ones.
Especially good-looking ones, she amended.
“That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Rafe asked her. Then, before she could answer, he added, “I feel as if I owe you, seeing as how you weren’t expecting to go for an impromptu run when you came out here. For a Hollywood girl, you can certainly run.”
The comment made her wonder what sort of stereotypical image he had of Hollywood women. “I didn’t want to wind up on his trophy wall,” she told him, nodding in the direction that the bull had taken.
“I wouldn’t have let that happen.” He wasn’t bragging; he just wanted her to be reassured that while she was here, she was safe.
Her eyes swept over him as if she was looking for something. “What were you planning on doing, whipping out your bullfighting cape and distract him away from me?” she asked.
There was laughter in her eyes, Rafe noticed. She probably thought he was trying to make himself appear important after the fact—not that he could really fault her for that.
“No, but I would have run in another direction, after distracting Jasper and getting him to follow me.”
The humor slowly faded from her eyes, replaced by a look of fascination. “You’re actually serious,” she realized.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rafe asked. “We don’t get too many people passing through Forever, and getting one of them trampled by a bull wouldn’t exactly look very friendly on the tourist website,” he answered tongue-in-cheek.
The humor returned to her bright blue eyes. “I guess it wouldn’t at that.” She glanced back at the bull, who had apparently lost interest in both of them and was now ambling back to wherever he had initially come from. “Is he just trying to lure us into a trap by giving us a false sense of security?”
Rafe laughed. “You’re giving Jasper way too much credit. He doesn’t have any unusual powers of deduction. He just lost interest in us, you know, out of sight, out of mind.”
She nodded knowingly at the information. “In other words, he’s a typical male.”
“Ouch.” Rafe pretended to wince as if the words carried with them a physical blow. “What sort of men have you been encountering?”
Val deliberately blocked out any thoughts of Scott. That was way too sensitive a subject for her to discuss with a stranger. As for the other men she’d encountered, well, they were far more concerned with having a good time and moving on. For the most part, they were as shallow as puddles.
“The kind that like to sweet-talk women into things, then be on their merry way,” she answered. The way she raised her chin and tossed her hair over her shoulder made Rafe feel that they were not just talking in vague generalities.
He also had the feeling that there would be no specifics forthcoming at this juncture—they didn’t know each other nearly well enough for her to be capable of sharing something of importance with him.
Of course, if she stuck around, there was always that possibility that they would grow to know each other better. The idea had more than a little appeal for him.
“For the sake of argument,” he began.
A never-flagging sense of curiosity had always been a shortcoming of hers—or at least she viewed it as a shortcoming. That still didn’t keep her from wanting to know things. Everything.
“Yes?”
Rafe tried to sound nonchalant as he asked his question, but he had a feeling that he wasn’t quite successful. “If my father and the rest of us agree to having your boss film this movie on our ranch, would you be here for the duration of the filming?”
“If my boss doesn’t need me to find any other locations for the film, then yes, I get to stick around.” She posed a question of her own. “Why?”
Rafe shrugged just a wee bit too casually. “No reason,” he answered. “Just wanted to get all my facts straight before I bring you up to the house—in case my father wants to know something after you leave.”
She watched him carefully as she asked, “Then you were serious about letting me talk to your father?” Val did her best not to appear too excited, but unlike her mother, she had never been a very good poker player.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know you yet,” she said truthfully. “I thought maybe you got your kicks out of leading outsiders on.”
“I don’t,” he assured her. The way he said it made her think he meant it. Or maybe she just wanted to believe that people in a place like this were really the salt of the earth. Uncomplicated and kind hearted. She could use that sort of thing about now.
Rafe saw her looking around uneasily. “Something the matter?”
“I’m just wondering if another bull is going to come galloping out of nowhere if I start to head toward my car.”
“Nothing to worry about,” he answered. “Jasper’s our only bull right now. Leon passed on.”
“Leon,” she repeated. These people definitely did not give their bulls normal names. “Another non-functioning bull?” was her first guess.
The thought made Rafe laugh. “On the contrary, Leon functioned all too well for his own good. I think the poor guy wore himself out and spread himself a little too thin among the ladies.” He grinned. “My dad said that he would rather romance the ladies than eat.”
“Are we still talking about the bull?” she deadpanned. “Or have we moved on to your father?”
This time Rafe laughed heartily for a couple of minutes. When he finally stopped, he said, “I think my dad’s going to like you, Valentine Jones.”
If that’s what it took to secure filming rights, she was ready to be downright adorable. “Well, for the sake of Cowboys and India, I certainly hope so.”
He looked at her, a little bemused. “Cowboys and India?” he asked. What was that?
She nodded. “I guess I didn’t mention it. That’s the name of the movie we’re making. It’s about a dude ranch,” she explained, adding, perhaps in hindsight unnecessarily. “It’s a romantic comedy.” Because he said nothing, she felt compelled to tell him, “I read the script. It’s really pretty good.”
“Are you required to do that?” he asked, curious.
“To read the script?” she guessed. “No, not really. But I like to so I can get a feel for the kind of setting I’m looking for. It helps me when I’m scouting out locations.”
That wasn’t what he was referring to. Rafe shook his head. “No, I mean are you required to say that the script is pretty good?”
Did he think she was just a puppet for the front office? Someone whose true calling was just to rubber-stamp everything? To say whatever was expedient just to get things to move along in the direction that the production department wanted it to move? She couldn’t think of a more awful, colorless way to earn a living.
