Texas Tough

by Janice Maynard

  In the end, she made it with ten minutes to spare. Valencia met her at the gate with a friendly smile. “Hi, Abby,” she said. “Billy filled me in about your work. How exciting. I’d love to have my organization featured in your documentary.”

  Valencia was gorgeous. Her eyes were the same brown as Abby’s, but the comparison ended there. She was tall and leggy with a mane of wavy, golden blond hair. Her skinny jeans and multicolored peasant blouse painted a picture of free-spirited warmth.

  Abby felt a little dowdy in comparison, which was dumb, because she had been perfectly satisfied with her appearance when she left the hotel. Perhaps something about Valencia was an unpleasant reminder of all the blond and perfect girls who had at times made her life a misery growing up.

  In reality, Valencia was nothing but welcoming and complimentary of Abby’s chosen profession and everything else. She was patient while Abby filmed various aspects of the horse rescue. After they toured the barn and met a few of the horses, the other woman sighed. “I’m in the mood for some of Amanda Battle’s lemon meringue pie. What if we head back to town and finish our conversation at the diner?”

  “I’m game,” Abby said.

  Over lunch, the two of them bonded. Valencia was funny and unpretentious. Abby learned that she had left a successful corporate career to rescue horses.

  Abby took a sip of her tea. “From boardroom to horse ranch? What was the appeal?”

  “I love horses, always have,” Valencia said. “I had saved up enough money to buy the land, and I’ve begun locating horses in peril. You’d be shocked how many people think they want to own a horse and then find out how much hard work it is.”

  “But not Royal ranchers.”

  “Oh, no. The horses I rescue come from all over. I sometimes drive five or six hours to pick up an animal.”

  “Impressive. I don’t mean to be rude, but are there enough people who care about mistreated horses to donate to a charity? Billy Holmes told me that Donovan Horse Rescue is one of the beneficiaries of Soiree on the Bay.”

  “I’m hoping to make the focus of my work equine therapy, in particular for children. You see, I’m very interested in providing immersive summer camp opportunities, and kids who have experienced tragedy respond well to horses. Particularly when part of their activities include learning how to care for an animal. Feeding, brushing, that sort of thing... I filled out an application and submitted it to the festival board. They must have liked my pitch.”

  “Do you mind if I ask how much you’re going to receive?”

  “Not at all.” Valencia named a number in the high five figures.

  “Wow! You must be very excited.”

  “I definitely am. I’ve been working on my business plan. Of course, I won’t receive any money until all the ticket sales are in. But in the meantime, I’m getting everything ready on paper, so I don’t miss a single moment. I’m thrilled that I was chosen.”

  “I see why.” Abby flashed her a warm smile. “You’re passionate about this project, and I’m sure that came across in your proposal. Good for you. I think it’s wonderful that the money from the festival will get you started. And to know that children will benefit? You must be very proud.”

  Back at the hotel, Abby studied the notes she’d made during lunch. She had filmed Valencia speaking in the barn. But the footage of the horse rescue operation would be excellent B-roll. No one wanted to see a documentary that was only talking heads. Abby’s narration would flesh out the woman’s vision.

  At one thirty, she stared at her phone, wishing she could pretend she had never seen last night’s communication from Carter. If he’d sent a simple “let’s hook up” text, it might have been easier to answer. She could have responded from the standpoint of purely physical gratification, nothing more. But if she went out to Sunset Acres this afternoon, she would have to interact with his family.

  It didn’t make sense. She knew without a doubt that Carter wasn’t making a grand meet-the-parents gesture. Abby had known him less than a week. So why had he invited her at all?

  The clock was ticking. To wait any longer would be unforgivably rude.

  Gnawing her lip, she tapped out a long-overdue reply.

  Is the offer still good? I finished up a couple of things earlier than expected.

  One minute passed. Then two. When the phone finally dinged, she exhaled all the breath she had been holding. Carter’s reply was not nuanced at all, darn it. No lines to read between.

