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His Forever Valentine
Marie Ferrarella
Rafe Rodriguez never reckoned on playing hero to a beautiful, big-city stranger. But when he saves Valentine Jones from a charging bull, this Rodriquez brother’s fate is all but sealed.The Hollywood photographer is on location in Forever to scout out an authentic dude ranch. And nothing could feel more real–or right–than the fiery feelings Val’s awakening in Rafe. And he knows just how their real-life romance should end! Haunted by tragedy, Val knows life isn’t like the movies. Still, a girl could get used to having a sexy protector like Rafe around. The Texas rancher’s wreaking havoc with her credo of never settling in one place. Is Val headed for heartbreak again? Or has she finally found a place to belong with this cowboy who’s starting to make her believe in forever?


A Real Cowboy. A Real Home?
Rafe Rodriguez never reckoned on playing hero to a beautiful, big-city stranger. But when he saves Valentine Jones from a charging bull, this Rodriguez brother’s fate is all but sealed. The Hollywood photographer is on location in Forever to scout out an authentic dude ranch. And nothing could feel more real—or right—than the fiery feelings Val’s awakening in Rafe. And he knows just how their real-life romance should end!
Haunted by tragedy, Val knows life isn’t like the movies. Still, a girl could get used to having a sexy protector like Rafe around. The Texas rancher is wreaking havoc with her credo of never settling in one place. Is Val headed for heartbreak again? Or has she finally found a place to belong with this cowboy who’s starting to make her believe in forever?
“Run?” Val echoed incredulously. “Why would you tell me to—?”
This was no time for debate. Instead of biting off a few choice words of explanation, Rafe grabbed her hand. Rather than pushing her ahead of him, he went the other route. He pulled her in his wake.
Hard.
And then she finally heard it. She heard the cause for his alarm. The sound of something pounding on the ground seemed as if it was reverberating right through her, like an earthquake in the distance.
The “earthquake” felt as though it was coming closer by the moment.
Val turned her head in the direction the sound was coming from.
That was when she saw it.
A bull.
A huge black bull was charging directly at them.
Dear Reader,
Forever, Texas started out as a onetime, one-book idea. One story, about a sheriff and an abandoned baby—and the lady lawyer looking not just for the baby but her runaway sister, as well. But once she—and I—“came” to Forever, the people I wrote about tended to stick in my mind. The main two characters got to play out their story, but what about the others? What about the sheriff’s deputy, Alma, and her five brothers? What about his sister, Ramona? And then there was the heroine’s sister, not to mention Miss Joan, the lady with the slightly too-red hair who ran the diner and oversaw everyone else’s lives. What about all their stories? So I decided to start exploring those avenues, finding out what made these people tick. What made them happy.
This time around, we come to Gabe’s twin brother, Rafe, a rancher content with his lot and pretty much minding his own business—until he stumbles across a vivacious woman with a camera, taking pictures of his land. She turns out to be a location scout for a film company—and wouldn’t you just know it, she thinks that his family’s ranch and the town of Forever are a perfect place to shoot their new movie.
By the end of the story, the term perfect location takes on a whole new meaning for Valentine Jones and for Rafe. And Miguel Rodriguez now has just two sons left to marry off. Who will it be next? Curious? Y’all come back now, y’hear?
In conclusion, as always, I thank you for reading. I wouldn’t be here without you. And from the bottom of my heart I wish you someone to love who loves you back.
All the best,
Marie
His Forever
Valentine
Marie Ferrarella


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marie Ferrarella, a USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award—winning author, has written more than two hundred books for Harlequin, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, www.marieferrarella.com (http://www.marieferrarella.com).
To
Anastasia Ault
Who Makes Me Remember
Why I Write
Contents
Chapter One (#u083941bd-315a-5a4a-a8a9-d1cc80465a29)
Chapter Two (#ueda0f6f8-493b-5c1b-8d0a-25c0ed3f19d6)
Chapter Three (#ued2c2365-4e3d-54fb-8d67-8c2dbf11d7a1)
Chapter Four (#u31a0906d-0e6e-5dbe-b8c0-b121d943e2fc)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
She was gorgeous.
Had he forgotten his tan Stetson at the house, the way he occasionally did, Raphael Rodriguez might have been inclined to believe that he’d gotten sunstroke and was having his very first hallucination.
But his Stetson was firmly planted on his head—he actually reached up to touch the brim to make sure it was there. And, although it was rather warm for the middle of January—winters here in Forever, Texas, were usually mild—it’s wasn’t that hot. At least, not hot enough to produce either heatstroke or mirages. This morning, initially, there’d even been a slight nip in the air to remind him that winter wasn’t quite finished with them yet.
All in all, this had been a more eventful winter than usual, at least for his family. It had been a winter where his twin brother, Gabriel, had found the girl of his dreams. Gabe and the woman he called “Angel” were getting married in April.
Rafe had to admit—although only silently to himself—that he was somewhat envious of his twin. Angel was incredibly sweet and he’d never seen Gabe so happy. At times, the man seemed to be walking five inches off the ground.
The thought of finding someone of his own to settle down with had been on Rafe’s mind a great deal lately.
Was that why he thought he saw this gorgeous vision in the distance now? She couldn’t be real. Not this beautiful redhead with a killer body standing smack dab in the middle of his ranch.
His family’s ranch, Rafe amended. The property belonged to his family in the truest sense of the word since their father, Miguel Sr., had changed the deed to the ranch from listing him as the sole owner to putting down all their names, dividing the property in equal shares between all of them.
That particular action had come about at their father’s insistence because they’d all had a part in keeping the bank from foreclosing on the ranch. Each one of them had gotten at least a part-time job, turning over their meager paychecks to their father so that he could stay abreast of the mortgage and their late mother’s mountain of medical bills. That selfless act, the senior Rodriguez had said, was what entitled them to an equal share of the sprawling ranch.
As he drove his Jeep in closer, Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off her.
A woman like that looked completely out of place in a place like this. She had to be a figment of his imagination. But he’d already figured out that he wasn’t experiencing sunstroke and all he’d had to eat this morning were scrambled eggs and some coffee that could have been labeled as solid. The regular housekeeper was on vacation visiting her sister so it had been Miguel Jr.’s turn to cook, or do whatever it was that his oldest brother felt passed for cooking.
But Mike kept things simple, so it was safe to say that Rafe hadn’t ingested anything that would have caused a hallucination like this in the middle of his morning.
Steadily decreasing the distance between them, Rafe couldn’t help wondering when the woman was going to disappear. He couldn’t get over the feeling that she just might be a mirage created by his brain because he was currently without female companionship and Eli, Alma and Gabe were all either married or spoken for.
Was that why he was having this vision?
He’d driven out here to the northern region of the ranch for a reason. He was looking over the miles of fencing, searching for a hole or a break in it anywhere. At last count, they were short a few head of cattle. Since it was doubtful that anyone in the area would actually bother to rustle a meager five or six head, his father thought that the cattle might have just wandered off because of a break in the fencing, most likely caused by the spate of inclement weather they’d just experienced.
“Either that, or the coyotes around here have learned how to steal and use wire cutters,” Ramon—who preferred being called Ray—had cracked at the table this morning before breakfast.
