Her gaze drifted back to the man in front of the lineup and she instantly stiffened. Carter was glaring over the teenagers’ heads, his laser stare locked on her face. And if she thought his eyes had been unfriendly before, now they hit a whole new level of cold.
Obviously he realized she’d unleashed the girls. With any other man, she would have given a wink and a wave. But somehow his withering stare stripped her bare. And she couldn’t look away, couldn’t move.
“Looks like the calendars sold out.”
Her boss’s voice was a welcome excuse to turn away, and she swung toward Sharon Barrett.
“Yes, they were very popular,” Allie said, gesturing at the empty table. “That’s the last of them.”
“No. Place another order. We’re bound to get some demand after the season opener of Man Tracker. And remind me to stay with an all-cowboy calendar. Sales have tripled from last year.”
Allie winced. Last year, the ranch farrier had been featured for April, Cookie for December, and Kate had been Miss July. It had been a hoot and everyone had been delighted to sign their autographs. They hadn’t sold many calendars though, no doubt because a big percentage of guests were females and women preferred cowboys, especially ones who looked and moved like Carter Bass. Even his voice was sexy, something she had reluctantly conceded.
But his aloofness didn’t make the guests happy and he most certainly didn’t fit in with the staff. And this ranch wasn’t just a job; it was her home. And she wasn’t going to let any man come along and wreck it.
“I’ll order more calendars tonight,” Allie said, entering a reminder on her phone. “And I’ll have the photographer take a range of pictures for next year. Maybe we should include some mares and foals? Or maybe Nikki when she’s barrel racing?”
“No. Just cowboys,” Sharon said. “And from now on, I want you to take all the pictures. Yours are just as good. Be sure to include Carter and get the release for his photos. Just in case he quits.”
Allie’s gaze jerked up from her phone screen. “You think he’s going to leave?”
“I hope not,” Sharon said. “Although he’s not going to be comfortable with all this fanfare. And it’s only going to increase with the Man Tracker competition, especially after our contestants are revealed tomorrow night.”
Allie nodded. She hadn’t been told the names of the competitors but apparently one was a famous celebrity whose participation was being touted as big news. All that attention would further expose Carter’s character deficiencies. He’d probably realize it would be best if he left the ranch. He certainly didn’t appear happy with his job.
“I’m going to call Monty and Carter up on the stage now,” Sharon went on. “Were you able to fix the microphone? And did you have the speakers raised in the back?”
“All set,” Allie said. “I’ll stay close to the stage and make sure the sound is working properly. And here are the talking points you wanted.” She handed Sharon a neatly typed list. “Monty doesn’t want to say more than his name and I don’t imagine Carter wants to speak too much either.”
“No,” Sharon said. “But that’s not what Carter signed up for. And that’s why I need you to help him. Act as his buffer.”
Allie jerked back so fast, the chair clattered against the wall. “Buffer? What do you mean?”
“You know, help him with his classes. Keep the women from bothering him. Just over the next few days until he rides out with Monty.”
“But what about my afternoon lessons? And the pool?”
“This is only for a few days,” Sharon said, “until the tracking competition starts. Besides, that other stuff isn’t as important. Just ask someone to fill in.”
Allie automatically nodded her acceptance. But she felt another little sting. It seemed no matter how hard she worked, no matter how many responsibilities she assumed, she’d always be the first to be reassigned. And Sharon might think non-equine activities weren’t important but some of the guests would be disappointed.
“The Shankel family wanted to learn square dancing for their daughter’s wedding,” Allie said. “And there are fourteen people signed up for water aerobics. We don’t have anyone else on staff who can teach those classes.”
“Then find another way to keep them entertained.” Sharon’s voice was impatient now. “Just think up some alternate events that the new girl from the kitchen can teach. Because keeping Carter happy is more important. And really, if we keep the guests busy I don’t suppose anyone will miss you.”
Allie swallowed. “I suppose not,” she said.
CHAPTER TWO
SEVEN A.M. WAS A RIDICULOUS time to schedule a roping lesson. Allie shielded her eyes against the rising sun and studied the guests standing around the arena. Eight females, two males. All of them looked keen to get started, despite the early hour. Amazing really. Her dance lessons would be empty if she held them this early.
Luckily she had a full cup of coffee and if helping Carter was what Sharon wanted she would grit her teeth and bear it. And the first thing she’d been taught was that guests learned faster if they were happy and relaxed.
“The most important thing about early bird classes,” she said, smiling and raising her cup, “is to start with a cup of strong coffee.”
One of the guests giggled, nervous but eager. Four of them didn’t look at her, just craned their necks to see over her head.
“Where’s Carter?” a woman asked. “I thought he was teaching this class, not you.”
“He’ll be here any minute.” Allie resisted the urge to turn and scan the doorway of the barn. She knew he was up. He’d been striding from the breakfast hall when she wandered in, groggy from too little sleep. He’d been talking with another wrangler and hadn’t even looked at her, even though he must know Sharon had asked her to help him out.
