“That’s great. Thank you.”

“We’ll have to talk about your budget.”

“Sounds good. I’ve learned to live on a shoestring. I can be thrifty.”

Carter nodded. “I’ve had to do the same. But, if we’re doing this, I don’t want to pinch pennies. You’ll have all you need to make the place shine. I only have one condition.”

Carter sent her a serious look and Macy blinked. “I’m holding my breath. What is it? You want the walls purple or retro furniture or something?”

“Very funny. I’m asking you to use local vendors for most of the work.”

“Oh?”

“Texans stick together. Folks around here like to keep the neighbors employed.”

“That’s very upstanding of you.”

“I know.” He sent her a bone-melting smile. “I’m that kind of guy.”

It wasn’t easy, but she ignored his down-home charm. “Of course, I’ll hire locals for the work.” Her mind was spinning. She was determined to do a good job with the inn. It was a project she could sink her teeth into.

“Good.”

Macy’s heart raced and her exuberance spilled out. “Carter, I can’t tell you how excited I am about this.”

He glanced at her lips as she spoke and then pierced her with a solid, no-fooling look. “I got that already.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. She didn’t often blush, but Carter had a way of awakening emotions that didn’t usually surface.

His gaze drifted to the mare and her colt. “How about Midnight?”

“Midnight?” She swallowed. “For what?” Was he making a date with her? Surely, he didn’t want to talk budgets in the middle of the night. After the way he’d kissed her, the direction her mind traveled was X-rated. Then it dawned on her. “Oh, you mean as a name for the colt?”

He grinned. “What else?”

He was a tease, a heartthrob and a gorgeous hunk of man. “I like Midnight. It’s sort of…perfect.”

“Midnight it is.” He tipped his hat and left the corral fence, ushering the horses into the barn for the night.

When he disappeared through the double-wide doors, she strode into the house. She had an inn to refurbish. She would focus all of her energy on the task and not give Carter McCay more thought than absolutely necessary.

She clung to that notion for dear life.


* * *

Two nights later, Macy sat at a bridge table in the parlor of the inn going over her decorating plans when a knock sounded at the door. She’d locked herself in, as Carter had instructed when the new dead bolts were installed. Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. It was after seven. She’d gotten carried away with paint and floor samples and didn’t realize the late hour. She’d missed dinner at the house with Carter.

“Miss Tarlington? Are you all right in there?”

She recognized the man’s raspy voice. She piled her notes and samples in a stack then stepped away from the table and opened the door to face Bill Fargo.

“Sorry to bother you, miss. I’m doing my rounds, checking on things. And well…”

“Let me guess. You have orders to check on me.”

Contrite, he answered her with a quick smile. “Just doing my job.”

“I’m fine in here. But, wow…I didn’t realize how late it was. Do you have time to come in for a minute? I’ll take a break.”

He wore a cowboy hat, not the same as Carter’s, but it suited him in slate gray to match the rest of his attire. He looked as if he fit in around here already, though he’d been on the job less time than Macy had been at Wild River. He was the newbie.

“I have a few minutes.” He stepped inside and took off his hat.

“I’m working on plans for the house.” He followed her into the parlor just off the entranceway. “Please, have a seat.”

On a nod, he pulled out one of the four folding chairs around the table and waited for her to sit before he took his seat.

Gentlemanly charm got to her every time. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Would you like some iced tea? I have a thermos and an extra cup.”

“That’d be nice. I’m a little thirsty.”

Macy poured iced tea into two foam cups and handed him one. “So, you know my last name.”

He nodded. “Yes, I do. I know who you are.”

“Did Carter tell you?”

He shook his head. “He told me your first name. I figured out the rest. I’m a drifter, but I’m not a recluse. I guess you could say, I enjoyed your mother’s work. She was a fine actress.”

Macy had heard that compliment a thousand times. Her mother moved people with her acting ability, but it was her lifestyle and celebrity status that had kept her name in the limelight. “She was a wonderful mother.”

“I’m sure you miss her.”

“I do. The heart condition that claimed her life moved fast. One day she was healthy and vital, and it seemed the next she was frail and ill. But it was a blessing that she didn’t linger. I know that in my head, but I wanted more time with her.”

