I shake my head at the thought. It doesn’t matter if he did. My first impression of him was obviously wrong.
His truck is parked out front, shiny and new, but now it has a decal on the side, the letters HCC in large font. If I’d seen that when Pearl broke down, maybe I would have put two and two together, or not seen him so much as a random person. He would’ve belonged to something, and maybe I’d have felt comfortable telling him my real name.
Would of, could of, should of.
I put my head down and hurry the last one hundred feet to Warner’s home. There’s no use in looking back now, I certainly can’t change the past.
Peyton and Charlie step from the front door, backpacks slung over their shoulders, followed by Warner. He looks friendly again, his features back to the way he looked before he spotted me in front of Wyatt’s cabin. That’s bound to change once I do what I’m about to do.
I raise my hand and walk closer. “Warner?”
He stops dead in his tracks, his gaze shifting to me. His kids climb into his truck, doors closing behind them.
Warner raises an eyebrow at me, but at least he isn’t staring me down the way he did at Wyatt’s. Baby steps. “Do you need to borrow a cup of sugar?” he asks, his voice even.
I laugh like it was funnier than it really was. “Nope. Wyatt was supposed to drive me back to town this morning but couldn’t, so can you please give me a lift?”
The corner of Warner’s mouth quirks up like he’s about to smile or chuckle, but I can’t see what’s funny. He shakes his head back and forth slowly, just twice, and runs his thumb over his lower lip. “Jump in.”
He walks to his truck, but instead of going around to the driver’s side he heads for the passenger side, reaching out to open the door. He pauses, his hand on the door handle, and suddenly turns back to me. I put on the brakes, nearly bumping into the back of him. I smell him again, that same scent I picked up when he was leaning over my engine, and it ribbons around my chest, twirling and cascading through me.
I really should take a step back, maybe even two. I just… can’t. It’s as simple as that.
Warner looks down at me, and I watch his eyes shift, a tiny flex in his cheek muscles, his jaw going slack. “You should know Wyatt’s not a commitment guy.” His hand tightens on the door handle. “Unless that’s what you’re after, I suppose. No strings.”
I shake my head. I need to set the record straight about me and Wyatt. “Warner—”
He lifts a hand. “Not interested.” He opens the door and leaves it. I spend two seconds watching Warner walk around the front of his truck, then climb in.
I’m annoyed. I wish he’d let me explain about it all, but if he refuses to listen then I can’t be responsible for the way he feels. He’s wrong, and if he’d let me tell him the truth, he wouldn’t have to feel the way he feels. Stubborn ass.
If it weren’t for Libby, the drive into town would’ve been unbearably awkward. She sat in the middle between Warner and me, her front paws propped on the back of the seat, and happily accepted head scratches from Warner’s kids. I learned his son, Charlie, just turned ten and is in the fourth grade. He loves his teacher, fishing, and might have a crush on his classmate Sydney but vehemently denied it when Peyton asked him about it.
Peyton is thirteen, and not nearly as excited to chat with me. I’d describe her as suspicious. Twice I noticed her staring at me, but not with fascination the way people do when they realize who I am. More like she’s trying to decide how I fit into everything, and I don’t want to utter a word. She’s Warner’s child, and in the interest of not stepping on his toes, I’ll let him explain to her who I am and why the hell I’m on the ranch at all.
“Where to?” Warner asks me as we approach the outskirts of town.
“The diner on High Street,” I answer. He looks at me, waiting for an explanation as to why my Bronco is parked there. He was probably expecting me to send him to a bar, because he’s still operating under the mistaken impression that I met his brother somewhere and went back to his cabin with him for a wild night of no-strings-attached sex.
“Long story,” I mouth. Explaining it in front of his kids would do nothing but create more questions.
Warner turns on to High Street, and I feel disappointed he’s not dropping off the kids at school first. Now I’ll have to wait until we’re alone at some point on the ranch today to tell him nothing happened between me and Wyatt.
Warner pulls up behind Pearl. I say goodbye to the kids, thank Warner, and scoop Libby into my arms.
Just before the truck door closes, I hear Charlie say, “Dad, can we get a dog?”
Smiling to myself, I unlock Pearl and climb inside. I need to shower and head back out to the Hayden ranch. I’m nervous to go alone to the house I’ve been staying in, but I don’t know what else to do. There are other movie people here, but I don’t know them personally. Mostly it’s the set builders and designers out here now, building out a large previously empty warehouse on the southern edge of Sierra Grande for all the indoor scenes. Calvin won’t be here for a couple more weeks. He filmed a western a few years ago and has some experience already, so he’s not clueless like me.
If I’m that scared, I need to get security out here. In the meantime, I’ll check into The Sierra and smuggle in Libby. She’s a good dog, she’s not going to ruin their carpets or eat their furniture. I think.
On my way out, I call Gretchen and ask her to arrange for security to come out.
By the time I get to the house I’m feeling better, and even mildly foolish. It was a well-meaning crowd, not a dangerous one. Libby walks around the house with me, glued to my side as I check closets and look under beds.
“All clear,” I whisper into her soft fur. She sits on the bathroom floor while I take a shower. I get out, towel off, and walk back into the room, opening a dresser drawer.
My hand flies to my mouth, covering my gasp.
