the dangerously good-looking Colton brother approached like a brewing tempest, Violet had to call on all her cool reserves, the practiced composure she drew from when facing a horde of merciless paparazzi, to not take a step back when he stormed up.
“We decided to skip lunch,” he told his brother, then sent a suspicious look around the group. “What’s going on?”
“Gunnar, this is Mac Gremble, the director of Wrongfully Accused, the movie that’s filming in the area. They’re scouting the ranch to use in a few scenes.”
Mac shook the bouncer wannabe’s hand. Then Derek turned to her.
“And I guess I don’t have to tell you who this is.”
The older Colton brother’s hazel gaze slid to her. “Only because Piper just told me.” Though he offered his hand in greeting, he didn’t smile, and Violet’s mouth dried when his large fingers swallowed hers in a tight grip.
She forced a polite smile. “Not a fan of the movies … Gunnar, is it?”
“I just don’t follow Hollywood hype.” He dropped her hand and shoved his fingers in the pockets of his jeans. “That and I’ve been out of the country until about six months ago.”
“Oh?” Violet tipped her head. “Where? Europe? Japan?”
His gaze narrowed. “Afghanistan.” His tone was grave and held a note of challenge, as if he dared her to comment on his military status. Though startled by his gruff attitude, she opened her mouth to thank him for his service to the country but didn’t get the chance before he aimed a thumb at her bus. “That your behemoth?”
Violet cut a quick glance to Mac and Dr. Colton, uncertain what to make of Gunnar’s rudeness. “It’s my dressing room when we’re on location and my—”
“Well, your dressing room is blocking the road to my cabin. You’ll have to move it.”
Violet took umbrage with his hostile tone and straightened her spine, lifted her chin. She refused to let him bully her without cause.
“Gunnar,” Derek growled. “What’s your problem?”
“No, no.” Violet raised a hand to intercede. “He’s right. My bus is blocking the driveway, and I’d be happy to have my driver move it.”
Gunnar arched a dark eyebrow, his scowl fixed on her. “Good.” He pivoted to walk away.
“If—”
He stopped and faced her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Nervous energy pumped through her, the kind of jitters she used to get before taking the stage or filming a difficult scene. Pressing a hand to the flutter in her belly, she met Gunnar’s gaze with dredged up courage. “If you’ll ask me.” She paused to swallow. “Nicely.”
Big brother Colton blinked his surprise and cocked his head as if uncertain he’d heard her correctly.
Gunnar’s siblings chuckled, and Mac shifted his feet uneasily, probably worried about PR or something that Violet no longer cared about. Why should she care what the public thought of her if they gave so little disregard to her feelings, her needs? The speculation and insinuations that filled the media coverage after Adam’s death still stung, and the invasion of her privacy while she was grieving infuriated her.
After glaring at her for a moment, Gunnar turned to Derek and huffed an impatient sigh. “When I got home in May, all I asked was that I be given privacy and quiet. Is it so much to ask that my home be a refuge while I decompress from the crap I had to deal with in Afghanistan?”
Decompress? Violet found his choice of words intriguing. If Gunnar was still wound tight because of his war experiences, no wonder he was acting like such an ogre.
“No, it’s not,” Derek returned, his expression calm.
“Yet you’ve invited a horde of strangers to bring their cameras and lights and dressing rooms—” he cut a meaningful glance at Violet “—onto the ranch for who knows how long. Hardly my idea of rest or privacy, Derek.”
“Which is why I’ve told Mr. Gremble that your cabin and the woods around it are off-limits. Any filming they do will be in and around the main house.” When Piper drew an excited breath, her eyes widening, Derek aimed a finger at her. “You have to promise to stay out of their way and respect the confidentiality agreement. You can’t tell anyone they are filming here. We don’t want the media or rubberneckers milling around here.”
“I can’t even tell my friends?” Piper asked, aghast. “But—”
“Not even your friends,” Derek said.
“Especially not your friends,” Sawyer added. “Talk about gossip central. TMZ has nothing on Tiffany and Amber.”
Piper glared at Sawyer. “Shut up, twerp.”
“You shut up, Amazon.”
Groaning, Derek scrubbed both hands over his face.
Gunnar grabbed Sawyer by the back of the coat and pulled him away from Piper. “Both of you give it a rest. Why do you have to antagonize each other all the time? Sheesh.”
Violet flashed a lopsided grin. “So … is this what I have to look forward to?”
“I promise you they’re not always this bad,” Derek said.
“Oh, I didn’t mean them.” Violet waved her hands in denial. “I meant when my boys get older.”
“You have kids?” Gunnar asked in a tone that said he found it difficult to believe.
Violet faced him again, bemused by his attitude. “Eighteen-month-old twins. They’re with their nanny … in my dressing room.”
She shot him a look that dared him to comment on that fact.
Gunnar sent her an annoyed look. “Your kids are here?”
“Yes. In the bus, napping.”
“With a nanny.”
“Yeaaahhh,” she said drawing out the word, warily. “Where else would they be while I’m working?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe with their father? Or don’t you Hollywood types believe in raising your own children?” Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest and sent her a condescending look she itched to slap off his smug face.
Violet gaped at him, too stunned to answer right away. The reference to Adam landed a punch in her stomach and sucked the air from her lungs.
“Um, Gunnar … helloooo?” Piper said. “Sawyer and I have a nanny.”
He shot his sister a quelling look. “That’s different.”
“How?” Piper returned.
“It just is.”
Mac