“That’s understandable.” He sipped his drink and gave her a smile that reached his eyes. They were perceptive eyes, ones that had seen a lot of life. “Mr. McCay said you’re at the ranch for some solitude. I won’t breach that confidence. I keep to myself, too.”

“Then you do understand.” Macy returned his smile before sipping her iced and then glanced at the paint chips on the table. “I could use a second opinion. I can’t quite decide. Would you mind?”

“I can’t say I have decorating sense, but I know what I like.”

Macy pulled out a string of paint samples that were attached to a metal ring. “I’m leaning toward Stone Mountain. There’s a hint of lavender in the grayish hue. I also like Chocolate Milk and Brown Sugar for the upstairs bedrooms. I can’t decide. I like them all.”

Bill Fargo took a long time to look them over, his eyes assessing and his gaze thoughtful. “Can you choose more than one?”

“I could. I was thinking of doing each room differently. Giving them their own personality.”

“Then I think you’ve made wise choices.” He picked up a sample of Sage. “This one reminds me of the kitchen in the house I grew up in. It’s warm and friendly.”

Macy grinned. “Really? I think so, too. That was my exact choice for the kitchen.” She leaned her elbows on the table and tilted her head toward him. “Where did you grow up?”

Fargo’s face tightened a fraction and Macy immediately wished she hadn’t asked. Here she was, trying to keep her own background hidden only to pry into someone else’s life.

“Oh, I grew up on the East Coast, but I’ve lived all over the country. I can’t say that my life was dull, that’s for sure.”

There was no ring on his finger, but she wondered if Fargo had been married at one time.

She commiserated. “Mine sure wasn’t.”

Fargo’s mouth spread into a smile. “I’ll bet we both have stories to tell.”

“I’d love to hear yours one day.”

He rose from the table. “Maybe one day. But right now, I’d better get back to work. Can I give you a lift back to the house?”

She peered out a slice of window the frayed curtains didn’t cover. “It’s getting dark. Rocky usually leads the way home, but Mara took the poor baby into town today to get his yearly vaccinations. Yes, I’d love a ride home.”

Macy gathered her belongings, making sure to take the paint samples. Hopefully tomorrow the local painters she’d hired would start work upstairs. Macy didn’t know how long she’d be here at Wild River, but indefinitely wasn’t in the cards. She had a life to return to, but while she was here she wanted to accomplish as much as possible.


* * *

Later that night Macy sat up on her bed, tired of tossing and turning. Plaguing thoughts kept her from sleep, and she’d learned not to fight it. She rose from the bed and put on her silk robe. She felt stifled in her room, but it wasn’t the place or the heat that really bothered her. Her future loomed large in her mind tonight.

She left Rocky soundly sleeping at the foot of her bed and envied his ability to sleep like the dead. What a watchdog. The door creaked as Macy opened it and tiptoed out of the room. The hallway, devoid of windows, was black as pitch. She padded her way down the corridor, feeling her way. Her shoulder bumped the wall with a soft thump. She quickly righted herself and continued, moving with more confidence now.

She stepped on something. Sharp pain shot through her foot. Her toes curled. Caught off guard, she went down with a loud bang, her body hitting the hard tiled floor. “Ow! Oh, ow! Ow!” Her voice boomed through the hallway.

Her body folded like an accordion. She grabbed her foot.

“Macy?”

Suddenly, Carter was there, bending over her. He came down on one knee and looked her over, searching her eyes first. The hallway was no longer dark as death. Carter was backlit with light coming from the living room. Water droplets covered his chest. He was wet. All over. Only a towel covered him from waist to thigh. Her heart in her throat, the pain in her foot dulled. She stared at him.

“Are you hurt?”

“I…I stepped on something.”

Carter reached behind her and came up with Rocky’s rawhide bone. One end was gnawed to an arrowhead point. “Yep, that looks painful,” he said.

Macy stared at his bare chest. Underneath those cotton shirts he wore lay a plank of hard abs and brawn fit enough for MuscleMag. She’d known he was mouthwatering, but seeing him in the raw was a whole lot better than her imagination had conjured up.

“Let me take a look.” He lifted her leg and examined her foot. His hazel eyes scoured her from heel to toe as his fingers lightly caressed the pad of her foot. A tremble coursed the length of her leg where he held her firm. As she leaned back to allow his perusal, her robe slipped off her shoulders, trapping her arms. “Looks okay. No blood.” He lowered her foot down carefully.