Rafe had been quick to volunteer to be the one to drive the length of the fence, checking for a break. If he hadn’t he would have been stuck with kitchen cleanup. Given the choice, he would always rather be outdoors, even driving around for hours, than stuck washing and drying dishes. It wasn’t that he viewed that kind of work as “woman’s work,” just “indoor” work. Time out in the open won out every time.
But this vision was inexplicable. And she wasn’t vanishing.
The woman, with her needle-straight hair—hair the color of the sun’s first blush at sunrise—dipping halfway down her slender back, was still there.
Anticipation telegraphed through Rafe’s body, putting his pulse on high alert.
Now that he was getting close enough to discern details more clearly, Rafe saw that she was doing something other than taking in the view. She was preoccupied taking pictures with a camera that appeared way too large and sturdy for a typical tourist. She wasn’t just some outsider who’d lost her way and had decided to pause and take a few pictures of the land she’d wandered onto.
She looked to him to be a woman with a mission.
Part of him would have opted to stop driving and just watch her for a little while. Watch her moving about, looking as close to poetic as the photographs she appeared to be framing.
But just as he was considering shutting off his car engine and silently observing her, the slender woman with the flowing strawberry-red hair turned around to look at him.
She was even more striking from the front than she was from the back.
And she was looking straight at him.
Her smile was infectious. Rather than sound generic, the one-word greeting she offered him somehow seemed incredibly personal. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Rafe echoed. For a moment, he just sat there in his Jeep, looking at her. Unable to make a move.
Maybe she was a hallucination after all. The woman seemed completely unfazed at being discovered trespassing. There was no uneasiness or discomfort over the fact that he’d discovered her in a place she clearly didn’t belong.
In his experience, the few tourists that drifted through Forever eyed the local population a bit warily, as if they weren’t quite sure just how civilized these “natives” actually were—if they ate with utensils or still used their fingers when they were consuming their meals.
The thought had the corners of his mouth curving.
The woman, he noted, also, wasn’t making any breathless confessions as to why she was trespassing, nor was she launching into any kind of an elaborate explanation as to what she was doing here this far from town.
As a matter of fact, she wasn’t saying anything at all, which struck Rafe as rather unique. In his experience, women usually took charge of the conversation and, on the average, did a hell of a lot more talking than men.
At least his sister Alma made it seem that way.
Rafe turned off his vehicle’s engine as an afterthought and got out of the Jeep.
The woman had lowered her camera and was now watching him much the way he had been watching her. Except that she had what he could only call a bemused expression on her face.
Was there some joke he was missing, or was that just her way of trying to disarm him?
Whatever it was, it was working.
He started the conversation with the obvious by asking her, “You do know that you’re on private land, right?”
Her smile answered him before her words did. It was as if there was some silent communication going on.
Definitely a hallucination, he couldn’t help thinking one final time.
“Yes, I do,” she replied, still wearing that wide, inviting grin, “and I think that this is exactly what my boss is look for.”
So she was a real estate agent? It hardly seemed likely. He’d never seen her before and Forever was not exactly destined to become a thriving metropolis in the next decade or so. Everyone in town had at least a nodding acquaintance with everyone else who lived in or around the area—unless they were strangers, fresh from some other place.
Since he didn’t want the woman wasting her time and his, there was only one answer he could give her. “It’s not for sale.”
There was no way that anyone in his family would be willing to part with the ranch, or even the smallest section of the ranch. This land was far more than just square footage to them. It was their heritage, it was tied to their childhood and more importantly, it was their invisible connection with their mother. You didn’t sell something like that no matter what the offer turned out to be.
“Oh, he wouldn’t want to buy it,” the sexy woman informed him brightly. “If I’m right about this—and I usually am,” she added without the slightest bit of bravado or vanity, “he’ll be interested in renting it.”
Rafe’s deep brown eyes narrowed beneath his tan Stetson. He tried desperately to make sense out of what the redhead was telling him. He guessed that brains didn’t come along with the beauty. Such a shame.
“Renting it?” he questioned. That really wasn’t an option, either. “I’m sorry, but—”
Rafe didn’t get a chance to turn her down. Lowering her camera so that it now just hung from a strap, its lens pointing, unfocused, at the ground, she moved closer to him.
“Wait,” she requested, raising her voice just enough to register a tad louder than his. “Hear me out, please.” She gestured around the terrain with open enthusiasm. “This place is absolutely perfect.”
“And we intend to keep it that way,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
Gorgeous or not, he wasn’t about to let himself be turned around by the woman and make promises he had no right to make nor keep, even if he could—which he couldn’t. Everything that went on at the ranch was decided by a vote—and they all had a vote. So he couldn’t accept any offers she might make.
It really didn’t matter what the knockout in the sexy jeans that adhered to her like a second skin had in mind or was going to say.
He supposed that, in all fairness, he should hear her out. Let the woman talk. And then he would give her the bottom line: the Rodriguez land was not for sale.
“I guess maybe leasing it would be a better term for what I’m proposing.” She turned to face him directly. Her eyes were dancing and he found them absolutely mesmerizing—not that this changed the situation. “In my opinion, this place is absolutely perfect.”
Well, that certainly echoed his feelings on the subject. He had never experienced an iota of wanderlust. Forever was where he belonged. Specifically, on the family ranch.
“We like to think so,” he responded. “But this has also been in the family for several generations now and we don’t—”
Again, the woman interrupted him before he could finish his sentence and terminate the conversation. “We’d put it back just the way we found it,” she promised. “We’ve got a great cleanup crew.”
He stopped the protest that was on his lips and looked at her. Just who was “we?” And he had another question.
“Cleanup crew?” he asked. “You travel with a cleanup crew?” Who included that in their entourage? Just what did this woman do for a living?
“I don’t,” she clarified, “but the production company does.” And then she laughed, realizing that, as usual, she’d gotten ahead of herself. “Maybe I should start at the beginning.”
“Maybe you should,” he agreed, waiting for her to start making some sense.
Reaching into the pocket of the fringed vest she was wearing, the woman plucked out a business card and offered it to him. At the same time, she told him what was written on it.
“I’m Valentine Jones—Val to my friends,” she interjected. She didn’t expect the name to mean anything to him, although within the business, she was beginning to build up a fairly good reputation. “And I’m a location scout.”
Rafe glanced down at the card she’d handed him. There was a colorful logo on it that looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He only knew he’d seen it before, but on a larger scale. He offered to give her back her card, but she shook her head, silently indicating that he should keep it for future reference.
Not that there would be any, he thought, resigned.
“At the risk of sounding ignorant, what’s a location scout?” he asked.
Rather than laugh at the question, the way he half expected her to, Val flashed a smile at him that was equal parts understanding and unsettlingly sensual.
“I’m surprised you haven’t been approached about this before now. A location scout is exactly what it sounds like—I scout different locations.”
He saw no reason for that. “Why?”
“For movies,” she answered simply.
Her mother had been a starlet with a minor degree of success and fame. She had moved on to be a far more successful casting director, while her father was a well-known and much-in-demand cinematographer. Movies and Hollywood had always been part of her life. At times, it was hard for her to remember that a good many people she dealt with were outside the industry and as such, had to be educated as to what she did.
Rafe was trying to make sense out of what she was telling him. “You mean like for a movie theater? You’re looking to build a movie theater out here?” he asked incredulously. This definitely was off the beaten path. It would make far more sense to put up more movie theaters in the center of town, next to the one they already had.
