Texas Tough

by Janice Maynard

“No problem. It’s my job, of course. And besides, any chance to get out of the office is a plus.”

  As the small plane touched down, Abby glanced at her watch. The trip had taken an hour and a half. So, better than the three-hour drive she’d been expecting, but still not quick. She was going to have to be very disciplined about planning her shooting schedule. Much of the groundwork would have to be done in Royal.

  She grabbed her things, thanked the young pilot and followed the other woman out of the plane. The ferry dock was a quarter-mile walk. Though a small line of cars sat waiting to cross, foot traffic was almost nonexistent. Abby and Lila boarded and made their way inside the air-conditioned cabin.

  Abby frowned as she thought about the logistics. “How is this going to work during the actual festival?”

  Lila uncapped her water bottle and took a sip. “It won’t be easy. The organizers are planning to add four more ferries. And parking on the island will be limited. Festivalgoers who want to have their personal vehicles on-site will pay a hefty premium in addition to their ticket price.”

  “So part of the cachet of the festival will be that it’s hard to access...it’s exclusive.”

  “Exactly.”

  At the end of the brief ferry ride, Lila waved at an older man with deeply tanned skin and grizzled salt-and-pepper hair. That must be Jerome, Abby guessed. He sat in one golf cart alongside a second cart with a much younger driver.

  The younger man jumped down and slid onto the seat beside Jerome. The groundskeeper tipped his hat. “That one’s all yours, Ms. Lila. When you ladies are done for the day, just park it right here and leave the keys under the seat.”

  Abby’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  The other three chuckled. “Safe as going to church,” Jerome said. “You little gals have fun.”

  Lila motioned toward the back of the golf cart. “Toss your things in there and hang on. Not everything has been paved yet.”

  The sun was hot and directly overhead, but a breeze danced off the water. Trinity Bay was idyllic, deep blue, touched with whitecaps. No wonder the Edmonds had acquired this private island. It was exquisite.

  Abby looked around with interest as the small vehicle lurched into motion. The festival grounds were larger than she had imagined. And far more upscale. This would be no Woodstock with music lovers lounging on the grass.

  Lila narrated as they wound among the structures that smelled of new wood and excitement. “The two main stages will anchor the event with headliners. Big names. Crowd-pleasers. The scattering of smaller venues you see will be home to quirkier bands. The kind of musical groups that in five years might become household names.”

  “And over there across the main pathway?” Abby curled her fingers around the top edge of the golf cart. Some areas had been prepped for sod, but others were covered in wood chips. The golf cart bumped and jolted.

  “Those are the wine bars and pop-up restaurants. Each will have a celebrity chef.”

  “Wow.” The logistics of putting on an enormous music festival—on an island—boggled the mind. There was so much to coordinate: food shipments, the sound equipment, a medical presence, seating—presumably chairs and benches. The portable toilets... Abby definitely wouldn’t want to be the person in charge. The whole thing could be a smashing success or a raging headache fraught with disaster.

  Lila eased the golf cart onto a small point surrounded by water on two sides. “I brought fruit and cheese. And a bottle of wine. You hungry?”

  “Actually, I am.”

  Lila wasn’t a huge talker, which Abby liked. It was peaceful to sit in silence, watch the water and enjoy the simple pleasures of an alfresco meal.

  Without warning, a vision of Carter Crane popped into her head. The handsome rancher was no doubt neck-deep in cattle ranch business in the middle of a busy workday. Maybe Abby could convince him that his routine was exactly what she found fascinating. There was only so much video she could take here on the island before the festival got underway. But to immerse the viewer in the flavor of Texas, she would need solid footage of what it meant to be from Royal.

  Lila yawned. “Do you want to get some preliminary shots? I can check email on my phone or maybe grab a quick nap. Take your time.”

  “That would be great.” Abby finished her light lunch and slid out of the golf cart, going around to the back to retrieve her camera. For the actual festival she would need her tripods. Today, though, she wanted to shoot the mood of the unoccupied island.

  The bay was an obvious star. Out in the distance, sailboats glided along, pushed by the wind. Abby was sure she saw a dolphin break the surface in a carefree arc. When she had what she wanted from the water, she turned to the land.

  Some of the empty structures would be dramatic in black and white. She paused for a moment, listening. Trying to envision what the energy of the crowd would sound like... Imagining the steady thump of the bass. The sharp twang of an electric guitar.

  Steadying the camera on her shoulder, she panned from left to right. And caught a cowboy dead in the middle of her viewfinder.

  Three

  Carter enjoyed catching Abby Carmichael off guard. She had incredible confidence and self-possession for someone so young, but he had managed to rattle her. He saw it in her eyes when she lowered the camera.

  “Carter,” she said, her gaze wary. “What are you doing here?”

  He hid a grin by rubbing his chin. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.” He took a moment to enjoy the picture she made. Being a filmmaker was a physically demanding job at times. Abby must have dressed for comfort and professionalism, but her choice of clothing flattered her.

  She wore an ankle-length, halter-neck sundress of a thin gauzy material that hinted at the shape of her body. The colorful fabric made him think of Caribbean islands and cold drinks with tiny umbrellas. Abby’s beautiful wavy hair was down, despite the heat. The breeze fanned strands out across her golden-skinned shoulders.