  Sure. Why don’t you show up around five? We’ll eat at six. Or I can pick you up, if you don’t want to drive.

  Abby was alarmed to realize how much relief she experienced.

  I’ll see you then...happy to drive. Can I bring anything?

  Carter posted a smiley face.

  You’re staying in a hotel. I think that gives you a free pass. See you soon...

  Abby clicked out of the text screen. Now her next question was very personal. Should she pack a bag? If she didn’t, she’d be giving her libido a clear signal. That this was dinner. Nothing more.

  On the other hand, if Carter was interested in a repeat performance of Abby and Carter’s Greatest Hits, she would be much more comfortable with her own toiletries and a change of clothes.

  Did a grown man invite his lover to spend the night when his parents were in residence? Of course, Carter had made a point of mentioning a guesthouse and his privacy.

  On the other hand, was Abby really his lover? That sounded like a far more formal relationship than what she had with him.

  They had slept together. True. But that was it. Or was it?

  She changed her mind about what to wear half a dozen times. It was hot today, scorching really. In this weather, she always preferred a light, loose-fitting dress. Fortunately she had one she hadn’t worn yet. The double layer of white gauzy fabric and halter neck meant she wouldn’t even have to wear a bra.

  That seemed like a prudent choice when the temps were nearing the hundred-degree mark. The dress had its own woven, gold leather belt. She had sandals to match. And a pair of unabashedly over-the-top dangly gold earrings.

  Because she was antsy, she got ready far too early. She decided to leave anyway and drive around town before heading out to the ranch. Her camera would be in the trunk, just in case.

  Friday night in Royal meant a lot of people in town. Restaurants and bars were hopping, even at this early hour. Teenagers thronged the streets, doing all the silly things adolescents do when it’s summertime, and hormones are raging.

  Abby had to smile. Some behaviors were universal. She hadn’t dated much in high school, but she’d suffered through a couple of unrequited crushes. It had been college before she had really come out of her shell. She’d been shy by nature and inclined to stay out of the spotlight.

  That was one reason filmmaking appealed to her. She could control the narrative. No one would be staring at her as long as she stayed behind the camera.

  Finally, she turned the car in the direction of Carter’s ranch, smiling as she recalled their first encounter. Even now, the memory of him on horseback—silhouetted against the sun—caused her heart to beat faster.

  This evening’s visit to Sunset Acres made her uneasy, and she wasn’t even there yet. Despite their night of unbridled sex, much of her contact with Carter up until now had been couched in terms of her project. Nothing about this latest invitation was business related.

  It felt personal.

  The last time she had seen him, he’d been asleep—his big, tanned body sprawled against white sheets, his hair mussed and his face unshaven. She had tiptoed out at the first hint of dawn, not wanting a confrontation. Cowardly? Sure. But an action and a choice predicated on self-preservation.

  This time, she didn’t linger anywhere on the property. She drove straight to Carter’s house and parked. As she stepped out of the car, a curvy
brunette with a baby on her hip came down the steps. “Hey there. You must be Abby. I’m Denise, Carter’s younger sister. And this is Beebee.”

  Abby gazed at the infant with something like awe. Beebee was solid, her legs bracketed in rolls of baby fat. “Hi, Beebee.”

  The kid babbled a few nonsense syllables, but she didn’t smile. Maybe she didn’t approve of women who wanted to travel the world instead of getting pregnant.

  Denise retrieved a plastic booster seat from her car, the kind that could be strapped to a chair. “Come on in, Abby. I want you to meet my husband and my mother. Dad is out back grilling with Carter.”

  Abby fell into step. “That must be a macho Texas guy thing. Grilling? I guess it’s a requirement?”

  Abby held open the door as Denise replied, “Not gonna lie. It’s in their DNA. After all, this is beef country. At least Mom and I have convinced them to branch out over the years. There will be steaks, always, but chicken breasts, too, and fresh veggies.”

  “Sounds delicious.” Abby’s stomach growled. She’d gone easy at lunch, but now the smells wafting from the grill teased her taste buds.

