Page 4 of Christmas with the Cowgirl
She started to turn, to go and start unloading the little horse.In the same moment the man Jeremy was talking to turned around and she automatically looked back that way.Their gazes connected.
And she stumbled, almost ending up on her butt in the dirt.
Chapter Three
Miles had beensmiling all morning, so much his jaw muscles were starting to complain.But it was hard not to.He just kept remembering the broken, listless boy Jeremy had been back in L.A.and comparing him to the lively, interested child in front of him now.The child he’d had a rather deep conversation with after he’d first arrived.
A little to his surprise Jeremy’s dog, Maverick, had greeted him with delight, as if they were old friends long separated.It had given him a jolt, remembering another golden dog who had once been the center of his life, and he’d gratefully bent to pet the animal because it gave him a chance to hide the silly fact that his eyes had teared up at the very old but somehow no less potent memory.
Jeremy had seemed to take Maverick’s welcome as a sign that he meant what he’d said, that he wasn’t here to try and talk his father into coming back.And that removed the wall of wariness the boy had put up whenever he’d been around in the beginning.
“Dad says you’re the opp’site of mean Mr.Swiff,” Jeremy had said the first time they’d met.
“I’ll have to thank him for that.”
“An’ he said you’re the one who madeStonewall.That you wrote all the stuff in the beginning, and kept it from going…” The boy’s brow had furrowed.“Haywire, I think he said.I don’t know what that means, though.”
“How about off the rails?”
Jeremy’s expression had cleared.“Like a train crash.Okay.”
But it wasn’t until yesterday that, in a quiet moment, Jeremy had brought up something he never had with Miles before.The boy had hesitated but then gone ahead.“Dad says you knew my mom.”
Feeling as if he’d just stepped into a mine field, he had answered carefully, “I knew her and liked her.”
“Dad says we’ll always love and miss her.But that she always said what she wanted most was for me to be happy, so I can’t feel bad when I am.”
“She did always say that, Jeremy.I heard her more than once say all that mattered to her was that you be happy.”
Jeremy had given him a sideways look then.“I like Nic.A lot.”
“I know you do.And you know what else I know?”Jeremy had shaken his head.“I know your mom would have liked her a lot, too.”
Somehow he had found the right thing to say, and the rest of last night had been a happy time, more full of laughter than any evening he’d spent in L.A.in recent memory.And he’d smiled inwardly at Jackson’s serious demeanor as he talked about how the Baylors were doing okay because of their specialization, Nic’s training and her dad’s Angus breeding, but that other ranchers weren’t doing so well.His friend was well on his way to being absorbed into this life.
As was his son.It was so clear with Jeremy it was undeniable.And as the boy came politely over to say good night before his bedtime, Miles had told Jeremy that one of the reasons he’d decided to come was that he’d been sitting in the beach house, staring at the painting on the wall above the fireplace.The same painting Jackson had told him had inspired them to come here.
“That’s why we came!”the boy exclaimed.“And it’s real, Mr.Miles—the hills really look like that when the flowers come.”
The feeling he’d truly made a connection with the boy had been borne out early this morning when he’d awakened to a bounce on the guest room bed and something very wet swiping across his cheek.His eyes had snapped open to see a happy, grinning, golden dog and an equally grinning Jeremy telling him it was time to get up so he could show him everything.
“Dad said you didn’t look around when you were here before, so you need to now.”
That much was true.That trip had been a last-ditch effort to try and talk Jackson into coming back, and he’d barely noticed anything about this place that had so captivated his friend.
So he’d rolled out, quickly showered and dressed, and presented himself for the guided tour—after grabbing a slice of the great-smelling-and-tasting cinnamon toast Jackson had set out on the counter for breakfast.
“Got a surprise coming for him later,” he’d whispered to Miles with a nod at Jeremy.“Should be fun.”
And so now, after their tour of the barn and his introduction to a row of horses—and his beloved pony, Pie—when Jeremy waved and called out to the new arrival, he figured this must be the surprise.
He turned to look.And felt the ground shift under his feet.Or thought he did.If he’d been back in L.A.he’d have thought “earthquake,” but here, not so much.
He stared at the woman Jeremy had waved at.
She was fairly tall, five-seven at least, slim, with very dark hair that would probably reach halfway down her back if it wasn’t pulled up through the back of that baseball cap.She wore a red, white and blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled partway up, tucked into a pair of nicely snug but clearly well-broken-in and faded jeans.She had on a pair of cowboy boots that he could see even from here were not just an affectation but well worn.
Oddly, she made a slightly jerky motion, as if she, too, had felt that split-second jolt.But after that she moved easily, gracefully, turning to walk toward the back of the horse trailer hitched to the dark blue truck.And he caught himself watching her backside a little too intently.
