“I would take credit for that, but the truth is, I noseyed around town and asked about you. Seems Wild River residents don’t forget football records.”
Carter knew that for fact. “I’m curious. What else did you learn about me?”
“Ex-military. Father’s a drunk. You’re fair in your dealings and run a tight ship.”
The side of his jaw itched. Carter pressed his fingers there, scratching it and staring at the older man. He’d never had his life summed up so succinctly before. The man could have added “recently jilted by your girlfriend” to the list. “The job is for a groundskeeper. To keep watch over the land and an old structure I’m thinking about renovating. You don’t have experience in that.”
Bill Fargo crossed his arms over his slender frame and sat back in his seat. “I kept twenty boys and girls interested in history every semester. Kept a forty-man football team of teenagers from fighting, drinking and bad-mouthing authority. If I’m given a job, I do it. I’ve got some experience with firearms, too.”
Carter’s brows lifted. “I don’t doubt that.” He studied his résumé under Hobbies. “You’re a hunter.”
“That’s right.”
“Why do you want to work here?” Carter asked.
“I need work and Wild River’s a nice enough place to live.”
Carter liked the old guy. He believed he’d get an honest day’s work out of him. “Fair enough.” Carter took a second to go over his résumé once more. Henry liked him enough to recommend him, and he’d made a good impression. “Everything looks good. If you’re in agreement with the terms, you’re hired.”
Carter extended his hand and Fargo’s grip was solid and steady as they shook on it. Then they rose from their seats. “See Henry tomorrow and he’ll go over your duties. Is there anything else I can answer for you?”
“Can’t think of a thing,” Fargo said.
“Great. Then thank you for the interview.”
They said their farewells and Carter watched the older man walk out. He debated about telling him that Macy Tarlington, daughter to the legendary actress, was staying on the property. His trust went only so far, and Carter found himself protective of his new houseguest. He’d wait to see how well Bill Fargo worked out on the ranch before divulging to him Macy’s real identity.
“Thought you should know, I hired someone to keep an eye on the inn at night.”
Startled, Macy glanced up from arranging dinner plates on the kitchen table. She’d been deep in thought and hadn’t heard Carter come in.
“He’s an older man, but capable. You might see him around the ranch.”
Carter walked into the room, his deep Texas drawl drifting over her. He moved with lazy grace, his boots clicking on the stone floor until he was right beside her.
“I, uh, I thought it was safe here.”
“Usually it is. Nothing like this has happened before. Must’ve been some kids looking to get into mischief. A window was broken. Not a big deal. But being that you’re here now, couldn’t hurt to have some extra security.”
“Extra? What else do you have besides the fences and gates?”
She gazed into his clear hazel eyes. He smelled good, like raw earth and musk. He gave her a sly smile. “My men. Most of them carry handguns.”
Macy swallowed hard. She came from a place where owning guns was practically politically incorrect. “Why?”
“Rattlesnakes and rustlers.”
“You’re joking?”
Carter brushed her shoulder softly when he turned to get the pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. He brought it over to the table. “You wouldn’t say that if you were staring into the beady eyes of a diamondback.”
She gasped. “Have you?”
He poured iced tea into two glasses. He set one by each of their plates. “At least a dozen times.”
She rubbed the shiver out of her arms. “I hate snakes.”
“They probably don’t like us too much, either. Hazards of ranching.”
“But this place is like a resort. I mean, you’ve got lovely grounds, gardens and pools. And a tennis court.”
Carter sipped his tea. “It’s all a facade.”
“Now you are joking.” Macy nibbled on her lower lip. She’d never thought, for one moment, that she wouldn’t be safe on the ranch. “You didn’t say anything about snakes when you showed me around the grounds the other day.”
“I was watching, don’t you worry.”
She thought back to how carefree she’d felt on that walk. “But you didn’t have a gun on you.” She paused and blinked. “Did you?”
“I had a knife.” Carter smiled and walked over to the stove top. “You’re not backing out on the ride, are you?”
“Oh, uh…” The thought had crossed her mind, but Macy rarely wimped out on anything, nude scenes excluded. “No. Don’t be silly. I still want to go.” A little tremor ran through her. “You’ll be armed, right?”
He laughed. “Yeah. But just so you know, it’s kinda hard getting bit by a snake atop a horse anyway.”
She remembered the movie Snakes on a Plane. If they could get on a plane…
Carter lifted the lid on the roasting pan. Mara had left them pot roast, potatoes and steamed vegetables. He took a whiff and made a sound of satisfaction. “Mmm. You ready to eat? I’m hungry.”
“It does smell good.”
Macy redirected her focus. She couldn’t think about guns and rattlesnakes over dinner. Her mind flashed to a few hours ago when Carter had joined her at the pool. Had she mistaken his innuendo? She didn’t think so.
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