Chapter 4

"Tell me everything."

Emily looked up from where she was reading her fire safety manual in her bedroom, the night pressing against her window, the lamp pooling light onto her single bed. She wore her pajama bottoms and a T-shirt and had spent the last hour trying not to let Spenser's crazy words take root in her brain. I need you.

Oh boy.

Now, JoJo Butcher stood in her doorframe, eyes big.

"Everything?"

"Please. I saw you sitting with Spenser Storm eating dinner. You two looked cozy." She came in and sat on the bed.

"No." Yes. Maybe—stop! "I was asked to be on the set of the movie, just in case they have any more fire emergencies. Spenser wants me to help keep an eye on Bucky Turnquist while I'm there. Apparently, he's a handful."

JoJo untied her shoes. She wore a pair of cargo pants and a T-shirt, her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. "Yeah, ever since his dad died, he's sort of been the darling of the Jude County Fire Department. He was just a baby when he died, but Gemma's been a single mom ever since—despite her efforts to find a guy here in the postage-stamp town of Ember. She sort of lets him have his way, and admittedly, we do too. So, he can be a bit spoiled."

"How did his dad die?"

JoJo pushed her tennis shoes away and then crossed her legs on the bed. "He was in the terrible accident that took Jock Burns and his team of smokejumpers. They got caught in a fire."

"I heard about that. Their pictures are on the wall in the Hotline."

"Yeah. It was bad. I trained under Jock's daughter, Kate. She's a legend in the smokejumper world, just like her dad. Her cousin, Nova, is on the team. Anyway, Kate married our old Smokejumper Boss, Jed Ransom, and they're in Missoula training a new crew." She pointed to the textbook. "Brushing up on your training?"

"I was thinking if I could give the cast and crew just a small safety course, we'd all be ready in case something else happens."

"I heard it was just overkill on the pyrotechnics teams today."

"Maybe, but the SFX guy walked us through all his explosions—they shouldn't have created sparks, just puffs of fire. Sparks are from ignited material like wood or other charcoal, or even iron or aluminum—none of which was present in the setup of the explosives. So, I'm not sure how it ignited, unless it somehow mixed with the dust material in the squibs they used to show the bullets hitting the building."

"Wow, you've really thought this through," JoJo said. "Maybe you should be an arson investigator."

"No, I'm just trying to figure out how to keep it from happening again." She flipped a page of the book. "And we'll start with some safety training."

"So, I guess that means you'll be on set with Spenser all day, every day, for the next two weeks. What a sacrifice."

"It's no big deal." I need you. "We're just friends."

"Until he finds out about this." She patted the blanket that Emily was curled up in, pulling it out to reveal a massive face…of Spenser Storm. She raised an eyebrow.

"It's not a big deal." Emily grabbed it out of her grip. "It came in a gift box when you joined the Stormies."

"The Stormies?"

She closed the textbook. "The Spenser Storm fan club. Listen, I was thirteen, okay? And maybe had a little?—"

"Massive."

"Crush on his character, Quillen Cleveland."

"Who didn't? But I didn't join his fan club."

"I was a teenager."

"And yet, you have the blanket, and you were all wrapped up and cozy in Spenser's face."

"Now you're making it weird."

"It is weird. And maybe a little stalkery."

"What? No."

"I'm just saying, there was that court case—some woman who attacked him in his trailer? She went to jail."

Emily blinked at her. "You're a Trek of the Osprey fan?"

"Of course I watched it. But I did a little Googling on him when I heard they were filming up on Old Henry's land. According to the TMZ article, which they pulled from the testimony, the woman tied him up, made him talk to her in Iwoni, and eventually took pictures of them together while the police tried to negotiate for his release. In the end, he'd promised his eternal love while the police broke down the door. TMZ actually has a pretty in-depth account of the event."

"I know the story. She served five years. It shut down the movie he was making. He never finished it. Too traumatized." She shook her head. "That would have anyone curling into a ball."

"Yeah. Anyway, you might want to get rid of that blanket if he comes over."

"Which would be when, exactly?" She raised an eyebrow. "Even if he did, I'm not going to invite him into my bedroom."

JoJo held up her hands. "When he says, ‘Hey Baby, let's grab a pizza' and he comes over and you're eating it outside, under the stars, and he gets chilly and you say, ‘Don't worry,I'll get you a blanket.'"

"Okay, if that ever happens, I'll be sure not to grab the oversized likeness of himself."

"Perf." But JoJo wore a teasing expression in her eyes as she stood up. "And now you get to hang out with him in real life. Maybe you two will be more than friends?—"

"Please. But he was nice."

"You were laughing."

"He's funny. And sort of sweet."

"And an actor." JoJo raised an eyebrow. "So watch your heart."

Right.

JoJo headed toward the door.

"What did you say about the Old Henry land?"

