Page 43 of Christmas with the Cowgirl
“Now that,” her father said, “is downright neighborly of you.Maybe you really are Last Stand material.”
The man who seemed to have a hold on her imagination, in reality even more than with the fiction he produced, held her father’s gaze.
“Don’t think I don’t know the size of that compliment,” he said.
Dad chuckled.“And that you do just proves the point.So, can you start tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
Riley blinked.Had her father in essence just hired a successful Hollywood producer to do tedious manual labor?And had that producer agreed?
“Come for breakfast at six,” her dad said cheerfully.“Riley makes a wicked good omelet.”
“Dad,” she protested, “I’m sure six is a bit early for him.”
“‘He’ is right here, and six is actually a bit late for him.”Her head snapped around, and she wasn’t sure whether to feel reprimanded or laugh.What she was sure of was that she was surprised.
“It is?”was all she managed to get out.
He nodded.“I’m usually up at five so I can get some work done before my phone starts nattering at me.”
“Won’t it start nattering at you here?”she asked.
His mouth quirked upward at one corner in that way she’d noticed from the beginning, and liked more every time she saw it.
“Not if I turn it off.”He looked at her father.“If Jackson needs me for anything, can they call you?”
“Of course.I’m tied to the damn phone lately anyway,” her father said, sounding far too much like he was enjoying every bit of this.
“I guess we’re all set, then.I’ll report in at six sharp.”
As she watched Nic’s truck pull away, Riley felt a little off-balance.It was an odd feeling for her, because she was used to being ahead of the curve, generally.Of course, her father had thrown this curve, unexpectedly.She turned then to face the man who was smiling a little too widely.
“What,” she demanded, “was all that about?”
“That,” he retorted in the same tone, “was about getting you some help around here, while still letting Ed deal with his family situation.We can get by with one good hand—you did say he was helpful?”
“I…yes.Yes, he was.For a greenhorn.”
“I’ll take that, since it’s a friend.”
A friend.
It suddenly dawned on her, what her father had really been doing.“And the rest?”
“I just wanted to be sure he was…available, that he didn’t have family responsibilities elsewhere.”
She gave her father a steady, unblinking stare.He’d always called it her “no-BS” look.He shrugged, that sheepish thing he did when he’d been caught out.
“He seems like a nice guy.Especially for a Hollywood type.”
She was certain what he’d been up to now.He’d been checking him out in that father looking out for daughter kind of way.It was just sometimes he was as subtle as a bulldozer.
“I like him, Dad.He’s nice.But that’s all.”
“Sure.”Clearly eager to get past this, he said, “Anyway, I can handle the paperwork you hate, for a while, too.”
She knew he hated being tied to the computer, although he was perfectly competent at it.She had to admit she didn’t like it much either.And if he did that, and Miles was as useful as he’d been yesterday, they could make it a few more days without going through the hassle of hiring someone they weren’t sure about.She had the thought that the Last Stand grapevine could probably have a few competent people knocking on their door, but…
