Lila had offered to pick her up again, but Abby waved her off. It was time to get acquainted with the town of Royal. Besides, the Texas Cattleman’s Club was only a few blocks away. Even with her camera and tote, it was easily within walking distance.
Today, she dressed in black dress pants and a cream blazer over a cinnamon silk tank. The jacket had large, quirky black buttons. When she was ready, she glanced at herself in the mirror. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of onyx studs she had purchased from an artisan in Sedona. Her black espadrilles were comfortable enough for the stroll, but nice enough to complement her outfit.
She debated what to do with her hair. Her preference was to leave it loose, but it was going to be very hot today. In the end, she twined it in a loose French braid.
When she had grabbed what she would need for the morning and then exited the hotel, she realized she was nervous. The people who would attend this meeting today were key players in Royal’s high-powered business scene. It took a lot of money and influence to pull off an event like Soiree on the Bay.
Seeing the famed Texas Cattleman’s Club in person was fascinating. The imposing edifice dated back to 1910, though it had been updated over the years. The large, rambling single-story building was constructed of dark stone and wood with a tall slate roof. Though once an all-male enclave, the onetime “old boys’ club” now welcomed females into the membership.
Inside was even more impressive. Super high ceilings, large windows and, of course, the ubiquitous hunting trophies and historical artifacts displayed on paneled walls. Abby liked history as much as the next person, but dead animal heads weren’t her thing.
The meeting was to start at ten. She had arrived at nine thirty. After gawking in the spacious foyer, she spoke with the receptionist and showed her credentials. The woman directed her to a conference room down a broad hallway.
Lila was already there, setting out water glasses and pens and paper. She looked up when Abby walked in. “Hey, Abby. I’m glad you’re early. I made up a cheat sheet for you.”
“A cheat sheet?” she asked.
“Yeah, I thought you could use a head start. It’s confusing when they all start talking at once. Do you want me to introduce you formally?”
“Whatever you think. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind being the proverbial fly on the wall. At least until I get my bearings.”
“Then we’ll do that,” Lila said cheerily. She handed Abby a sheet of paper. “This isn’t everyone, but it’s the core of the group. I copied their pictures in color and gave you a brief bio of each.”
“Excellent.” While Lila finished her prep work, Abby took a seat at the back of the room against the wall. The main participants would be seated around the large, beautifully polished conference table.
She had studied up on the main players already. Russell Edmond—Rusty—was the oft-married patriarch of the überwealthy family. His money came from oil, and he owned a massive, luxurious ranch outside of town. It was his three children, Russell Jr., known as Ross, Gina Edmond and Asher Edmond, who were spearheading the festival.
When the door opened and the principals began arriving, she put aside her cheat sheet and concentrated on learning about the actors involved. Ross Edmond—tall and lanky with dirty blond hair and blue eyes—was impossible to miss. He had the innate confidence that comes with wealth.
His sister, Gina, had gorgeous dark hair and eyes and was super stylish. She looked to be close to Abby’s age. That left the other Edmond sibling, Asher, who, according to Lila’s cheat sheet, was actually a stepbrother. Odd, because his close-cropped brown hair and brown eyes resembled Gina’s. Even at first glance, he seemed the most intense of the trio.
There were a few other people entering the room in a trickle, but it was soon clear they were either assistants or people like Lila who represented the town of Royal in various capacities.
That left only one unidentified player. According to Lila’s info, his name was Billy Holmes. Somehow, he was involved with the Edmonds in planning the festival.
Abby had to admit he was gorgeous. Black hair, pale green eyes and scruffy facial hair gave him a roguish presence. He smiled. A lot. At everyone. Who was he, and how did he fit into this scenario?
Ross Edmond convened the meeting. Apparently, all the heavy lifting had been accomplished in earlier gatherings. Today was about tying up loose ends and making sure everyone was on the same page.
Abby listened carefully, making notes about anything she thought might have a bearing on her film.
At a lull in the conversation, Lila stood and motioned toward Abby. “I want you all to meet Abby Carmichael. She’s the documentary filmmaker I’ve told you about. If the festival goes well, Abby’s work will help lift our visibility to the next level and ensure that the festival continues for years to come.”
Abby smiled and nodded, well aware that no one was particularly interested in what she had to offer. Except perhaps Billy Holmes. His grin seemed personal, and he looked her over carefully. The perusal fell just shy of being inappropriate. She had met men like him. If any female appeared on their radar, they had to make a good impression.
Eventually, the meeting wound to a close. There was a sense of urgency, given that the festival was only weeks away. After months of planning, everything was finally falling into place.
As Lila did her job, chatting with everyone and gathering up the materials she had brought with her, Abby was disconcerted to realize that Billy Holmes had lingered and was making a beeline in her direction.
She stood and smiled politely. “Hello, Mr. Holmes. I wonder if I might interview you in a few days. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”
He reached out to shake her hand. “I always have time for anyone who wants to promote the festival.”
