She's Far From Hollywood. Jo McNally
he said automatically. Damn it, that wasn’t the first time she’d gotten him to say that word since she arrived, and the thought annoyed the daylights out of him. He swung the hammer, making quick work of the final two long nails that now held the fence firmly intact. Bree shook her hand, wincing. He grabbed her wrist, sliding off one of his leather gloves to examine her palm. A dark half-inch sliver was visible just under the tender skin at the base of her thumb.
“I tried to warn you...” he muttered, half to himself. He held her hand firmly and fished his jackknife out of his pocket. With one swift move, he opened the knife, set it under the tip of the sliver and pulled it out. When a dot of blood appeared, he was surprised how much it affected him. He brushed the blood away with his thumb, still holding her hand in his.
“Go inside and have Nell put something on that so it doesn’t get infected.” He saw the angry red bites on her forearm and rubbed his fingers across them. “Fire ants?”
“One of my many lessons in farm life this week. Look before you sit down in the yard to rest, because there might be an ant hill there.” She slowly pulled her hand out of his, and he felt a surprising pang of loss. “And today’s lesson is...wear gloves. And apparently naps are for sissies.”
The corner of his mouth twitched toward a smile. “Nah. Naps are okay. For old people and womenfolk, anyway.”
She grinned, and his body warmed. “And which category are you putting me in?”
His eyes slid down her body. The gauzy top and snug leggings didn’t leave much to the imagination. Before he knew it, he was saying his thoughts out loud. “You’re all woman, Brianna. All woman.”
“I won’t be for long if I keep this up. Look at my hands. And my skin. I haven’t had this many freckles since I was a kid. The sun is doing a number on me...” Her eyes met his and she stopped talking, as if she just now realized what he’d said. “Wait...did you just say something nice to me?”
This conversation was heading in a dangerous direction. He forced the growl back into his voice.
“What? By calling you a woman? Isn’t that how you make your living?” She stepped back and paled. But wasn’t it the truth? Pageant queen? Hollywood trophy wife? He wasn’t going to feel guilty for stating the obvious.
Her voice settled to a steely level. “Right. I knew I must be mistaken about that ‘nice’ business. Are we done here?” She nodded to the fence.
He barely managed to stop himself from apologizing yet again. Instead, he bent to pick up his tools and walked away without saying another word. He was pretty sure he heard her call him a jackass under her breath. So be it. She wasn’t wrong.
When Cole got home, he paced the floors in agitation.
That woman. That woman. That woman.
Just being in her presence was enough to send his pulse jumping. She challenged him and pushed him and ticked him off. And that was the problem in a nutshell. She made him feel things. And Cole Caldwell didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to let his emotions out of the cage he’d stuffed them into. They were safe and controllable when they were confined. Bree Mathews was anything but safe and controllable. She was too big a risk. Too dangerous for a man who used to face danger as part of everyday life.
When he’d reached for her hand and held it...well, something happened. Something that felt profound, which was ridiculous. Her hand in his felt soft and smooth and perfect. And those freckles she complained about? He thought they looked like gold dust scattered across her ivory skin. In the bar on Monday afternoon, he thought her complexion was artificial, a product of cosmetics and Hollywood magic. But tonight she was scrubbed clean and glowing from a week in the sun. Tonight her skin, unencumbered with artificial enhancement, was perfect. He wondered what the parts of her body that he hadn’t seen looked like. Did she have freckles in hidden places? Did she have porcelain skin everywhere?
He kicked an ottoman and sent it sliding across the hardwood floor. She was making him crazy. Thank God she was only here temporarily. Once that stalker was arrested, she’d be back home in Hollywood.
Maggie settled onto her bed by the front door with a heavy sigh and stared at him with large, dark eyes. Most of the time she spent her nights outside on the porch, reminiscent of their days in Afghanistan when she’d stand watch outside the tents. Old habits died hard, even for dogs. But tonight she knew he needed her close.
BREE STOOD IN front of the mirror in the ladies’ room at The Hide-Away on Saturday night and laughed out loud. She looked nothing like the Malibu Barbie who’d walked into this same bar on Monday with long red hair and expensive taste in wine.
Her hair fell in feathered curls around her face. Tammy’s sister had carefully removed all her extensions that morning, then cut, colored and layered her hair so that the soft, natural curls came back. The ombre coloring was an edgy mix of her original dark red fading into soft cinnamon, with champagne blond on the tips. The length barely brushed her shoulders after it was cut, but she’d taken a curling iron to it tonight so it fell just below her ears in a jumble of messy ringlets.
Her outfit was the result of Emily’s shopping spree at Target. Instead of linen and silk, she wore a short denim skirt with a red gingham shirt tied at her waist. The shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white tank top decorated with the glittering outline of a galloping horse. Her earrings were long, swishy tassels that dangled the length of her neck and ended in tiny gold horseshoes. Tall Western boots finished the authentic country look.
She’d laughed when Emily pulled the bright red boots out of the shopping bag. Not only were they red; they were also adorned with gold metallic thread stitched into a phoenix design. They made her feel brave and sexy. With her fresh crop of freckles, she was a new, sassy, all-natural Bree.
She turned back and forth, staring at herself in the mirror. Being recognized seemed unlikely after this transformation, which was why she’d agreed when Emily suggested they come to The Hide-Away for dinner. She thought she’d feel like an actress playing a role wearing this little country bumpkin outfit, but instead, she felt relaxed and energized.
A week ago she wouldn’t be caught dead looking like this. What if some paparazzi snapped a photo? Cole’s words had stung last night, but he was right. Her looks were her living, and she spent a good hour every morning plastering on her identity before walking out of her bedroom. But now...well, now she looked far more genuine than Malibu Bree had ever looked or felt, even with the silly multicolored curls.
“You gonna come eat with us or what?” Tammy rapped on the restroom door.
“Yes, ma’am! I’m on my way.” She quickly applied some sheer lip gloss. It was the only makeup she was wearing. She’d insisted Melissa pluck off what remained of her fancy acrylic nails, and she’d tossed out all of her cosmetics except sunscreen and moisturizer. The best way to look the opposite of the famous Bree Mathews was to ditch all the phony stuff. That thought made her pause again. Nearly everything about her in California had become phony. How exactly had that happened?
She stepped out into the dark, noisy bar and gave Tammy a thumbs-up. The Hide-Away was as different tonight compared to Monday as she was. The wide accordion doors she’d noticed that first day were now opened wide, revealing an adjoining room larger than the bar itself, filled with tables, chairs and an elevated stage at the far end of the dance floor. Tammy had explained that Ty and Cole were partners in the bar. They’d purchased the neighboring business a few years ago and used the space to expand the bar on the weekends and for special occasions. Friday was karaoke/jukebox night, although Tammy said their second-hand equipment was sadly outdated. On Saturday nights they had local bands come in. Their reputation was growing, and the place tended to fill up not only for meals, but also for a fun time afterward.
They found Emily sitting in the corner booth farthest away from the bright lights over the stage. She jumped up and gave Bree a hug.
“Oh