Page 229 of Lost Then Found
“What kind of movies?”
“Uh…comedies. Romantic comedies?”
Hudson’s still eyeing him, unsatisfied, when the low purr of tires on gravel pulls everyone’s attention toward the drive. A sleek black Lexus pulls up, glossy and out of place against the dust and sweat of the ranch.
Ridge bolts up, sandwich half-eaten. “Saved by the fucking bell.”
I don’t need to see her face to know it’s Miller. That car has her written all over it. She always shows up like she’s stepping into a courtroom, not the middle of a ranch.
Sure enough, she steps out in a skirt that’s a little too short and a blazer she’ll probably regret wearing in five minutes in this heat. Her brown hair’s down, pin-straight and glossy, not a strand out of place. She tucks a file under her arm, then squints against the sun, looking for me.
Duke lets out a low whistle. “Damn. She’s a goddess.”
Witt leans over with a quiet snort. “You think she’s ever stepped in a barn in those shoes?”
Ridge, on the other hand, is already halfway to dumbstruck, watching her like she just descended from the clouds. Might as well be hearts floating around his head. He’s practically glowing.
I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. Miller’snothinglike the women Ridge usually brings around. His type’s the usual buckle bunnies—tight jeans, even tighter tops, mainly found at The Lucky Devil. Always ready for a wild ride with no strings attached. Miller? She’s polished, untouchable, and wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots or cutoffs.
Come to think of it, I’ve seen her in jeans maybe once. Twice, tops. Even then, they probably cost more than my truck. Ridge should be running in the opposite direction, but here he is, staring like he’s about to propose to her on the spot.
Miller strides across the gravel like it’s a damn runway, every click of her heels echoing louder than it should in the quiet. The closer she gets, the more I brace for whatever storm she’s about to drop in my lap.
“Boone,” she calls, clearly already irritated, “don’t you know how to work a cell phone? Or is that concept too twenty-first century for you?”
Behind me, I hear Duke letting out a low chuckle. Ridge’s grin only widens.
I narrow my eyes and walk over to her. “What’s the problem?”
“I’ve been calling you since six this morning, that’s the fucking problem,” she snaps, waving the file in her hand for emphasis. “Not once, notoncedid you answer.”
“That’s not possible,” I mutter, reaching for my back pocket. The second I pull out my phone, the black screen greets me like a punch to the throat.
Dead. Again.
Shit.
Miller folds her arms. “Wow, look at that. A revolutionary discovery. Batteries don’t last forever.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Bad habit.”
She arches a perfectly manicured brow. “You think?”
“Hi, Miller,” Ridge chimes in, stepping forward with all the charm he can muster.
Her green eyes flick to him, annoyed. “Ridge. Still alive, I see.”
He presses a hand to his chest. “Barely. Been real touch and go lately.”
“Maybe next time, go.”
Ridge only grins. “I would, but you’d miss me too much.”
Before Miller can snap back, Hudson runs up and gives her a hug. “Hi, Aunt Millie!”
Her whole demeanor shifts in an instant, her sharp edges softening. She smiles and hugs him back. “Hi, Hud!”
Ridge perks up, his eyes trailing over her—too slowly, if you ask me—finally landing back on her face. “Millie, huh? I like it.”
