The Heart Won't Lie. Vicki Lewis Thompson
you some wildflowers.”
Michael had been captured by the view of the mountains, but now he noticed that a bouquet of Indian paintbrush and purple lupine sat on the dresser. “That was thoughtful.” Research for his books had taught him what they were, because he wouldn’t have had a clue otherwise.
“Yeah, Keri’s a gem. She thinks of those things. Don’t look for an attached bath, though. The bathroom’s right next door, but connecting it would be tricky. The bathtub would get in the way of cutting a door between the rooms. I doubt you’re used to walking out into the hall, but it can’t be helped.”
“Jack, the view from the window is spectacular. I couldn’t care less about an attached bath.”
“Good.” Jack seemed pleased by that. “I’ll leave you to unpack, then. Dinner’s at six, but you can explore the place before then if you want. I have some issues to handle, but Keri should be back from the mouse funeral soon. If you need a guide, I’m sure she’d be glad to show you around.”
“Great.” Michael was careful not to sound too eager about having Keri do him that favor. “And thanks, Jack.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Tomorrow, when your butt’s sore from spending hours on a horse and you ache all over, you may not be so thankful.”
“I thought you said it wouldn’t be too bad?”
Jack smiled. “I didn’t want you to panic.” Then he turned on his booted heel and left the room.
Some exit line. And thanks to that line, anxiety had him firmly in its grip. What the hell did he think he was doing? Nobody could learn to be a cowboy in a week.
Despite the help from Jack, he could end up falling off his horse during the shooting of the video. That would be embarrassing as hell, both to him and to the publicist. He should have confessed his shortcomings to the gung-ho woman who’d called him with feverish excitement to propose the video they would shoot in three weeks.
Michael could have told her the truth and suggested they drop the idea. Some still shots might work if they found a docile horse for him. But no, he hadn’t said those things because he’d wanted to preserve the mystique. Ego, pure and simple.
With a sigh, he walked over to the window and looked out at the majestic Tetons. He should have come to this part of the country years ago. A summer on a dude ranch would have given him what he needed and he wouldn’t be in this fix now.
But he hadn’t admitted all his fears to Jack. He was deathly afraid that he wouldn’t have any talent for being a cowboy, no matter how long he worked at it. By cramming his lessons into a week, he could excuse himself if he failed. If he’d taken an entire summer and failed, he’d have been forced to conclude that he wasn’t cut out for the life he wrote about so convincingly.
That would be a tough pill to swallow. He wasn’t sure how that would affect his writing, but he had a hunch it would make a dramatic difference. If he’d never tried to be a real cowboy, then he could hang on to the illusion that such a thing might be possible.
“Mr. Hartford?”
He turned from the window and discovered Keri standing in the doorway. “Call me Michael, okay?”
“All right, if that’s what you’d prefer. Is there anything you need? I ducked out on my job, but I’m available now.”
“Has the mouse received a decent burial?”
“It was quick, but I think the boys would have been satisfied.” She studied him. “It’s the strangest thing, but I feel as if I know you from somewhere. I don’t, do I?”
He didn’t dare ask if she read Westerns, but this was the very thing he’d worried about. “I doubt it. I have one of those faces. People often think they know me.”
“Maybe, but I’ve seen you somewhere. I’ll figure it out.”
That settled one thing for sure. He wouldn’t start growing his mustache while he was here.
“So, is everything to your liking? Have you checked out the towel supply in the bathroom?”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” He still couldn’t quite place her accent.
“What’s your pillow preference? You currently have down, but I can substitute polyester fill if you’re allergic.”
“Not allergic. I’m pretty low maintenance.” He had a feeling she was, too. She’d hurried right back without stopping to primp.
“Then I’ll quit pestering you and let you settle in. If there’s anything you need, my room’s right across the hall.”
“It is?”
“I know. It’s not the usual thing to have the employees stay on the same floor as the guests, but Sarah never planned on having more help than Mary Lou, the cook. Then the boys came, which made extra work. When they hired me last summer, they put me up here.”
“Do we…uh…share a bathroom?” That could get quite cozy.
“No, we don’t. That one is all yours. Last fall Jack renovated my space and installed a small bathroom. He also put one in between the boys’ rooms, but it’s tiny, too. The nicest one is yours.” She backed toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything, though. Seriously.”
“Jack said you might give me a tour of the house.”
“He did?” She glanced down at her clothes. Without saying a word, she’d managed to communicate her desperate hope for a shower and change of outfit.
“But it can wait until you get cleaned up.”
Relief showed in her green eyes. “Thank you. I feel gross. Give me fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll give you thirty. Listen, I’ve been trying to place your accent. Where are you from?”
“Baltimore. See you in twenty minutes.” Flashing her bright smile, she turned and walked across the hall.
He gazed after her. He had a hunch she hadn’t been a housekeeper back in Baltimore. Everybody had a story, and he wanted to know hers.
KERI RETREATED TO her room so she could give herself a good talking to while she showered off the grime. She was attracted to Michael, and she needed to put a lid on that inconvenient attraction ASAP. She was a member of the staff, which meant no fraternizing with the guests.
Nobody had told her that in so many words, but she’d been on the other end of the social spectrum. Her parents would have fired any maid who’d shown interest in a houseguest. It just wasn’t done.
The Chances hadn’t turned this upstairs bedroom into housekeeper’s quarters so that she could mingle with the guests. They’d put her here because it was the only space available that also could be plumbed for a small bathroom. If she happened to be across the hall from the extremely good-looking Michael Hartford, she didn’t have to emphasize the fact. God knew what he’d thought when she’d mentioned how close she was to his room.
When she took him on a tour, she’d establish more distance between them. The whole mouse incident had thrown her off and made her forget her position here. She’d even pushed the issue of burying the little rodent when Jack had clearly thought that was nonsense, and she’d made her stand in front of Michael. She’d apologize to Jack about that.
After years of being at the top of the social pecking order, she sometimes forgot that she wasn’t there now, at least not in Jackson Hole. Then again, the Chance family didn’t stand on ceremony with their employees. Back home, the household help wouldn’t dream of calling their employers by their first names. At the Last Chance, first names were all anybody used.
That made it easy for her to forget that she wasn’t in charge around here. She figured the Chances understood why she slipped up sometimes, though. They all knew that anytime she chose, she could tap into her trust fund. She was proud