Chapter 1

Chapter One

RYAN

Ryan Carter watched the visitors arrive from the window of Marcus Allens’ house. From his vantage point he could see two men and a woman get out of the rental car; one of the men had to be helped out, and the other two were fussing over him.

“Coffee?” Jay asked, passing a mug to Ryan.

“Thanks. Is that them?”

Ryan had been called into this meeting at Crooked Tree, to meet with representatives of Darby Films. Jay had said they needed advice on permits, but Ryan convinced himself it was just an excuse to have him sitting at the table in his uniform, lending a solid security presence to the discussions.

Jay was proud that Crooked Tree had been chosen as the location; the money they received for it would be responsible for helping Crooked Tree into the black this year. He’d promised the film company anonymity and security—Ryan’s role in this.

“Yeah, that’s them,” Jay said. “Jordan and Micah Darby. They’re twins and both used to be actors but Micah gave it up. The woman with them is their executive assistant, Angie Holmes.”

“Don’t know which it is,” Ryan said and tapped the glass, “but one of the men looks drunk.”

Jay let out a soft sigh. “LA types.” He left to get his own coffee.

Ryan took a seat at the table, and when Jordan Darby finally walked in the room, Ryan was convinced his assessment was spot on. He prided himself on his ability to make quick judgments. In his job as sheriff, he was often put in situations that he had to size up immediately. He could look someone in the eyes and see their intentions, or at least be able to make an educated assumption.

All evidence pointed to Jordan Darby being hungover. Dark glasses hid his eyes, and he arrived at the meeting five minutes later than the other two.

Dark glasses. In February. Fuck’s sake.

Five minutes in which Jordan’s twin, Micah, and their PA, Angie, had to make small talk about the weather and the horses, and make excuses for the errant Jordan. Something about Jordan struggling with a cold.

Yeah, right.

Ryan didn’t take long to make up his mind. Jordan was evidently a class-A douchebag who thought way too much of himself. His handshake was strong, but the mumbled hello that went with it had all the sincerity of an infomercial. When the man slumped into the nearest chair and looked pathetically at Angie, she fetched him coffee.

Yep. Douchebag.

The actor, production owner, whatever, fell on the coffee like it was lifeblood and hunched over it, wrapping both hands around the mug.

That’s one hell of a hangover.

Jordan and Micah sat together, and Ryan noticed the differences straightaway. He’d read up on the Darby twins, on this Jordan, B-list actor and industry-acclaimed King of Christmas. His website was full of gushing reviews of movies with titles like Twinkle at Christmas , The Holly Hook , and several others, all with one thing in common: Christmas. Jordan had made a living from being the hero in made-for-TV romances, and he clearly had a high opinion of himself.

Micah leaned in and spoke to his brother quietly; Jordan side-eyed him and gave a subtle shake of his head.

Ryan watched the interaction and the small frown on Micah’s face. He helped himself to more coffee before sitting, as unobtrusively as someone who came in at six-four could, at the opposite end of the table to the LA types. He hunkered down in the chair and sipped at the hot brew, looking over the rim of his cup at the rest of the people there. Every so often he would look back at Jordan, but the guy hadn’t moved; he actually looked really pale and a little shaky, and Ryan’s spidey senses went on alert. Was the man on something?

“Shall we start?” Jay asked.

Sam slipped into the seat next to Jay. Sam was in charge of catering for this venture while Jay project-managed the whole event. Jay didn’t look fazed by the actor slumped in the chair, but then, that was Jay. Crooked Tree needed the business. Being used as a filming location was a feather in Jay’s cap, and he was 200 percent behind making it work.

Whatever. He’d already roped Ryan in, citing security and permits, but Ryan was just here for the coffee and Ashley’s amazing cakes. Any excuse to visit Crooked Tree was a good one.

Talking of which… he leaned over and helped himself to a blueberry and lemon muffin and a slice of apple sponge, then sat back, only to see Jordan had taken off his sunglasses and was blinking right at him. He had the most intense blue-gray eyes, and had Ryan been one to wax lyrical, he would call them the color of the storms that rolled in over the mountains and swept down the valleys.

They were also focused right on Ryan, then down at the plate before returning to him.

And then Jordan smiled at him. A perfect smile, with perfect white teeth. A smile that caused dimples to pop and made Ryan wonder what the hell Jordan was doing.

