“What are you doing out here?”

“Taking a break. And getting some exercise.”

“Not really a gym on-site for you to work out in, is there?”

“No. This is better. A lot of hills to run in. You must love it here.”

“It’s home.”

She leaned against the front of his truck, grabbed the beer from his hand, took a long swallow, and handed it back to him. “Thanks.”

“I don’t recall offering it to you.”

She turned to her side. “You’re not very friendly, are you, Logan?”

“I try not to be.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“It keeps people away.”

“Oh, so you don’t like people.”

“I didn’t say that.”

She laughed, and he liked the gravelly, raspy, sexy sound of it. Which he shouldn’t.

“Do you have any more of those?” she asked, eyeing his beer.

“I might.”

When she cocked a brow, he added, “Front passenger floor of the truck. There’s a cooler. Help yourself.”

She went around and grabbed a beer, bringing him one, too. “Yours looked about empty.” She popped the top and took a long swallow.

“You sure you’re old enough to be drinking those?”

There went that laugh again. “I’m sure.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Are you old enough to be drinking them?”

“Funny.” He popped the top on his and took several long drinks, wondering why the hell he was standing here next to—what was her name again?

Oh, right. Desiree. Des.

She leaned next to him and looked out over the valley.

“Just how big is this ranch, Logan?”

“It’s pretty big.”

She shot him a look. “Pretend I’m smart and just tell me.”

“It’s a little over forty-five thousand acres.”

“Holy shit. That’s a lot. No wonder you could afford to lend us a small piece of the pie.”

“I didn’t lend it. I’m renting it to your moviemaking company. Which means I make money. Working a ranch is a costly business.”

“I’m sure it is. Though honestly, I wouldn’t know.”

He took another swallow of beer as he studied her. “City girl?”

“A little of that, and a little country. I’ve been around. Never lived on a ranch, though.”

“Where are you from?”

“Just about everywhere.”

“Military?”

She tilted her head and looked up at him. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t think anything at all. Just guessing.”

“Good guess. Yeah, my dad’s Army. We moved around a lot.”

“So you’ve seen the world.”

She didn’t smile this time. “You could say that.”

“You probably still see a lot of it, being an actress.”

“Sometimes a lot more than I want to.” She took a couple drinks of her beer and kept her gaze focused below, where the movie was being filmed. And she stopped talking.

Logan didn’t know what to make of Desiree Jenkins. She couldn’t be more than in her mid-twenties at best, which put her firmly in the close-to-ten-years-younger-than-him category. Scrubbed of makeup, she looked like a teenager, but there was a worldliness in her eyes that made her seem a lot older.

She sure was pretty with her long dark hair and wide eyes that he couldn’t quite get a handle on, color-wise. Every time she shifted position, so did the color. At first they seemed blue, but now they were more like a brownish green, with little flecks of gold in them.

“You’re staring.”

He frowned. “Huh?”

“You’re staring at me. Do I have dirt on my face?”

“No. I’m looking at your eyes. The color of them.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re like a chameleon. They shift with my surroundings. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Huh. I guess so.”

She leaned back against his car again. “Not much impresses you, does it, Logan?”

“Nope.” But her eyes did.

“So tell me about your ranch. What do you do here?”

“Work.”

“Wow, so descriptive. I’ll bet you’re a great conversationalist at parties.”

“Don’t get to a lot of parties around here.”

“Maybe you don’t get invited to a lot of parties.”

“Can’t say that breaks my heart any.”

She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, about the ranch?”

“We work cattle. We also have horses, but they’re wild mustangs so we don’t mess with them except to make sure they’re fed and have water.”

“Okay. Do you raise the cattle for beef?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t strike me as a dairy farmer.”

“Really. And what does a typical dairy farmer look like to you?”

She shrugged. “No idea. Not like you. You’re more the rugged, work-the-land type, not milk-the-cows type.”

He wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment, or whether she’d just insulted dairy farmers. Either way, it was obvious she had no idea what she was talking about. Then again, he didn’t know shit about moviemaking. But he wasn’t spouting off about it, either.

“Well, I gotta go.”

She pushed off the truck and handed him the empty beer can. “Thanks for the drink. You should come down and watch filming.”

“No, thanks. I’m plenty busy with my own work.”

“You might find what we do utterly fascinating.”

“I’m interested enough in what I do.”

She cocked her head to the side, revealing a soft column of her neck. He didn’t want to be interested in her neck, but he was.

“Afraid you might linger a little too long? Maybe get bitten by the acting bug?”

He laughed at that. “Uh, no.”

“Then come on down and watch us work.”

Martha would have a fit if he’d gotten an invite and he didn’t say yes. “My house manager is a big fan.”

“Bring her down to watch a day of filming. We’re doing a big dramatic scene tomorrow. She’d probably love that.”