“Let’s start with names and where you’re from,” Allie said, introducing herself and then listening as everyone chimed in. She memorized their names, easy enough since she already knew most of them, including Tove, the pony-loving girl who was visiting with her Norwegian grandmother. The two teenagers who’d been so keen to snag Carter’s autograph last night were also here. Allie wasn’t surprised they’d suddenly developed an interest in learning how to rope.
She took an appreciative sip of coffee, rather glad Carter hadn’t appeared yet. She was still sleepy and needed more caffeine before hitting full stride. She wasn’t even sure what Sharon and Carter expected. No doubt her role was to keep the guests chatting and happy while he worked with each one individually.
Her boss had warned that this was a tough bunch, the type staff considered high maintenance. These people were aware they’d paid top dollar and anticipated personal attention from the instructor. They were wealthy, of course, but not rich enough to stay in the more luxurious chalets with their helicopter pads and private security.
It didn’t matter if guests were billionaires or had scraped and saved their vacation dollars for years. Her goal was to keep everyone happy, and she was good at it. In the dance hall, she usually succeeded in pulling people from their chairs, even the most stubborn wallflowers. Although Sharon was always quick to shut down Allie’s lessons, as if they were an unimportant activity, almost an afterthought.
She gave a pensive sigh, consoling herself with another sip of coffee. She forced herself to listen as Trina’s husband, Dwight, introduced himself and then bragged about his vast outdoors experience. He went on to say that he’d once roped a deer and then decided it was more sporting to finish the animal off with his knife.
She firmly steered him back on topic then turned her attention to the last guest, a woman from Texas who said she’d come here solely to learn from a cowboy like Carter Bass. And that she’d seen him win top All-Around Cowboy at Fort Worth and how he’d been the best tie-down roper in Vegas and that he was the only reason she’d even come to this ranch. It was rather sobering, especially since Sharon wasn’t sure if Carter would even be on staff in a few m
ore months.
“That’s great,” Allie said, when the woman paused to take a breath. “Of course we have other famous people here besides Mr. July. We have Monty Smith who won top regional guide twelve years in a row and Kate Miller, an amazing survival expert who doesn’t even need a horse to do her thing.”
The murmuring stopped. Everyone was listening to her now, ten pairs of eyes locked on her face as she explained the talent and credentials of the other ranch instructors. Even Dwight didn’t interrupt.
“Yes, Kate’s amazing,” Allie went on, encouraged by their attention. “She can follow a track that’s days old. She can live in the woods off berries and stuff, and she does way more than throw a rope.”
“Which is what this session is about,” a deep voice behind her said. “So if you’re not here to rope, you can leave now. Go sign up for one of those other classes.”
Someone snickered.
Allie turned to face Carter, heat rising in her face. How he’d managed to sneak up on her, she couldn’t imagine. But he wasn’t even looking at her. He just stared over her head, smiling at the group.
Smiling? Carter?
“The first thing to remember is that you’ll need both hands.” He reached out, unwrapped Allie’s fingers from her cup and dumped the coffee on the ground. She stared in shock at the puddle by her feet. Coffee had even splashed the toe of her boots, staining the purple leather.
“Everyone needs to show up ready to learn,” he added. “By the end of the lesson this morning, you’ll all be able to rope the dummy.” He gave Allie a pointed look.
Someone giggled and then everyone laughed. Allie couldn’t tell if her cheeks were warm from indignation or anger. Even more surprising was how quickly he’d taken control of the class. They were staring in rapt attention, even though he hadn’t introduced himself, hadn’t asked their names or where they were from, or used any of the other proven icebreakers.
Maybe they were so attentive because he stood with a coiled rope, handling it like a weapon, as if daring anyone to stray. It was actually a relief he was no longer looking at her, especially since he’d more or less called her the roping dummy.
Being the brunt of his joke was okay if that’s what he needed to feel secure, she thought, determined to be charitable. If he were happier, it would be good for the ranch. However, she didn’t want that rope anywhere near her shirt. No doubt, it had touched heads and horns and hind feet, and everyone knew the sloppy mess that came out of a cow’s rear end.
She tilted her nose and gave a cautious sniff. But neither Carter nor the rope stunk and what she did smell wasn’t unpleasant, just a rather appealing mixture of soap and leather. There wasn’t even a whiff of manure, a fact she found rather surprising. Most of the wranglers overlooked the manure on their boots and that was why she’d ordered a special mat so they could wipe their feet before entering Cookie’s spotless dining hall.
She hadn’t been this close to Carter before, and now that she wasn’t worrying about his behavior with guests or alternatively exchanging stink eyes, the experience wasn’t totally terrible. Helping out by the barn had always been something she avoided because it meant working alone. There was too much empty space and it was best to have staff close by, considering all the guests coming and going—including men who might not be as harmless as they appeared.
She pulled her thoughts back to the lesson and gave an automatic nod at something Carter was saying. As an assistant, an occasional nod of agreement was important.
Actually, she didn’t feel like she had much of a role here although he seemed deep into the lesson. His voice was smooth and melodious as he spoke to the class about rope lengths and coils and a knot called a hondo, and how it was best to aim for the cow’s right horn.
