The front door squeaked
open. First Maggie saw the steel-toed alligator skin boots and worked her way
up to the Stetson cowboy hat perched on the guyās tall, rugged frame. There was
goatee stubble on his face. His hazel eyes were penetrating. He was undeniably
hot.
Maggie was having a hard
time breathing. Be cool. Cowboys were so not her type anyway. And what was
one doing in Hollywood? Maybe he was an extra on something shooting nearby. If
not, shouldnāt he be in Montana roping steer or something?
Sweat pooled in her
armpits from running to work. She glanced at her reflection in the dark paneled
door. Her hair was thrown up in a messy crowās nest of a bun. And her uniform did
her no favors. Pleated beige polyester pants and a loose green polo shirt would
make anyone look dowdy.
The cowboy extended his
hand. āMaāam, Iām here for the ten oā clock movie studio tour.ā
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