A Cowboy's Wish Upon A Star. Caro Carson
no producers. Sophia stopped holding her breath and let herself sag against the stall to her right. Her shoulders slumped under the full weight of her fatigue.
The horse swung its head a little closer to her, and gave her slumped shoulder a nudge.
“Oh, hello.” Sophia had only known one horse in her life, the one that the stunt team had assigned her to sit upon during a few scenes before her pioneer character’s dramatic death. She’d liked that horse, though, and had enjoyed its company more than that of the insulting, unstable director.
“Aren’t you pretty?” Sophia tentatively ran the backs of her knuckles over the horse’s neck, feeling the strength of its awesome muscles under the soft coat. She walked to the next stall, grateful for the cool concrete on the battered soles of her feet.
The next horse didn’t back away from her, either. Sophia petted it carefully, then more confidently when the horse didn’t seem to mind. She smoothed her hand over the massive cheek. “Yes, you’re very pretty. You really are.”
She worked her way down the aisle, petting each one, brown and spotted, black and white. They were all so peaceful, interested in her and yet not excited by her. Except, perhaps, the last one with the dark brown face and jet-black mane. That horse was excited to snuffle her soft nose right into Sophia’s hair, making Sophia smile at the tickle.
“It’s my shampoo. Ridiculously expensive, but Jean Paul gives it to me for free as long as I tell everyone that I use it. So if he asks, do a girl a favor and tell him you heard I use his shampoo.”
How was that going to work, now that she was out of the public eye? She rested her forehead against the horse’s solid neck. “At least, he used to give it to me for free.”
The horse chuffed into her hair.
“I’d share it with you, but I might not get any more, actually. Sorry about that, pretty girl. Before this is all over, I may have to borrow your shampoo. I hear horse shampoo can be great for people’s hair. Would you mind?”
“Did you need something else?”
Sophia whirled around. Mr. Don’t-or-Else stood there, all denim and boots and loose stance, but his brown eyes were narrowed on her like she was some kind of rattlesnake who’d slithered in to his domain.
“I thought you were gone,” she said. She adjusted her posture. She was being watched after all. She should have known better than to drop her guard.
“You are not allowed in the barn without boots on.”
The horse snuffled some more of her hair, clearly approving of her even if her owner didn’t. “What’s this horse’s name?”
“No bare feet in the barn.” The cowboy indicated the door with a jerk of his strong chin—his very strong chin, which fit his square jaw. A lighting director couldn’t ask for better angles to illuminate. The camera would love him.
Travis Chalmers. He’d tipped his hat to her this afternoon as he’d sat on his horse. Her heart had tripped a little then. It tripped a little now.
She’d already brought her ankles together and bent one knee, so very casually, she set one hand on her hip. It made her body look its best. The public always checked out her body, her clothing, her makeup, her hair. God forbid anything failed to meet their movie star expectations. They’d rip her apart on every social media platform.
Travis had already seen her looking her worst, but if he hoped she’d crack into more pieces, he was in for a disappointment.
Sophia shook her hair back, knowing it would shine even in the low light of the barn. “What’s the horse’s name? She and I have the same taste in shampoo.”
“He’s a gelding, not a girl. You can’t come into the barn without boots or shoes. It’s not safe. Is that clear?”
Sophia rolled her eyes in a playful way, as if she were lighthearted tonight. “If it’s a boy horse, then what’s his name? He likes me.”
The cowboy scoffed at that. “You seem to think all of my stock like you.”
“They do. All of them except you.”
Travis’s expression didn’t change, not one bit, even though she’d tossed off her line with the perfect combination of sassy confidence and pretty pout. He simply wasn’t impressed.
It hurt. He was the only person out here, her only possible defense against being swallowed by the loneliness, and yet he was the one person on earth who didn’t seem thrilled to meet a celebrity.
Supposedly. He was still watching her.
The audition wasn’t over. She could still win him over.
The anxiety to do so was familiar. Survival in Hollywood depended on winning people over. She’d had to win over every casting director who’d judged her, who’d watched her as impassively as this cowboy did while she tried to be enchanting. Indifference had to be overcome, or she wouldn’t get the job and she couldn’t pay the bills.
With the anxiety came the adrenaline that had helped her survive. She needed to win over Travis Chalmers, or she’d have no one to talk to at all. Ever.
So she smiled, and she took a step closer.
His eyes narrowed a fraction as his gaze dropped down her bare legs. She felt another little thrill of adrenaline. This would be easy.
“You’re bleeding,” he said.
“I’m—” She tilted her head but kept her smile in place. “What?”
But he was impatient, walking past her to glare at the floor behind her. “What did you cut yourself on?”
She turned around to see little round, red smears where she’d stopped to greet each horse. “It must have been a rock outside. I stepped on a couple of rocks pretty hard.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
He glanced at her and had the grace to look the tiniest bit embarrassed. “Good that it wasn’t anything sharp in the barn. If it had been a nail or something that had cut you, then it could cut a horse, too.”
“Thanks for your concern.” She said it with a smile and a little shake of her chandelier earrings. “Nice to know the horses are more valuable than I am.”
“Like I said earlier, it’s my job to take care of every beast on this ranch. You’re not a beast. You should know to wear shoes.”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. She couldn’t exactly insist she was a valuable beast that needed taken care of, and she certainly wasn’t going to admit she’d run outside in a panic. Actors who panicked didn’t get hired.
“Come on. I’ll get you something for the bleeding.”
He walked away. Just turned his back on her and walked away. Again.
After a moment, she followed, but she hadn’t taken two steps when he told her to stop. “Don’t keep bleeding on the floor.”
“What do you want me to do?” She put both hands on her hips and faced him squarely. Who cared if it didn’t show off her figure? She’d lost this audition already.
“Can’t you hop on one foot?”
This had to be a test, another trick to see if she was a dumb blonde. But Travis turned into a side room that was the size of another stall, one fitted out with a deep utility sink and kitchen-style cabinets.
He wasn’t watching her to see what she’d do, so maybe it wasn’t a joke. After a moment of indecision, she started hopping on her good foot. The cut one hurt, anyway, and it was only a few hops to reach the sink.
Travis opened one of the cabinets. It looked like a pharmacy inside, stocked with extra-large pill bottles. He got out a box of bandages, the adhesive kind that came in individual paper wrappers. The