Page 9 of Christmas with the Cowgirl
“Depends who you ask,” she answered.“But generally the top-out is fourteen and a half hands.Unless you’re going by the Equestrian Sports Federation standards, which allows you an extra half for shoes as long as the pony itself without shoes isn’t over 14.2.Or if you’re in Australia, where it’s fourteen hands, period.Of course if you’re showing, it gets trickier, because a lot of the time they divide them into small, medium and large, with specific measurement limits for each one.”
He blinked.Drew back slightly.Jackson laughed as he got up from the table.“Never ask Nic about horses unless you want an encyclopedic answer.”
Miles smiled at that and gave his friend’s fiancée a rueful look.“I’ll keep that in mind.Just remember that I had to think to recall a hand is four inches.”
“But you did,” Nic said with an easy smile back at him.“And that’s what counts.”
He got up himself to help clear the table.He’d seen Jeremy doing homework there, and guessed this was probably his spot for drawing, too.And then Jeremy was back, Maverick still at his heels, with a big pad of paper that looked designed for sketching, and a box of colored pencils.Not crayons, he noticed, and wondered just how good the kid was.
They left the boy to it, adjourning to the living room.Jackson asked after a few of the people they’d been working with onStonewall.Crew, Miles noticed.They were the ones he was worried about.And Miles didn’t think it was just because he’d once been one of them.Jackson had always seen them as the reason it all worked, the reason it all came together.
And when he’d made it to the top, as it were, he never forgot them.Other stars at his level would be seen hanging out between shots with the other actors, the director, or visiting media.Jackson was usually back with the wranglers and construction guys, and if Miles needed to talk to him he’d had to learn that that was where to look for him.
The thought made him smile.He knew Jackson had appreciated his vague answers to that visiting media when they asked where he was, eager to corner him for an interview.Answers which were usually something like, “Oh, he’s here somewhere.Feel free to look around, just don’t spook the horses.”Since most of that media had no idea on earth what would spook a horse, they generally kept a long distance from the animals.
Which meant they were a long distance from Jackson.At least, far enough to overlook the guy working just like the other crew members, wearing his old crew ball cap.
“What are you smiling about?”
He looked up to see Jackson watching him curiously.“Just remembering that time those entertainment reporters were clustered around griping that they couldn’t find you, and that you were being difficult, avoiding them, and didn’t you know they could make or break you…”
Jackson laughed.“And all the while…”
“You were a few yards away from them, grooming Buck.”
“And I noticed you didn’t point that out.”
Miles shrugged.“I might have had to let them on set, but I didn’t have to help them find you.Besides,” he added, with a big grin this time, “what you did was much better.”
He would never, ever forget the look on those “make or break you” faces when Jackson had straightened up from cleaning out Buck’s left front hoof, pulled off the baseball cap, and turning to look at them had said, “I think that might work both ways.”
They got a good laugh out of the memory.Then Nic got up, leaned in to give Jackson a parting kiss, and was off to a first-time training session with a new client.
“She’s keeping busy,” he said as she left.
“Very,” Jackson agreed.“It’s a good thing her mom is an inveterate organizer and is doing the wedding plans.Then again—” that famous Jackson Thorpe grin flashed “—I think that may be why Nic’s keeping so busy.”
He looked so damned happy it made Miles’s stomach knot a little.Not in envy, Jackson was too good a friend, but in…sadness for the hole in his own life.
Mopiness.Downright mopiness, idiot.
He knew he had a life many truly would envy, success in a difficult—okay, beyond difficult—business.He was the walking example of three times is the charm.His first success was pure luck, the second was enough to draw some powerful eyes, and thenStonewallblew the doors off.Now he had people coming to him instead of the other way around, yet he wasn’t so famous he had no privacy.He’d seen enough of that with Jackson, and the stars of his other two big successes.
It was his own fault his personal life was so…empty.He’d quickly gotten bored of the hit-and-run dalliances his colleagues seemed to thrive on, because he knew from the beginning that it wasn’t really him those women had been drawn to, but his success and what he could potentially do for them.And he’d reached the perhaps jaded assessment that the more they were willing to chase after him, the less talent they likely had for the actual job they were after.He didn’t like feeling that way, for more reasons than one, but there it was.
It was odd, really, the difference coming here had made for Jackson and Jeremy, and for Tucker, too.Was it this place, or was it just escaping the sometimes distasteful environs they’d worked and lived in?
“—I’m sure Miles will do that for you.”
He blinked, and tuned back in.“What am I doing?”
“Helping Jeremy out,” Jackson said.“I’ve got to meet with some donors in half an hour, so I can’t do it.”
“Oh.Of course.”He looked at the boy, who was working hard on that drawing.“I can’t draw worth beans, so what am I doing?”
Jeremy glanced up.“You’re gonna drive me to the big ranch.”
“Oh,” he repeated, feeling a bit silly.He glanced at Jackson.“I thought this ranch was pretty big.”
