Page 23 of Christmas with the Cowgirl
Nic rolled her eyes.“That man.He never lets up.He’s still pushing for Jackson to come back.”
Riley looked around at the happy gathering of both adults and children, at the barn, corrals, and office center forThorpe’s Therapy Horses, and thought about how much they’d built here in the last year.Then she looked at her friend.
“And leave what he’s found here?Not a chance.”
Nic smiled so widely Riley knew she’d said the right thing.
“You know,” Nic said after the table was clear, “Jackson told me Miles always wanted to film the show here in Texas.It was Swiffer who refused, said it was ‘fiscally irresponsible’ to even consider it.”
“That sounds like him, from what I’ve heard,” Riley said, answering the second part to mask her reaction to the first.Miles had already told her he’d wanted it to be…real.It only confirmed what she was already feeling about the man—that he was as honest as it was possible to be in that business.
A delighted peal of a child’s laughter from behind them made both Riley and Nic turn.She spotted the birthday boy just as he crowed, “Go, Maverick!”
She wasn’t surprised to see the big golden dog in a play stance, bowing in front, tail up and wagging madly in back.She’d seen that almost every time she encountered the sweet-natured animal.The last thing she expected to see was the man on his knees in the dirt, egging the dog on as they both teased each other with lunges and feints, the dog taking a playful swipe at him with a front paw and dodging sideways, then dodging himself as the man returned the move with a clearly gentle hand.
Miles.
Laughing almost as happily as Jeremy was, egging the dog on with whoops and yelping “Go, Mav!”
“And there you have it,” Nic said, grinning.
“What?”asked Riley.
“The difference between Miles Flint and Felix the Swiffer.”
The image of the self-important producer with his disdainful looks for everyone around him and the man she was watching now, down in the dirt with a delighted dog, seemed to crash together in her mind.
In that moment the dog lunged forward again.Miles reached out and caught the animal as he rolled onto his back, pulling Maverick with him until the dog was on top of him.He got a big, wet, swipe of a pink tongue across his cheek as the dog’s tail wagged so fast Riley was a little surprised he didn’t lift off.
“Maverick wins!”Jeremy shouted, doing a little victory dance.
“In more ways than one,” Nic said, laughing as Miles wrapped his arms around the dog in a big hug.The dog promptly moved off of him and plopped down beside him, offering his belly for rubs that Miles quickly supplied.
Riley knew Nic hadn’t meant it that way, but suddenly all she could think of was Miles Flint offering rubs like that to a human companion.And she felt an odd sensation as if she were imagining his hands all over her like they were on that dog.But she wasn’t.No way.She was old enough to be his…big sister.Aunt, maybe, if somebody got started really early.
Besides, she didn’t have time for a man in her life.Even if he was the first one to make her even think about it for years.
Miles was on his feet now, Jeremy having taken over faux-wrestling with his dog.She saw him look over at Jackson.He flicked a glance at dog and boy, then back to his friend.A slight but definitely approving smile curved his mouth as he nodded at Jackson.
Riley didn’t think it was an accident that Nic vanished, saying something in a slightly too bright tone about getting the debris into the trash, as Miles walked toward them.
“You really do approve,” she said when he halted in front of her.“Even though Jackson leaving cost you.”
“Him staying would have cost him a lot more,” Miles said.“Jeremy was…broken.Lost.Barely part of the world around him.The change in him, and in Jackson too, in less than a year is nothing short of amazing.”
She studied him for a moment before saying quietly, “You make me very sorry I never paid attention to the credits after watching one of your shows.”
He looked surprised but then shook his head.“I like it that way.My name means something to the people who get things done, but I don’t have to live like Jackson, recognized everywhere I go.”
“You might not like living in Last Stand, then,” she said, teasingly now.
“That’s different,” he said, quickly enough that she knew he meant it, and had thought about it.“Here, it’s like everybody knows everybody personally, not just by name or reputation.They’re not all wound up calculating what this or that person could do for them, or whether that person’s worth talking to, or this person has an in with someone you want to do a deal with, or if they’re on somebody’s crap list and you don’t want to be caught talking to them, any of that.”
She knew she was staring at him now, but she couldn’t help it.“What an awful way to live,” she said softly.
“It can be,” he admitted, but said it looking as if he regretted letting all that out.“But it can be good, too.You can meet people like Jackson, real ones, who have uninflatable heads.”
She laughed, in part because she found the phrase funny, but also because she sensed he wanted away from that outpouring he’d let loose.“We have a lot of those people here.They vastly outnumber the types you have to deal with.”