  She chewed her bottom lip, clearly convinced he was up to no good. Maybe she was right. “We’re miles from Royal,” she said. “And I have it on good authority that your little cows are a demanding lot.”

  He laughed softly, suddenly very glad he had come. “None of my cows are little, city girl. Besides, I told them I wanted the day off.”

  She frowned. “Your cattle?”

  “Nope. My staff.”

  “Oh...” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I should go. Lila will be waiting for me.”

  He reached for the camera. “Here. I’ll carry that. I’d like to say hello.”

  Abby surrendered the video equipment with obvious reluctance, but she fell into step beside him. “You know Lila?”

  “Everybody knows everybody in Royal. Besides, Lila is big news lately. She enticed a celebrity Instagram influencer—whatever the hell that is—to come to Royal and promote the music festival. Next thing I knew, the gossip was flying, and Lila was engaged to Zach Benning.”

  “I’ve heard about Zach, and I did notice the gorgeous ring on her finger. Sounds like a fairy tale.”

  Carter grimaced. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those.”

  Abby stopped abruptly. “What does that mean?”

  He faced her with the camera tucked under his arm. “A dewy-eyed romantic. I thought documentary makers were more realistic.” Though he had to admit that her soft brown irises were pretty damn gorgeous. A man could dive into those eyes and get lost.

  “You think romantic love is fiction?”

  “Yes,” he said baldly. Perhaps his response was harsh, but he knew better than most men that romance was little more than a charade.

  Abby continued walking, her expression thoughtful. When they approached a golf cart parked by the water, Lila Jones got out and waved. “Hey there, Carter. What brings you to Appaloosa Island? You’re s
everal weeks early for the festival.”

  He kissed her cheek. “You know I’m not a festival kind of guy. But I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on your engagement.”

  Lila blushed. “Thanks.”

  Abby studied them both. “How long have you two known each other?”

  Carter shrugged. “Forever... Folks in Royal tend to put down roots.”

  Lila’s brows drew together. “I might ask you two the same question. Abby, I thought you only got into town last night.”

  “That’s true. But I went for a drive, and on a dusty secluded road, Carter here threatened to shoot me.”

  “No, no, no,” Carter protested. “The truth is, Abby isn’t as innocent as she looks. The woman tried to Mace me.”

  Abby’s eyes danced. “I don’t think that’s a verb.”

  Lila put her hands on her hips. “I’m missing something.”

  Carter lifted his face toward the sun, feeling more carefree than he had in a long time. “Let’s just say that our first meeting was dramatic and our second far more cordial.”

  “I need to hear the whole story,” Lila insisted.

  “I’ll fill you in on the way back.” Abby took her camera from Carter and tucked it into a cushioned bag. Then she climbed into the cart and glanced over her shoulder at him. “We have to go. Our ride is picking us up in twenty minutes.”

  Carter lifted a brow, looking at Lila. “Danny getting in practice miles?”

  “You bet.”

  “Abby?” He touched her arm briefly, feeling the insistent zing of attraction. “I was hoping I might persuade you to drive back with me. When we get to town, I’ll take you to dinner.”

  “I came with Lila,” she said, her face giving nothing away.

  Lila shook her head slowly. “Carter has a gorgeous black Porsche. It’s by far the better offer.”

  He smiled at the woman in the passenger seat. “You said you wanted to interview me. Now’s your chance.”

  “I said I wanted to film you.”

  “Yes, but the interview should come first. I’ve been reading up on how to make a documentary. I wanted to be ready.”

  Abby’s lips parted, almost as if she felt the same magnetic sexual pull and wasn’t sure what to do about it. “I don’t want to abandon Lila.”

  Lila pooh-poohed that idea. “Go with Carter. You and I will have plenty of time together. I don’t mind at all. Honestly.”

  Carter gave both women his most innocent smile. “Abby?”

  “Okay, fine.” She exited the golf cart with a graceful swish of skirt and a flash of toned thigh. “Let me grab my stuff.”

  Lila intervened. “Better yet, why don’t we just give Carter a ride back to the dock? It’s too hot to walk around with no shade.”

  “I’ll take that offer,” he said. The golf cart had two rows of seating, so he slid in behind the women. Abby reclaimed her spot in the front. If he leaned forward, he could kiss one of her bare shoulders. That thought had him shifting uncomfortably on the seat. Maybe spending three hours in the car with the delectable filmmaker wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  He had parked the convertible adjacent to the dock. The ferry was moments away from pulling out. Because there was no room in his small sports car for a second passenger, Lila and Abby exchanged goodbyes, and Lila boarded on foot.

  Carter helped Abby in, started the engine and, when instructed, eased his vehicle onto the ramp and into the ferry. Because the ride was so short, they stayed in the car with the windows down. Abby had her camera out shooting the seagulls chasing the boat. He suspected it was a ploy not to have to converse with him.

  Was she nervous? Carter wasn’t. Well, not exactly. He would describe it as being on edge. His senses were heightened, and truth be told, he rarely reacted this strongly to a woman he had just met.

