Chapter 6

Chapter Six

JORDAN

The first day of filming was unsatisfying and brutal. The scenes were set-ups for Debbie’s character, Mary-Ann, a woman running a ranch on her own, with the added problem of being a widow, having a ten-year-old daughter called Zoe, owning two dogs, and finding orphaned kittens in the snow.

Never let it be said this movie wasn’t going to tick all the boxes in cliché Christmas romance.

Jordan’s character, Joe, was the traveler who happens on the farm and hides in the barn. Of course, Debbie finds him; he’s ill, and she nurses him back to health; he helps her around the farm, the daughter loves him, he and the heroine fall in love, and the kittens get a home.

Yep, calling the leads Mary-Ann and Joe was maybe a step too far, but this script was the only one they could get on short notice, and it was a strong story nonetheless.

“Mary and Joseph,” Micah said again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Mary-Ann and Joe,” Jordan corrected him.

They’d taken over one of the cabins in what Crooked Tree called the Forest Area, which was self-explanatory, really, as it backed onto a tangled, gnarly forest of thick pines and banks of snow. Perfect.

The scene they had today was Debbie on the phone with her sister, who was warning her that a storm was coming—cliché #57—and she needed to look after herself. Oh, and was she coming down to the town for Christmas?

“I promise you I’ll be there for Christmas Eve. Zoe is super excited, and has hand drawn all these wonderful cards.” Debbie delivered her line, and the camera focused in on her pensive expression as she stared out the kitchen window.

Off-camera the actress playing the sister said her bit. “There’s nothing stopping you from coming down earlier, sis. You know Zoe would love that.”

“I have things to do here. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

The conversation ends. The camera moved closer, and like the consummate actress Debbie was, her eyes glassed over and a tear rolled down her face. Then she needed to reference the husband who had died and she did so with emotion.

“I miss you, Mark,” she said to her reflection, and then closed her eyes.

And pause.

“And cut!” The director, Bob Sterling, a veteran of made-for-TV movies, said decisively. “Perfect, Debs, perfect.”

“Thanks, Bob.” Debbie wiped away the tears with her hand.

“Who wants to have the kittens?” someone shouted from across the way.

Debbie and Bob grinned at each other. It had been their idea to include orphan kittens. What was better than to add some cute to an already schmaltzy storyline?

“Are you sure about the kittens?” Jordan asked. The idea of wrangling five cats on a set wasn’t filling him with enthusiasm.

Until, that was, one of the crew placed a basket on the fake kitchen table and Jordan got his first look at the tiniest creatures imaginable.

“Oh my God.” He leaned over for a closer look.

Two blacks, three gray with stripes. All were asleep in one big bundle of fluff. Jordan couldn’t help himself, he picked up one of the tiny black kittens and it uncurled in the center of his hand, so small, and gave a soft yawn up at him—and right there and then, Jordan fell in love.

“We need kittens in all our stories,” he announced to Micah, who was stroking the kitten’s head with the tip of his index finger.

“Yes, boss,” Micah said and snorted a laugh.

They fussed over the kittens as the team pulled together the next shot, the morning that Mary-Ann finds Joe in her barn. That was more internal work, and then they were outside working in the barn, which meant moving the shoot across the bridge and up to the secondary location, where it was exposed and freaking cold.

“Why didn’t we set this whole movie indoors, with added kittens?” Jordan asked. But he didn’t really want an answer, and all he got anyway was Micah chuckling. “You can laugh. I’ll be the one in jeans and a light jacket in subzero temperatures.”

“That’s why you get your name at the beginning of the film, bro,” Micah teased.

Emma, the young actress playing Zoe, with her tutor trailing her, stopped at the kittens and couldn’t be pulled away. The tutor finally got her to move but not before Jordan saw the calculating look in Emma’s eyes as to how she was going to get to take a kitten home. Her mom was somewhere on set, but didn’t strike Jordan as being a push over.

“Eyes up,” Micah said, nudging him in the side.

