Rode Hard, Put Up Wet (Rough Riders #2)(27)

He brushed his lips across hers and vanished out the door.


Carter had to remind himself no matter what went on with Macie, Cash was still essentially his boss. Surprisingly enough, he and Cash worked well together—albeit in complete silence. They unloaded the new mares and helped Gemma pick up the debris from the storm.


The morning was muggy. The wisps of clouds didn’t stifle the heat. Luckily the night’s rainfall kept the dust to a minimum. With three of them working, it didn’t take long to clean up the broken tree branches. By the time they finished, the electricity was back on.


After Gemma and Cash drove off to check cattle, Carter moved his truck from the ditch where he’d been forced to leave it during the storm. Before he climbed out, Macie emerged from the camper, twirling her car keys in her hand. It pleased him to think she’d been waiting for him.


He smiled and let his eyes roam over her. “Darlin’, you look—” good enough to eat


“—great.”


Macie fussed with the straps on the long gauzy white dress. “Is this all right? I didn’t know what to wear.”


“It doesn’t matter.”


Her gaze snapped to his. “No nudes. If this is where you tell me I’m supposed to get naked—”


“No. I’ll be workin’ on portraits. Pen and ink or charcoal; I haven’t decided which.


I’ll wait to see how the light is today.” She’d look stunning in any light. As he studied the angles and lines of her beautiful face, that intriguing expression appeared again.


“What? You’re staring at me.”


“Get used to it, ’cause I’ll be doin’ it a lot.” His comment seemed to make her more uncomfortable so he backtracked. “Doesn’t look like you’re ridin’ with me.”


“I’ll follow you in my car, that way I can leave when I want.”


He didn’t like it, but he managed a bland, “Fair enough.”


Carter’s place was a couple of miles up the road—shorter on horseback. Driving the potholed gravel road on autopilot, he imagined Macie riding bareback, a beaded buckskin dress sliding up her slender thighs, her curtain of silky hair flowing behind her as she rode wild and free across the Wyoming prairie.


The image froze in his mind. It would work as a still life as well as a medium-sized sculpture. He’d need to capture the texture of the fringe and the beads, the smooth line of her leg, the flexing muscles of the racing horse and the proud set to her chin.


So intent was his brain on cataloging the minute details that he jumped when a loud knocking echoed next to his head. The fog lifted and he saw Macie frowning at him through the driver’s side window. Carter glanced around. Whoa. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped the pickup.


Carter offered her a guilty smile before he hopped out of the truck. “Sorry. I lose track of time when I get to thinkin’. Come on. The studio is in the barn.”


Macie trailed after him without comment.


He gathered his supplies and attempted to create professional distance. “I want to take advantage of this light. So we’ll start outside.” He threaded the strap to his camera over his head and caught her staring at it.


“Are you going to take pictures of me?”


“Yeah.”


“So once I’m done posing for them I can leave?”


“Technically…yes.” His eyes searched hers. “But I want you to stay. Will you?”


After a moment she nodded.


“Good. Grab that stool.” By the time he’d arranged her, gazing across the field comprised of red dirt, gray rocks and acres of sagebrush, he’d entered the zone where everything boiled down to light and shadow. Nothing existed but curves, lines, and angles used to fill the blank white space on his sketchpad.


Carter expected her nervous chatter. But she may as well have been a statue. She didn’t speak. She scarcely moved. A couple of times while she’d been lost in thought he quietly snapped pictures. He’d managed a good outline when her soft sigh drifted to him on the wind.


Absentmindedly he asked, “Need something?”


“Yeah. To use the bathroom.”


He glanced at the timer clipped to his bag and cursed. Three hours had passed.


“Sorry. We can take a break.”


Macie slid off the stool and ambled toward him. Automatically he closed his sketchbook—a move that wasn’t lost on her.


She frowned. “I’m beyond a break, Carter. I’m tired. I think I’m gonna head back to the ranch.”


“You can’t.”


She gave him a droll stare. “What do you mean I ‘can’t’?”


“I need you here. I’m behind on this portion of the show. I told you earlier I need you to stick around and you agreed to stay.”


“Not indefinitely.”


After witnessing her meltdown last night he knew it wouldn’t take much to spook her, and he’d never been particularly even-tempered. “I’m just askin’ for today.”