beneath the darkness of her skin. She touched her fingers to her lips, which were still a little swollen from last night’s kiss. The long, thick hair Nash had so painstakingly brushed was once again tangled and mussed.
However, it was her eyes that stood out. She stared at herself with a confusing combination of fear, anticipation and desire.
Never in her life had she been so disconcerted by a man as she was with Nash. Her instant attraction to him and the rush of desire she’d experienced before, during and after that kiss had thrown her into a spin.
If she wanted to regain control over her life and her emotions, her best course of action would be to avoid Nash altogether.
She ran her hand over the sweatpants, which were slightly worn but super soft. Londyn stepped into them, pulled them up over her hips and cinched them tighter to keep them from falling off. Used to wearing blue jeans, the sweatpants felt too light, more like pajamas than something she should wear to work.
But what choice did she have until her clothes arrived with Hank and Sadie? Hopefully, the costume designers had already completed work on replacement costumes for the ones lost in the explosion. At least the costumes designed for the movie were decent and not something wild and over the top. She might be able to wear them back to the cabin after filming was completed for the day.
Until then, she was glad to have clean clothes to wear to the set.
Londyn tried to finger comb her hair again and gave up. She needed to make a list of items she’d need from the ranch. Besides clothing, a brush would be at the top of the list.
She pulled on her boots, which looked funny with the sweatpants, and left the bathroom.
Nash stood in the living room, looking fresh and gorgeous, his hair damp and neatly combed back. “Ready?”
She nodded and grabbed the copy of the movie script from the counter. “The sooner we leave, the better. I want to be there a little earlier than usual to coordinate with the makeup, hair and the costume folks. Director Haynes doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Nash nodded. “If you have everything you need, we can go.”
Her lips curled. “I need a lot of things, but none of them are here.”
He dipped his head. “Right. But that will soon change.”
“I hope so,” she said. “Thanks for the loan of some of your clothes.”
“You’re welcome,” Nash said. “I only wish I had something that fit you a little better.”
“I’m grateful for anything at this point,” Londyn headed for the door. “I’m ready.”
Nash opened it for her and waited for her to pass through before following her out onto the porch. He descended the stairs and led the way to his truck, opening the passenger door for her.
She cocked an eyebrow. “For your information, I’m perfectly capable of opening my own doors.”
“I have no doubt.” Yet, he stood firm and waited for her to climb up into the truck. “For your information, so were all the women in my family. But I was taught to open doors for ladies and the elderly. It’s a hard habit to break, not that I want to break it. I hope it doesn’t offend you.”
As she settled in the passenger seat, she frowned for a moment and then shrugged. “No. I’m not offended. And perhaps the correct response to someone opening a door for me is thank you. I’ve been out on the ranch for so long that I forget the rules of polite society. So, in the name of good manners, thank you.”
He grinned. “You’re welcome.” He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s seat. Once he was settled behind the wheel, he buckled his seatbelt and started the engine.
“Do you want to listen to music?” he asked.
She shook her head and opened the script. “I want to read through my lines. I have a scene with Craig today. He gets annoyed if I forget my lines.”
“No problem,” Nash said.
For the next ten minutes, Londyn memorized the words she would say to Craig’s character in a heated discussion. Her mother had coached her on how to express different emotions subtly rather than hitting the audience over the head with it. She closed her eyes and rehearsed the words in her head. She’d committed to memory most of the scene.
As she worked through the last few lines, her cell phone buzzed in her purse. She pulled it out, read the name on the screen and grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this call.”
“No worries,” Nash said, his gaze on the road ahead.
Londyn inhaled and let out a long, slow breath before answering. “Hello, Mother.”
“Londyn, darling, what’s this I hear about your trailer exploding? Are you all right? Was anyone hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Londyn said. “Some members of the film crew were injured, but no one severely.”
“Thank goodness,” her mother said. “Did they shut down the set?”
“No, Mother. Just the area around the explosion. In fact, I’m on my way to the location now.”
“That’s wonderful, darling,” her mother said. “I’m glad to hear they’re not putting the production on hold. A delay like that can kill a project.”
“Another explosion like we had yesterday could kill more than a film,” Londyn reminded her.
“Absolutely, my dear. I also heard our Mr. Nelson was instrumental in saving you from injury. Was his quick reaction and the fact someone is well and truly targeting you enough to convince you to let him stay?”
Londyn’s gaze shifted to Nash, who sat silently behind the steering wheel. “Yes, Mother. I’ve reconsidered. He can stay until we figure out who’s behind what’s happening.”
“Wonderful, darling,” her mother said. “I only want what’s best for you. You...kn—love?—.”
“We’re losing signal, Mother.” The connection went silent. Londyn sighed and laid the cell phone in her lap. She looked over at Nash. “I guess it’s official.”
“What’s that?” he asked, shooting a glance her way before returning his attention to the road.
“You’re staying until the attacker is identified.” Her brow furrowed. “That is, if you still want to. I mean, it is dangerous and all.”
Nash chuckled. “You do realize I was on active duty, special ops, during a war, right?”
“Yes, but this isn’t a war. You’re in the United States. It’s not supposed to be dangerous here.” She waved her hands in the air. “Things like this aren’t supposed to happen.”
Nash glanced her way, meeting her gaze. “Why do you think Hank Patterson has expanded his Brotherhood Protectors Organization from Montana to Yellowstone, Colorado, Louisiana and Hawai’i?” He shook his head. “People need protection, even here.”
Londyn’s eyes widened. “He’s got protectors in all those places?”
“Yeah.” Nash returned his gaze to the road ahead. “There are bad people everywhere in the world and here at home. That’s why I have a job. That’s why so many of our former military folks have jobs with Hank’s team.”
Londyn stared ahead. “I should’ve stayed on the ranch. There, I only had to worry about wolves, bears, getting thrown by a horse or trampled by cattle. I don’t get it. Who would want to kill me?”
“That’s what we need to figure out,” Nash said. “In the meantime, I’ll be with you until we do.”
Londyn nodded. “Thank you.”
When they arrived at the parking area, Londyn dropped down from the truck and hurried toward the set.
The camera crew, sound and lighting personnel were in place. Craig Ryland and Troy Masters were in position, dressed in their costumes for the scene Londyn had prepared for the night before and on the ride in.
Julia Banes stepped into the scene, wearing the costume designed for Londyn, her long dark hair hanging straight down her back. Londyn frowned and muttered, “What the hell?”