Abby hesitated. “Well, I’m not promoting the festival per se. I’m a visual storyteller. Soiree on the Bay—along with the town of Royal—promises to be an interesting project. But of course, my film won’t be out anytime soon.”
“Doesn’t matter. We want the festival to be such a big hit it will go on for years.”
“You sound like a man with a vision.”
“I like to think so.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta run. How about Thursday at eleven for your interview? Would you like to see the Elegance Ranch? I live in a guesthouse on the Edmonds’ property. I’ll get my housekeeper to feed us.”
“Sure,” Abby said, wondering if she might be getting in over her head. Billy Holmes seemed nice enough, but she couldn’t figure out where he fit in with the Edmond clan and the festival. Until she did, she would be on her guard.
As Billy walked out of the room, Lila joined Abby. “Well, what did you think?”
“I think people with a lot of money are a different breed.”
Lila cocked her head, smiling gently. “Your father owns a Malibu beach house and your mom is a Manhattan socialite. You’re hardly scraping by.”
Abby grimaced. “Fair point. But you know what I mean. The Edmond family has buckets of cash. Not to mention land and influence. Here in Texas, they’re practically royalty. Now that I’ve met several of them, I’m seeing a new direction for my film. Maybe the documentary will be less about the festival and more about the people who can pull off such a feat. What do you think?”
Lila held up her hands. “Not my area of expertise. But the Edmonds are fascinating, that’s for sure. What’s next on your schedule?”
“I’ve asked Carter Crane to let me do some filming on his ranch. You know, for local color.”
The other woman grinned. “How was the drive yesterday? You must have made a big impression on the man.”
Abby felt her face get hot. “It was a fun afternoon. I like him. And I think the camera will love him...those sharp cut features and strong chin.”
“I’m surprised he’s agreed to that. Carter likes to
keep a low profile.”
“I’m not sure how much latitude he’ll give me. But I’m hopeful.”
Lila sobered without warning, her expression serious. “Be careful, Abby. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Five
Abby’s stomach curled with anxiety. “What’s wrong with Carter? He’s been a perfect gentleman as far as I can tell.”
“I feel bad gossiping, but you need to know the truth. Carter keeps women at a distance, particularly women like you.”
“Women like me? What in the heck does that mean?” She was mildly insulted. And worried.
Lila perched on the edge of the table, one leg swinging. “Carter was engaged to a woman from Chicago a few years ago. Madeline moved to Royal, and they began planning a wedding. But the next thing I knew, the festivities were canceled and the two of them were officially over. Apparently, Madeline hated life ‘in the sticks’ as she called it. She missed her big-city life, and she detested cows and horses and dust.”
“Oh.” Abby felt stupid and small. Maybe Carter was just playing with her. “Thank you for telling me,” she muttered.
“I hope I haven’t stepped over the line,” Lila said, her expression conveying both worry and concern. “But if I weren’t a happily engaged woman, Carter Crane might give me a few heart palpitations. He’s macho and sexy and aloof. The trifecta when it comes to attracting the female sex.”
“He is handsome.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” Lila fretted.
Abby summoned a light tone. “I barely know the man. But I appreciate the information.” She picked up her bag. “I’d better head out. Plenty to do. Thanks for letting me sit in on this meeting. It helped a lot.”
“Sure,” Lila said. “And let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
As Abby walked down Main Street, she tried to absorb the feel of the place. It’s true that the town wasn’t huge. Maverick County was mostly rural. But still, there was an upscale feel to the buildings and the businesses. Perhaps because oil money and cattle money had a far reach. Good schools. Great roads. This was no backwoods holler.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that lunch was next on the agenda. On a whim, she popped into the Royal Diner. Its 1950s retro decor and red, white and black color scheme were charming. When Abby had asked her hotel concierge for recommendations, he told her the diner was top-notch, and that the owner, Amanda Battle, was the sheriff’s wife.
Now Abby slid into a red faux leather booth and tucked her things on the seat beside her. The menu offerings made her mouth water. When the pleasant older waitress stopped by the table, Abby ordered a vanilla milkshake, a tuna melt with fries and a glass of water. It had been a long time since she had indulged in such comfort food. Her mother was always dieting, and her father was a vegan.
When the meal arrived, Abby dug in with enthusiasm. Often while eating alone, she used the time to “people watch” or to get ideas down on paper. Today, she did both. With a sandwich in one hand and a pen in the other, she began filling a small notebook with her observations from today’s meeting.
The Edmond siblings each had distinct personalities. She didn’t know what to make of Billy Holmes. Perhaps her interview with him would uncover interesting layers. Often, people were more at ease in their home settings, so she wasn’t averse to meeting him out at the ranch. He might even give her access to the Edmond family members if she decided to explore that route.
She had finished her sandwich and was nibbling on the last of her fries when she realized two women had taken the booth right behind hers—the one that had been vacant when she arrived. Abby tried not to eavesdrop, but the hushed conversation turned interesting quickly.
Though the women were conversing in lowered voices, Abby was only inches away. The words festival and money caught her attention immediately. Unfortunately, she couldn’t hear every single phrase. But the gist of the topic was clear: the women seemed to be discussing the possibility that someone had taken a large sum of money from the festival coffers.