  Mrs. Crane was in the dining room. She was in her midfifties, attractive and fit. Carter’s mom seemed pleasant enough, but Abby had the feeling that she was being assessed by her de facto hostess and maybe falling short.

  The older woman grilled Abby right away. “So how long has my son known you, Ms. Carmichael?”

  “Call me Abby, please. Not long at all. I’ve come to Royal to do a documentary on the Soiree on the Bay festival.”

  “Ah. But Carter has no interest in the festival.”

  “No, ma’am. None. But he’s allowing me to film here at the ranch, so that I can showcase Royal and the ranching industry as a backdrop to my story.”

  “I see.”

  “Mama.” Denise raised an eyebrow. “Behave.”

  Her mother gave her an innocent look. “I’m just getting to know Abby.”

  “Right.” Denise shook her head, apparently used to her mother’s tactics. She handed Beebee to the only other person in the room. “This is my husband, Ernie. Ernie, Abby.”

  Abby shook the man’s free hand. “Nice to meet you. Your daughter is a sweetheart.”

  Ernie was quiet and seemed not to mind when his little one yanked handfuls of his hair. “She keeps us on our toes,” he said ruefully.

  Mrs. Crane’s given name was Cynthia, as Abby learned when the father-son duo came in bearing a platter of shrimp, the ubiquitous steak and chicken breasts.

  When Carter’s gaze met hers across the room, the jolt of heat was so profound, she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Apparently not.

  Carter smiled at the room in general, though his introduction was more personal. “Abby, this is my dad, Lamar. I see you’ve met the rest of the clan.”

  “I did,” she said, taking the seat Denise offered her. Cynthia had set the table earlier while her son-in-law poured drinks. Abby was surprised to see that the menu was free of any alcoholic beverages. Only tea and iced coffee and lemonade were offered.

  Denise whispered an explanation. “Daddy’s a teetotaler now. Doctor’s orders. He’s supposed to be avoiding red meat, too, but that won’t happen tonight.”

  There were no formalities observed, though everyone was dressed nicely, and nary a paper plate in sight. Cynthia had used china and crystal and a heavy, ornate silver service adorned with the letter C.

  Abby wondered if the Cranes always dined so elegantly or if this show was for her benefit. No one seemed to think it odd that she was in attendance. But the longer the dinner lasted, the more she wondered why she had been included.

  Conversation flowed freely. Abby was questioned at length about her job and her background and whether or not she watched college sports.

  Cynthia pressed delicately at times, but finally with a vein of determination. “Tell us about your family, dear.”

  All eyes shifted to Abby. She set down her glass of iced tea and managed a smile, even though she might as well have been on the witness stand. “I’m an only child,” she said. “My parents have been divorced for a very long time, though they are on good terms. Daddy is a filmmaker out in California. My mother works at Sotheby’s in New York. Her specialty is appraising twentieth-century paintings.”

  “Impressive.” Cynthia’s gaze was assessing, as though trying to read between the lines. “And is this your first trip to Texas?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Abby fell into old habits. Carter’s mother was a force to be reckoned with, even though his father was a big ole teddy bear.

  Denise chimed in. “And what do you think of Maverick County?”

  A hushed silence fell over the room. Abby frowned inwardly. This was weird. “Um, it’s very different from what I’m used to. But it has a beauty all its own, I suppose.”

  Ernie laughed, his kind eyes dancing. “Good for you, Abby. Stand up for yourself. This family is a bit much. Diplomacy is a required skill.”

  There was a momentary lull in the conversation. Denise and Cynthia left the table to serve dessert. Carter’s sister had made two apple pies. Apparently, both Crane women were homemakers extraordinaire.

  The remainder of the meal passed without incident.

  Abby noticed that Carter didn’t have a whole lot to say in the midst of his boisterous family. Of course, the baby kept things lively, but even so, Carter’s quiet presence was notable. He smiled a lot. And he answered when spoken to. Still, he seemed more watchful than anything else.

