Page 5 of Christmas with the Cowgirl
“That’s Nic’s friend Riley,” Jeremy explained.“She has the next ranch over.An’ sold us the land here.”The boy’s forehead wrinkled.“But it used to belong to Nic, before Riley bought it.Anyway, she’s the best, Nic says.”
At what?
Reining in an imagination that suddenly wanted to run wild, Miles made himself look at Jeremy instead.And noted not for the first time how expressions from this life had become cemented into the language, even if meanings might have changed over the years.Rein it in.Dude.Ace in the hole.Cash in.He’d learned more than he’d ever thought about such things whenStonewallhad taken over his life.
Cotton to.Yeah, there was another one.
That the phrase for taking a liking to something—or someone—popped into his head at that moment was purely coincidence.He was long past looks alone getting to him.
“C’mon!”Jeremy said, grabbing his hand and tugging.“Dad wants us over there.”
Belatedly he realized Jackson was indeed waving them over.He had to hustle to keep up with Jeremy’s running, and dodge the enthusiastic Maverick dancing between them as they went.
“Riley found an early birthday present for you,” Jackson said as Jeremy skidded to a halt beside the horse trailer.Instinctively Miles looked at the trailer but couldn’t see anything.
But he heard something.A snort, and the sound of hooves on the floorboards of the transport.
“A new horse?”Jeremy asked.
“Not exactly,” Jackson said, grinning.“Stay there.”
And then the woman reappeared, a lead line in her hand as she walked down the ramp, looking back toward whatever it was she’d brought.She looked even better up close, and Miles made himself look at the rope she held instead, waiting for what was on the end of it.
The moment the brown and white head appeared, Jeremy yelped excitedly.“Another pony!”
It was indeed a pony.And it looked similar to Jeremy’s beloved Pie, except this one was brown and white, and he thought a little taller.He assumed there was a name for the color combination, as Jeremy had seriously explained to him Pie’s black and white was called piebald.
“A brown and white to go with Pie!”Jeremy was so excited he was practically dancing.
“Exactly,” the woman, who had the horse down on the ground now, said.She was smiling, and it was killer.“Happy birthday, Jeremy, a little early.”
“Wow, thanks!”The boy fairly glowed with delight.“Now there’s a black and white one and a brown and white one.”
“You think your visitors will like that?”the woman asked, and Miles felt an odd little tingle at the low, sweet sound of her voice, and even more at the sincerity of her tone.
“They’re gonna love it.This is gonna be fun!”the boy crowed.
“And anything that’s fun for our kids is a good thing,” Jackson said softly.And once more Miles was impressed with how strongly his friend felt about what they were doing here.And rightfully.So now there were two solid reasons Jackson Thorpe would never leave this place where he’d found such happiness and meaning.And Miles couldn’t blame him.
“Obviously you know piebald means black and white, but do you know what the brown and white is called?”the woman was asking Jeremy.
“No, what?”
“Skewbald.And did you know the black or brown is their coat’s real color?It’s the white patches that grow differently.”
Jeremy stared at her, with that thoughtful expression Miles knew meant his agile brain was working through what she’d said.“I thought it was the other way.”
“Lots of people do.So now you have something new you can teach the kids who come to ride.”
Jeremy smiled at that, as if he liked the idea of him teaching something.“My aunt Tris is a teacher.”
“I know.So you know it’s a good thing to do.”She reached out and patted the little horse’s neck.The animal was looking around with interest, and Miles wondered if he realized he was looking at a new home.And what the old one had been like.“And he’s almost as nice as your Pie, so you’re all going to have a great time.”
“And since Jeremy is too distracted for the niceties, let me,” Jackson said, the smile on his face evidence of how much seeing his son so happy meant to him.“Riley Garrett, meet Miles Flint.”
That caught him off guard, but when the woman turned to face him, all he could see were her eyes.From a distance he hadn’t been able to tell, but now he could see, they were a deep, dark blue, beyond striking with that nearly black hair.The thick lashes fringing them were just as dark as her hair.He found himself wondering what her ancestry was, where the stunning combination had come from.And if she was wearing makeup—surely she had to be, to look that good?—it was subtle enough that he couldn’t be sure, which was a change for a guy who made his living in Hollywood.
“Riley owns the ranch next door,” Jackson said.