“What?” Jordan glanced at him.

“Tall, dark, and very sexy, heading your way.”

Jordan looked in the direction Micah was pointing, and there was Sheriff Carter, looking all kinds of adorable, flushed and really uncomfortable right behind the cameras.

Jordan crossed to him with a smile on his face. “Hey, Sheriff.”

“They said it was okay to come in, that you weren’t filming.”

“No, we’re resetting for the next scene.”

They stood in silence for a second, and Jordan didn’t want that. He could listen to Ryan’s voice all day, and he wanted more of it.

“Look,” he said, and thrust out his cupped hands and the tiny kitten in them.

“Aww, who’s this little fella, then?” Ryan held out a finger, which the kitten mouthed and butted against.

“I don’t know. Hang on.” He half turned to Micah. “Do the kittens have names?”

Micah shrugged and passed the question back down the line until the answer came that no, there were no names.

“We need to give them names,” Debbie said from his side. “What if we write it in as a scene, we could ad-lib and call them, like, Rudolph and whatever. Hi, I’m Debbie.”

Debbie not only grinned up at Ryan, but she held out a hand and kind of half hugged the man, who looked over her head right at Jordan, as though he was a deer and Debbie an oncoming truck.

“Nice to meet you,” Ryan said formally.

“I’m the lead alongside Jordan.”

“Great.”

She grinned at him. “You know, the widow and daughter with the ranch, snow, and kittens, and of course the traveler who hides in her barn.”

“Great,” Ryan repeated. “Sounds good,” he added like an afterthought.

Debbie wrinkled her nose at him and then laughed. “It will be with our resident hot leading star here.” She thumbed at Jordan, and then took the kitten from him saying that no, Jordan couldn’t keep the little tyke.

Which meant that Jordan and Ryan were alone, or as alone as you could be in a mess of technicians trying to make a movie.

“Did you write the script?” Ryan asked, crossing his arms over his chest, then uncrossing them and pushing his hands into the pockets of his sheriff-issue jacket.

“No, but I am a huge fan of Christmas romance,” Jordan said, then realized he was coming over as defensive. “Romance in general,” he added to qualify the first statement. Then he dipped his head because, jeez, what the hell was he doing? “So, are you here for an official visit?”

Ryan nodded. “Business,” he said, but he didn’t expand. “Saw Angie, and she said you wanted to talk to me.”

“She did?”

Shit. Angie said that? Great, was she matchmaking? Was this something to do with Micah? He turned and searched out Micah, who was watching and freaking well winked at him! That was the shit thing about having a twin; Micah just seemed to know everything about him, just as he knew that Micah was in love with Angie.

“Yes,” Ryan continued. “A question about the movie or something I could help with?”

Jordan had to think on his feet, and not focus on how he was going to kill both Angie and Micah.

“Yes, come with me. Least I can do is get you coffee.”

Ryan pulled a hand out of his jacket and glanced at his watch. “I have ten minutes.”

Jordan smiled up at the big man. “We have cake, and ten minutes is fine.”

“I don’t always eat cake,” Ryan blurted, then went scarlet.

Jordan pretended not to notice, but found the reaction so damn cute he had a sugar rush without cake. “Why not? Everyone should eat cake daily.”

He led Ryan out of the cabin and across to the large tent holding a mess of boxes, trunks, cables, and chairs. And more importantly, Sam’s assistant, Yan, who was in charge of catering down on set.

“Hi, Yan.”

“Morning. Coffee?”

“This is Sheriff Carter. He’s giving us some technical help, and he loves cake.”

“Not all the time,” Ryan murmured at his side.

Yan made them coffee and indicated the plates of cake.

“Do you trust me?” Jordan asked as he passed the coffee to Ryan. “With cake, I mean.”

Ryan blinked at him and then half smiled. “I don’t know. I take it very seriously.”

“Go, sit, and I’ll bring it over.”

Ryan moved to one of the small tables, his breath huffs of white in the cold air. Jordan collected Yan’s recommendation and balanced the plates and his mug of steaming caffeine over to the table. He slid in the seat.