"Oh. The land the movie is on is owned by this guy named Henry White. He owns acres and acres of woodland, and I think that old town was actually founded by some great-great-great-great grandfather or something. No one ever sees him—we thought he was dead for a while, but then he'll just show up in town, at the Hotline, or the hardware store, or sometimes in church. Nice old guy, just keeps to himself like he's up there hiding stuff in the woods, or whatever."

She opened the door. Paused. "By the way, if no one told you yet, what you did today was really brave." She looked at Emily. "The first time I was in a fire, I completely froze and had to be rescued by Kate in her fire shelter."

"And now you're a smokejumper."

"Yeah. I had to learn that fear can be healthy if it keeps you awake. But you can't let it into your soul. Can't let it cripple you. I wish I'd learned that earlier. Clearly, you've conquered it."

"Years of therapy."

JoJo raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. I was in a terrible train accident as a kid. Had nightmares for years, along with trauma counseling." She left out the other part, the scariest part, but when was it ever a good time to tell someone you'd been kidnapped? "But mostly that was pure panic back there on the set today."

JoJo laughed. "I'm glad you're on the team."

"Tell that to Miles. I'm still not sure if my assignment to the movie camp isn't a demotion."

"Just keep them from starting any forest fires, and you'll be a hero. You and your blanket have a lovely evening." She winked, then left.

Oh, she hadn't a hope of being a hero. But maybe she could keep tragedy from happening.

I need you.

Yeah, probably not.

But it didn't hurt to dream, right?

* * *

You were made for this.

Spenser woke up with Emily's words in his head, and it sort of felt like sunshine poured straight into his soul.

The heat of the words stuck with him as he showered, then opened the tweed blinds while his no-name coffee perked, and as he forewent breakfast in the lounge of the motel. Instead, he hopped on his bike and motored to the set just as the sun broke free of the eastern spread of mountains.

He liked getting to the set early, into his trailer so he could go over the scenes on the call sheet, practice and re-memorize his—today, six—lines, and get into wardrobe before the rest of the team came in.

As he parked, he couldn't help but glance at the house, now charred to the foundation, the chimney in rubble. The barn still stood—that would be fired later in the script. And beyond that, a well, a corral for horses, and a wagon, which was today's victim. The corral was empty, as the woman who ran the local horse sanctuary took them back to her place when they weren't being used in the movie.

He looked away from the house and the what-ifs. He hadn't quite let his memory linger on those terrifying moments under the house—had relegated the moment to movie magic, something cordoned off in his brain.

Maybe that's why he'd run in—because he hadn't actually considered the danger. But if it weren't for Emily…

He headed over to craft services and grabbed a fresh donut and coffee. Then he turned and searched for Emily.

Maybe she didn't know that most of the cast and crew arrived on set before dawn.

According to the shooting schedule, they had another week of filming at the Winthrop homestead, where Blossom and her son, as well as the Cooper brothers, would bury her husband, then plan their attack on the Irish ranch.

Tomorrow's shoot involved a grass fire, and then, finally, a day later, the barn would be torched before they moved to the old western town for the final sequence of shots.

"Ready for your big scene today?" Win Marshall held his script in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. Spenser was tall, but Win had him by a half inch. Spenser supposed if he had a real big brother, it might be Winchester Marshall. He had a steadiness about him that he brought to the Jack Powers character.

And now, to the character of Deacon Cooper, reluctant gunslinger.

"The one where I try and fail to talk you out of facing down the Irish gang? Yeah. About that—I feel like the brothers should stick together here. I don't buy Deacon leaving Hawk behind for this gig."

"Even to protect the woman?"

"That's the thing—she's a strong mountain woman with a kid and a dead husband. I'm not sure she needs us sticking around to protect her."

"It's in the book."

"The book was written like forty years ago, and it's a classic that's been remade the same way every time. But I'm not sure it plays to today's female audience. And yes, I can get behind a man protecting the woman he loves, but Hawk doesn't love her yet. He cares more about his brother. Besides, she's in town, and I think we can make a case for her being safe without Hawk there to protect her. It's more believable for two to stand off with six cowboys than one."

"You might have mentioned this at the table read."

Right.

"But you might have a point."

He glanced at Win. "Really?"

"Let me talk to Cosmo." He rolled up the script. "Did you do this a lot with Osprey?"

"Not really. I produced one episode, and that was enough for me. But I did have some say in the finale."

"The one where Quillen finally finds his dad?"

"Yeah. They wanted his dad dead, and I suggested that our entire fan base would murder us if we went that direction."

Win laughed. "Good call. It's one of my favorite episodes. I love a good happy ending." He lifted his hand to Cosmos, who came out of the director's trailer. "See you in makeup."

He took off, and Spenser finished off his donut, watching the sunrise cast upon land. Right now, Kermit would be serving up the guys in the bunkhouse a plate of spicy scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, gravy, and home fries.

He headed to makeup. Thirty minutes later, he was grimy, his five-o'clock shadow darkened, his hair gritty.