“Good cake?” Jordan asked. His voice was husky, and he finished on a cough into his hand.

Ryan arched a brow. “Very good.” And then, as if he thought Jordan was going to walk over and steal what he’d chosen, he very deliberately took a bite of the muffin. Of course, that didn’t go entirely according to plan, and he ended up with the sticky cake wedged to the roof of his mouth, which meant he couldn’t say anything else. But still, these were his cakes.

“I want to apologize,” Jordan said with that husky voice. He was talking to Jay alone now, his tone full of remorse. “I can’t seem to shake this virus.”

“Day four,” Micah said, with an added huff and an elbow into Jordan’s side.

“Can we get you anything?” Jay asked solicitously.

“A new set of lungs,” Jordan said and then coughed again.

That actually made Ryan smile inwardly. For a douche, he was actually funny at that moment.

Jay chuckled and then handed around copies of the media pack that had come from Darby Films.

Ryan traced the logo with one finger. The logo was made to look like a heart, befitting a company that created romantic movies. After looking closer, he saw it was two pieces of film layered on top of each other in pink and orange. He skimmed the three-page letter; most of it talked about accommodation and catering, and only the penultimate paragraph dealt with security and regulations.

He’d already covered most of what he needed to do for his consultation fee, paid direct to the sheriff’s department. It was tiring that his boss at County had such a hard-on for movies, because he’d said there was no way he was missing out on this kind of event in the ass end of Montana. Ryan thought he’d get away with phoning this in, but his friends Jay and Sam were here, waiting for his input.

“Nate has some specific requests regarding the use of ranch horses,” Jay said, tapping the papers with the end of his pen.

Angie took that one. “We’ll have on-site accreditation from the Humane Society. My notes say we have three scenes with the horses direct. Is that doable?”

“Absolutely,” Jay said immediately. “Nate is the man you need to talk to when you begin filming.”

Angie noted that. “Nate Todd, am I right? I’ve already spoken to him directly. Will we be meeting him today?”

Jay looked pained but quickly covered it up.

Ryan had seen that look before and had witnessed Nate being all stubborn about not coming down from his work with the horses just to schmooze with city types. Ryan was totally behind that train of thought… and yet here he was anyway.

“He’s out on a trail,” Jay said.

“I thought the ranch was closed to guests?” Angie asked, with concern lacing her tone. “We were told we had full run of the space.”

“No guests,” Jay said, clearly realizing he’d dug a hole trying to explain away Nate’s absence. “Just horse work.”

Ryan bit his lip. That was lame. He glanced over at Jordan and saw the man staring right at him. Again. Ryan deliberately looked away and focused back on Jay, who changed the subject. He listened to Jay summarize what they had so far, and then they reached the part Ryan could talk about and he straightened a little.

“The sheriff’s brother is with the fire department,” Jay began, turning the conversation right over to Ryan, who was wishing right about then that he’d managed to get out of this meeting like Nate had.

Ryan was the youngest of five brothers. Jason, the next youngest, was a fireman; the middle sibling a paramedic; next up an accountant; and his oldest brother, Saul, owned a local bar. Ryan was nothing if not prepared for all eventualities, and he had a sense of pride when he talked about them; all their own men despite their shitty start in life.

He began, “I asked Jason about the regulations for pyrotechnics, and he’s escalated it to Division.”

“Does the division foresee any circumstances where we would need to cut down on the scenes we require?” Angie asked.

“Well, I saw Jason at dinner last night and he said he was happy with everything—” Ryan began.

“That’s not what I asked,” Angie said, in an efficient, icy tone. “This firefighter, Jason, may be your brother, but we need an expert’s opinion in writing. Not your say so that someone is happy with what he’s seen.”

Ryan didn’t like her tone and he went from relaxed to formal in an instant. If official was what she wanted then that was what she was going to get. “Lieutenant Jason Carter has run the assessments, and signed off on the location, and has confirmed in writing, that he has escalated any issues that he felt needed addressing.”

Angie winced. “Sorry, I meant no offense.”

Micah interjected. “This is Darby Films’ first location shoot, I think we’re all a little bit on edge and want everything to go well.”

Shit. Now Ryan felt guilty. He’d definitely come over as territorial and defensive. Added to which, Jay was now looking at him pointedly, which made him feel worse.