“No, I’m looking to film a movie here.” That made it sound as if she was the one who made the movie and she wasn’t. “Or rather, my boss is—or he will be once I send him these pictures I just took.” Again, Val realized she was getting ahead of herself. There were questions she had to ask first. “The ranch house I saw coming out here was absolutely perfect for the story, just the right blend of old-fashioned and modern. You are the owner, right?” she looked at him hopefully.
Rafe inclined his head. “I’m one of them.”
Val experienced what she could only term was a slight sinking, disappointed feeling gelling in the pit of her stomach. “Your wife?” she asked, guessing as to who the other owner was.
Rafe laughed as he shook his head. “More like my father and my siblings,” he clarified.
“Siblings,” Val echoed, nodding her head. The sinking feeling disappeared as if it hadn’t been there to begin with. She could feel her mouth curving. “Siblings are good,” she pronounced.
“They seem to think so,” Rafe told her. “And that goes for my father, too,” he added.
Val nodded. She’d heard him specify his father the first time. It looked like she was about to present her case before a committee. Nothing she hadn’t done before. She’d been with Sinclair Productions for a few years now and during that time, she’d encountered a whole range of home owners from a single, hermit-like owner to a holding company she had to spend days tracking down. She’d pleaded her boss’s case before all of them.
“I’d like to meet these siblings and your dad so I could talk to them and see if there’s anything I can do or say to convince them to give their permission to use this ranch as a backdrop of the film we’re making. No sense in my sending on these photos to the director if it’s just to tease him and raise his hopes, only to find out that your siblings and dad won’t let us film here.”
The way she phrased it, he got the feeling that she had just arbitrarily had him throwing in his lot with her. Although he now saw no harm in it, he didn’t want her just taking it for granted, either. He wanted to hear the woman’s pitch first—just in case there was something she hadn’t mentioned or that he was overlooking.
“I didn’t say I’d be all right with it,” he reminded her.
He didn’t have to. She could feel the way he was leaning. But, for the sake of his pride, she played along.
The woman named Val turned her face up to his and it occurred to Rafe that he had never looked into such a soulful pair of eyes before.
“And there’s nothing I can say to get you to throw your lot in with us? We pay well. I’ve looked at a great many different places and this is the first one that struck me as being perfect. It’s so unspoiled and pristine—”
He could all but channel what his father and siblings would say. Money had never been their prime motivation and even less now, since they were no longer strapped.
“And we’d like to keep it that way,” he told her. That was what was important, keeping the land productive and beautiful.
“I completely understand and we can write that into the contract. That if we don’t leave this place exactly as pristine as we found it, then the fees for using it while filming our movie will be doubled.” Val detected some resistance in his face. “I might be able to get my boss to triple it.”
Given what she was saying, Rafe could only come to one conclusion. “Then he will leave it in bad shape.”
“No,” she said firmly, “he’ll be triply inspired to make sure no one leaves behind so much as a candy wrapper tumbling about in the wind.”
She moved just a shade closer to him. “What do you say?”
If ever someone had deserved to hear the word yes—
Rafe’s eyes widened as the thought suddenly froze in his mind.
Observing him, for a second, Val was certain that she had him. But then he grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her to move ahead of him. “I say, run!”
Chapter Two
Stunned, Val held her ground. His response made no sense to her. What did it have to do with what she’d just asked him?
“What?” she demanded.
“Run!” Rafe repeated, this time shouting the word at her.
Was this some sort of a joke? Val stared at the cowboy in confusion. She still didn’t understand why he’d say something like that.
“Run?” Val echoed incredulously. “Why would you tell me to...?”
This was no time for a debate. Instead of biting off a few choice words of explanation, Rafe grabbed her hand. Rather than pushing her ahead of him, he went the other route. He pulled her in his wake.
Hard.
And then she finally heard it. She heard the cause for his alarm. The sound of something pounding on the ground felt as if it reverberated right through her, like an earthquake in the distance.
The “earthquake” felt like it was coming closer by the moment.
Val turned her head in the direction the sound was coming from.
That was when she saw it.
A bull.
A huge, black bull was charging directly at them.
At her.
Val needed no further incentive to take flight. A veteran of several marathons—every one of them undertaken for some sort of a good cause—she immediately upped her game. With her pouring it on, Rafe no longer had to pull her in his wake. Despite the situation, a hint of admiration at her speed filled him when he realized that she was now keeping up with him and that at any moment she was going to pull ahead of him.
“He’s gaining on us!” Val cried, beginning to realize that just maybe this competition between the charging bull and them might not end well after all.
Less than a minute later, Val saw that they were not just running from something, they were running toward something. Directly up ahead was a long stretch of wire fencing.
“Will that keep him from trampling us?” she managed to ask as she continued running alongside of Rafe for all she was worth.
“It damn well better,” was all he allowed himself to say.
There was no point in telling her that he had a plan B. That if worse had come to worst and Valentine had frozen with fear, he’d been prepared to divert the beast, to get the bull’s attention so that it would run after him rather than attack the woman who had turned up on his property unannounced like this. Rafe hadn’t been raised to subscribe to the “every man for himself” school of thought. His father would have never allowed it.
But luckily, the woman with the improbable first name was not only sexy as hell, she was fit, which in this case meant that she was capable of keeping up with him and—for now—keeping ahead of Jasper, the whimsical name that Alma had awarded the bull that they had bought a year ago to breed with some of their cattle.
Reaching the fence less than a minute ahead of the charging bull, Rafe quickly pushed his uninvited guest up and over the fence. The next second, he dove over it himself. Rafe managed to clear it—all except for his left boot, the tip of which got caught on the very edge of the fence.
What began as a clean execution became less so as he found himself falling short of his intended mark.
Rather than hitting the grass, Rafe landed on top of Val, who was just in the process of turning around. Instead of gaining her feet, she gained added weight. Enough weight to push the air right out of her.
A startled cry, comprised of protest and surprise, echoed through the morning air, riding on the air he had knocked out of her.
As for him, Rafe was acutely aware that what he was on top of bore no resemblance to either the ground or the grass. It was soft, warm, enticingly fragrant and damn stirring. His body absorbed the sensations before his mind could even frame them.
Banking down the major part of his reaction, he allowed his concern to come to the foreground. Though he’d attempted to buffer his weight, he had come down rather hard on her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Right now she couldn’t help thinking she was really far from all right, but not in the sense he meant it. Generally warm and outgoing, Val still kept a part of herself in reserve. The part that had, at the age of nineteen, run off with Scott Walters, a ruggedly handsome stuntman with the gift of always saying the right thing. He’d been her first love and she had loved him fiercely. Until, recklessly, he’d unintentionally broken her heart.
Since that day, she had carefully guarded her heart and kept a tight rein on her emotions. That went hand in hand with not trusting any physical reaction she might have to a good-looking man. Even a good-looking man who was trying to save her from being gored.
“I don’t think anything’s broken.” She saw him nod with relief, but other than that, he seemed to be making no attempt to get up. Was the man posing for a still life? “You can get off me now,” Val prompted.
The moment the words were out of her mouth, Rafe realized that he was not just partially on top of her, he was completely on top of her, the way a bodyguard might be with the person he was trying to protect at the very first sound of gunfire.
