trouble.”
“Sarcasm just doesn't suit you, sweetheart.”
“Unbeknownst to you, Samantha drugs you when she gets you back to your house.”
“Before or after we do the wild thing?”
Once again, she ignored him. “You pass out, but you have the constitution of an ox, and you wake up in time to see her tearing up the floorboards in your house. The two of you have a big fight. Normally, you could easily overpower her, but she has a gun and you're groggy from the drugs. There's a struggle. Eventually, you start strangling her so you can take the gun away and force the truth out of her.”
“I am not strangling a woman!”
He looked so outraged that she laughed. “In the process, you discover that she's the sister of the man you bought the ranch from, and that he was running drugs for a wealthy Mexican kingpin.”
“Let me guess. Samantha's brother decided to hold out on the kingpin, who had him iced, but not before the brother hid a wad of cash from one of his drug runs under the floorboards of the house.”
“That's where the heroine thinks it's hidden, but it's not there.”
“The kingpin, in the meantime, decides to kidnap the heroine because he thinks she knows where the money is stashed. Old Jake Slade—”
“Jed Slade.” She corrected him.
“Old Jed, being a gentleman in addition to being a drunk, naturally has to protect her.”
“He's falling in love with her,” she explained.
“Which makes for lots of excuses to keep her naked.”
“I believe you also have a nude scene.”
“Not in a million years.”
5
T he Lanier ranch had known better days. A cluster of wooden buildings with peeling paint sat on a flat section of land that stretched back from the banks of the South Llano River. Chickens scratched in the dirt beneath an old oak in the front yard. Next to the barn, a windmill with a broken blade turned listlessly in the July heat. Only the well-fed horses in the corral looked prosperous.
The equipment trucks and trailers being used by the film company sat close to the highway, and Bobby Tom parked the Thunderbird next to a dusty gray van. As they both got out of the car, Gracie spotted Willow standing in a coil of cables near a portable generator, where she was talking with a thin, studious-looking man holding a clipboard. Crew members worked near the corral, adjusting large lights set on sturdy tripods.
Willow looked up as Bobby Tom, nearly two weeks late, strolled toward her. He was resplendent in black slacks, coral shirt, and diamond-patterned gray silk vest topped by a charcoal Stetson with a snakeskin band. Gracie waited with a good deal of relish for her sharp-tongued employer to light into him.
“Bobby Tom.”
Willow spoke his name as if it were a sonnet. Her lips curved in a soft smile and her eyes lit up with dreamy pleasure. Her sharp edges seemed to melt away, and as she walked forward, she extended her arms to grasp his hands.
Gracie felt as if she were choking. All the verbal lambastings she had endured came rushing back to her. Bobby Tom was getting a hero's welcome when he was the one responsible for the trouble!
She couldn't stand watching Willow drool on him. As she turned away, her eyes fell on the Thunderbird. Dust streaked its shiny red finish and the windshield was splattered with bug gore, but it was still the most beautiful car she'd ever seen. As frustrating as the past four days had been, they had also been magical. Bobby Tom and his red Thunderbird had transported her into a new and exciting world. Despite the conflicts and arguments, this had been the best time of her life.
She walked over to the catering wagon to fetch a cup of coffee while she waited for Willow to finished worshiping at Bobby Tom's feet. An exotic-looking, dark-haired woman with long silver earrings stood behind the counter. She had heavily made-up eyes, olive skin, and bare tan arms with silver bangles at her wrists.
“You want a donut to go with that?”
“No, thanks. I'm
“Sarcasm just doesn't suit you, sweetheart.”
“Unbeknownst to you, Samantha drugs you when she gets you back to your house.”
“Before or after we do the wild thing?”
Once again, she ignored him. “You pass out, but you have the constitution of an ox, and you wake up in time to see her tearing up the floorboards in your house. The two of you have a big fight. Normally, you could easily overpower her, but she has a gun and you're groggy from the drugs. There's a struggle. Eventually, you start strangling her so you can take the gun away and force the truth out of her.”
“I am not strangling a woman!”
He looked so outraged that she laughed. “In the process, you discover that she's the sister of the man you bought the ranch from, and that he was running drugs for a wealthy Mexican kingpin.”
“Let me guess. Samantha's brother decided to hold out on the kingpin, who had him iced, but not before the brother hid a wad of cash from one of his drug runs under the floorboards of the house.”
“That's where the heroine thinks it's hidden, but it's not there.”
“The kingpin, in the meantime, decides to kidnap the heroine because he thinks she knows where the money is stashed. Old Jake Slade—”
“Jed Slade.” She corrected him.
“Old Jed, being a gentleman in addition to being a drunk, naturally has to protect her.”
“He's falling in love with her,” she explained.
“Which makes for lots of excuses to keep her naked.”
“I believe you also have a nude scene.”
“Not in a million years.”
5
T he Lanier ranch had known better days. A cluster of wooden buildings with peeling paint sat on a flat section of land that stretched back from the banks of the South Llano River. Chickens scratched in the dirt beneath an old oak in the front yard. Next to the barn, a windmill with a broken blade turned listlessly in the July heat. Only the well-fed horses in the corral looked prosperous.
The equipment trucks and trailers being used by the film company sat close to the highway, and Bobby Tom parked the Thunderbird next to a dusty gray van. As they both got out of the car, Gracie spotted Willow standing in a coil of cables near a portable generator, where she was talking with a thin, studious-looking man holding a clipboard. Crew members worked near the corral, adjusting large lights set on sturdy tripods.
Willow looked up as Bobby Tom, nearly two weeks late, strolled toward her. He was resplendent in black slacks, coral shirt, and diamond-patterned gray silk vest topped by a charcoal Stetson with a snakeskin band. Gracie waited with a good deal of relish for her sharp-tongued employer to light into him.
“Bobby Tom.”
Willow spoke his name as if it were a sonnet. Her lips curved in a soft smile and her eyes lit up with dreamy pleasure. Her sharp edges seemed to melt away, and as she walked forward, she extended her arms to grasp his hands.
Gracie felt as if she were choking. All the verbal lambastings she had endured came rushing back to her. Bobby Tom was getting a hero's welcome when he was the one responsible for the trouble!
She couldn't stand watching Willow drool on him. As she turned away, her eyes fell on the Thunderbird. Dust streaked its shiny red finish and the windshield was splattered with bug gore, but it was still the most beautiful car she'd ever seen. As frustrating as the past four days had been, they had also been magical. Bobby Tom and his red Thunderbird had transported her into a new and exciting world. Despite the conflicts and arguments, this had been the best time of her life.
She walked over to the catering wagon to fetch a cup of coffee while she waited for Willow to finished worshiping at Bobby Tom's feet. An exotic-looking, dark-haired woman with long silver earrings stood behind the counter. She had heavily made-up eyes, olive skin, and bare tan arms with silver bangles at her wrists.
“You want a donut to go with that?”
“No, thanks. I'm
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