And Jordan was still looking at him too, which made him think he had crumbs on his chin, or his hair was sticking up or something. He wasn’t the kind of guy who stood for hours in front of a mirror fussing over his hair, which stubbornly curled around his face. His hair was just a little too long, parted at one side, and fell in two heavy bangs—not quite sheriff-style, but he always attempted to keep it regulation length.

Well, most of the time.

He very likely did have crumbs all over him. Cake was his thing; he had a weakness for them, but his tall frame could carry it off and his belly wasn’t overly soft.

Yet.

According to his brothers, Ryan was the most likely to end up looking like a teddy bear, all cuddly. Self-consciously he wiped his face with a napkin and glanced down at the front of his uniform to check for crumbs. Then he rested one hand on his belly, which was mostly tight and flat, thank you very much, asshole brothers.

“Can we talk catering?” Angie said, and Ryan settled into listening, or at least pretending to listen.

Sam launched into a summary of what he would be doing with Ashley, all enthusiasm and big grins. Sam made Ryan nervous in ways he didn’t want to have to think about. The man flirted unashamedly, or he had until he’d hooked up with Justin.

That was who Sam was, and for some time Ryan had a thing for him. Who wouldn’t? Sam was this bundle of focused energy, cute, sexy, and funny. He was also very much off the market now, in love with Justin, and Ryan had left it just that little bit too late to approach Sam for a date. Not that he ever stood a chance with Sam anyway. Because, to get a date, you’d at least need to talk to the man you wanted to ask out.

Jordan coughed again and Angie went to get more coffee, which Jordan took with a grateful smile. Ryan watched her press a hand to Jordan’s forehead and grimace, but Jordan didn’t move away.

Clearly the sexy, stormy-eyed, B-list actor who stared at Ryan was taken.

“Let’s talk finance,” Micah said from Jordan’s side. Jordan relaxed abruptly as Micah took over. “We’ve paid the deposit and permit payments. When we talked, you were happy with the structured payments, with the bulk to be paid after March 27. We appreciate this isn’t how things normally work, but we are a new company, and as such we’d like to release our investment in stages.”

“We can work with that.”

“We don’t want you in the red in any way, though,” Micah added. “And every payment will be made before we leave site.”

“When do you think that will be?” Ryan asked, because he felt like he should be saying something.

“March 31,” Angie said. “The filming is scheduled up until March 23, but we’d like some leeway, so the booking is from this weekend until the end of March.”

“Six weeks,” Jordan added and coughed again.

Ryan winced. Half at the rasping sound, half because of the germs now circulating the room. Not that he was ever ill, but still, it wasn’t professional of this actor be here and be coughing over everyone, right?

Micah laid a hand on Jordan’s arm and squeezed it, and Jordan nodded. “I need to get some air,” he announced. “I’ll leave the rest to Micah and Angie.”

He shook hands with Jay, then Sam, and finally Ryan. “Could I talk to you outside?” he asked Ryan as he released his hold.

Ryan glanced at Jay, who shrugged. Obviously, he didn’t know what was up.

“Sure.” Ryan refilled his coffee mug and followed Jordan outside.

Today was particularly bright, the sun startling against the crystals of snow, and Ryan wished he hadn’t left his sunglasses in the car. Jordan winced at the light and slipped on his own glasses before leading him down to the bridge and the shade of the huge trees by the water. The air was frosty, but they both had thick jackets. Only Jordan was shivering. LA Boy probably wasn’t used to a Montana winter.

“You need a better coat,” Ryan informed him, then bit his lip because this was a client for Crooked Tree and he’d already fucked up with defending his brother.

“I know.” Jordan wrapped his hands around himself, hopping rather pathetically from foot to foot. “Not much call for thick winter coats in LA,” he added. Then he glanced up at the sky.

Ryan wished he could see the stormy eyes, get a closer look at them to see whether they were bluer out here, less steel gray.

“I bet,” Ryan offered lamely. There was something about Jordan that had him feeling off-balance. That air of vulnerability from being sick, with the shine of money and designer clothes, the beauty of a perfect face with gorgeous eyes, and the whole staring thing.

“So, I have this security thing….” Jordan shivered again.

Ryan took his arm and led him down to his cruiser, opened the door and gestured inside, then climbed into the driver’s side and turned on the heater. Jordan seemed grateful, opening his coat after a while and resting his head back on the headrest.