The imprint of her body was telegraphing itself to his torso in big, bold, capital letters. It took him a second to come to.
“Oh, yeah, right.” Rafe paused for half a beat to look over his shoulder and make sure that the bull had come to a stop and was still on his side of the fence.
Jasper was indeed there, and whatever pending rage had sent the animal charging right for them had clearly disappeared. The bull had stopped charging, stopped running and instead of pawing the ground as expected, the bull was now docilely examining what appeared to be a dandelion nestled in the midst of a light green carpet comprised of new shoots of grass.
Belatedly, Rafe replayed the woman’s words in his head and this time, he scrambled up to his feet, separating their two bodies despite the vast appeal of remaining pressed together for the duration of the morning.
Once up, he offered his hand to her.
Val looked at it for a moment, as if she was debating ignoring it and just bouncing up of her own accord. But this was no time to establish boundaries and if he wanted to help her up, she knew she should just accept it without making a fuss.
Val wrapped her fingers around the offered hand, trying not to dwell on the fact that her body was still tingling. It made her acutely aware of the fact that their two bodies had mingled as much as was physically possible, given the fact that their clothes had remained on and they weren’t engaging in any sort of a romantic liaison.
The moment she was up on her feet, Val quickly dusted herself off. She watched the bull warily out of the corner of her eye. As incredible as it seemed, the animal appeared to be almost subdued. Given his previous behavior, how was that even possible?
“You train him to do that?” she finally asked her so-called rescuer.
Rafe had no idea what she was talking about. “Excuse me?”
Val jerked a thumb in the bull’s direction. “Did you train him to come charging up out of nowhere like that?” she asked.
If he had trained the bull, there might be a position for this man on the set, she thought. They could never have too many animal trainers on board when they were filming this kind of movie.
Rafe looked at her uncertainly. He’d heard about Hollywood types, about how they lived in a world of their own making, but this was his first encounter with someone from that city and he was the type who always wanted to make sense of things, to understand them.
That caused him to ask, “Why would I do something like that?”
Val continued to brush bits and pieces of dirt and grass from her clothing and hair. “I would think that might be self-explanatory,” she told him, looking at Rafe pointedly.
Maybe she meant nothing by it. At any event, he supposed he should count himself lucky that she wasn’t screaming at him, or having a tantrum. So he laughed, shaking his head.
“I’m not an animal whisperer, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he assured her. “Jasper is his own bull and does whatever he wants to. My father bought him not that long ago for breeding purposes. So far, he’s shown more of an interest in playing poker than in mating with any of the candidates we’ve paraded in front of him. To tell the truth, this is the most alive I’ve seen Jasper since his former owner dropped him off.”
The bull, from what she could see, was now wandering off again. Feeling a little safer, her heart stopped beating wildly.
“Maybe he’d behave a little more macho if you changed his name to Bruce,” she suggested, watching the animal retreat.
Rafe grinned at the proposal. He sincerely doubted that the bull understood English. “A bull by any other name...” His voice trailed off as his grin grew in size.
She cocked an eyebrow at the attempted quotation. “Shakespeare?”
“Paraphrased,” Rafe allowed good-naturedly. “Anyway, I don’t think his name has very much—if anything—to do with his behavior.” The grin faded slightly as he became serious. “You sure you didn’t hurt anything?” His eyes swept over her.
She could almost feel them passing right over her body. This man, she had a feeling, would have fit right in with the men back in Hollywood. Something about him stirred the imagination—as well as her blood.
“Just my pride,” she answered.
His brow furrowed slightly. Pausing, Rafe bent down to pick up his Stetson and dusted it off. “I don’t think I understand. What does your pride have to do with anything?”
“I’m not exactly accustomed to being tossed over a fence and landing on my butt,” she replied, nodding at the fence.
From where he stood, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Survival came first. “My guess is that you’re probably not accustomed to running from a charging bull, either.”
She laughed. “Can’t say I am,” Val admitted.
The woman was being an awfully good sport about this, Rafe thought, feeling magnanimous toward her. “You want to come up to the house?”
“To talk to your father?” she asked a little uncertainly.
Having grown up in the world that she had, acting and masking her thoughts were second nature to her. Otherwise, her uneasiness at the invitation might have been evident. She did want to meet with whoever it was that could give her permission to use this property for the film, but how did she know for certain that there’d be anyone there? The prospect of being alone with a man she found more than a little attractive made her feel somewhat nervous.
Val didn’t consider herself a timid woman by any means, but she wasn’t a foolish one, either, and in her book, that meant not taking any undue chances or going off to meetings on her own with complete strangers. Even good-looking ones.
Especially good-looking ones, she amended.
“That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Rafe asked her. Then, before she could answer, he added, “I feel as if I owe you, seeing as how you weren’t expecting to go for an impromptu run when you came out here. For a Hollywood girl, you can certainly run.”
The comment made her wonder what sort of stereotypical image he had of Hollywood women. “I didn’t want to wind up on his trophy wall,” she told him, nodding in the direction that the bull had taken.
“I wouldn’t have let that happen.” He wasn’t bragging; he just wanted her to be reassured that while she was here, she was safe.
Her eyes swept over him as if she was looking for something. “What were you planning on doing, whipping out your bullfighting cape and distract him away from me?” she asked.
There was laughter in her eyes, Rafe noticed. She probably thought he was trying to make himself appear important after the fact—not that he could really fault her for that.
“No, but I would have run in another direction, after distracting Jasper and getting him to follow me.”
The humor slowly faded from her eyes, replaced by a look of fascination. “You’re actually serious,” she realized.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rafe asked. “We don’t get too many people passing through Forever, and getting one of them trampled by a bull wouldn’t exactly look very friendly on the tourist website,” he answered tongue-in-cheek.
The humor returned to her bright blue eyes. “I guess it wouldn’t at that.” She glanced back at the bull, who had apparently lost interest in both of them and was now ambling back to wherever he had initially come from. “Is he just trying to lure us into a trap by giving us a false sense of security?”
Rafe laughed. “You’re giving Jasper way too much credit. He doesn’t have any unusual powers of deduction. He just lost interest in us, you know, out of sight, out of mind.”
She nodded knowingly at the information. “In other words, he’s a typical male.”
“Ouch.” Rafe pretended to wince as if the words carried with them a physical blow. “What sort of men have you been encountering?”
Val deliberately blocked out any thoughts of Scott. That was way too sensitive a subject for her to discuss with a stranger. As for the other men she’d encountered, well, they were far more concerned with having a good time and moving on. For the most part, they were as shallow as puddles.
“The kind that like to sweet-talk women into things, then be on their merry way,” she answered. The way she raised her chin and tossed her hair over her shoulder made Rafe feel that they were not just talking in vague generalities.
He also had the feeling that there would be no specifics forthcoming at this juncture—they didn’t know each other nearly well enough for her to be capable of sharing something of importance with him.
Of course, if she stuck around, there was always that possibility that they would grow to know each other better. The idea had more than a little appeal for him.
“For the sake of argument,” he began.
A never-flagging sense of curiosity had always been a shortcoming of hers—or at least she viewed it as a shortcoming. That still didn’t keep her from wanting to know things. Everything.
“Yes?”
