“Your other three films,” he said, splitting his focus between me and the gate, my camera capturing every moment, “they told a certain kind of story.”
“You watched all three of them?” I asked, adding, “I know you said you watchedBronx Girls, I just didn’t know?—”
He cut me off with a wink. “Course I did. Had to make sure they weren’t sending me whoever filmedBlair Witch.”
“Har har,” I teased, “and that’s the whole point of that movie, by the way. It’s fake but supposed to look like a real account.”
He smirked at me while driving the hammer against the nail, one pinched between his teeth.
“Well,” I probed. “What kind of story did they tell?”
He stood straight. The shadow of him ate me up, yet myentire body felt deliciously warm as his blue eyes pinned me to the grass. “People who unfairly had nothing, who find themselves coming into everything.”
My mouth went dry. “And you don’t think you fit?”
He shook his head. “I have everything, I don’t deserve any more.” He swallowed, looked at his boots then back up at me.
I didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t let me hang. He pressed on, asking his question again. “Why do you want to make this film about me, Quinn Farley?”
“Because,” I answered honestly. “I think you’re a sure bet. You’ve got the recipe.” I told him what I meant. “Everyone loves you. You’re a single daddy and one helluva bronc rider. When you win,” I said, “the world will smile with you, and I want to claim some credit to further my career.”
It sounded terrible when I said it that way, but he had been so honest and vulnerable with me, I owed him the truth, and by proxy, I owed Sadie the truth, too.
“Since being here, though, I really do want you to win,” I admitted, nerves making my voice a little shaky. “You deserve the victory, Landry Vaughn.” I used his full name because he used mine. Then he surprised me by asking more.
“Why do you feel like you have to prove yourself?” His eyes traced out my legs, starting at my thighs, then over my bare knees, along the ridge of my now faded pink boots. Then he blinked, and his eyes were on mine again. That’s the first time he openly looked at me like a man looking at a woman. Like hewantedme to see.
I honored his honesty by giving him mine.
“My ex-boyfriend is the head of production at UBS, and he slept with another filmmaker while I was on shoot forBronx Girls. I found out about it in my last two weeks of wrap, and I let it completely affect my work, and I lost out onan Indie Film Award because of it. And I want your movie to win, to prove to him that it wasn’t me, it was him.”
Sadie ran up just then, and we never mentioned any of that again. That day, Sadie begged me to feed the horses with them, so I propped my camera on my tripod, kept filming, and joined them. When my fingers brushed Landry’s in the bucket of feed, and our eyes slammed together in a silent frenzy, I knew I was in trouble.
“You eatin’ in here?” Landry calls from the porch, snapping me from my daze out in the pasture, reminiscing about all our progress last week. Turning, I drape my camera around my neck and head inside.
On the small kitchen table are two plates and on each, a sandwich. Landry closes the door behind me. “Sadie’s eatin’ at Love’s.”
I nod, not expecting it to just be the two of us. “Well, I’m glad I had breakfast with her.” Landry makes eggs and toast every morning, and today Sadie and I planned to surprise him with pancakes next week to mix things up.
I plan on filming her presenting him the plate. I don’t usually stage moments, but their bond and love is so sweet, I can’t help myself.
Landry pulls my chair out and I take a seat. He does that for Sadie, too, and when I relayed that information to my mom and sister, we audibly swooned for a solid minute.
We eat in silence, but it’s comfortable somehow, as if the few serious conversations we’ve had have given way to this. I’m grateful for it. If the Landry I met on day one would’ve been the Landry I filmed the entire time, it would have been tough.
Telling his story without all the extra nuance he’s given me wouldn’t have been impossible, but it wouldn't have done it justice.
“You and Mabel oughta come for dinner one of these nights.” He never even looks up, but I watch him lick the mustard from the corner of his mouth as my chest squeezes.
“That’d be nice.” I hide my smile in my next bite of sandwich.
CHAPTER 10
IF SHE CAN RIDE A HORSE…
Tate’s got a paidjob in town this afternoon, which means Quinn has joined us with the horses today. Not just filming in the periphery, but hands-on help. I didn’t ask her because I don’t much think she’ll like what it entails. Horse shit ain’t for the faint of heart.
Love’s got the girls in town at a pediatrician appointment for the baby, so Sadie’s working with me on the ranch today. The girls are brushing the horses while I shoe my only remaining stag, Hector. I used to have a farrier come out here and do this, but I do it myself now because I’m used to not getting paid.
