“He’s an ass,” Philippa whispered to her.

Des gave her a smile. “Understatement.”

“I don’t know what bug crawled up his ass today, but I hope it worms its way out soon, or we’ll be here the rest of the day.”

Des nodded. “At least I’m not alone in my assessment. I thought the first take rocked.”

“So did I. The rest of these takes are just a colossal waste of time.”

Three more takes later, Theo pronounced the scene “Good enough.”

Whatever. Des was toast. All she wanted was a hot shower, something to eat, and a nap.

“Des,” Theo said, as everyone scattered, no doubt wanting to get as far away from him as possible. “Can I speak to you?”

What she wouldn’t give to say no to him. But the last thing she wanted to do was give him more fodder to be a dick for tomorrow’s scenes. “Sure.”

“There were photos of you online today at the gossip sites.”

Oh, there was a revelation. When weren’t there photos of her? “Of?”

“You in town. With the ranch owner.”

“Okay. And?”

“And you didn’t come back to your trailer last night.”

“What are you, my father?”

“I’m just concerned about you. I know you had that bad breakup with James. I don’t want you to rebound with some redneck hillbilly out here and get yourself in trouble.” He laid his hand on her arm.

She took a step back. “I’m an adult, Theo, and perfectly capable of making smart decisions.”

He gave her a direct look. “Are you?”

So many things she wanted to say to him. None of them appropriate. Then again, he was being so inappropriate right now. “Look, Theo. You’re my director. Other than that, we have no involvement in each other’s personal lives. So stay out of mine.”

She walked away, determined to shut off this day—and Theo—from her mind. She went into her trailer, closed—and locked—the door, stripped off her clothes, and headed straight for the shower. Washing off the day always felt so cleansing, always renewed her.

After climbing out, she dried off and put on shorts and a tank top, then fixed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Even the thought of ordering dinner exhausted her. It had been a grueling day and she felt beat up. She grabbed her phone and looked at it.

No messages.

Not that she expected Logan to call her. Or text her. Why would he? He likely had as busy a day today as she had, and was probably as tired as she was. He probably wasn’t even thinking about her.

She squelched the disappointment and tossed her phone on the counter, went into the living room and turned on the TV, surfing channels as she ate. She settled on an older romantic comedy, finished her sandwich, and curled up against the cushions.

With the air-conditioning set on low, it grew cooler in the trailer. She grabbed the blanket off the back of the sofa and covered herself, then lay down to finish watching the movie.

She was asleep before Richard Gere and Julia Roberts made it to the opera.

Chapter 9

“SO YOU HAVEN’T seen her?”

Martha had asked him that question at least fifteen times a day over the past three days.

“No, Martha. I haven’t seen her.”

“But you’ve spoken to her. You’ve called her. Or done that texting thing.”

“No, Martha. I haven’t spoken, called, or texted Des.” It was like a goddamned inquisition over dinner. Maybe cold sandwiches would be better, judging from Martha’s steely gaze.

“But you spent the whole day with her.”

And it was a good thing Martha didn’t know he’d spent the night with her. He scooped vegetables onto his plate and dug into his barbecued chicken, deciding that not saying a word was the preferable option. Maybe if he could get his meal finished, he could get out of there without answering any more questions.

But if there was one thing he knew about Martha, it was that she never let a topic die.

“You should call her, Logan.”

Logan took a long swallow of his iced tea. “Okay. I’ll call her.”

Not that he planned to, but if it got Martha off his back, he’d lie.

And it did, because she didn’t say another word the rest of the meal. Which meant all they talked about were ranch things. And he didn’t end up with indigestion.

After dinner he went outside to work on one of the tractors. It was still hot, and would be long after sundown. If late June was this hot, August was going to be brutal this year.

When he finished, it was dusk. Not that it was any damn cooler, but at least the sun had stopped beating on his back. He went into the barn to wash his hands. He dug his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and stared at it, mentally cursing for allowing Martha to put thoughts into his head that had no business being there.

What would he even say if he texted Des? She was likely busy, maybe even still shooting. Did they even film after sundown? He had no idea about what kind of light was needed.

After their night together, he figured he’d gotten whatever attraction he’d felt for her out of his system. It had been one hot night, too, and it wasn’t the weather he was thinking about now. Being with Des had been . . . amazing. She was a wildcat in bed—and in the kitchen, in the shower, and on the floor. She was his match in every way, at least sexually.

But he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He’d never be looking for a relationship, and thinking about her every day since that night they’d spent together wasn’t going to do him any damn good. She was an actress, and that meant her life was all corners of the world. A woman like her would never be happy settling in on a ranch.

His father had made the mistake of ending up with the wrong woman. It had cost his dad a lifetime of happiness, and it had cost his children a loving mother.

Logan never intended to make that mistake.

But Des had approached him with a no-nonsense attitude, open-eyed about what was between them. She knew that her time on the ranch was limited and that whatever they had would be temporary. He’d be crazy to walk away from whatever fun they could have together while she was here.

He pulled up her number that she’d put into his phone that night and typed the words.

Been thinking about you.

And then he stared at the screen, wondering if he’d made a mistake.