Page 68 of Christmas with the Cowgirl
She blinked.Only one name came into her head at that phrase.She carefully kept her response neutral.“What?”
“Your Mr.Flint.He works pretty darn hard, for a wimp.”
Riley frowned.It wasn’t like Ed to call people names.The foreman laughed.“Hey, he said it, not me.When we first got back, he hunted me down to say we work hard, and it shows.That trying to do what we do around here made him feel like a wimp.”
“That was…nice of him.”
“He’s a nice guy.”With a smile the man who had helped her run this place for twenty years turned and walked away, whistling cheerfully.
A nice guy.A nice guy who, since money wouldn’t get him what he wanted, had resorted to seduction.And was charming enough, handsome enough, and yeah, sexy enough to do it quite efficiently.
It helped that he set his sights on such a sucker.
She went up the steps onto the porch with her jaw set, calming herself before she went inside.Her father knew her too well, and if she was in an uproar, even if only internally, he would sense it.She plastered a smile on her face as she pulled open the door.
Her dad was at the dining table, a cup of coffee in his hand, his crutches leaning against the table beside him, and a white paper envelope lying in front of him.
“Grab a cup and sit,” he said.
Uh-oh.
Her reaction was instinctive, because she knew that tone.It wasn’t a request.She eyed the only thing out of place—that envelope.She would have guessed it somehow held bad news, except that it was face down so she could see it hadn’t been opened.A little gingerly she did as ordered, leaving the coffee black, thinking she might need the jolt because her father wore his most deadly serious expression.And so was his tone of voice when he finally spoke.
“I kept my promise.”
She blinked and drew back slightly.
“I kept my promise,” he repeated, “and now I need a promise from you.”
“About what?”she asked warily.
He raised one brow at her, in that way that had always perturbed her even as a kid, because she couldn’t do it.“You need a qualifier now, to make your father a simple promise?”
Her mouth quirked slightly.“Sometimes your promises aren’t all that simple.”
“This one is.It’s very simple.”He flipped the envelope in front of him over and slid it across the table.“Read this.”
Now she could see her name written on the front.Funny, she’d never actually seen his writing, but if she’d tried to picture what it would look like this would be close.A flair and sweep with the capital R, echoed by a final arc at the end of the Y, balancing it out neatly.
He definitely had an eye, did Miles Flint.
“So he was here,” she said flatly.
“He was.And a more desperate man I’ve never seen.”
And how would you feel if I told you what he was desperate for, Dad?That all he ever wanted from me was a way to rebuild hisStonewallempire?
She stared down at the white rectangle as if it somehow concealed a rattler.
“Promise me, Riley.Promise me you will read it, not just toss it in the trash, or burn it.”
In fact, burning it was the first thing that had popped into her mind.Yes, her father knew her too darn well.And he knew that ever since she was a child, formally stated promises made between them were sacrosanct.He’d never broken one to her, and she’d never broken one to him.Casual assurances were one thing, but a “look me in the eye and say you promise” was a vow that would be kept.
“Why?”It broke from her before she thought about it, but once it had she knew she meant it.She had to know why this of all things was so important to him.
“Because that man made you happier than I’ve ever seen you.Made you laugh.Made you light, cheerful, blissful in a way I haven’t seen from you in years.”
She opened her mouth to protest, to explain that it had all been a lie, but her father shook his head and held up a hand to stop her.Then he went on, in a flat, unshakable tone that was not to be argued with.
