Chapter 6
Bianca followed the directions out of town until the road dipped and the land opened up. A lake flashed through the trees, feeding a river that cut through miles of ranch land. Cattle dotted the wet pasture, dark against the green, with fields and horses scattered wherever the land allowed.
The storm had already burned itself out. A wide blue sky stretched overhead, and the sun hit the ground hard enough to steam. Clouds stacked over the jagged mountains anyway, waiting their turn. Yep. More rain would arrive soon.
She rolled the window down despite the cold. The air smelled like wet dirt and fresh grass. Maybe a bit sweet with spring flowers.
The ranch came into view past a stand of cottonwoods. White fencing ran straight and clean across the paddocks, the kind of orderliness that took work. The house sat back from the drive, solid and unpretentious with its wide porch. Smoke lifted lazily from the chimney.
This place was absolutely perfect for the movie. She couldn’t have designed it better if she’d had years to do so. Would Dawn let the movie be filmed here?
Bianca parked by the fence and spotted Dawn kneeling in the flower beds, a small girl beside her, both of them muddy and apparently unconcerned. A bucket of bright blooms sat between them like a spilled paint set. Bianca jumped out and strode toward them over a rough gravel walkway.
Dawn noticed her and leaned back, her black hair in a ponytail. “There you are. Shoot. We wanted to be finished by the time you arrived. Sorry about this.”
Bianca laughed. “Don’t stop. This is perfect.”
“We’re racing the next round of rain.” Dawn pushed hair off her face. “Bianca, this is my niece, Leila. Leila, Bianca.”
Leila popped to her feet, black hair swinging into her eyes, gaze sharp and curious. She couldn’t have been more than nine and was dressed in jeans with a yellow raincoat. “Hi. You went on a date last night with Uncle Adam.” One eyebrow lifted. “Did you have fun?”
Bianca almost tripped. “Uh—yes?” She looked at Dawn.
Dawn lifted a gloved hand. “Not from me.”
Leila snorted. “Please. I heard it from Grets. Her mom told Aunt Suzie on the phone, and Grets heard them. Then she called me with the details.”
That tracked. “We had a nice dinner,” Bianca said.
“Are you going to date Uncle Adam?” Leila asked.
Bianca crouched before she could stop herself, fingers closing around a trowel. “I didn’t know you were related.”
Leila grinned. “Everyone’s related somehow. Adam’s friends with my uncles, so he counts.” She edged closer. “That means more Christmas presents.”
“Solid reasoning,” Bianca said. “What are we planting?” she asked, already digging and knowing the answer.
“Marigolds and lupine,” Dawn said. “She insists.”
Bianca nodded. “You’re right.”
Leila studied her, then gave a single, approving nod.
Bianca felt weirdly victorious. She kicked off her shoes and let her toes sink into the cool soil. The work settled her fast. Loosen. Place. Pack. Dirt under her nails. Quiet where the noise usually lived.
Dawn watched her. “You really do like this.”
“My grandmother had a garden,” Bianca said. “A real one for food and not decoration.” She pressed soil into place. “She said dirt keeps you honest.”
Leila nodded. “My grandma says the land listens.”
Bianca glanced at her. “Smart woman.” The tension in her chest loosened. The constant buzz of dealing with schedules, deadlines, and ego-driven personalities drifted into the background. “This is dangerous.” She brushed dirt off her hands.
Dawn smiled. “Because you like it.”
“Because I like it too much.” Bianca looked out over the paddocks at the white fence glowing in the sun and horses grazing on the wet ground. “I’d lose whole afternoons here.”
“But,” Dawn said.
“But I don’t get paid to dig in the dirt.” Bianca shrugged. “Marigolds don’t buy food. Plus, I like finding locations.”
Dawn handed Leila another plant. “Still worth something.”
Leila stage-whispered, “Flowers make people nicer.”
Bianca laughed. “You might be right.”
They finished the row together. Bianca stood, stretching, hands filthy, heart lighter than it had any right to be. “I worked at a garden store once,” she admitted. “Even did some planting on the side.” She smiled faintly. “Then reality happened.”
Dawn chuckled. “It usually does.”
A truck came down the drive and neared the garage fast, gravel popping under the tires as it stopped suddenly.
Adam climbed out of the driver’s side, jaw set, rain jacket half unzipped.
Hawk came around the front, already talking, irritation in his tone. “I told you to slow down.”
“I did slow down,” Adam said.
Bianca’s gaze dropped.
Blood soaked Adam’s sleeve from shoulder to elbow, dark and wet, dripping steadily from his fingertips into the dirt.
“Oh,” she said.
Dawn was already on her feet. “What happened?” she asked, calm as if he’d skinned a knuckle.
“Wire snapped,” Hawk said. “Post shifted and caught him good.”
Bianca’s gaze dropped to his arm. She sucked in a breath. “Adam.”
Adam shrugged, which made more blood run free. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” Dawn said. She took his arm, turning it carefully. The cut was long and clean and deep enough that Bianca had to look away again. “You need stitches.”
Adam opened his mouth.
“You need stitches,” Dawn said again, already steering him toward the house.
Leila stared. “Is he gonna pass out?”
“No,” Dawn said. “But he is going to sit down.”
“I’m not—” Adam started.
Hawk cut in. “You are.”
Dawn pushed the door open with her shoulder. “Kitchen now, Adam. Leila, please get me some towels.”
Bianca followed them inside the comfy kitchen with its lovely yellow walls and stainless steel appliances.
