Hot Winter Nights

Clint frowned. Something didn’t add up.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m not...disappointed. Just confused.”

“I’m part of the crew, working as a hairstylist. And I do some makeup, too. It’s a small independent movie and we’re operating on a shoestring, so our jobs tend to overlap.”

“But acting isn’t one of yours?”

“Not for this project. But I’ve wanted to be an actress since I was a kid. I even went to UCLA drama school.” She smiled with that same wistfulness he’d heard in her voice earlier. “Along with fifty million other wannabes. It’s a tough business to break into.”

Clint opened his mouth, then realized he was about to say something totally stupid.

“What?”

He shook his head.

“Come on, you’ve got me curious.”

“I’ll just say that you look like a movie star. So you’ve already got that part down pat.”

Lila laughed. “Well, thank you,” she said with a slight nod. “I’ll let my parents know you approve.”

Clint ducked his head. He knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“No, don’t.” Lila reached across the table and touched his hand. “I wasn’t being snotty or sarcastic. I promise. It’s just—”

He stared at her slim pale fingers resting on top of his big, rough ones, brown like leather from working in the hot sun. Her skin was soft, her touch so light it felt like a butterfly had landed on him. She withdrew her hand, and he looked up, wishing she hadn’t.

“It’s just...” she began again. “In this business it’s important to keep things in perspective. My looks don’t define me. I can’t let them or I’ll end up—” Lila blushed. “Oh, jeez. I can’t believe I’m telling you all this stuff.” She took a hasty sip of beer and made a face. Coughed a little. Muttered something about sticking to iced tea. And coughed again.

Clint hid a smile behind his mug, drinking his beer and giving her time to recover. She thought he was disappointed that she wasn’t a movie star. Not even close. It wasn’t that he thought he had a chance with her. He’d be a damn fool to think she’d go for a guy like him, some hick steeped in family tradition and the routine of ranch life. But he really admired her for not using her beauty as a crutch.

She stopped coughing, pushed the beer aside and looked at him while dabbing her watery eyes.

“I saw a sign for sarsaparillas. Only two bits,” he said. “Maybe we can order you one of those.”

“Very funny.” With a cute little smile, she leaned forward as if she had a secret to tell him. “I’ll admit I’m an umbrella drink kind of girl. And if the drink is pink or blue, that’s even better.”

“Elaine’s on her way back. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

“No. I can’t,” Lila said, laughing. “I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Okay, then, when’s your day off?” He saw her smile slip and knew he’d overstepped.

This was just part of the job for her. Have a beer with him, convince him to be the silent cowboy standing around like a jackass. Yeah, no way that was going to happen.

He watched more people come through the front door—three men, and a woman with purple hair, all in their twenties, looking a lot like they needed to let off some steam. They sure weren’t locals.

“Sunday,” Lila said. “I’m off on Sundays. Everyone is. You know, union rules and all.”

Clint had no idea how unions operated. He knew a whole lot about ranching and raising cattle. But that was it. So why had he thought about asking her to go out with him? He’d bore her to death.

“How are you two doing?” Elaine laid his change on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

Lila smiled and shook her head.

“No, thanks, Elaine. This is it for me.”

“Well, good seeing you, Clint. You take care.” Elaine gave Lila a parting nod and a lingering inspection as she went to the next table.

Lila was staring at him with a furrowed brow. “I know Sundays are usually family days, so I’m guessing it won’t work for you.”

Clint’s heart lurched. He took another gulp of beer and discreetly wiped his mouth. Hell, he hoped he wasn’t misreading her. “Sunday is fine. So is Saturday night—”

“I knew it was you hiding in the corner.” A guy with tattoos on his neck came up behind Lila and tugged on her ponytail. “Can’t miss this hair.”

She swatted his hand away just as the rest of the group converged on them.

“Have you seen Rocco?” the woman with the purple hair asked as she strained to see into the back room.

“You know if they fixed the mechanical bull yet?” a younger guy muttered without looking up from his phone.

The fourth member of the party, a tall, clean-cut man stared at Clint.

Lila huffed with annoyance. “Everybody be quiet,” she said, briefly closing her eyes before glancing up at them. “Did any of you stop for one second to wonder if you might be interrupting something here?”

The three people—who weren’t sizing up Clint—looked at Lila and then looked at one another. “Nah,” they said at once and grinned.

“Well, you are. I’m on a date. So butt out.”

They all stared at her. Even Mr. Clean-cut dragged his gaze away from Clint to gape at Lila.

Clint just kept his mouth shut.

“No, you aren’t,” the tattooed guy said. “You never hook up. With anybody.”

“Ever.” The kid had lowered his phone.

“You don’t hook up, and you don’t cuss. Everyone knows that.”

“Goodbye, Randy,” Lila said to him with a shooing motion. “And Tony. Rhonda. Davis. Goodbye. See you all tomorrow.”

Rhonda gave Clint a considering look, smiled and strolled off toward the bar.

“I mean it, you guys.” Lila glared at the other three when they didn’t budge. “Leave.”

Clint reached across the table for her hand. The softness of her skin stunned him all over again. “How about we leave instead?”