Surely, he was still in love with Jocelyn. Even though she’d betrayed him, losing the person you wanted to spend your entire life with had to stay with you awhile.
Her mother had never gotten over her father’s death. She’d blamed him and had been angry at him for throwing all three of their lives away so easily. There were times Macy was sure her mother hated Clyde Tarlington.
With Carter lending a helping hand, the food was dished up and they ate quietly. He didn’t talk, fuss or drink while he was dining. He gobbled up his meal quickly, as if it was his last one. She’d once heard a friend who’d come from poverty say that eating quickly was a survival habit from childhood. Food had been a luxury, and she’d never known when or if she’d get the next meal.
Macy smiled at Carter. His plate was clean, while she still had half her meal remaining. “Did you always live at the ranch?” she asked.
He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms over his middle. “No. This was my uncle’s place. I lived with him on and off, until I was twelve. Then my uncle took me in permanently and I spent my teen years here. I learned ranching from him. Back then, the house was just three bedrooms and one bath and the herd was small but sturdy. My uncle did okay. He was a good man.”
“What happened to your mom and dad?”
Carter stared at her and shook his head. For a second she didn’t think he would answer. His face filled with pain he’d tried to cover up, but she saw through it. Maybe because she’d recognized the gesture—she’d been known to conceal her own pain at times.
She was sorry she’d asked about his parents, but before she could apologize for her curiosity, Carter gave her this much. “My mom died when I was eight. I remember her fighting with my dad almost every night. She’d be crying in her bed, and I would cry, too. Riley’s selfish and weak and drove my mother to an early grave.” Carter scrubbed his jaw, thinking and staring out the window. “He’s a drunk. Has always been a drunk.”
Those words hit home. She’d heard them spoken too often when her father was alive. The sick feeling she’d had as a kid invaded Macy’s stomach now. She wondered if Carter had had those very same feelings as a boy. She’d gathered he and his dad weren’t close. But she’d never guessed that she and Carter would have so much in common. “I get it.”
Carter shook his head hard. “Doubtful, Hollywood.”
“No, I mean I really get it. My father drove his car into a tree ten years ago. He was drunk out of his mind. He’d won big at the off-track betting venue and was celebrating hard. He was a drinker and a gambler. Back then, Clyde Tarlington’s death was big news. Surely, you’ve heard about it.”
Carter shrugged and shook his head. “I was overseas at the time. Was it hard on you?”
She nodded. “The worst. My mother went into a deep depression and couldn’t really deal with me. I was sixteen at the time.”
“That’s a tough age.”
“Tell me about it.”
Carter’s chair scraped stone as he pushed back and rose from his seat. Clearly, he was done with this conversation. “Hey, Duke and Honey are waiting for us. And they need the exercise as much as we need to clear our heads. You ready?”
“I’ve got my boots on, don’t I?” She kicked up one foot to show it off.
Carter glanced at the boots she’d bought in town the other day. Then he skimmed his eyes over blue jeans and the plain white shirt she wore and gave a nod of approval. “Let’s ride.”
Five
Her butt was sore, but she wouldn’t complain just yet. Honey was a true honey of a horse, a palomino that stood fifteen hands high, golden blond in color and tempered with a sweet nature. Carter had picked the right horse for her.
He did everything really well, it seemed, and it was beginning to grate on her nerves. How could a man be so perfect? He had to have some flaws. Please, dear heaven, let him have some flaws.
Because from where she sat right now, with Carter in the lead, leaning back in the saddle, comfortable and relaxed on Duke, the black stallion that Carter had broken himself, and a tan Stetson riding low on his forehead, she didn’t see one darn flaw.
Macy had dated some good-looking men over the years. Some of them were actually nice and some had treated her fairly well. But none of them had panned out. Ultimately, it wasn’t their flaws that had turned her off. What it always seemed to boil down to was Macy’s world-famous mother. They’d been more interested in dating Tina Tarlington’s daughter than getting to know Macy as an individual. Dating a Tarlington had been their key motivation, and as soon as Macy had figured it out, she dumped them. She wanted a man who saw her for herself, not someone more impressed by who had signed her birth certificate.
