Chapter 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.
He stood there a second, blinked a while, then went back out to his truck and called Rog. He had no idea what to do, or whether he needed to go or what.
Rog picked up immediately. “Just get out of your truck and go inside, man. You’ve got this.”
How did he do that? “What am I supposed to do? He just left. Is there a manual?”
“He’s a rich widower. What do you need to know? He’s sad and lonely and probably hungry. Bring him tea, put his feet up, see if there’s a banister that needs fixing, and make him some comfort food for dinner. Your mac and cheese or something. You know, be you.”
“Okay. I just…it was like he wasn’t expecting me. Am I supposed to try to talk to him or no?” He’d just expected questions or a manual or something.
“Ryder. He doesn’t know you, and you don’t know him.
You’re not going to walk in there and be all best buddies.
It’s been five minutes. Just play it by ear.
And don’t forget, man, this is a job. You’re getting paid.
You don’t have to be friends; you just have to make him happy enough that he wants to keep paying you. ”
“Okay.” He didn’t want to be friends. He just wanted to know whether or not to speak. He’d just not.
And Rog could fuck right off too.
He hung up without another word, grabbed his good shirts and his duffel bag, and shoved his phone in his pocket.
He went back inside, shut the door, and went to try to find a room “down there on the first floor” that looked as if it was for whatever he was.
Three meals and two snacks a day. Fix whatever he found that needed fixing. Stay in his room and read a lot. No talking.
He could do this.
He just needed to charge his earbuds.
His room was fancy. It had a king bed and its own bathroom with a big tub and a separate shower.
There was a giant TV over the dresser with a nice sound bar and a comfy-looking chair and end table.
The windows didn’t look directly out over the lake, but he could see it and the woods were all green and lush.
He heard Charles clear his throat down the hall. “Sorry to bother you as you’re just settling in, but do you plan to—is making dinner part of your job description, or do I need to arrange that for us?”
“Assuming you don’t want anything involving live seafood or bugs, I’m happy to make you supper.” He knew how to cook. “When would you like to eat, sir?”
He thought he heard a low chuckle and then Charles called back, “Seven, I guess?”
“I’ll get on it.” Mac and cheese with ham, if there was any.
He put his bag on the floor of the closet and put his good shirts on the rod.
Ryder
This isn’t good. Also, blocking Rog on my phone.
Roper
So leave. Is it creepy
He nodded, even though Roper couldn’t see him.
Ryder
Just real quiet. No instructions. I guess I’ll feed him and see what all needs fixin
Roper
I miss u 2
Ryder
Yeah
Yeah, he wasn’t used to being alone. Guess he’d start learning immediately and not bitch. He had a job. He’d just do it.