“What kind of a security thing? That sounds pretty vague. I have protocols, but unless you think people knowing you’re here will cause a stampede of fans to invade us, I doubt we’ll have much to worry about.”

Jordan smiled then, a soft smile, and he pressed his fingers to his temples. “No, I don’t have those kind of fans, and we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Ryan wasn’t going to take exception to that. Crooked Tree might be part of the center of his universe, but that didn’t mean Jordan wasn’t right about it being kind of isolated out here.

“I had an issue last year,” Jordan continued. He picked at the hem of his jersey. “Shit, this is embarrassing.”

“We’re covered by cop-client confidentiality,” Ryan announced.

“That’s a thing?” Jordan sounded surprised.

“Not really, but what’s said in the car stays in the car.”

“Last year I filmed this Cinderella story, a movie version, of course, based loosely on the darker concepts of the original Cinderella, not the fluffy and cute Disney version. Thing is, this guy in the local town, he took exception to the story and to me—hell, he took exception to everything—and he came at me with a car.” Jordan frowned. “Not a good time.”

“Arrested?”

“Damn right. My management took it very seriously. The guy is in jail, receiving psychiatric care. He had this whole photo wall of actors. Not just me—this isn’t a cliché of a stalker and an actor, I promise you. Just, I wanted to let you know this has happened to me. Before, I mean.”

“Okay, I’ll make a note.”

“And—” Jordan sighed noisily. “—there’s something else that might be a bit more worrying.”

“Which is?”

“There’s this journalist, Thomas Ivory, who wants the ‘scoop’ on my family.”

Jordan used his fingers to air quote around scoop. He didn’t need to; Ryan could already hear the distaste in his voice.

“Your family. Not just you, but your brother as well?”

“And my mom. But she’s with husband number four and he’s rich as hell, so no hack is getting anywhere near her. It’s more that my dad died young, not long after we were born, actually. You should google him.” He sank back against the seat, exhaustion bracketing his eyes.

“You’re saying this journalist might turn up here?”

“Maybe. I have a restraining order, I can get you a copy.”

Ryan hadn’t come across a celebrity-stalker situation before in his work, but he’d seen a lot of things very close. He wasn’t going to reassure Jordan with blanket statements that he would look after him—that wasn’t him. He had to be firm and honest. “That would be useful. Also, anything like that happens here, you can report to me and I will make sure the proper authorities are involved.”

Jordan seemed relieved, tension slipping from him until he looked boneless in the seat. At least he’d stopped coughing.

“Have you seen a doctor?” Ryan asked after a moment’s silence.

“Hmm.” Jordan shut his eyes. “I’m on antibiotics,” he added in a whisper.

And then, between one heartbeat and the next, he was asleep.

Right there in Ryan’s vehicle, his mouth slightly open, his face flushed with heat and his breathing slightly labored, Jordan the B-lister was asleep. His sunglasses had tilted a little, and Ryan carefully removed them, at the same time wondering how the hell he was going to explain this if Jordan woke up.

Jordan didn’t. He murmured something and slumped lower in the seat.

Ryan sat there for a moment. What did you do when a guy fell asleep in your car?

And then it hit him. He’d get Angie, and she could deal with him

He left the car and went back to Jay’s office. As he let himself in, everyone looked at him.

“Hey,” he said to Angie. “Your boyfriend is asleep in my car.”

Angie looked surprised and glanced at Micah, who shook his head in some silent conversation.

“Is he okay?” Micah asked.

“Ill,” Ryan said, like he even had to mention that. “He’s in my car. Asleep.”

Micah grimaced. “Sheriff, can we please leave him for a while? He’s not slept well in days now. Unless it’s too cold. We should move him, right?”

Micah looked so damn earnest, and his gray eyes, not as dark as Jordan’s, held concern. Ryan bristled at the manipulation, but at the end of the day, Jordan sleeping in his car wasn’t that much of an inconvenience and was a reason to stay longer at Crooked Tree.

“I wrapped a space blanket over him, but you’ll need to check on him, okay?”

“I’ll go,” Angie announced, and bundled into a coat to leave.

Ryan helped himself to more coffee, because hell, he was already buzzing with it, so why not add to the effect. Then he took another muffin, vowing to go for a run as soon as he got home.

And he didn’t think about the man in his car, or his gorgeous eyes, or the fact that the man was a client of Crooked Tree Ranch.

He just ate muffins, drank coffee, and contemplated his run.