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Dana Tyler lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “Arguing isn’t fixing the problem. They’ll resume filming tomorrow at the Yellowstone location. You need to be there to explain to director Haynes that you did not quit. He was given incorrect information. In fact, I can have you flown back tonight in the plane that I chartered.”
Londyn held her mother’s gaze. “I’m going to take a couple of hours to check how things have been going on the ranch. If you want to fly me back, you can do that tomorrow morning.” When her mother opened her mouth to argue, Londyn shut her down with a hard stare. “I’m not being unreasonable. Yesterday’s storm was pretty rough.”
Dana Tyler’s lips pressed into a thin line, creating a dark streak of red across her face. Finally, she nodded. “Very well. I’ll have my pilot on standby. We’ll leave before dawn.” Her face softened. “For the record, I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thank you,” Londyn said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shower and change into some of my own clothes and dry boots. Then I’m going to get outside and see what’s been happening while I’ve been gone.” Londyn headed for the staircase.
Her mother touched her arm. “Londyn, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Londyn stared down the hand on her arm. “Mother, I’m tired. In the past few days, someone has tried to kill me, I almost killed someone, and I nearly drowned trying to rescue my horse. Can whatever you have to tell me wait until after I have a shower, dress in warm, clean clothes and boots that don’t squish when I walk?”
Her mother, who always knew everything and everyone and never hesitated, especially on big decisions, chewed on her bottom lip for a couple of seconds. Then, she nodded. “Get that shower. And the change of clothes.” Her mother smiled. “And definitely put on dry boots. But Londyn, we need to talk. I’ve put things off for far too long.”
Londyn gave her a curt nod and climbed the stairs to the room that had been hers since she’d been six years old and first came to live with her grandfather. Having been away for several weeks, she stood in the doorway and looked at it with a fresh perspective.
The room hadn’t changed much in all the years. A white iron bed stood in the center. It had been her mother’s when she’d been growing up and then Londyn’s. Londyn’s grandmother had made the faded quilt draped over the mattress. She’d had many opportunities to replace that quilt with a more modern comforter, but she hadn’t had the heart to do it. It was the one connection to her mother and her grandmother that she had refused to sever.
She turned her head to glance at the end of the hallway to the half-opened door into her grandfather’s room. A lump formed in her throat, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
After the trauma of the day before, her emotions were raw. What she needed was a hug.
Her thoughts went to Nash. He’d made love to her last night, awakening her body to delights she hadn’t experienced before. Then he’d held her in his arms, his muscular frame cocooning her in warmth and strength. For the first time since Gramps had died, she hadn’t felt so alone.
She grabbed underwear, jeans and a blouse and ducked into the bathroom across the hall from her room. If she’d learned one thing from her grandfather’s death, it was to keep moving. If you were busy, you didn’t have time to feel sorry for yourself.
Londyn made quick work of her shower, scrubbing the creek water from her hair and applying a healthy dose of conditioner to help smooth the tangles. Once clean, she turned off the water and grabbed a towel. She dried her body and wrapped her hair in the towel to help absorb the majority of the moisture.
Anxious to get outside, Londyn dressed quickly in worn blue jeans, a chambray shirt and her work boots. She ran a brush through her hair, wishing Nash was there to ease the tangles free. He’d been so gentle and sexy.
Clean and tangle-free, she left the bathroom and hurried down the stairs and out the back door, half-walking, half-running toward the barn.
She found Nash standing outside the barn with a garden hose, spraying the creek water and mud off the buckskin mare.
Nash had stripped off his shirt and hung it over a fence rail. His broad chest was nicely tanned with a smattering of man-curls begging her to run her finger across them. Like she had the night before. The scars on his face and across his torso only added to his appeal.
Londyn’s pulse pounded through her veins, and her mouth went dry.
He turned off the water and coiled the hose on a hanger affixed to the side of the barn. “You’re just in time. I could use some towels. Are there some in the barn?”
Londyn nodded. “In the tack room. I’ll get them.” To keep from openly drooling over him, she ducked into the barn and into the tack room. She gathered several towels and held them against her chest, willing her heart to slow to a normal pace.
When she had her breathing under control, she emerged from the barn and handed him a towel.
Without meeting his gaze, she dove into the task of drying Butterscotch. “Where did Ben go?” she asked.
“He said he had work to do on his place,” Nash said as he rubbed a towel across the mare’s back. “The ranch hands are mending a fence in your south pasture. A tree blew over onto it. They should be done soon. Ben will be back later this evening.”
Londyn gave Nash a tired smile. “Thanks.”
“What are your plans for the day?” Nash asked.
“I want to ride the fences, check the animals and get a feeling for how everything is faring without me.” She raised her eyebrows. “Do you want to come?”
He nodded. “I do. I’d like to get a shower first.”
“Of course,” Londyn said. “I bet I can find something for you to wear. My grandfather was a big man, much like you.” She glanced down at his feet. “He might even have a pair of boots that will fit.”
“I’d love that,” Nash said. “I’m to the point I’d rather go barefoot than wear these boots another minute.”
