Hot Winter Nights

Clint laughed. “I might’ve believed you if you weren’t staring me down like I was sixteen again.”

“I won’t deny you got me curious.”

“Dad, if a man puts on a new shirt and it’s not Sunday—”

“It’s a woman.”

“That’s right.” Clint gave him a nod. “And that’s all I’m saying about it.”

“Your mom’s going to be real happy.”

“Only if someone opens his big mouth,” Clint said and powered the window up, cutting off the howl of laughter that had him chuckling along with his dad.

He drove slowly down the gravel driveway, glancing in the rearview mirror and watching his dad dab at his eyes. How long had it been since he’d laughed like that? Too damn long. It was a great thing to hear. Despite the guilt tightening like a fist in Clint’s chest.

For four decades Doug Landers had struggled with the responsibility of running Whispering Pines, choking from fear of failure and nearly destroying the legacy entrusted to him. What he knew about raising cattle, which was a hell of a lot, was equaled by how little he knew about business. But now that he saw an end in sight, he could finally breathe.

And Clint was that end.

It didn’t seem to matter that he’d taken over the books years ago. And that he’d been the one going to auctions, deciding when to send the cattle to market and handling the daily operation of the ranch. Something about his dad knowing he’d soon officially hand over the reins had given him a new lease on life.

Dammit, how could Clint make any other decision but to take over?

He’d made it halfway to town before his brain finally settled. Thinking about Lila and knowing he’d be seeing her soon calmed him down some.

That she’d called soon after he’d left her last night had given him hope. Hope for what exactly, he wasn’t sure. Sex would be a good start.

Damn, but he liked her. For so many more reasons than he could’ve guessed, considering she was beautiful and lived in a sophisticated world that was foreign to him.

After he parked in the same spot as yesterday, he checked the visor mirror to make sure he didn’t have shaving cream on his face. He dragged a hand across his jaw. Smooth as a baby’s behind. Hadn’t missed a single spot.

Most of the people milling about were movie folks. He didn’t see Lila, though he was early. Catching sight of Baxter, Clint wondered what exactly she’d told him. By the time he’d gotten her voice mail and returned her call she was busy working, and they had all of twenty seconds to talk.

Clint decided to stay put for now. Wait until he got the chance to talk to Lila. He was dead serious about the motel being the thing that sealed the deal. Other than getting to see her, he wasn’t looking forward to this bullshit. He would have rather paid for her to stay somewhere nicer, but he knew she wouldn’t have accepted the offer.

He still hadn’t made sense of her involvement with the film and why she’d invested her own money. She’d really confused him.

Thinking he saw her walking with Erin near the corrals, he straightened. Yep, it was her. His heart kicked into high gear. He paused long enough for a final inspection of his good boots, then he got out of the truck.

Lila spotted him right away. She waved, said something to Erin and the two of them veered toward him. He started walking to meet up with them, enjoying the snug fit of Lila’s jeans and the curve-hugging sweater that showed off a lot more than yesterday’s sweatshirt.

A good four yards away, Lila stopped and gaped at him.

“Something wrong?” he asked, and did a quick fly-check.

“What happened?”

Erin was shaking her head, not bothering to hide her amusement.

Clint loosened his collar. Damn shirt was a little stiff. “What do you mean?”

Lila advanced slowly. “You’re not supposed to look like this,” she said, eyeing his jeans, his boots before glancing up and sighing. “You shaved. Why would you do that?”

Yes, Erin was her friend, but Clint looked to her for help, anyway.

Erin smiled. “Yesterday you wore faded jeans, scuffed boots. I don’t remember the shirt—”

“Yeah, I was working.” He swung a gaze at Lila. She was still frowning.

“Anyway,” Erin continued. “That rugged, unshaven, hard-riding cowboy look you had going on? That’s what Jason wanted.”