“Come on in,” he said.
She walked inside and looked around. “Mine’s the same except for my quilt is red and yours is blue. I wonder if his wife made them.”
Gage tried not to glance at the bed, to keep the image he’d seen earlier from reappearing in his head. “Walt says Mae is—and I’m quoting—‘a durn good cook.’ ”
Abby laughed. “I’m hungry, so that’s great news.”
Gage clamped down a shot of lust. He was hungry, but at the moment, it wasn’t for food.
He glanced behind Abby toward the door. “Where’s your newfound friend? Last I saw, he was carrying your suitcase, following you around like a puppy.”
Her eyes shot to his. “I thought Kyle was nice.”
“I’m sure he is. Long as he keeps his mind on business, we’ll be fine.”
“Keeps his mind on business? As opposed to what?”
“Your sweet little ass.” The look on her face was priceless. He checked his watch. “It’s almost time for supper. Let’s go for a walk, check out the stock, then go get something to eat.”
Abby said nothing, just flicked him a disapproving glance, and walked past him out the door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ABBY WALKED WITHGAGE AROUND THE COMPOUND.SHE WENT TOget her camera, then paused to snap a photo here and there. There was a pasture next to the corral where a long-eared mule lipped the sparse grass coming up through the sandy soil. Several other mules grazed on a pile of hay near the fence.
“The mules look healthy,” Abby said.
Gage nodded. “You can tell they’re well-cared for. So far, so good.”
There were horses grazing in a field farther away: a paint, a palomino, a sorrel, a couple of bays with shiny red coats and black tails. As they entered the shady barn, the smell of hay and horses drifted in the air. A tall white mare poked her head out of the stall, and a sorrel nickered at their approach.
Pausing in front of the stall, Gage ran a big hand over the mare’s sleek neck. There was a jagged scar on the back of his hand that Abby had noticed before. She wondered how he’d got it.
“I never asked if you could ride,” Gage said.
Abby smiled. “I live in Denver. It’s basically an overgrown cow town. I’m no expert, but I can ride well enough to get where we’re going.”
Gage nodded. “I figured.”
“You did? Why is that?”
“Because you’re the type of person who doesn’t go after something without being prepared.”
“I hope that’s a compliment.”
“From my point of view, it’s essential.”
She took his hand, the scar catching the sunlight. “What happened?”
“Python. They can be vicious.”
“It must have really hurt,” she said, tracing the outline with her finger.
He looked down at the scar and shrugged. “Hazard of the job.”
Abby thought of the scar her grandfather carried on his forearm—from a sword, he had said, then told her the story of a Bedouin chief who was jealous of King and a woman the chief wanted to add to his harem. Finding treasure wasn’t easy, but it certainly wasn’t a dull way to make a living.
They made a pass through the barn, then, satisfied that the animals could make the trip into rough country, headed for the ranch house.