Win came into the trailer and sat in the makeup chair. "He's working on the shootout, but he liked your changes." Win lifted his chin as Tanya, their makeup assistant, garbed him in a cape. "Next time, though, maybe let's make changes more than just two hours in advance."

Spenser rolled up his script and nodded. Headed over to wardrobe where they put him in freshly laundered, now movie-dusted clothing that smelled great and looked grubby. And in another thirty minutes, he was a gunslinger from the late eighteen hundreds any woman might love.

At least that's what Cosmos was hoping when he handed him the updated pages.

"The AD is working out the blocking." He gestured to the set where Indigo was already talking through the scene with Kathryn Canary.

Gemma crouched next to Bucky as they listened to the instructions.

"Hey."

He turned and didn't stop a smile as Emily walked up to him. She wore her blonde hair back, her canvas fire-retardant pants, a yellow Nomex shirt—a hotshot straight out of casting central. A duffel bag hung from her shoulder.

"Mornin'."

"You look like you've been in a tussle, and it's not even eight a.m."

"We do have a fight scene later today, but no, this is all makeup."

She cupped a hand over her eyes. "Is that Bucky?"

"Yeah. He's in the first scene with Kathryn. Has to mourn his dad. I think I should probably find a game or something to play with Dusty between takes. I lost half my life sitting in chairs waiting for takes."

She looked at him. "Really?"

"Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but I was known for learning every line by every actor in a scene. It wasn't that I was a prodigy—I was bored."

She laughed. "I get that. I'll see if I can entertain him."

"What's in your bag of tricks?"

"Oh. Just some safety gear. A fire extinguisher. A fire-retardant blanket. I thought I'd see if I could run a quick safety seminar."

"Talk to Indigo, the first AD. She's in charge of the shooting schedule." He pointed to the yard in front of the house.

"Right." She turned, looked back. "A fight scene?"

"Just a little scuffle. Gotta dispatch them varmints."

She laughed. It rang inside him as he headed to his trailer.

He stood in front of the mirror, memorizing the new lines. Eight total—so that was a bonus. Tried them out in different variations, different speeds.

The set assistant knocked on his door less than twenty minutes later for a blocking rehearsal. As he came out, he spotted Emily talking with Indigo, who wore a headset, her hands on her hips, her mouth set in a sort of annoyance.

He walked over and caught the end of it.

"We have a tight schedule, Miss Micah. I don't think?—"

"Not to interrupt, but I think Emily is just trying to do her job, Indigo."

Indigo raised an eyebrow. Okay, yes, he knew his place, but Spenser still said, "I think after yesterday, maybe we'd all feel safer with a short safety briefing?"

She checked her watch, then turned away and spoke into her headset.

Emily glanced at him. "Thanks." Then her attention diverted to behind him. "Hey!"

He turned. The trailer for the horses had arrived, and a woman was leading the herd of six horses to the corral, all on long leads.

Except one had broken away, skittish as it ran down the street.

Right at Bucky who was crouched in the yard—probably on his mark—playing with a stick.

Sheesh, where was his mother?

Spenser sprinted over, Emily behind him. He whipped off his hat. Planted himself in front of Bucky, waving away the horse.

Out of his peripheral, he spotted Emily as she grabbed the kid, forced him down, her body over his in the dirt.

The animal reared up, and Spenser grabbed at its reins. The horse skittered away, but he approached him, hand up. "Whoa there, pal. Shh."

The animal snorted and backed up, but Spenser stopped, then moved forward again, slowly. He finally put a hand on his withers. "There you go, buddy."

The horse bent his head, sniffed at him.

The woman ran up. "Sorry! Sorry—he's a rascal." She reached out for the reins. "I'm Sophie Lamb. I run the Valley Ranch."

He handed the reins over. "Not sure he's the right horse for this gig."

"Give him a chance," she said. "He's all bark, no bite."

Tell that to Bucky, but he bit that back.

Then he turned to Emily who had risen, helping up Bucky.

Gemma ran from the craft services tent. "Bucky!" He took off for his mother as Emily brushed herself off.

"You okay?" he asked.

"You sure you want to be an actor and not a stuntman?"

His mouth opened. No, not really. But?—

"Just kidding. But that was pretty amazing." She handed him his hat. "Can't wait for the real action to start." She turned and headed back to her dropped duffel bag.

He watched her go, feeling like maybe it already had.

"Storm!"

He turned, and Indigo was motioning him toward her, her face tight. He jogged over.

"What was that?"

He opened his mouth. "The horse got away?—"

"Just don't do anything to get hurt, okay? The last thing we need is something shutting down the movie."

He stood there, his mouth open as she walked away. Wait one?—

"I knew he was going to be a liability."

The words, spoken into her mic, traveled, hit him in the chest.

He looked up, searching for whom she might be talking to.

His jaw tightened as he saw Cosmos looking at him, then nod and turn away.

You were made for this.

Yes, he was. He tucked on his hat.

His next eight lines just might win him a freakin' nomination.