Rafe tried to sound nonchalant as he asked his question, but he had a feeling that he wasn’t quite successful. “If my father and the rest of us agree to having your boss film this movie on our ranch, would you be here for the duration of the filming?”
“If my boss doesn’t need me to find any other locations for the film, then yes, I get to stick around.” She posed a question of her own. “Why?”
Rafe shrugged just a wee bit too casually. “No reason,” he answered. “Just wanted to get all my facts straight before I bring you up to the house—in case my father wants to know something after you leave.”
She watched him carefully as she asked, “Then you were serious about letting me talk to your father?” Val did her best not to appear too excited, but unlike her mother, she had never been a very good poker player.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know you yet,” she said truthfully. “I thought maybe you got your kicks out of leading outsiders on.”
“I don’t,” he assured her. The way he said it made her think he meant it. Or maybe she just wanted to believe that people in a place like this were really the salt of the earth. Uncomplicated and kind hearted. She could use that sort of thing about now.
Rafe saw her looking around uneasily. “Something the matter?”
“I’m just wondering if another bull is going to come galloping out of nowhere if I start to head toward my car.”
“Nothing to worry about,” he answered. “Jasper’s our only bull right now. Leon passed on.”
“Leon,” she repeated. These people definitely did not give their bulls normal names. “Another non-functioning bull?” was her first guess.
The thought made Rafe laugh. “On the contrary, Leon functioned all too well for his own good. I think the poor guy wore himself out and spread himself a little too thin among the ladies.” He grinned. “My dad said that he would rather romance the ladies than eat.”
“Are we still talking about the bull?” she deadpanned. “Or have we moved on to your father?”
This time Rafe laughed heartily for a couple of minutes. When he finally stopped, he said, “I think my dad’s going to like you, Valentine Jones.”
If that’s what it took to secure filming rights, she was ready to be downright adorable. “Well, for the sake of Cowboys and India, I certainly hope so.”
He looked at her, a little bemused. “Cowboys and India?” he asked. What was that?
She nodded. “I guess I didn’t mention it. That’s the name of the movie we’re making. It’s about a dude ranch,” she explained, adding, perhaps in hindsight unnecessarily. “It’s a romantic comedy.” Because he said nothing, she felt compelled to tell him, “I read the script. It’s really pretty good.”
“Are you required to do that?” he asked, curious.
“To read the script?” she guessed. “No, not really. But I like to so I can get a feel for the kind of setting I’m looking for. It helps me when I’m scouting out locations.”
That wasn’t what he was referring to. Rafe shook his head. “No, I mean are you required to say that the script is pretty good?”
Did he think she was just a puppet for the front office? Someone whose true calling was just to rubber-stamp everything? To say whatever was expedient just to get things to move along in the direction that the production department wanted it to move? She couldn’t think of a more awful, colorless way to earn a living.
“Why would you think that?” she asked. “I’m not selling tickets to it.”
“No, what I thought was that you might think that would help convince someone to give you access to their property.”
She laughed. “That’s not what does the convincing,” she told him. “The money that the studio is willing to pay for the use of the property is supposed to do all the convincing on that level,” she told him.
“Money’s nice,” he readily agreed. “But it’s not at the top of my dad’s list.”
She laughed softly and to herself. “Money’s at the top of everyone’s list.”
If his father was going to have them shoot the movie here, she’d learn otherwise, Rafe thought.
For now, he decided to say nothing.
Chapter Three
Restless, Miguel Rodriguez was getting ready to drive out to the west end of his property to see if his son had had any luck in finding the break in the fence. It’d been a while since Rafe had driven out to try to locate the break—if there actually was one. One way or another, by Miguel’s calculations his son should have either called on that cell thing he liked to carry around in his pocket, or driven back by now.
The alternative was that someone was stealing their cattle, an explanation he would rather not entertain. Granted, cattle rustling was not entirely unheard of in this day and age, but he liked his neighbors and there hadn’t been a case of rustling in the area for quite some time.
The other alternative was that there were coyotes in the vicinity, hungry ones that could attack a cow and make short work of it. As a boy, he’d once seen a pack of coyotes bring down a full-grown head of cattle and systematically tear the flesh off the poor animal until there were only bones left. The bones were scattered to the extent that it would appear as if the cow had just vanished. Later, he realized that had he not been looking down on the scene taking place in a gulley, he might have served as the coyotes’ dessert.
Checking his pockets for the keys to his truck, Miguel thought he heard the front door open and close again. Miguel Jr. and Ramon were over at Eli’s, lending him a hand with the new quarter horses and, as far as he knew, Gabe and Alma were working in town as usual, so that only left one son unaccounted for.
“About time you got back, Raphael,” he called out, making his way to front of the house. “I was all set to call the sheriff’s office and have Alma send out a search party for you. Did you find the break?” Miguel asked as he walked into the living room.
Anything else he was about to say faded away as Miguel stopped in his tracks. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, his son was not alone. There was a very pretty redhead standing beside him.
“No,” Rafe answered. “I didn’t find the break yet.” Damn, he thought. Once he’d stumbled across Valentine and started talking to her, he’d forgotten all about the break in the fence that he was supposed to be looking for. He flashed his father a semi-apologetic smile. “But I found her.”
Miguel nodded as he made eye contact with the young woman. He knew the faces of all the people who lived around here and she definitely was not from around here—although, now that he looked closer, there was something vaguely familiar about her.
“I see. And she is much more interesting than a break in the fence,” Miguel agreed.
In his early sixties, Miguel Rodriguez was still a virile, powerful man, one who had been extremely handsome in his youth. People told him he still had humor in his dark eyes as well as a certain charm when he smiled.
And he was doing that right now.
Pausing a moment, Miguel glanced toward his son, then back at the attractive young woman he’d brought in with him.
“Since my son seems to have forgotten his manners, let me introduce myself. I am Miguel Rodriguez.” He took her hand in his. “Welcome to my humble home,” he said just before he bowed from the waist and ever so lightly kissed the hand he was holding, as was the custom of his forefathers. Still bowed, he raised his eyes to hers and asked, “And you are?”
Intrigued, Val couldn’t help thinking. She’d been born and raised in the land of make believe, accustomed to charm that oozed from the pores of exceptionally handsome men looking to make a name for themselves—or to seduce her for the space of a satisfying liaison or two. Handsome men whose charm—and subsequent nature—was as deep as a puddle on a sidewalk after a light spring shower.
But this Miguel Rodriguez’s charm seemed to come as naturally as breathing. Val smiled at the still dark-haired man. He was somewhat shorter than his son, but he appeared to be every bit as powerfully built. Muscles, no doubt, that had come from hard work. She had huge respect for someone like that. Her usual wariness, brought on by years of having to deal with plastic people out only for their own interests and advancement, slipped away like a feather gliding on an unexpected breeze.
“Valentine Jones,” she told Rafe’s father with a smile.
Miguel’s eyes shone with appreciation as they slid over her.
Val caught herself thinking, Like father, like son while Miguel told her, “Con mucho gusto. That means—”
“I know a little Spanish,” she responded. “I know what that means.”
“Excellent.” Miguel nodded his approval. Slowly releasing her hand, he stepped back. “May I get you something to drink? Perhaps something to eat?”
She liked his generosity. The man was extending his hospitality to her and he had no idea what she was doing there yet.
