Page 23 of Beckon

“Yep. Miss Betty White. She was named by my daughter when she was seven. My daughter was seven, not the horse or her namesake. My family has worked here since the Walkers bought it and they let her name Betty here because they have the same birthday.”

Chandler was amused by the story, but by the look on Tami’s face, not nearly as much as she was.

“Anyway, I put a radio here.” Marta tapped the pouch on the side of Betty’s saddle. “If you let Betty lead, Butterscotch will follow all day long. Cell phones get wonky once you get out there, so any issues, use the radio and we’ll send out the cavalry.”

With a few clicks of his tongue, Betty cantered along the trail heading out. Sure enough, as soon as she was past the other horse, Butterscotch followed.

Once the stables had shrunk behind them, the trail widened, and Tami trotted up next to him. The silence between them stretched out as they swayed in the saddle. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it did feel loaded. That was until Tami opened her mouth.

“What’s your favorite TV PI?”

He canted his head her way and just blinked, dumbfounded. It was the most random thing to ask. Tami kept her eyes forward, but he saw the ghost of a smile on her pale-pink lips.

Okay, I’ll play along.

“That’s a very tough question, assuming you mean of time, not just current series, right?”

She granted him a slight nod but stayed focused on the trail ahead.

“Colt Seavers.” Tami gently pulled the reins causing Butterscotch to stop. He didn’t have a clue why she had stopped until she came trotting up beside him and answered his unvoiced question.

“He doesn’t count. Pick again.”

Now it was his turn to stop and look at her. “Of course he does. You said all time and last I checked, the eighties qualified.”

“The eighties do, but bounty hunters do not.”

Chandler felt his jaw drop. Swore he heard it pop as it came unhinged. “You are way too young to know aboutThe Fall Guy.”

“So are you, but yet, you know, why can’t I?”

Chandler patted his chest, feigning concern as if he’d lost something.

“What’s wrong?” A tendril of guilt crept upon him at her look of worry. That wasn’t his intention. Flirting was not his strong suit, to say the least.

“My heart, it seems you’ve stolen it with your knowledge of classic television.”

Tami rolled her eyes and then leaned over and smacked his leg. “You silly man. Now answer the darn question.”

“Is there any competition? Thomas Magnum, of course.”

She turned his way and beamed that smile directly at him. The sun had sunk lower and at the angle they were at, the brim of her hat only cast a shadow over one eye in a swath.

Chandler was lost in her freckles with the one glittering green eye fixed on him and a smile on her lips. When she raised an arm to protect her hat from a small gust of wind, he fumbled for his phone. “Stay like that, don’t move,” he begged, needing a few more seconds to get the picture.

After he pressed the button, he just stared at her. “You’re stunning,” he breathed.

“Can I move now?”

“Yeah.” He returned his phone. “You think we should head back toward the stable?”

“Good idea, but can we take it slow? I want to drag it out as long as possible.”

Me too, he thought.Me too.

They turned the horses and set a slow cantor back the way they’d come.

“Thank you, Chandler. Not just for the picnic and the horses, but for making me feel beautiful. It has been an absolutely perfect day.”

---