“Second bedroom with bunk beds,” Bianca said quickly. “We get these for famous actors who refuse to stay in hotels. I can get one with heated floors and satellite internet. Everything stays inside the trailer—water tanks, waste tanks, the whole thing. Nothing touches your land.”
Maggie balanced her mug in her hand and crossed one leg over her jeans. “You’re much more fun to dream with than that guy Clancy.”
Yeah, Bianca was going to have a little chat with that man. “I do apologize for him.”
Maggie waved that way. “It’s not your fault.”
Bianca still felt bad. “Just think about it, okay? This is a decently budgeted movie, and for a week of filming, the locationfee alone would probably run around fifty thousand dollars. That’s separate from any damage deposits or restoration costs. Production covers all of that.”
Maggie coughed rapidly and wiped her mouth with her hand. “Fifty thousand dollars?”
Bianca nodded. Yeah, she should’ve tried to negotiate the number down, but she had to make up for Clancy being a dick. “Maybe a little bit more if we use the cattle or horses in shots, but I can’t guarantee that.”
Maggie looked shell-shocked. “Um, that’s exactly what we need to plant the pastures we want to next year. We’ve been trying to get a second loan but haven’t had any luck. I’ll talk to Daniel.”
Yeah, Bianca had her. “That’s great.” She finished her coffee, seeing the night starting to get dark outside. She was supposed to meet Adam in half an hour for a date she shouldn’t be taking. “I should go. Could you call me by noon tomorrow with an answer?” She placed the mug on the tray and stood.
“Sure.” Maggie did the same and stood, escorting her to the door. “This is nice, Bianca. Come by any time.”
Warmth flushed through Bianca as she stepped into the driving rain and looked around. The homestead appeared even more perfect in the storm. Her gaze caught on the marigolds planted by the porch. “Those need to be separated a little,” she said, crouching briefly to touch one of the small plants. “They’re planted too close together. Marigolds spread once they get going.”
Maggie stayed in the doorway, dry and watching. “I wondered about that.”
Bianca smiled faintly and stood. “They’ll still do fine. Just move every other one down the row. You could mix in some zinnias or even a few cosmos and the whole bed would fill out nicely.”
Maggie glanced at the flowers again. “You really know your plants.”
“Yeah, it’s a hobby that I miss,” Bianca said lightly. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She jogged through the rain toward her truck, the scent of wet earth rising from the flower beds behind her.
She ducked into the rental car and slammed the door against the rain. For a moment she just sat there, water dripping from her hair onto the steering wheel while the wipers beat back and forth across the windshield. The storm was magnificent.
Starting the engine, she backed out and then turned, heading down the long drive to a main road. She drove for about twenty minutes toward town, trying to see better. Rain blurred the edges of the pasture, the fences flashing past in quicksilver lines whenever lightning cracked across the sky.
Another bolt split the darkness, so bright it washed the road white.
A pop echoed, and the car hitched into the air. She yelped and jerked the wheel while slamming the brakes. The tires slid on the slick gravel, the car fishtailing sideways as thunder crashed overhead.
Panic ripped through her.
The ditch rushed toward her. The car smashed through a fence, tearing the posts free of the ground. Then she smashed into a tree, the impact exploding all around her.
CHAPTER 8
Rain hammered the roof of the car with relentless force, each drop striking in sharp bursts. For a few seconds after the impact, Bianca sat perfectly still, her ears ringing and her hands locked around the steering wheel. What had just happened?
The world tilted at an awkward angle around her. The front of the vehicle had sunk into the muddy ditch, and the passenger side rested against a mangled tree. The windshield had cracked into a jagged web, and rain pushed through the broken glass in thin streams that slid across the dashboard and dripped onto her jeans.
The air inside the vehicle smelled like wet earth and an overheated engine. She blinked several times and forced herself to breathe. Was she hurt? Her brain was still functioning, so that was good.
She flexed her fingers, testing them one by one. They worked. Her hands trembled but responded when she rolled them. Next she shifted her shoulders. A dull ache spread across her chest where the seatbelt had caught her, but nothing sharp enough to worry her.
Her left knee throbbed when she tried to move it. She hissed softly and pushed back against the seat, waiting for the pain to settle.
Oh, it felt angry. Not broken, she hoped, but definitely swelling.
Outside the storm roared across the open pasture. Wind drove rain sideways across the road, flattening the grass and sending muddy water running along the ditch in quick streams. Every few seconds lightning split the sky open and turned the landscape stark white before plunging it back into darkness.
She tried to remember what to do in this situation. Wasn’t she supposed to stay with the car until help arrived? Or was that just in blizzards? She could smell gas, maybe? What if the vehicle exploded?