“No, thank you, Mr. Rodriguez,” Val began.
Rafe knew how carried away his father could get, exuding Latin charm from every pore. He came to Val’s rescue.
“Val’s here on business, Dad,” Rafe interrupted before his father could get rolling.
The interested look in Miguel’s eyes only grew. “Oh?” His eyes shifted back to the young woman, taking quiet measure of her. “And what business would that be? You cannot be with the bank because all the payments are up to date,” he stated just in case this lovely creature with the sharp blue eyes was with the establishment that held the mortgage to his property. That would explain why he didn’t recognize her. She had to be from out of town. Somewhere up north would be his guess.
“I’m not with the bank,” Val confirmed. “I’m in the business of making movies, sir.”
Miguel’s smile broadened. He slanted a glance toward his son. “Ah, so you have brought me a movie star, Raphael,” he said to his son.
Val was quick to correct his mistake—if he’d actually made it. This one, she sensed, was a born flatterer. “I’m not a movie star, Mr. Rodriguez. I work behind the scenes.”
Smooth, she couldn’t help thinking. And still every bit of a charmer. She had a feeling that in his day, Miguel Rodriguez had been a force to be reckoned with and that no woman could resist him.
“That is a shame,” Miguel told her with genuine feeling. “You should be in front of the camera, not behind one. Come, sit,” he encouraged, gesturing toward the oversize tan leather sofa in his living room.
“Thank you.”
Walking in front of the older man, Val took a seat on the sofa. Rather than sit beside her, the man she had come to see took a seat on the matching armchair that was positioned kitty-corner to the larger piece of furniture. Looking at him, Val thought of him as a ruler, holding court.
Rafe sat down on the sofa beside her—just close enough to make her aware of his presence even if she wasn’t looking directly at him.
“Now then, what can I do for you, Miss—I’m sorry,” he apologized, leaning in toward her and creating a very personal space between them. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Valentine Jones,” Val repeated. Taking a business card out of the pocket of her jeans, she handed it to the older man.
Miguel glanced at the card, then raised his eyes to hers. She could feel him scrutinizing her. But it wasn’t the kind of scrutiny that made her want to squirm. On the contrary, though she wasn’t sure just what he was thinking, he made her feel welcomed and right at home. Because of the nature of her work, Val had the ability to adjust to almost any surroundings, but inside, there was always this wariness.
She didn’t really feel it this time.
“You know,” Miguel told her thoughtfully, “you remind me of someone, the way you hold your head and that beautiful hair of yours. You make me think of an actress. A very pretty lady, but I cannot recall who.” He raised his wide shoulders in a helpless shrug, then let them fall. “Getting older has its drawbacks, I am afraid,” he confided with a smile. “When I was younger, I would have known immediately.”
She knew exactly who he was talking about. It wasn’t the first time she’d been told that she reminded a person of someone they had once seen on the screen.
“People say I look like my mother,” she told Miguel.
The old man nodded a bit absently. “Many children look like their parents. My daughter, Alma, looks very much like my late wife.”
Val had seen photographs of her mother at her age, as well as a few of her movies. She was a dead ringer for her.
“My mother is Gloria Halladay,” Val told him, watching his face to see if the name brought any recognition with it.
Miguel’s eyes widened with surprise and then infinite pleasure as he put the name to a face. A much-beloved face.
“Yes, of course. Gloria Halladay.” There was excitement and a touch of reverence when he said the name. Val found herself instantly liking the man. “I remember seeing her in several movies years ago—I took my wife,” he recalled with a fondness enveloping his words. “Washington’s Birthday was my wife’s favorite.” Still eying Val, he cocked his head slightly, as another thought occurred to him. “I always thought it was a shame that your mother did not make more comedies. She was very gifted.”
Val smiled. “I’ll let her know you said so. She’ll be very pleased,” she told the man. Though she enjoyed her work as a casting director, nothing pleased her mother more than hearing flattering words from a fan. It gave her a sense of continuity as well as bringing back some of the old days.
Miguel nodded thoughtfully and with approval, as if some sort of a bond had just been forged between him and this movie star’s daughter.
His eyes swept over the young woman and then his son. The thought occurred to him that Raphael and Gloria Halladay’s daughter made a nice couple. A very attractive couple.
He began to wonder what he could do to help them see that.
“So, what is it that I can do for you, Valentine Jones?” he asked warmly.
“She’s a location scout, Dad,” Rafe interjected. The moment he said it, he realized that his father probably had no idea what that was. He was quick to explain. “That’s someone who—”
Miguel waved away the rest of his son’s words. “I know what she does, Raphael.”
“You do?” This time, it was Val who spoke, surprised that a man from his generation, with no ties to Hollywood, would know what she did for a living.
Miguel inclined his head. “Of course. I know what a scout is and I know what location is. And you said you were with a movie company. That means you are looking for some place suitable to make this movie of yours.”
He smiled tolerantly at the two young people. When he was their age, he was certain he was smarter than his father was, too. It was only when he grew older that he realized that perhaps he was not so very smart and his father was not so very dumb.
Miguel’s smile deepened fondly. Youth always felt it was smarter than any generation that had come before them.
“It really is not that hard to conclude,” he told her. “Continue, please. What is it that you want to say to me?”
Maybe this wasn’t going to be so hard after all, Val thought. She was fairly certain that she had won over Raphael, and his father certainly seemed to be reasonable and willing to hear her out.
“Well, Mr. Rodriguez, I think that your ranch would be just perfect for the movie that my boss is getting ready to direct—”
The rest of her sentence was unexpectedly interrupted and then aborted by the loud voice that called out, “Dad, you should see those quarter horses that Eli just got. They— Hello,” Mike automatically said, suspending his narrative as he took a look at the stranger sitting in his father’s living room. His dark eyes shifted to his father. “Sorry, I didn’t know we had company.”
Entering behind him, the youngest of the Rodriguez brothers, Ray, came to a sudden halt when Mike stopped moving, all but plowing into his oldest brother. Sidestepping at the last moment, Ray looked to see what had nearly caused the human pileup.
The second he saw the woman on the sofa, a broad grin took possession of his mouth as he tipped the brim of his Stetson in time-honored cowboy fashion.
“Hi,” he greeted the woman with enthusiasm. “I’m Ray Rodriguez.” His eyes swiftly raced over her as he made a quick, succinct assessment of the woman. “And you are?”
“Overwhelmed,” Val readily admitted, looking from one tall, dark and handsome man to another. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said she was sitting in the outer room of her mother’s casting office when she was casting for the male lead in that last action-adventure movie that had taken place at the turn of the past century.
She turned her attention to the senior Rodriguez. “You’ve raised a very handsome family, Mr. Rodriguez,” she told him. Shifting her attention momentarily back to the two men who had just walked in, she said, “I’m Valentine Jones and I think your ranch and property would be the perfect backdrop for the movie my boss’s production company is going to be filming.” At this point, her gaze took in all four men, seeking to make a connection with all of them and silently preparing to bring them all on board with this proposal she was about to make.
Mike turned toward his father. The expression on his face was far from pleased. “You didn’t say yes, did you, Dad?” he asked.
“I have not had a chance to say very much of anything yet, Miguel.” The head of the family looked at the young woman and made the necessary introduction. “This is Miguel Jr., Miss Jones. My oldest.”