Was that too much to ask?
Duke took off at a trot and Honey followed. Macy tried to seat herself firmly on the saddle for the ride, but her butt bumped hard leather so often, she winced in pain, gritting her teeth. She had a death grip on the reins, and luckily Carter didn’t look back to see her ridiculous attempt at riding. After a few minutes, Carter brought his horse to an even gait, and Honey slowed, too. Macy finally caught her breath. She was sure her rear end would never be the same. She called out, “Can we stop soon?”
Carter turned around to look at her.
“I, uh, I wanted to see that part of the river.” She pointed to a nondescript piece of land along the bank.
She heard a slight chuckle rise up from his throat. “It’s no different than any other part of the river, but sure. If you need to stop, we will.”
“I don’t need to stop. I want to.”
“Right.”
Carter led the way, guided by a descending blaze of sunshine. The rays lent a pinkish hue to the land and gleamed over the water. The air was heavy but the water invited. Macy’s horse automatically followed Duke, and within minutes—and Macy was counting—they reined in their horses. Carter swung his leg over the stallion and dismounted, gaining his footing easily in one fluid motion. He gave his horse a pat on the back then strolled over to her. Macy tried to duplicate his dismount, but her boot connected with the horse’s rump and Honey jostled slightly. Macy lost her balance, kicked the horse’s rump again and hung on to the saddle horn for dear life.
Carter was there to grab her before she fell to the ground. “Whoa, hang on.” His velvet voice slid over her.
Macy found herself in Carter’s arms, pressed against the hard planes of his chest as he lowered her. The toes of her boots touched the ground first, and she was sandwiched between Honey and the hunky cowboy. Her heart skidded to a stop. And it pissed her off. Darn him. He’d rescued her again. She stared into his eyes. It was a mistake. Instead of finding desire, she saw amusement twinkle in his eyes.
“Maybe you’re not as good with horses as you think you are.”
She removed her arms from his neck and gave him a little shove. “I am. I’ve been riding a long time.”
“When was the last time?” he asked, unfazed by her push.
“Oh, um. Let’s see.” She pondered a moment and then remembered. “It was three or four years ago.”
Carter pushed his hat farther up on his forehead and stared.
“Maybe five or six years ago.”
He held her gaze.
“Okay, it’s been about eight years ago, at least.”
Carter’s voice was smooth as silk. “Seems like I’ve forgotten more than you know about horses.”
She was still smarting from being held tightly in his arms. “Not true. I’m just rusty.”
Carter turned his back on her and she immediately rubbed her rump, trying to press out the knots and ease the sore spots. She was sure her bottom was raw.
“Remind me to give you a balm I’ve got back at the house. It’ll fix your pretty little butt all up.”
He whipped his head around and caught her just as she was removing her hand from her behind. He laughed.
“You’re enjoying this too much, Carter McCay.”
“I can hones
tly tell you, I am.”
He moved to the riverbank and bent to pick up a pebble. She saw him toss it far, skipping over water that was motionless. Ripples interrupted the calm and swept out in a large circle. It was soothing to watch.
“Doesn’t look like a wild river to me.”
“Not tonight it’s not. But it can be. Sometimes, the river fools you. It can become deadly when you least expect it.”
The sun faded on the horizon. Dusk was Macy’s favorite time of day, and they stood there quietly for a while as the light finally ebbed entirely.
“I like it here,” she said aloud.
Carter swiveled his head and their gazes met. “I knew you would.”
“But I can’t face another day of lounging around. I’m learning something about myself.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t relax well. I need something to do.” The idea had come to her today when she’d been bored out of her mind. She’d been mulling it over ever since. She couldn’t expect Carter to entertain her every day. He had a business to run. And she promised him she wouldn’t be a burden. The solution would benefit them both. “Carter, you can tell me no, and I wouldn’t blame you at all, but I’d like to help you fix up the inn. I could use a project. And my services come cheap. I’m…free.”