  At last, Beebee fell asleep on her father’s shoulder. Denise smiled. “We should head for the guesthouse soon. Mom, Dad...you stay as long as you want.”

  Cynthia gave her son a pointed look. “May I speak with you in the kitchen, Carter?”

  Abby breathed a sigh of relief. The other members of his family were far less frightening.

  But Denise unwittingly put a confrontation in motion. She scooped up Beebee and glanced at Abby. “Would you mind helping me change her into pajamas? Daddy and Ernie are dying to have another slice of pie without Mom noticing.”

  “Of course.” Abby stood and followed the other woman down the hallway. They were heading away from the kitchen. But apparently, Carter and his mother had chosen to go to the sunroom instead.

  Suddenly, Denise held up her hand and backed up. But it was too late. The conversation was impossible to ignore.

  Cynthia’s voice carried. “Why did you invite that girl tonight, Carter? What are you up to? Is this another doomed romantic alliance?”

  Carter’s tone was perfectly calm. “Abby is not a prospective fiancée. We’re friends. I thought she might enjoy meeting my family. That’s all.”

  “Bull testicles,” his mother snapped. “You’re playing games. But I must say that this one is better than your wretched Madeline.”

  Carter’s reply was less conciliatory now. “At least you’re being honest. It might have been nice if one of you told me you didn’t like Madeline. I didn’t find out until it was all over that my nearest and dearest had reservations about her.”

  “We didn’t want to meddle.”

  “Since when?”

  Abby’s whole body was one big blush. She touched Denise on the arm. “I’m going to step outside for a few minutes. Please make my excuses.”

  Before Carter’s sister could reply, Abby darted back the way she had come. She dodged the dining room and sneaked out onto the veranda and down to the driveway. In the dark, she put her hands to her hot cheeks. What had Carter been thinking? She was humiliated and confused.

  After fifteen minutes, she knew she couldn’t stay outside any longer without causing comment. She grabbed a thin sweater from the front seat of her car as an excuse and started to walk back inside.

  As she hit the top step and took a breath for courage, the door opened suddenly.
A familiar voice spoke out of the darkness.

  “There you are,” Carter said. “I was starting to worry about you.”

  Ten

  Carter was pissed and frustrated. He loved his parents, but his mother could be a handful. Thankfully, Denise had whispered a heads-up to him, warning that she and Abby had unwittingly overheard the conversation between mother and son.

  He turned on the porch light and saw Abby freeze when she realized it was him. “I just came to get my sweater out of the car,” she said.

  “No. You overheard my conversation with my mother, and you were embarrassed. I’m sorry, Abby.”

  He couldn’t read her expression, but her body language spoke volumes. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, and she had backed up as far as humanly possible without falling off the porch.

  She placed her sweater with exaggerated care on the railing. “Why did you invite me to come here tonight, Carter?” she asked.

  The slight tremor in her voice made him feel like scum.

  “Two reasons. First of all, I wanted to see you.”

  “And the second?”

  “I haven’t socialized much since Madeline called off the wedding,” he admitted. “My mother is constantly on my case to get back out there. So I thought if she met you, I’d get credit for dating but she wouldn’t pressure me, because she wouldn’t approve of our relationship.”

  Abby’s shock was visible. “Why not? I’m delightful.”

  He chuckled, charmed by her candor. “I won’t argue with that. You definitely are. My mother, though, doesn’t see you as ranch wife material. Sunset Acres means everything to my parents, even though they’ve handed it over to me. They know the kinds of sacrifices that are required, because they’ve made those very same sacrifices.”

  After a few beats of silence, Abby took a step toward him and exhaled audibly. “Not that I have any interest in marrying you or having your babies, Carter Crane, but why am I not ranch wife material?”

  He stepped closer, as well, reaching out to brush his thumb over her cheek. “You don’t even like Texas, Abs. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it means my mother won’t start making wedding plans. That’s a good thing.”