Last Year's Bride (Montana Born Brides) by Anne McAllister Page B

personal level, he damned well didn’t need somebody else’s hand here messing with his cattle.
    “ Have somebody get these trucks out of my way,” he told her. “And I’ll take all of ‘em.”
    “ They come with a crew,” Nell ventured apologetically.
    Cole rolled his eyes. “Whatever. The cows are hungry. Let’s just get this show on the road.”
    The sudden smile Nell gave him was absolutely blinding. But then she said nervously, “Are you sure, Cole?”
    He was sure it was going to be a disaster, but what else could he do? There was no point in screwing up her job to make a point. Besides, loading up the truck and feeding the cattle wasn’t rocket science. He reckoned the walking dead could do it.
    “ Move the trucks,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll be down at the barn.” Then he turned on his heel and stalked back to his truck before he agreed to something else he’d regret. He had more regrets—and more desire—where Nell was concerned than about anything else in his life.
    He got in the truck, banged the door shut and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting. Down by the house, in the lights they’d strung so they could work before the sun came up, he could see Nell in her bright red down jacket gesturing and pointing, talking earnestly to a guy holding a camera, a couple of unidentified crew members and some of the walking dead.
    Moments later a game of musical trucks began as the crew moved them out of the way and left the road clear for him to get to the barn. When a path opened, he drove through, giving them a small salute with a couple of fingers to the brim of his hat as he went past.
    Nell, the cameramen, a couple of crew members and four guys who looked as if feeding cattle was not their idea of a good time were already at the barn when he arrived.
    Nell introduced them all. It was a blur of names to him. Then she said to them, “This is Cole. Listen to him. Do what he says. Don’t do what he tells you not to do. He’s the boss.”
    “ I thought Sam was the boss.” One of the cameramen grinned.
    “ He’s the owner.” Nell corrected. “Cole is The Boss,” she said as if he was made of capital letters. And she gave them a steely look, reminding Cole of his sixth grade teacher, Mrs Hard-ass-ty. A grin touched his lips.
    “ Understand?” Nell eyed them unblinkingly.
    Every one of them nodded fervently —even the walking dead. The cameraman said, “We got it.”
    Nell favored them with a brilliant smile. “Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s go.”
    Cole figured he would just show them what to do and they ’d do it. He didn’t count on cameramen pointing cameras at him and some guy with sound gear hovering and waving something in the air while he did it. He scowled, self-conscious and suddenly tongue-tied. He jammed his hands into his pockets.
    He was sure Nell noticed, but she didn ’t say, “Just ignore them,” as if he could. Instead she said to the reality guys, “You want your spot in the limelight? Ask questions. Get involved.”
    They did. And once Cole began answering them and showing them, his natural instincts and his know-how took over. He forgot the cameras and the rest of the crew. And if he never quite forgot that Nell was there, well, he never could seem to forget about Nell.
    It was, he told himself, just that he had never had her here in winter. He’d fantasized about having her with him often enough, even when he was trying not to. But actually having her here, watching, listening, smiling, was somehow balm for his worn-out soul.
    He knew it was a mistake. He knew he shouldn ’t bask in the attention. He knew it would just make things harder to walk away in the end. But her being here now wasn’t his idea. He hadn’t made her come to Marietta. That had been her choice.
    So, damn it, he was going to take advantage of it. If he was going to spend the rest of his life without her, why not stock up a few memories to make the years of