Abby’s eyes widened. Not a hint about finances had come up during the advisory board meeting, nor a whiff of a problem. Were the members of the board hiding something, or was she overhearing idle gossip?
Unfortunately, the waitress brought Abby’s check. There were customers waiting to be seated, so it seemed rude to linger. As she stood and picked up her belongings, she glanced at the women in the booth behind her. Neither of them was remarkable.
But what she heard stuck with her.
She spent the next couple of hours exploring Royal, filming anything that caught her fancy. Historic buildings. Quirky shop signs. Kids playing in a park. Though the town definitely possessed an almost palpable energy, that feeling was balanced by a sense that life was comfortable here. Predictable. Enjoyable.
Despite the fact that she was definitely out of her element, she had to acknowledge that Royal was interesting and charming. People were friendly. More than once, she found herself embroiled in a sidewalk conversation. In a community where everybody knew everybody, Abby apparently stood out.
She didn’t mind the attention, not really. But after a few hours of walking the streets, she was more than ready to head back to the hotel. Getting clean, donning comfy pajamas and watching TV sounded like the perfect way to unwind.
The only irritant marring her peaceful afternoon was knowing that Carter hadn’t called or texted. When he invited her to his ranch, she’d had to wave him off because of the advisory board meeting. Unfortunately, he hadn’t said a word about tomorrow or the next day or the day after that.
When she got back to her room, she decided to be proactive...
Hi, Carter. Is it okay if I come out to the ranch in the morning? Seven-ish? I’d love to do some filming with the morning light. If there are no gates to unlock, I won’t even have to bother you.
After a moment’s hesitation, she hit Send. Then she turned her phone facedown and headed for the shower.
* * *
Carter rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock—5:00 a.m. He had no reason to be up at this hour, but he’d been dreaming. Hot, sensual, disturbing dreams.
And all because Abby Carmichael was coming out to his ranch. He slung an arm over his head and stretched, feeling the brush of cool sheets against his hot skin.
Already he knew the shape of her body, the sound of her voice, the scent of her skin. At this particular moment, he felt like a hormonal teenager about to catch a glimpse of his high school crush.
The difference was, he and Abby were consenting adults, fully capable of making rash decisions.
By the time he showered and dressed and gobbled down some breakfast, he was jittery as hell. He didn’t want to be interviewed, and he didn’t want to be filmed. But he did want more time with Abby, so he was stuck.
In their text exchange last night, she had offered to stay away from the house. Abby claimed to want ethereal shots of the stables and the pastures and the corrals bathed in warm light. She promised not to get in the way of any ranch operations.
Did she really think he would ignore her presence? Surely, she wasn’t that naive or clueless. That one kiss they shared had been incendiary and left him wanting more.
He walked out back to the barn and saddled up his horse. As a teenager, he had sometimes slept until noon. Now he had come to appreciate the mystical purity of the early morning. A man could think and plan and contemplate taking risks at this time of day. The slight chill in the air was invigorating—even more so because it was fleeting.
Carter galloped along the gravel and dirt road that bisected the ranch, squinting into the strengthening rays of the sun. It was after eight now. Where was she?
And then he spotted her. She had parked her rental car at the edge of the road and was climbing the fence to get a shot of sunflowers. Carter hadn’t planted them. They were
his mother’s legacy. But he had to admit, they made his heart swell with happiness and pride every time he passed them.
Sunset Acres had been passed into his keeping. Carter had a duty to perform. And he was working his ass off to make sure the ranch remained healthy and viable.
As he approached his visitor, he slowed the horse to a trot. Abby seemed to not notice his presence yet. She was intent on her task. With the camera balanced on her shoulder and one leg wrapped around the fence, she was perched precariously.
He didn’t want to startle her.
Instead, he tied off the horse and covered the last few yards on foot.
“Abby,” he said quietly. “Good morning.”
After a split second, she half turned and looked over her free shoulder at him. “Carter. I didn’t hear you.”
“I could tell.” Then he noticed her earbuds. “Ah. You’re listening to music.”
She shook her head, grimacing. “No.” She lowered the camera. “It’s a podcast.”
“About?”
She shrugged. “Learning to take chances. Building self-confidence. Stuff like that.”
“All set?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then let me help you down. Camera first.”
She handed it over without argument and watched him as he placed it carefully on the seat of her car. Then he lifted his arms. “Come off that fence, Ms. Photographer. Before you break your neck.”
When he settled his hands on her waist, she leaned forward and let him take her weight. She was thin. Maybe too thin. But she was really tall for a woman, so perhaps that accounted for it. In the split second when he held her completely with her slender body pressed to his, his heart punched hard.
Carefully, he let her slide to her feet. She stumbled, but he steadied her.
“Thanks, Carter,” she murmured.
There it was again. That odd and disarming way she pronounced his name.
“I thought you might stop by the house to say hello,” he muttered, swamped by a wave of need so intense it made him tremble.
Texas Tough Page 5