Inside, Dawn pointed at a chair. “Sit. Arm on the table. Don’t argue.”
Adam sat.
“I can stitch it,” Dawn said, already reaching into a cupboard by a sliding glass door that led to a wide wooden deck.
Adam blinked. “You can what?”
“I’ve done worse,” she said. “Hold still.”
He looked at Hawk.
Hawk nodded. “She stitched my hand once. I lived.”
Adam exhaled through his nose. “All right.”
Who were these people? Okay, that was kind of badass and tough. Adam took off his shirt and Bianca swallowed. Hopefully not too loudly.
His chest was…intriguing. Hard and muscled with a couple of interesting scars.
Knife wounds? Looked like it. She knew movie stars, like big ones, who’d kill for his abs.
The man was all hard ridges and muscled angles.
He looked much more cowboy than bartender right now.
Well, much more mountain tough-guy than anything else.
Her nipples sharpened.
Damn it. What was up with her body? She’d seen hot guys before.
But hot, bloody, and tough? Who knew that was enthralling?
She stayed out of the way but watched as Dawn sat and started to work.
Adam didn’t even flinch. He looked more like a cowboy today in torn jeans, the flannel, and a cowboy hat he’d already tossed on the counter.
Now was probably the wrong time to ask about filming there.
But damn, even this kitchen was perfect.
Way too perfect.
Adam sat at the kitchen table and braced his boots against the chair rungs, locking his jaw while Dawn threaded the needle like she’d done it a thousand times—which, knowing her, she probably had.
She moved with the quiet competence of someone who’d grown up stitching her brothers whenever necessary.
Heck. She probably had more than one scar on her from home-made stitches. She’d been ranching her entire life.
The pain registered inside him with a sharp ache, hot burn, and a tug that made his arm twitch before he forced it still. Muscle memory kicked in, reminding him to breathe and refrain from flinching. Pain was just information, after all. He’d learned that early.
This was nothing. Annoying, sure, but nothing compared to dust and heat and the kind of wounds that came with screaming and smoke and men yelling for medics.
Compared to that, this was almost civilized.
This felt clean and controlled. This was a kitchen that smelled like coffee and antiseptic instead of blood and fear, with sunlight slanting in through a window and a woman calmly stitching him up like it was no big deal.
What threw him was Bianca.
She stood near the counter with her hands clenched together and her face pale enough that it caught his attention even through the sting in his arm.
He’d noticed things like that in the field—small shifts, subtle tells.
The body never lied. A few minutes ago, she’d been barefoot in the dirt, her knees muddy, that wild mass of hair pulled back away from her pretty face.
She’d looked comfortable and happy, even.
Laughing easily as if gardening in the middle of Montana wasn’t a novelty or a distraction but a hobby she genuinely enjoyed.
He hadn’t expected that. Hell, he hadn’t been prepared for how natural she’d looked doing it, or how quickly that image had burned itself into his head and refused to leave.
That wasn’t who she was. He knew that. She was a city girl. From Hollywood, no less. Schedules and contracts and deadlines lived in her world. This trip to the mountains was temporary for her. A stopover. A pretty backdrop.
He forced his gaze away and back to the wall as Dawn tied off another stitch, the tug sharp enough to make his shoulder tense before he relaxed it again.
Bianca swayed.
Adam paused. “Hey.” He lowered his voice to a soft command. “Sit down.”
“I’m fine,” she said, which was a lie if he’d ever heard one.
“Chair,” he repeated, firmer now. He nodded toward the one beside the counter. “Now.”
She hesitated and then sat, letting out a breath she’d clearly been holding. “Blood doesn’t bother me,” she said weakly.
“Sure it does,” he said. “You’re human.” And cute. Way too cute.
Hawk snorted from the doorway.
Dawn shot him a look. “Don’t distract the doctor, Handsome.”
“Stop flirting with Hawk while you have a needle in my arm,” Adam drawled, gratified when Bianca gave a small smile.
Her phone buzzed, and she looked relieved to pull it from her back pocket and place at her ear. “Estrada,” she answered.
Last name. Like someone in an office in Hollywood. Yeah, Adam needed to remind himself of that fact. A lot.
Her head went back. “Excuse me? What do you mean they reneged?” Her gaze narrowed. “Someone got to them? What in the world does that mean?” She glanced over at Adam, her gaze distracted. “No. Well, yeah. I did tell—” She paused, her chin going down. “I’ll call you back, Clancy.” She ended the call.
Adam lifted an eyebrow. “Problem?”
Suspicion and then a series of different expressions crossed her face. “Apparently the Willoughby family decided they don’t want us filming at their farm. Yesterday they needed the money.”
Adam stared at her. “Privacy is more important than money.”
Her eyes flashed. “You’re the only person I told, Adam. Did you talk them out of working with us? Did you threaten them?”
“Of course not,” he said. He would never threaten his friends. Geez. “Guess they just changed their minds.”
She crossed her arms. “Then they’ll have to change it back. I’m going out there today, and if I find out you messed with our deal, you’ll regret it.” The woman looked like a hissing cat, all cute and indignant.
He knew better than to say that. “Oh yeah? What exactly would you do about it, Baby?”
She blushed, making her look even more enticing. Yeah. His city girl liked to be called endearments. He would use that.
“You don’t want to know.”
Hawk glanced up from reading his phone. “Maybe the two of you should stop flirting while my woman has a needle in your arm, Adam. Just sayin’.”
His grin was going to get him punched. Just as soon as that needle was free.