“Lemon drizzle. It’s Yan’s special. He also makes good cookies.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Ryan said, and he spoke with a smile.

He took a mouthful, as a wine expert might sip at a glass of Cabernet. He chewed, a thoughtful expression on his face, and swallowed. “That’s good.”

“So, the reason I wanted to talk to you”—Jordan hoped to hell that his made-up-on-the-spot reason made one lick of sense—“is that we have this drifter, right, and he’s ex-Army, rootless after coming back from war. He has this old car, and it broke down, so he walks and ends up in Mary’s barn. She’ll tell the sheriff, of course.”

“Of course.” Ryan smiled.

“What would you do?”

Ryan stared at him. “In what way?”

“If a widow with a kid, who you were friends with, told you there was a strange guy in her house, and he was ill, and she didn’t know who he was, what would you do?”

“Tell her not to let strangers in the house to start with,” Ryan said, all seriousness. “The child is added vulnerability.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t real life. By the time she comes to talk to the sheriff she’s already half in love with the drifter, and her daughter loves him.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, but we need to suspend disbelief here.”

“Okay, so the sheriff isn’t pissed at all?” Ryan asked.

“He is, but he gets over it.”

“How?”

“He does a background check, and the guy checks out.”

Ryan frowned a little. “Checks out how? A background check will give you arrest records, age, birthplace, all kinds of black-and-white data, but nothing that says ‘this is a good guy.’”

“The sheriff would be able to find out if the man was former Army, though?”

“Yes.”

“And you’d find the car he says broke down, and tow it somewhere?”

“If we could.”

“Okay.” Jordan sipped at his coffee. “That gives me something to work with. I need to connect to that in character, persuade her I’m okay, and persuade the sheriff that my intentions are good.”

“Yes, and I would need a lot of persuasion.”

“Thank you.”

Ryan checked his watch again. “I really need to go.”

“Sheriff work?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Walk him where? To the snow outside? They were a good quarter-mile from the main ranch. Just to his car, then. He must have driven here.

Ryan took the empty mugs back to Yan. Jordan wasn’t eavesdropping, not deliberately, but he loved that Ryan commented on the cake and the coffee and chuckled at something Yan said back to him.

Ryan really was one of the good guys, and Jordan was so turned on by his voice and his sort of awkwardness, and his height, and his muscles, and just everything about him.

As soon as they rounded the tent, Jordan spotted the sheriff’s car, parked neatly under the trees, up against a large bank of snow. He and Ryan would be hidden from view here, at least from the film crew.

“So, the cake was nice.” Jordan wanted to make conversation. He’d never had this feeling before, this absolute intention to want to be with someone.

“Yes.” Ryan pulled the keys from his pocket.

He was leaving. All he needed to do was get in the car, use the keys, and he’d be gone.

“I still need to talk to you about the procedure in my script,” Jordan said a little desperately.

Ryan tilted his head. “You were going to text me a time.”

“Friday. I’ll come to your place. There’s no peace here.”

Ryan smiled ruefully. “It’s not exactly quiet at my place either. But okay. Head through town, find Carter’s, and ask for me at the bar.”

“You live in a bar? I mean, at a bar.”

“Family business. And over the bar, actually.”

“Seven okay? Maybe eight? You want me to bring takeout?”

“No, I’ll sort it. You like Italian?”

Jordan could imagine reaching up, tangling his hands into Ryan’s chestnut hair, pulling him down for kisses… he wondered what Ryan would taste like. Would he want Jordan to take control of the kiss, or would he be the one who pressed Jordan back against the car and took his fill?

Fuck, this is turning me on.

“I love Italian,” he said. Then Ryan was in the car, with no kisses, no touches, and Jordan was waving goodbye, a little lamely.

At least he had Friday.

So, he went back to filming. He got there just in time to watch Debbie nail her interaction with the kittens and think that right there was Christmas romance movie gold.