Maureen Child - The Highest Bidder

“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 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.”

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