Page 72 of Every Good Thing
“No, not of Hunter. I mean, it’s fine and all, but horror isn’t my thing. I meant of Nightshift.”
His ridiculously handsome face lights up. “Wow, you humble me. That was my first real gig. I was… bad.”
“No, you were awesome. Detective Mike Storm, the insomniac policeman hunting for bad guys while the world sleeps. Ah, Mom and I adored that show—it was one of the few we agreed on. Who needs sleep?”
I do a mock Mike Storm voice, and he laughs, his cheeks reddening. “You just dropped one of my catchphrases on me… nice.”
“That wasn’t even my favorite. I liked it when you were the voice of reason to your anxious partner. We got this.”
“Storm wasn’t exactly a genius at one-liners.” He looks surprisingly sheepish but amused.
“No, but there was something comforting about him. Mom and I would say that to each other every time we had a doctor’s appointment… which was pretty often.”
“Doctors’ appointments?” The soft way his brow furrows makes me think he really cares… or speaks well to his acting ability.
“She was sick for a long time. I cared for her. Here. She passed away. That’s how I came to own Saddletree.”
My words are choppy and awkward. It feels unnatural to talk about Mom with a stranger, especially a familiar stranger.
He nods, shoving his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. “I’m sorry for your loss.” His blue eyes linger on mine like they’re stuck. “My mom’s gone, too. The world hasn’t felt the same since, like I’ve lost my best protection.”
“I’m sorry, too. I get it. I call it losing your umbrella, the shield that keeps you safe and warm against the elements.”
“Huh, that’s exactly how it feels. That’s so insightful.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but thank you.” Wow. Am I having a moment with Matt Kirby? “And sorry for rambling. I didn’t expect to find Matt Kirby in my barn. Um, what are you doing here?”
“Right, yes, sorry about that. I needed a walk and wanted to get a feel for where we’ll be shooting.” His eyes roll over the high ceiling of the barn. “Saddletree is amazing, so peaceful and beautiful. It’s by far the best film set I’ve ever been on.”
“Ah, I bet you say that to all the property owners.”
“Yes, but this time I mean it,” he grins, and a warm tickle stirs in my abdomen. “Truly, I’m a fan of everything you’ve done here. We’re lucky to have found you.”
I nibble my bottom lip to keep from gawking. Is Matt Kirby putting on the smolder? For me?
“Mom, the horses aren’t going to feed themselves.” Ruthie tugs my arm again.
“Right, we should go.”
“Night is coming, and the storm is almost here,” he says in his Storm-voice.
Suddenly, a giddy twelve-year-old, I bust out laughing, leaning toward him. “Oh, my gosh, Mom would’ve loved having you around.”
A good-natured laugh rumbles from him. “I get that a lot from the older ladies.”
“Ha, younger ones, too, I bet.”
“Lena.” Ben’s voice splits like an arrow, curt and sudden, his annoyance clear. His green eyes laser in on Matt as he approaches.
“Hey, I’m Matt.”
The two meet with extended hands. Matt smiles warmly. Ben doesn’t.
“Ben Wright.”
“Good to meet you. Beautiful place here—I was just telling Lena.”
Ben nods, emotionless. “Filming is supposed to be in the woods today.”