Carter didn’t hesitate to answer. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t decided about the inn yet.”
“But, it’s perfect. You can’t still be thinking of tearing it down? Tell me you changed your mind about that.”
“I can’t tell you that. I’m not ready to make that decision.”
Macy crossed her arms so hard they jammed into her ribs. She eyed him carefully. “So that’s it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
It wasn’t what she’d meant. He was stubborn. That was his flaw. Lord have mercy. She almost did a happy dance, right there on the riverbank, under the moonlight. Carter was a stubborn mule.
She laughed and he sent her a look of astonishment. “Why are you laughing?”
She lifted a shoulder. “No reason,” she fibbed. Now she had a valid reason to hold on to when his image flashed through her mind at night right before she dozed off to sleep.
The cowboy wasn’t perfect.
What a relief.
He leaned close, skeptical. “You’re not going to argue with me about it?”
“Oh, I definitely will. I’m pretty relentless when I think I’m right.”
He frowned. “Which is most of the time, I take it.”
She smiled wide. “Of course.”
* * *
“Bye, Mara, and thanks again for lunch earlier,” Macy called out by the front doorway.
“You’re very welcome,” Mara answered from the kitchen.
Macy exited the house, looking like a country girl in Carter’s felt hat and a new pair of blue jeans. Late-afternoon sunshine made her squint, and she immediately plopped sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose. Marching past the corrals, she saw Henry speaking with one of the men. She waved to him and he tipped his hat then she turned her attention to the road leading to the inn.
Macy had met a few of the ranch hands over the past few days, and no one seemed to recognize her or make her feel out of place. They’d greet her with a smile or wave and then go about their business. Wild River seemed so remote and out of touch with the world she’d known that Macy felt completely at ease here.
Too much at ease. The walk would do her good. She was getting cabin fever, and her restlessness couldn’t be bottled up for much longer. With Carter gone all day on business in Dallas, there was only so much reading and sunbathing a girl could do.
Rocky raced out of the stables and caught up to her, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in a dog smile. “Hey, Rock. You’ll keep me safe from the snakes, right?”
He fell in step beside her. She didn’t know what she’d do without her trusty companion. He was good company for a lonely heart.
She walked briskly, hoping to burn calories, and hugged the path along the river as much as she could. She hadn’t forgotten about the snakes, but Macy wouldn’t let that stop her from taking a walk. She would tread cautiously and out in the open, avoiding brush and scrubs, keeping her eyes peeled. Mara had told her today most of the snakes on the property were harmless garden snakes. She’d lived in Wild River all of her life and had never encountered a diamondback. After that, Macy’s mind had been made up.
Carter’s longhorns were scattered on grazing land, and she could make out their horns even from this distance away. As she headed in the opposite direction of the herd, toward the inn, the powerful scent of cattle hide and dung faded.
“Your master is being stubborn, letting that wonderful house go to waste.”
She was drawn to the inn and hadn’t stopped thinking about it since Carter had shown it to her days ago. She’d hounded him every day about letting her refurbish it, but he wouldn’t relent. Something was holding him back, and he wasn’t talking.
She reached the inn unscathed and thanked Mara again for giving her encouragement. Rocky followed her inside and she walked around the dusty downstairs rooms again, envisioning the place in its heyday, when guests had stayed here. The parlor would have been lush, with velvet drapes and tufted chairs, the carpets woven in intricate patterns. Sidebars would have held the finest china and cut crystal. The place would have resembled a Texas palace. “It’s such a shame,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping.
Macy walked outside and found herself on the gazebo again, in the center of her would-be stage. With the river just yards away and giant oak trees lending shade to the area, creativity could blossom here. It was a place of inspiration.