Val began to rise and extend her hand toward Mike, but before she could say anything, Mike nodded at her curtly, summarily dismissing the offer she had been about to tender.
“If we’re voting on this,” he told his father, even as he continued looking at the woman, “I vote no.”
“Miguel,” his father said sharply. “It’s only polite to hear the lady out first.”
“I don’t need to be polite and I don’t need to hear what she has to say.” The look on Mike’s face challenged the interloper in their midst. “They’ll come, invade our privacy, disrespect our land, make a mess and then leave.” His eyes narrowed dismissively. “Like I said before, I vote no.”
Val could feel herself taking umbrage. She’d worked with this director and his crew a number of times before. They all got along well and had become more like family than merely a crew. She didn’t take kindly to this man’s careless and dismissive assessment of her “family.”
“We clean up after ourselves,” Val informed him with a deceptively calm voice. “And your privacy—as well as your land—will be fully respected,” she assured him. “Now, would you like to hear why you should say yes?” she asked pleasantly.
Mike was not particularly receptive. No doubt he’d heard stories of what a production crew could be like and didn’t want to see that happening to his family’s property. “Not particularly,” he answered coldly.
“I would,” Ray spoke up brightly, flashing a one-thousand-watt smile at her. “By the way, I’m Ray,” he said, extending his hand to her. Both he and Mike were still standing where they had entered. “The nice brother,” he clarified.
“All my sons are nice,” Miguel immediately corrected, then slanted a look at his oldest. “Some are just a little more hotheaded than others.”
Val smiled warmly at the patriarch. “I understand,” she told Miguel Sr., then appraised the other three men. “I really do. But this is not going to be like some intrusive reality program where the cameramen are going to be following you around, capturing your every movement on film. All we would require from your property would be a few outdoor shots of the ranch house and some panoramic shots of the outlining property.” She paused for a moment before adding something that she worried Mike might take exception to. “Our set decorator might want to come and look around inside—”
“And that’s how it starts,” Mike declared as if he had just scored the game-winning point.
Val was not about to give up this easily. “But only to be able to recreate the best parts of your home on a studio set,” she insisted, then stressed, “You wouldn’t be inconvenienced.” Val paused before adding what she hoped was the thing that would win them all over despite Rafe’s earlier comment about money not meaning very much to them. “And you would be well compensated for all this.”
“Exactly what is ‘well compensated’ in your book?” Mike asked.
Making the final offer would be the director’s decision once he saw her photographs. She didn’t want to aim high and then come in with a lower figure. The oldest brother would just use that to try to make his father change his mind.
“Well, just off the top of my head.” Val thought for a moment, then quoted what the last person had been paid for the home she had located for the last movie her boss had directed.
No one said a word as the figure sank in.
Ray was the first to say anything, after emitting a long, low whistle in response to the number. “You’re kidding.”
Mike seemed in complete agreement with the sentiment Ray had just expressed. She had to be kidding. No one paid that kind of money just to “borrow” a ranch house. That was the kind of serious money men who were looking to buy a ranch house bandied about.
“You’re just saying that to get us to agree,” Mike accused.
“I’m ‘just saying it’ because it’s true,” she informed him. “That was what was paid out for the last house we used on location.”
Mike snorted. “Right.”
By nature, Rafe was the easygoing one, the one who was neither hotheaded nor sought to be the first to jump into a fray. But he had stood back and listened to just about enough. Since he’d brought the woman to the house to talk to the others, he felt responsible for her. And as the responsible one, he felt obliged to protect her from the likes of someone like his oldest brother, who was acting surly even for Mike.
“Why don’t you back off, Mike, and let her talk?” Rafe suggested in a voice that was deceptively calm. “I’m sure there’ll be a contract drawn up and if it doesn’t have the numbers on it that she’s telling us, then Dad doesn’t have to sign it and they’ll go find their property somewhere else.”
Val looked from one member of the family to another. She did not want to be the source of discord between these brothers. But she really liked what she saw, both the exterior and the interior of the place. The more she saw, the more perfect this ranch house seemed to her. She was certain that the director would feel the same way.
“There’s another reason to consider agreeing to having my boss film here,” she told them. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. She just had to do everything to convince them.
“You having second thoughts about that sum you waved in front of us?” Mike asked.
“No, what I was going to point out is that the crew will be in town for the duration of the shoot, which at this point will be six or eight weeks. That means that for six to eight weeks, they’ll be eating here and spending money here. You can’t tell me that your town couldn’t use that kind of a boost in business, especially in this economy,” she said, looking from one man to the other.
Gotcha, she thought in satisfaction.
Chapter Four
“She does have a point,” Rafe said, addressing his words to his father.
Their father insisted that they all have an equal voice when it came to matters that affected the ranch, but it was understood among the siblings that it was usually Miguel Sr. who, by mutual agreement, had the absolute final say. They all respected his judgment and knew that he had their best interests, as well as the best interest of the ranch, at heart.
Listening, Miguel nodded, then looked back at the woman who had caused such a stir in their lives with her proposal and, unless he missed his guess, with her very presence. He had seen the look in Raphael’s eyes when his son had brought her into the house.
Saw, too, the interest that arose in Ramon’s eyes when his youngest son had walked in. Miguel sincerely hoped that there would be no trouble between the brothers because of it. They, like their other brothers, were both handsome young men and while Raphael attracted his fair share of women, it was Ramon, his youngest, who was the playboy, the one who seemed determined to have as much fun as humanly possible, all the while eluding any serious entanglements that might be in the offing.
He wanted to see all of his sons married off, but Ramon gave him the most concern in that department. If any of his sons seemed bent on being an eternal bachelor, it was Ramon.
“I think that we will need to talk this matter over among ourselves,” Miguel told the young woman in his usual gentle, quiet cadence. “If this man who you are working for does decide that he wants to use our home and land for his...background, you call it?” She nodded in response and he continued, repeating, “If he wants it, then we will decide. Until then,” Miguel gestured vaguely about the room, indicating that his words referred to anything that they had, “please feel free to make use of our hospitality.”
The man seemed incredibly genuine, Val thought as she smiled her gratitude for his understanding. However, she didn’t want to take a chance on overstaying her welcome. Rafe’s father was right, they needed to talk about this among themselves and either win the dissenting brother over or come to some sort of an understanding they could all agree to. They wouldn’t be able to do that if she was standing around within earshot.
“Thank you, but I’d better be on my way,” Val told the older man, rising to her feet. Taking the initiative, she shook his hand. “Thank you for your time and I hope we’ll be seeing one another again very soon.”
Rafe got to his feet, as well. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he told her. It wasn’t an offer so much as a statement.
“Um, Miss Jones—” Ray began, catching her attention as she started to leave.
Val stopped and looked at the youngest member of the family, waiting. “Yes?”
“Who’s going to be in this picture of yours?” he asked. It was well-known that his father was only aware of the stars from a bygone era and his brothers weren’t interested in the current celebrities who frequented the silver screen, but Ray loved the entertainment world. There were several actresses who had more than captured his admiring attention and he seemed eager to know if any of them would be in town if all this turned out well.
Val didn’t bother correcting Ray by saying it wasn’t her movie. A movie belonged to the producer, to the director, to the writer who had come up with the script and to all the performers who were in it. She was just involved in taking the story and giving it a physical basis where it could unfold.
