Chapter Three - Scott

Scott stretched out in the back of the limo, watching the passing landscape. And to think his parents had wanted him to fly into St. George and take the shuttle from the airport like everyone else. Yeah, right. Once Scott had pointed out that he would be traveling alone and would most likely be in danger from all the crazy fans he seemed to attract, they agreed he should take the limo and driver that he usually used for special occasions—which turned out to be most weekends. When you were Scott Dallenforth, even a midnight run to the grocery store became a special occasion.

The car wound its way up a mountainous road, which Scott was sure Gerald didn’t love, for forty-five minutes before the driver slowed and then turned under a large sign that said Zion Ranch and Resort. Scott suddenly felt queasy. He forced himself to draw slow breaths and run through exercises usually reserved for right before a big concert.

Why was he this nervous? It was only a few weeks in hickville. If he and his band could play in stadiums with thousands of screaming girls, security officers making sure they managed to get home in one piece, surely working a summer on a ranch would be a piece of cake. Sure, he’d probably have to pose for a few dozen pictures each day and sign some autographs. But it would be better than what he usually had to deal with. The owner of the ranch had assured his parents that the employees of Zion Ranch would be under strict rules to respect Scott’s privacy.

The owner had said that just before he’d asked if Scott would be willing to play a concert at some point over the summer. Scott wasn’t much without the rest of the band, but his parents had agreed to the concert. They hadn’t asked Scott first, because they’d had all the details ironed out before he’d even known this place existed.

Some parents.

A tall barn came into view. A field. Horses. A swimming pool. What looked like one-room cabins dotted the landscape.

And people milling around. It looked like most, if not all, were employees. The queasiness returned. Maybe if Scott had Gerald drive close enough, he could slip straight from the limo to his accommodations without anyone seeing.

“Did my parents tell you who my point of contact is in this place?” Scott asked his driver.

“No, sir, but the resort does know to expect you at about this time.”

If they did, they were keeping their word by not making a big deal out of his presence. No one so much as glanced at the limo as it lumbered past. Scott knew not to expect a parade, but this wasn’t normal. The queasiness fled, leaving disappointment in its place.

“Drive down to that barn, Gerald. I’ll find someone who can help us.”

“The gravel doesn’t seem like it’s meant for driving on, sir.”

“Come on, Gerald. Where’s your sense of adventure? Besides, we have to find the guy who runs this place.”

“It seems more likely that the owner of this establishment works from the lodge. Which doesn’t require off-roading.”

Gerald was a great guy, but he could be a bit of a stiff sometimes. Scott hated to pull out the I’m the one who’s paying you card, but he really didn’t want to be hauling his bags all over this place. “If you’re worried about scratches on your car, you know that I’ll have them fixed.” Money wasn’t an issue for Scott, not anymore. At least when these ten weeks were over with. And it was empowering.

“Very good, sir,” Gerald said, though Scott could tell that the driver wanted nothing more than to park next to the lodge and throw Scott out with his luggage. Gerald pulled away from the road, and the limo bumped and slid along the gravel as they made their way to the barn. It was a lot bouncier than Scott had anticipated, and he considered the possibility that Gerald had been correct and off-roading in the limo might not have been the greatest idea.

Too late to turn back now, though. He’d finally attracted the attention of the ranch employees, and they watched as the limo moseyed its way over grass and gravel, and then to its final resting spot next to a low wall that bordered the barn. A girl sat on it, long blonde hair reaching the middle of her back and sunglasses perched a little too low on her nose. She was cute. Pretty, even. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad summer.

Gerald stepped out and looked around, taking in the surroundings. His gaze seemed to settle on the girl for a moment too long—as if analyzing whether she was a threat—before he opened Scott’s door for him.

A blast of heat replaced the perfectly controlled air of the limousine, and Scott joined Gerald. Placing his hands on his hips, he breathed in deeply. It wasn’t a smell he was used to. Trees. Grass. Nature.

“Smell that, Gerald?”

The driver sniffed. “I’m not sure.”

“Exactly. It’s clean air.” Scott reached into the back of the limo and grabbed a cowboy hat he’d made Gerald stop for on their way to Utah. It matched the plaid shirt and blue jeans he’d bought at the same time. Scott plopped the hat on his head. There. Ensemble complete. Now he would fit in with everyone else.

His gaze wandered back to the girl on the wall. She was now unabashedly staring, like she knew who he was but didn’t know what to do with that information. So she’d just stare. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Scott took a few steps toward her. “What do you think?” he asked her with a grin.

The girl’s cheeks darkened, and she whipped her head around, as if checking to see if there was anyone else he could possibly be talking to. She must have determined that he was indeed speaking to her, but she was still struggling with the whole creating sentences thing.

Finally, she managed, “Uh…yeah. Looks fine.” She stumbled over her words, then fell silent again.

Scott’s grin faded. “Only fine?”

“I meant good. Great, even,” she said quickly.

“I’m just messing with you.” His smile returned. It was so easy; he couldn’t help teasing his fans. Scott turned back to Gerald. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in ten weeks.”