A noise behind the trees startled her. Something was shuffling around. Rocky barked and fear froze her. The dog nestled between her legs, protecting her, his bark higher pitched now and more emphatic. Images of a big, eight-foot-long snake creeping its way through the hedges flashed in her mind.
She sunk down to her knees, holding on to Rocky, madly searching for the creature to appear. Her heart in her throat, she asked, “Who’s th-there?”
A man stepped out from behind a cropping of trees. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The man shot Rocky a smile and the dog quieted.
He approached slowly, speaking with a kind voice. “I’m Bill Fargo. Mr. McCay hired me to look after the grounds.”
Macy breathed a sigh of relief and rose from her crouched position. The man wore a shirt and trousers the same hue as his thick gray hair. It wasn’t exactly a uniform, but it came close enough. “Oh.”
“Who are you?” he asked.
Macy stared at him.
“Sorry, ma’am.” He softened his tone. “I’m just doing my job.” He really did appear apologetic.
“My name is Macy. I’m Mr. McCay’s houseguest. I thought Carter said you were to be working at night?”
He turned his wrist and glanced at his watch. “From four in the afternoon until midnight.”
“Did you follow me here?”
He shook his head. “No. Just happened along at the same time. Is that your dog?”
“No, Rocky is Mr. McCay’s dog.”
Bending to Rocky’s level, Fargo put out his hand. Rocky crept over to him and carefully sniffed his fingers. “He’s a good watchdog.”
The dog stopped sniffing, tilted his head and licked the man’s hand. Macy sighed. So much for Rocky protecting her. “He’s a pussycat.”
Bill Fargo chuckled. “In Rocky’s defense, he knows I’m not a threat.” The man rose to meet her level gaze. He stood a head taller and looked quite fit but for a slight belly bulge. “It’s a great place. I’ve been exploring.”
“I agree. I’m sort of drawn to this place.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Macy. I guess I’ll be seeing you around. Next time, I hope I won’t frighten you.”
“And next time I won’t picture a reptile crawling through
the bushes, ready to have me for a snack.”
The man walked off smiling, and Macy entered the house again. She climbed the stairs and went straight into the one bedroom that had been completed. The last time she was here, Carter had rushed her out of it, but now she had time to look around. She wondered if Jocelyn had a hand in decorating this room. Had it been her project? Had she convinced Carter to let her fix it up right before she’d dumped him?
From the window, she noted oak and cottonwood trees forming a backdrop that defined the perimeter of the backyard. Sunlight danced through the branches, casting a feathery glow of light and shadows over the grounds. The gazebo in the center of the property appeared like a valiant injured soldier trying to stand at attention.
Macy sighed.
She heard an engine’s roar and searched in the direction of the sound. It grew louder. Then a Jeep came into view, the driver a dark blond cowboy wearing a black hat.
She lost sight of him as he drove toward the front of the house. Her nerves jumped and she fumbled with a single bud vase she’d picked up. Almost dropping it, she set it back onto the nightstand with care.
Carter was here.
She reminded herself for the umpteenth time that he wasn’t on the auction block. She couldn’t bid on him and hope to win. He was off-limits for half a dozen reasons.
“Macy?” he called from downstairs, his deep rich voice curling her toes. “You in here, Hollywood?”
Rocky left her side once he heard Carter and flew down the stairs.
Macy popped her face out of the doorway. “I’m up here.”
She lowered down on the bed, her heart beating fast at the sound of Carter’s boots hitting the stairs. When he entered the room, the scent of lime and musk followed, and Macy glanced up to greet him. “Hi.”
He sat down on the bed next to her. He spoke quietly. “Hi.”
“Were you looking for me?” She didn’t know why he would be. She was making conversation.
He surprised her and nodded. “I was.”
“Why?”
He shrugged with a quizzical look. “I don’t know. Mara told me you’d gone for a walk. I figured you’d end up here.”
Exquisite Acquisitions Page 7
