2
Ryder Vales checked his good button-down, shrugged on his best Western jacket, and grabbed his hat.
Tony said this was a good job—nothing too strenuous, nothing too dramatic. Just a widower who needed a handyman, a personal assistant, and a periodic arm candy moment at a function.
He had that handled.
Hell, he cooked too.
Ryder
Here. Wish me luck
It took about half a second for his other half to text back.
Roper
Luck! U got this
He hoped so. He wanted a little peace and quiet.
The GPS had him headed for a lake house in the woods, and that seemed like exactly what the doctor ordered. Maybe he could do some fishing.
The winding road heading up to this place was wide and paved, and the homes were enormous, which really wasn’t what he thought of when he thought house by a lake, but he really had no idea where he was. Without Maps he’d be totally lost up here.
He’d told Rog he needed something away from his every day. Something less than normal. Somewhere he didn’t have eyes on him all the time.
Rog promised this would do the trick.
Okay.
Okay, he could so do this.
Ryder slid out of his truck, his good boots clicking on the drive, and headed for the front door.
He rang the bell and waited.
And waited.
He looked around and found the number on one of the pillars on the front porch. He was in the right place. He reached forward to ring the bell again and the front door opened.
“Can I help you?” A silver-haired man stood in the doorway squinting at him with tired eyes.
“Yes, sir, I hope so. I’m Ryder Vales. I was hired by the Karmen Agency?”
“Oh. Uh. Yes, sorry. Of course. Come in.” The guy looked a little confused but stepped out of his way and the door opened into a wide foyer that led to a living room with huge windows. “I’m Charles.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He took off his hat, held out his hand to shake. “How goes it?”
Charles seemed to compose himself then and shook his hand with a solid grip. “Good to meet you too. I apologize for my confusion. I don’t meet too many men in cowboy hats. You weren’t wearing one in the headshot in your dossier.”
“No? I’m afraid they took about thirty thousand pictures in everything from bareheaded to a gimme cap to my Stetson.” Why would that matter? He didn’t follow.
“Well, it looks good on you.” Charles looked uncomfortable again and ran one hand through his hair before looking at him. “I assume you’re more experienced at this than I am. The kitchen is down that hall, your room is down there on the first floor. I’m upstairs.” Charles looked around and nodded. “That’s about it, I guess. My study is this way. I’ll be in there. If you—um. That’s where I’ll be. Very good to meet you.”
Charles turned around and disappeared down a hallway.
Okay.