She thought for a moment, trying to remember the names she’d been told. Coincidentally, her mother had been the casting director for Cowboys and India, and her mother had been the one who’d told her who was going to be in this picture.
“Melinda Perkins and Jonathan Kelly are the leading performers,” Val answered, remembering. “If you want to know the full cast, I can get that fo—”
“Melinda Perkins?” Ray echoed, his voice rising an octave or so as he repeated the popular actress’s name in absolute stunned reverence. “Melinda Perkins is going to be here, standing right here, making a movie?” he asked, his breath growing short as his eyes widened with star-struck wonder.
Val’s mouth curved as she nodded. “Unless someone’s come up with an alternate way to film on location, she’ll be here.”
“Melinda Perkins, filming right here in Forever,” Ray repeated more to himself than to any of his brothers or father, looking even more dazed than he had just a minute ago.
“You already said that,” Mike pointed out, shaking his head at what he viewed as juvenile behavior. When he received no response from Ray, other than an utterly goofy look, Mike took the flat of his hand and hit his brother upside his head. “Get a grip, kid,” he instructed sharply.
Ray blinked, looking at his oldest brother ruefully, although there were threads of annoyance woven into his expression.
“Miguel,” his father said warningly. He himself had never raised a hand to even one of his children and he disapproved of that sort of behavior displayed by any of his offspring.
It was Val who came to Ray’s rescue. “Don’t feel bad,” she told the younger man. “Melinda has that sort of an effect on a lot of people.”
Ray flushed slightly, but he was obviously grateful for her defense. He grinned at her. “Mostly men, I’m guessing.”
Val didn’t answer. Instead, she smiled at him, the look on her face telling Ray that his guess was absolutely right.
“Miss Jones?” Miguel Sr. broke into the existing conversation. But rather than have her come back to him, the older man crossed over to her. “Are you planning on doing any of your filming in the town itself?” he asked as the thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Most likely,” she answered. “I think that the director is going to want to get as much of the local color into this film as possible. That means,” she added quickly, “that he’s going to want to tap some of the local people to act as extras.”
“Extras?” Mike repeated. “Extra what?”
Ray rolled his eyes but Val pretended that this was a perfectly normal question, not one she took for granted.
“Extra people. People who fill in the spaces behind and near the principle actors.” She directed her words to the brothers. “You could pick up a little money just by walking around. No dialogue to memorize,” she promised.
Miguel rolled her words over in his head. He didn’t see a downside to this, but that didn’t mean that some of the other people who lived in Forever wouldn’t. “I think you might want to present this idea to Miss Joan.”
“Miss Joan?” Val echoed a little uncertainly. She glanced at Rafe for an explanation.
He was quick to fill her in. “Miss Joan owns the local—and only—diner. It’s also the only restaurant in town. Nothing happens in Forever without her knowing about it. She kind of runs the town,” he admitted. “There is a town council in place, but mostly they just listen to what Miss Joan says and go along with it. She’s been in Forever as long as anyone can remember.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Miguel nodding at his son’s words. “So this Miss Joan would be the one to win over,” Val said thoughtfully, already planning how to best appeal to the woman she had yet to meet.
“She’d be the one to win over,” Mike echoed, nodding his head.
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind,” Val replied, adding, “I’ll try to be particularly charming. Thank you,” she told Miguel warmly, pausing at the door to shake his hand again.
He closed both his hands over her small one and assured her, “My pleasure.”
“If you’re going to go talk to Miss Joan,” Rafe spoke up, joining her at the door, “maybe I should go with you. Always good to have someone from the home team on your side,” he added innocently. Having been somewhat undecided when she’d originally told him what she was doing, he’d decided that having Val around might prove to be very interesting. And she was incredibly easy on the eyes, he thought.
“What about the fence?” his father asked belatedly. He liked the idea of his son going into town with this beauty, but he couldn’t afford to appear lax.
“The fence isn’t going anywhere, Dad,” Rafe responded. His thoughts were that he could always look for the break later today, or first thing in the morning. At the moment, this bright, perky woman had captured his full attention.
“Maybe not,” his father agreed. “But the cattle apparently are.”
Mike frowned, looking from Rafe to his father. “I’ll take care of finding the break, Dad,” Mike volunteered. “Let Rafe go with her to town.” He offered Val a very small smile. “Can’t have the lady thinking we’re a bunch of rude cavemen now, can we?”
“I wouldn’t have thought that anyway,” Val assured Mike, then turned toward Rafe and added, “But I wouldn’t mind having a guide come with me to make the introductions.”
She flashed the smile at him. Rafe found he was having less and less resistance to it every time he saw the smile on her lips.
Miguel could see that he wasn’t about to get any decent work out of Gabriel’s twin brother today, not judging by the smitten expression on his face.
Seeking to encourage what he felt he saw unfolding before him, Miguel waved Rafe off. “Your brother has a good suggestion. Go, show our guest the way to Miss Joan’s.”
Rafe had already gone out through the front door. Stopping at the porch, he looked back over his shoulder for a second, nodding his thanks not just to his father, but to Mike, as well. The latter had really surprised him, he had to admit. He was not accustomed to having Mike go out of his way to be nice to him.
“Thanks,” Rafe tossed over his shoulder.
But Mike had already left the room, going to the kitchen to grab a bite of something to eat before he headed out again.
It was his father who called after Rafe, promising, “Do not worry, I will tell him that you are grateful.”
This time, Rafe nodded his thanks to his father.
Val followed Rafe down the front steps and toward where they had parked their individual vehicles. “I don’t think your brother likes me very much,” Val confided once they were clear of the house.
“That’s just Mike being Mike,” Rafe told her. “My older brother tends to be a little standoffish with strangers.”
“I would have thought your father would be guilty of that, not your older brother. You know, older generation, my being an outsider, that sort of thing,” she explained. Val stopped by her CRV. “Instead, your dad seems to be a very warm, friendly man.”
Rather than going to his Jeep, Rafe paused by her light blue vehicle. “He always has been where a pretty woman was concerned,” he told her.
For a moment, the words just seemed to hang in the air between them. And then she laughed.
“I think you’re a little confused,” she told him. “I’m supposed to be flattering you to get you to go along with my boss’s production company using your ranch for the movie, not the other way around.”
Val’s amused smile rose up into her eyes, all but mesmerizing him. Rafe had never believed that eyes could actually smile before.
He did now.
“Didn’t see any harm in stating the truth,” he told her. She probably thought that was a line. The woman was from Hollywood, which undoubtedly made her see everything with a jaded point of view, not to mention that she was probably immune to any kind of a compliment, genuine or not. He cleared his throat and said, “If you wait a second, I’ll go start up my Jeep and you can follow me into town.”
Val looked over her shoulder. The house was some distance away now, but she could still make out Miguel Rodriguez. The man was standing on the porch, observing them. When he saw her looking in his direction, he smiled and waved at her.
Val waved back. “You’re sure I’m not taking you away from anything?” she asked Rafe.
“Just from driving around, looking for that damn break in the fence. Trust me, going into town and introducing you to Miss Joan is a much better proposition. Besides, Mike’s really better at that sort of thing, anyway. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense when it comes to that. He’s a natural-born rancher.”

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