This was turning out to be a surprisingly relaxing gig. The sun was warm on her face, Carter’s deep voice was soothing, and she felt rather mellow. Probably the lack of caffeine left her drowsy. He was talking about safety issues now: how one should never throw a rope at people, how hard it was to handle a lariat while mounted and how easy it was to lose a thumb. But her eyelids kept sagging.
“Am I boring you?”
His voice had hardened and she jerked to attention. He was looking at her again, his gloved hands moving over the rope as if in tacit warning.
“Not at all,” she said quickly. “It’s very interesting, especially that bit about the thumb.”
She peered at the guests, guessing most of them were as bored as her. But nobody smiled back. Clearly they were sucking up to Carter or maybe they were simply better actors than she was. Either way, bored guests weren’t good for the ranch’s bottom line.
“How about we take a little break,” she said, sweeping both Carter and the guests with a cheery invitation. “We can move around, stretch a bit, and I’ll call the kitchen and have some refreshments sent over.”
Carter just stared, his face impassive.
“They need a break,” she said, lowering her voice so the guests wouldn’t hear. “They’ve been standing around for quite a while. And they’ve been given a lot of instruction without any movement. Sharon doesn’t recommend that lessons be set up this way. And we’re always supposed to learn their names.”
Carter’s eyes had hardened, resembling dark shards of granite. He was not the sort of man who one wanted to engage in a staring contest. But she reminded herself that she’d been sent to help and Sharon was usually adamant about how lessons were structured.
“I am a little bored,” Allie said, determined not to be the first to look away. “So probably others feel the same way, especially Tove. It’s a lot of information to absorb.”
“So you suggest some physical movement?” Carter asked. “For those who are having trouble absorbing?”
“That’s right.” She gave a relieved nod and reached in her pocket for her phone. She’d order in coffee, maybe some of the huckleberry cornbread that always hit the spot. And lots of ice water although at this hour there was little need to worry about sunstroke.
But Carter turned back to the group. “My assistant is a little bored,” he said. “And needs some movement. If anyone else feels the same way, you can join her in carrying out hay bales from the barn.”
She slowly replaced her phone. Coffee was what she needed since he’d so rudely dumped out her cup. And why did they need hay? There were no horses in the arena, only people. Obviously Carter didn’t want her here, a sentiment she shared. Still, she was just trying to keep the guests happy, and it was a ranch directive to add movement designed to pump up the blood. Surely she wasn’t the only person who was half asleep? Everyone just stared at him though, like little mice fascinated by a deadly snake.
“Okay, maybe we can look forward to the refreshments at the end of the lesson.” She gave the guests a bright smile. “I, for one, prefer coffee and cornbread over bales of hay.”
“The hay is for the dummies, Allie,” Carter said. “I certainly don’t expect you to eat it.”
This was the first time he’d ever addressed her by name. She was vaguely surprised he even knew it. She might have savored that small triumph but he was speaking slowly, exaggerating each word, as if dealing with someone rather dense.
One of the guests snickered. It sounded like AnneMarie, the teenager who’d bought all the calendars.
Carter’s jaw tightened. “While Allie’s assembling ten roping dummies,” he said, silencing AnneMarie with a frown, “I’ll hand out the lariats so you can start working on your swing.”
And just like that, she was dismissed.
Allie’s face felt hot but she squared her shoulders and headed toward the barn. He didn’t have to be so condescending. And how was she supposed to know they roped hay? Considering the amount of cattle grazing around the ranch, anyone would assume there were enough live animals to rope.
Now that she thought about it a little more though, she remembered seeing plastic steer heads stuck onto hay bales. She’d thought the dummies were for
children to sit on, to pretend they were bull riding. Although it made sense to practice on plastic cows before tackling the real ones, especially after his warning about tangling one’s hand in the rope and losing a thumb. Didn’t matter. She wasn’t interested in learning to rope, and she didn’t intend to stick around for a lesson when she clearly wasn’t wanted.
She tugged out her phone as soon as she entered the barn.
Sharon Barrett answered on the second ring.
“Carter doesn’t want me here,” Allie said. “Doesn’t need me either. He’s handling the guests just fine.” More than fine. He had them in the palm of his hand. Even Dwight, who already knew the basics of roping, hadn’t elected to leave and help carry hay bales.
“Do they have their lariats yet?” Sharon asked. “That’s when the trouble starts.”
Allie glanced out the door. “He’s given all the guests a rope and they’re trying to twirl it around their heads.”
Dwight was doing well and surprisingly so was Marie, the feisty grandmother from Norway. But several of the younger ladies were having trouble, unable to form anything that remotely resembled a loop. Every one of them needed help. AnneMarie seemed particularly insistent, her mouth pursed in appeal, her hand clasped around Carter’s arm. And he didn’t look at all receptive, as if he were seconds away from shaking it off.
“I understand now,” Allie said, feeling a wave of empathy. That type of thing happened to her in the dance hall, when some men kept their hands on her hip a little too long, as though entitled to a larger share of attention. She didn’t like it, but had learned how to politely reclaim her personal space.
But there was a fine line between being assertive and being rude. Since Carter didn’t ever seem to care about pissing anyone off, it was obvious why Sharon was concerned.
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