hills, seemingly oblivious to the dramatic cliffs looming above them.
Tess took a sip from her water bottle, wishing it were coffee or brandy or something warm. Maybe when all this was over she’d write a book—a city girl’s survival guide for tiny cow towns. First on her list of tips would be to invest in a small espresso machine. Her second tip would be to always have a flask of something stronger on hand, for moments like this one.
And her third tip, unrelated to beverages, would be to make sure, before agreeing to go, that you’d never slept with any of the tiny-cow-town officials.
She sighed and zipped up her parka, wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck and pulled her wool cap over her head. Taking the small camera from her purse, she opened the door, only to have the wind slam it shut in her face. She shook her head in awe. There was certainly wind power in this area. She tried again, this time shoving the door with her shoulder. She burst out into the chill afternoon, her senses immediately overwhelmed. All she could hear, smell and feel was wind.
Holding on to her hat, she trudged into the gusts, scanning the side of the road for places where a few cars could park at the same time. To her relief there was another large turnout beyond the one she’d parked in. Perfect for the film crew. Across the road from it was a gravel driveway and a rustic wooden gate, which led to the fields below the rocky teeth.
She walked over to take a closer look. If they all hopped the gate they could shoot footage of the CEO right here, with the twisted hills behind him. They could get some pretty light if they filmed in the morning, and she knew the wind would be quieter at that time of day, as well. She took a few pictures and stood staring at the view, trying to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything else she needed to do while she was here.
The sound of an engine approaching distracted her, and she looked up to see a white pickup pull up behind her rental Jeep and stop. A man jumped out and started running toward her. She had an instant of panic before realizing it was Slaid.
“Tess, are you okay?” He was shouting as he ran across the road and over to the gate where she stood.
No, she wasn’t okay. Slaid wore faded jeans, a shearling jacket and cowboy boots—and they all suited him perfectly. She suddenly wished he’d gained weight in the past two years, or gone bald or gotten married. Anything that would make him less attractive.
“I’m fine. How are you, Slaid?”
He stopped in front of her and she noted that he wasn’t even out of breath. “I saw your Jeep and thought maybe you had some car trouble and needed help.”
The idea that he’d assumed she was some kind of damsel in distress was a little irritating. “Thanks. I’m good. Just taking a few pictures. We’re doing a video shoot out here next week.”
His brows rose. “A video here? Why?”
“This is where they’re siting the windmills.” Tess shoved her hands in her pockets, wishing they could have this chat somewhere warmer.
“You’re kidding me.” His voice was suddenly rough and low. “And when were you going to tell me about this?”
“Actually I was planning on keeping it a big secret,” she snapped back. Slaid scowled, evidently not amused by her sarcastic humor. “I was going to stop by on my way back to town. The email with the map and directions just came an hour ago.”
His expression grew even more contorted as he looked over at the hills. “Well, the directions must be wrong. They can’t site their project here. This is my land.”
“No, that can’t be right.” She looked around at the desolate landscape, wondering if she’d made a mistake. She didn’t think so.
“I think I know my own pasture, Tess. And those are definitely my cattle over there.”
His attitude wasn’t helping their situation, or her mood, which was rapidly deteriorating. She was cold, and a dull ache drummed in her temples, probably
Tess took a sip from her water bottle, wishing it were coffee or brandy or something warm. Maybe when all this was over she’d write a book—a city girl’s survival guide for tiny cow towns. First on her list of tips would be to invest in a small espresso machine. Her second tip would be to always have a flask of something stronger on hand, for moments like this one.
And her third tip, unrelated to beverages, would be to make sure, before agreeing to go, that you’d never slept with any of the tiny-cow-town officials.
She sighed and zipped up her parka, wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck and pulled her wool cap over her head. Taking the small camera from her purse, she opened the door, only to have the wind slam it shut in her face. She shook her head in awe. There was certainly wind power in this area. She tried again, this time shoving the door with her shoulder. She burst out into the chill afternoon, her senses immediately overwhelmed. All she could hear, smell and feel was wind.
Holding on to her hat, she trudged into the gusts, scanning the side of the road for places where a few cars could park at the same time. To her relief there was another large turnout beyond the one she’d parked in. Perfect for the film crew. Across the road from it was a gravel driveway and a rustic wooden gate, which led to the fields below the rocky teeth.
She walked over to take a closer look. If they all hopped the gate they could shoot footage of the CEO right here, with the twisted hills behind him. They could get some pretty light if they filmed in the morning, and she knew the wind would be quieter at that time of day, as well. She took a few pictures and stood staring at the view, trying to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything else she needed to do while she was here.
The sound of an engine approaching distracted her, and she looked up to see a white pickup pull up behind her rental Jeep and stop. A man jumped out and started running toward her. She had an instant of panic before realizing it was Slaid.
“Tess, are you okay?” He was shouting as he ran across the road and over to the gate where she stood.
No, she wasn’t okay. Slaid wore faded jeans, a shearling jacket and cowboy boots—and they all suited him perfectly. She suddenly wished he’d gained weight in the past two years, or gone bald or gotten married. Anything that would make him less attractive.
“I’m fine. How are you, Slaid?”
He stopped in front of her and she noted that he wasn’t even out of breath. “I saw your Jeep and thought maybe you had some car trouble and needed help.”
The idea that he’d assumed she was some kind of damsel in distress was a little irritating. “Thanks. I’m good. Just taking a few pictures. We’re doing a video shoot out here next week.”
His brows rose. “A video here? Why?”
“This is where they’re siting the windmills.” Tess shoved her hands in her pockets, wishing they could have this chat somewhere warmer.
“You’re kidding me.” His voice was suddenly rough and low. “And when were you going to tell me about this?”
“Actually I was planning on keeping it a big secret,” she snapped back. Slaid scowled, evidently not amused by her sarcastic humor. “I was going to stop by on my way back to town. The email with the map and directions just came an hour ago.”
His expression grew even more contorted as he looked over at the hills. “Well, the directions must be wrong. They can’t site their project here. This is my land.”
“No, that can’t be right.” She looked around at the desolate landscape, wondering if she’d made a mistake. She didn’t think so.
“I think I know my own pasture, Tess. And those are definitely my cattle over there.”
His attitude wasn’t helping their situation, or her mood, which was rapidly deteriorating. She was cold, and a dull ache drummed in her temples, probably
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