completely honest with Carter about the diamond ring he’d bought at auction, and as a result he’d become the diamond’s latest victim. She couldn’t blame him for being bitter and cautious now about relationships. Macy felt the same way. She’d seen her mother fall in love three times, and all three times had been a disaster.
She no longer believed in love or happily-ever-afters. She didn’t know too many couples who’d sustained their marriages more than a decade. And living in Hollywood, she’d known the truth about the few long-term marriages, too. It seemed that no one was happy for long. Very few of those marriages had held firm to their commitment.
Sad but true.
Giving in to fatigue, Macy relaxed back on the bed and closed her eyes. To hell with unpacking. She wasn’t going to be pragmatic now. She was taking a break from reality. No lawyers right now. No tabloids. No worry about saying the wrong thing. No one hounding her.
A sudden movement on her bed startled her, and the scent of rawhide followed. She snapped her eyes open. She’d been wrong. She was being hounded, but she didn’t mind the nuzzling. She could get used to this. “Hello, Rocky.”
The dog curled his body next to hers and laid his head down. She looked into his big caramel eyes and smiled. Carter had been right. His ranch had everything.
An hour later, refreshed from her nap, Macy showered and changed into fresh clothes, a pair of white jeans and an indigo tank top. Her hair was still wet when she drew it back into a ponytail. Five minutes in the Texas heat would dry it.
She thought better about stepping into flip-flops and opted for her Nikes. Carter had given her half an hour to pack before the car had come for her at the hotel. As it was, she’d packed only enough clothes to last her through a short stay in New York, and not too much was suitable for ranch living.
“Guess I’m going to do some shopping while I’m here,” she muttered to Rocky.
The dog wagged his tail at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t left her side since he’d plopped onto the bed. They’d enjoyed the nap together, and he’d sat outside the shower door while she was cleaning up.
Macy grinned at him. “You want to show me around after lunch?”
Another tail wag.
Macy found the kitchen easily. It wasn’t hard to miss, and it was definitely Texas-size with wood beamed ceilings, homey tiled counters and a table big enough for a small army. She rummaged through the double-door refrigerator, coming up with brisket and swiss cheese. She was too hungry to go to any more trouble than throwing a sandwich together. She slapped mustard on sourdough bread and made quick work of eating her lunch. Every so often, she’d pull off a piece of beef and toss it to Rocky.
He gobbled it without chewing.
“No doubt he’ll be your friend for life.”
She spun around so fast, her ponytail whipped her cheek. She found Carter leaning against the kitchen doorway, staring at her. He flicked his gaze over her in one sweep and then focused on Rocky, but it was enough to freeze all movement in her chest. She cleared her throat and wondered when she’d stop reacting to him this way. “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be feeding him this, uh—”
Carter sauntered into the kitchen. “He eats anything.” He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and offered her one.
“No, thanks.”
“And refuses nothing. At least, I’ve never seen my father’s dog deny himself a meal of any kind.”
“Good to note.”
“Out of necessity,” he added. “He wasn’t always fed.”
“Oh.” The dog used to belong to Carter’s father. Macy connected the dots. They stood facing each other and she watched Carter’s throat work, swallowing a gulp of beer. “I’ll just clean up my mess and get out of here.”
Carter had the beer to his lips again and stopped from sipping to eye her over the bottle. “You know, we’re bound to bump into each other. You don’t have to run off. The kitchen is big enough for both of us.”
Not from where she was standing. Whenever Carter entered a room, he commanded all the space and Macy saw nothing else. “Gotcha.”
“Where are you going anyway?”
“Just exploring. I thought I’d stretch my legs and take a walk.”
He blinked and a look of concern crossed his features. “I should probably go with you the first time.” He gulped down the rest of his beer.
“You think I’ll get lost?”
“It’s a big ranch.”
“I’m a big girl.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ve got GPS.”
He clearly didn’t find her amusing. “Come with me,” he said. Thankfully, he didn’t take her hand. It was one thing to hold his hand when they were running down an alley to safety, and another altogether while alone in his big, gorgeous house. She followed him to his bedroom and waited at the doorway while he searched through a walk-in closet. He pulled a red plaid shirt off a hanger and she noted how he scrutinized it for a long few seconds. Macy noticed a few other female things hanging in his closet before he turned to her. “Here you go.”
She balked at wearing Jocelyn’s clothes and shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“You don’t want to wear it?” Carter’s voice rose in question.
“Not my style.” She didn’t want anything to remind him of the woman who’d jilted him. Why add insult to injury?
His gaze touched on the small cleavage exposed by her tank top, and silently she drew a breath. “Fair enough. Soon as I can, I’m gonna give this stuff to charity anyway. You got anything to wear besides white jeans?” He focused on her pants, and Macy’s throat nearly constricted. “Those will stick out like a sore thumb around here.”
“I wasn’t planning on ranch living when I packed for New York.”
“I’ll take you into town to get some clothes tomorrow. Maybe some boots, too.”
He reached into his closet again and came up with a tan-colored felt hat. He set it onto her head. “This is one of mine,” he said, giving her a solid look. “Pretty good disguise, too. Those long curls of yours are bound to cause attention.”
Macy tucked her hair under the hat.
He gave her a look of approval. “Put on your shades, and we’re good to go.”
Macy stood in the center of a broken-down gazebo and swirled around with her arms outstretched. A joyous smile lifted her lips. If she flung her hat into the air, it would be reminiscent of Mary Tyler Moore’s famous opening scene, and Macy would do it if Carter wasn’t standing a short distance away, watching her every move.
Yes, the gazebo was broken down, the pristine white paint chipped from age and neglect, with much of the structure unsupported. But the floor would make a good-size stage, and the grounds themselves could be amazing with a little tender loving care.
Right