  When they reached Mustang Point, Carter and Abby greeted Danny and said goodbye to Lila. Then they wound their way back to the highway. Carter still had the top up. The blistering heat was too much right now.

  He adjusted the air and glanced at his silent companion. “You okay?”

  Abby smiled, playing with her large hoop earring. “Yes. This is a very nice car.”

  “I’m glad you like it. When we get closer to Royal, there’s a two-lane road that turns off the main drag but still leads into town. It’s the old highway actually. I thought we could put the top down then and enjoy the view.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Carter gripped the wheel, wondering why he had taken the day off. He never played hooky in the middle of the week. In fact, he had been known to work six and seven days in a row. The pace wasn’t healthy, but ranching took up most of his life.

  It was just him. All day every day. Carrying the weight of a family legacy. He wasn’t complaining. He knew he was lucky beyond measure.

  But Abby Carmichael was the best kind of interruption.

  “How old were you when your parents divorced?” he asked quietly. His own mom and dad were heading for their forty-seventh anniversary.

  Abby sighed. She had kicked off her sandals and was sitting with one leg tucked beneath her. “I was five. So I don’t remember a lot. But as an adult, I finally understood why the marriage unraveled.”

  “Oh?”

  “My mother was an Upper East Side society princess,” she explained. “My grandparents owned tons of real estate, and Mom had the best of everything growing up. She met my father during a spring break trip to Jamaica.”

  “Her parents didn’t approve because he wasn’t in their social circle?” he mused.

  “They probably didn’t, but that wasn’t the tack they took in opposing the relationship. My father’s family was wealthy, too. They were bankers and lawyers in Jamaica. Daddy was a musician when he and Mom met, but he was studying to be a filmmaker. Mom says her parents weren’t impressed with the odds of success in that career.”

  Carter looked over at her before returning his eyes to the road. “Were they right?”

  “Yes and no. It took my dad years to break into the industry. And it meant going where the jobs were. If he’d had a wife and kid in tow, it might never have happened.”

  “Did your grandparents give in?”

  “Sadly, no.” She sighed. “My mother wanted a cathedral wedding with all the frills. In the end, she had to settle for a Vegas chapel.”

  “Did her parents ever come around?”

  “When she got pregnant with me...yes. But maybe my mom and dad were too different from the beginning. Even sharing a child couldn’t keep them together.”

  “I’m sorry, Abby,” he said quietly. “It must be hard to have them on opposite coasts.”

  When he glanced at her again, she was staring straight ahead, as if the road held answers. Her expression—what he could see of it in a quick glance—was pensive. “I’ve learned to be happy anywhere. I love both of them, and whatever animosity there might have been during the divorce evaporated over the years.”

  “Have you thought about where you’ll settle? For the long haul?”

  She shot him a look of surprise. “I don’t know that I will settle. Living out of a suitcase doesn’t bother me.”

  “But surely you see yourself putting down roots eventually.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Don’t you want kids someday?”

  “Do you?” Her question was sharp. “Why do people ask women that? I bet never once has anyone tried to pin you down on the fatherhood question.”

  “Well, you’d be wrong then,” he said wryly. “My mother brings it up regularly. I’m a terrible disappointment to her. And I have ten years on you, so the pressure is mounting.”

  “I guess you’re glad they don’t live here anymore.”

  “Not really,” he said. “I miss them. But they deserve this time to spread thei
r wings. The ranch always tied them down.”

  * * *

  Abby heard the clear affection in his voice and experienced the oddest moment of jealousy. She loved her parents—of course she did. And she got along well with both of them. But the three of them weren’t a family unit. Not like the close bond Carter evidently had with his mom and dad. Abby and her parents were two halves of a family that somehow didn’t add up to a whole.

  She let the conversation drop. Carter didn’t seem to mind. It was a beautiful day for a drive. In a strange way, she felt very comfortable with him. Well, that was true as long as she ignored the palpable sexual undertones.

  Without meaning to, she dozed. When she jerked awake and ran her hands over her face, she was embarrassed. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I was sleep-deprived coming into this trip. I guess I’m still catching up.”

  “No worries. You’re cute when you snore.”

  “I don’t snore,” she retorted, mildly offended, and also worried that he wasn’t joking. Carter didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on the road, but she could see the smile that curved his lips. The man had great lips. World-class. Perfect for kissing.

  To keep herself from fixating on his mouth and his jaw and all the other yummy parts of him, she looked at the view beyond the car windows. Fields and more fields. Cows and more cows. It was all she could see in any direction.

  Carter shot her a sideways glance. “What?”

  Abby frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “No. But you were thinking really loud. You can say it. You don’t like Texas.”

  It seemed churlish to agree. “That’s an overstatement.”

  “Is it? You’re missing the skyscrapers and the world-class ethnic food and the museums and Broadway.”

  “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m criticizing your home. You love it here.”

  “I do. But I’ve traveled, Abby. I know what the world has to offer.”

  “May I ask you a question?”

  She saw him frown slightly. “Of course.”

  “Why did you come to Appaloosa Island today?”