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Gerald asked, his lips pulled into a frown as he eyed the barn.

“Nope. But I don’t have a choice. Mom and Dad said I need something to help me be more grounded. Frankly, I’m being held hostage. But I’m sure if I need anything, this lovely lady can help me out.”

He winked in the girl’s direction, and she looked like she might pass out.

Gerald cast a look in her direction that said he didn’t trust her one bit, let alone think she’d be of any help to a famous rock star. “If you’re sure,” he said. After a couple more long looks, he removed Scott’s luggage from the back, then got in the car, and the limo lumbered away.

Scott wanted to chase after Gerald and work out a deal where he’d drop Scott off in Vegas on his way back to California. Scott could lie low until Gerald returned for him.

But there was no way he’d be able to keep it secret for ten weeks—hotel staff were notorious for leaking who their famous guests were. And then his dad would never agree to unfreezing Scott’s account. So, Scott tilted his cowboy hat back and studied the barn. Three levels. New paint job. Looked nice. “This is it. A dream come true. Always wanted to be a ranch hand.” Not. But he had to keep up appearances. Could be great publicity. Make him seem down-to-earth, just like his parents wanted.

“You’re not here as a guest?” the girl asked, though after she spoke, she looked like she wished she hadn’t. In fact, she looked like she might throw up.

Scott tossed a smile in her direction. “Nope.” His steps held a swagger as he walked toward her. “No one back home believed I was going to work on a real ranch. They don’t think I will last a week before running back home. Of course, I’m just going to have to prove them wrong.”

“Uh-huh,” the girl said, her cheeks returning to their natural color. She no longer seemed nervous and was instead eying him with skepticism. “You know that it’s a resort, right? It’s not like an actual ranch.”

Scott’s smile slipped. “It is called Zion Ranch, correct?”

“Well, yes—”

“And I am currently standing next to a giant red barn, no?”

“Technically, that’s true—”

Scott’s grin returned, and he tipped his hat to the girl. “Then I think I just proved my point.”

She looked like she didn’t know what to do with him. Just as he liked it.

He held out his hand. “Scott…Andersen…” He wasn’t sure why he’d just made up a name. There was no way she hadn’t recognized him. Apparently the hat and plaid shirt wasn’t as much of a disguise as he’d been hoping. To be fair, Gerald had warned him that that would be the case.

“Scott Andersen, huh?” The girl raised an eyebrow and studied him, as if staring long enough would help everything suddenly make sense. “Julianna Barrow.” She took his hand but only held it briefly before letting go. She gave him a placating smile and said, “Welcome to Zion Ranch, cowboy.”

“Ranch hand. I still have to learn to rope steer before I can call myself a true cowboy.” He said it as if this were the most natural thing in the world. Scott couldn’t help himself. There was something about this girl that made him want to tease her. Rile her up. Maybe it was because she gave such good reactions, and he wanted to see what she’d do next. “Oh, and I’m going to call you Jules, if you don’t mind. It suits you better.”

That did it—got just the reaction Scott had been hoping for. The girl looked incredulous, like she didn’t know if she wanted to strangle Scott or get him to kiss her.

“Julianna, where’d you end up?” someone called from over by the lodge. A girl with crazy curly hair appeared around a corner. And she wore a cowgirl hat.

“Look.” Scott pointed to the girl, who had promptly stopped mid-step. “I’m not the only one in a hat and plaid. That’s what people wear when they work on a ranch.” Scott tsked and stepped back while folding his arms over his chest. “You’re never going to make it through the summer.”

Julianna’s lips twitched like she was trying not to smile, and she crossed her arms, mirroring Scott. “Yeah, well, I don’t remember there being many limos on a ranch either.”

Touché.

“How about this?” he said. “We call a truce. You teach me everything you know about roping cattle, and I’ll teach you everything I know about…everything else.”

Julianna stared, like she was trying to figure out if he was joking or not. “You do know that there aren’t actually cows at this place, right? Like, zero.”

Hmm. What he’d seen on the brochure the day his parents had roped him into this mess was the extent of his knowledge, and he swore there had been cattle on the front page of the brochure. “Yeah, of course,” he said with a laugh. “I was just messing with ya.”

Julianna’s lips did that twitching thing again. “You brought a lasso, didn’t you?”

“I—what—of course not—” Scott’s gaze jumped to his suitcase, then back to Julianna, who wasn’t even trying to hide her smirk now. “Yeah. I brought a lasso.”

“Maybe we can find a bale of hay for you to practice on. Just in case. You never know when a skill like that will come in handy. Maybe when all the girls go crazy fangirl, you could use it for self-protection.”

Scott’s face was burning from embarrassment, and the curly haired girl had apparently gotten over her shock and was now approaching them. His gaze bounced around wildly. Where was a welcoming committee when he needed one? Shouldn’t someone be showing him the layout of the place, telling him where he could stow his bags and all that?

As if on cue, a man exited the barn and walked toward them, though he didn’t seem at all excited by the prospect.

Scott was having serious doubts about anyone going crazy fangirl on him.

It seemed no one wanted him there in the first place.