and Erin looked at each other, and then they both turned to see him walking away from Baxter, who stared daggers after him. Whatever it was the creep wanted, Lila doubted it was a face full of dust kicked up by Clint’s boots as he strode toward his horse trailer.
“What was that about?” Lila asked.
“Jason wants to use Clint in his next scene and said he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” she said absently.
As Erin continued to stare at Baxter, Lila could almost see the wheels turning in her friend’s head. She and Jason’s new flunky hadn’t gotten along from day one. Baxter was green and unfamiliar with the film industry, while Erin knew just about everything there was to know.
Since college she’d worked nearly every job there was behind the camera. She was supposed to be showing Baxter the ropes, which was probably why she’d been so grumpy lately.
This project was important for their future in the industry. Just like Lila, Erin’s big chance was coming up with the sequel. She’d been promised the first assistant director’s job.
“I know you,” Lila said. “You’re planning something evil.”
Erin smiled. “Who was it that said ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”
Lila’s gaze went to Clint, his back to them as he pulled on a long-sleeve shirt. “Friend? Oh, I want him for so much more than that.”
CLINT PARKED HIS truck close to the circular drive in front of his brother’s house. He got out and lifted a hand to Woody, the foreman, and a pair of Lucky 7 hired men walking toward the bunkhouse. The air was chilly, but he didn’t bother grabbing his jacket since it was a short walk to the fancy wrought-iron gate. He couldn’t stay long, but he had time to kill and something he wanted to get off his chest. Nathan was always a good sounding board.
After letting himself into the small courtyard, he went straight to the front door and wiped the bottoms of his boots on the mat. He rang the bell, glancing around while he waited.
The place looked nice. Even with winter threatening to roll in with a bang, his sister-in-law had spruced up the courtyard with Christmas wreaths and garland. Strings of lights were draped along the stone archway and wrapped around the porch columns.
He liked Beth a lot and not just because she’d been so good for Nathan, bringing him back to life after his first wife’s death. Clint admired Beth for leaving small remembrances of Anne, like her prized roses and topiary garden. Anne had liked everything manicured and perfect, and Beth was the total opposite.
The door opened. “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over,” Beth said, stepping back to let him inside.
“Yeah, I should’ve called first.”
“Oh, please. You know better. Nathan’s in his office, and I was just putting up some Christmas decorations.”
Clint smelled coffee as he walked into the large foyer. Pinecones and conifer branches littered the cherry console table. A ball of string had fallen to the hardwood floor. He scooped it up and gave it to Beth.
“I decided to make my own wreaths.” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I just came from Blackfoot Falls. I saw you have the inn all decked out. It looks nice.”
“Really? You don’t think I went overboard?” she asked, frowning and swiping back wisps of blond hair from her eyes.
His thoughts shot straight to Lila. Not a shocker. He hadn’t been able to shake the image of her the whole ride over. Her hair was a lighter shade of blond than Beth’s, and Lila’s eyes were blue, a real cornflower blue you just didn’t see every day. She was a stunner, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in person. Or more like ever. He’d never been a moviegoer or had much time for TV, but if he’d seen her starring in anything, he would’ve remembered.
“I did, didn’t I?” Beth was staring at him. “Was it the lighted Happy Holidays sign? I worried that might be a bit much.”
He frowned, then recalled they’d been talking about the old boardinghouse Beth had bought and converted to an inn. “No,” he said. “It looks nice. Very festive. Sorry, I was thinking about that coffee I smell. Any chance—”
Beth laughed. “Of course. Help yourself.”
Clint continued into the kitchen, poured a mug of the strong brew and took it with him to his brother’s office down the hall. The door was open. Nathan was sitting at his desk working on his laptop.
“Hey, got a minute?”
Nathan looked up. “I thought I heard your voice. Everything okay?”
“Hell, it hasn’t been that long since I’ve visited.” Clint settled in the brown leather chair across from his brother.
“Yeah, but in the middle of a weekday?”
“You got me there.”
Nathan’s cell rang, and Clint gestured for him to go ahead and answer. It dawned on him that he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to say. Or even how to broach the subject without sounding as if he was complaining.
Naturally the call was short—bought him all of five seconds.
Clint took a slow sip of coffee, then cradled the warm mug in his hands. “I got the talk from Dad last night.”
Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “Did you tell him you already know storks have nothing to do with it?”
“Hell, no. I’m not sure he and Mom have figured it out yet.”
“They have three grown sons. I think they might’ve put two-and-two together by now.”
“Stop.” Clint shook his head. “There are some things a man just can’t ponder. No matter how old he is.”
“Amen to that. So, last night, was Seth there, too?”
“He’s still in Billings.”
“Partying with his old college buddies?” Nathan’s expression hardened when Clint shrugged. “When does Dad want you to take over?”
“Soon. He’d like an answer by Christmas.”
His brother’s brows shot up, but he quickly masked his surprise. It didn’t matter. Clint knew Nathan had expected him to run Whispering Pines eventually. Everyone did. The ranch had survived everything from droughts to poor financial management to be passed down through five generations of Landerses.
Nathan was two years older and a hard act to follow. He’d begun building the Lucky 7 from practically nothing while he was still in college. And now, at thirty-five, he owned one of the most profitable ranches in the county.
“Did Dad tell you to think about it? Or was that your suggestion?”
“It
