Chapter Sixteen
“I don’t know, man,” Miles said, shifting the phone to his other ear. “I mean I can do a lot remotely, but—”
“It’s Christmas, Miles. You know the people you’d want to do business with aren’t doing any at the moment. And those you wouldn’t want to are likely to be drunk until after New Year’s.”
Miles laughed, although even knowing Jackson was intentionally exaggerating there was still enough truth in his words to make him wince.
“You might as well say yes now, so I don’t have to call in the prime persuader,” Jackson said.
An image flashed through his mind, deep blue eyes, a long, shiny tumble of dark brown hair. He swallowed tightly before saying, “The…prime persuader?”
“Jeremy, of course.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t help sounding relieved.
“Who did you think I meant?” Jackson asked with a laugh.
“I…never mind. You’re serious?”
“I am. We are. Nic’s old place is empty at the moment, her folks are fine with it—her mom liked you, by the way—and all you’ve seen are Hollywood Christmases for too long, my friend.”
He was gratified by the news Nic’s mother had liked him. It had only taken a single, albeit lengthy, conversation with the woman to have him admiring her immensely. This was a powerhouse of a woman who wasn’t about to let her need of a wheelchair stop her.
But right now, he needed to think, about Jackson’s offer. So he stalled. “Look who’s talking. You haven’t even had a Christmas there yet.”
“Who’s talking is someone who can already see and feel the difference. Look, I’ve got to roll—we’re headed over to the Garrett place.”
Miles felt a jab in his gut, as if the words had been a physical prod. “Oh?”
“Yeah, Riley’s dad, Jim, had a setback, and their foreman and his two sons who also work for her, are out of town on a family emergency, and they need some help. So just think about coming, okay?”
Miles sat there for a moment after the call, staring at the screen of his phone.
Jackson had changed his phone number to the predominant Hill Country area code about three months after he’d arrived there, which had told Miles as much as anything how serious he was.
The old number was now routed to his agent’s office back in L.A.
, and only family and locals to Last Stand had the new one.
And you, at least.
He did feel a little kick of emotion when he thought about that. That Jackson trusted him that much was a good feeling.
But this was a crazy idea. He’d been home all of two weeks. He had work to do here. But Jackson had a point—not a lot of new business upcoming, leaving nothing he couldn’t do remotely if he had to.
But stay there for a month? A weekend visit was fine now and then, and he’d already planned on that, but a month was crazy.
Wasn’t it? Although he liked the idea of being in a place new to him.
The old and familiar didn’t inspire much in the way of ideas.
And Last Stand was not only new to him, it was about as different as he could get, short of maybe heading for Alaska.
No, he couldn’t do this. Could he?
Although he had to admit dropping off the Hollywood radar was greatly appealing. He might not get recognized on the street anywhere like Jackson, but he was known, and expected to be wheeling, dealing, and listening for hours on end to pitches that lately seemed to be just remakes of old ideas.
But leave for a month? From now until after Christmas?
You ordinarily would be going to see Mom and Dad, so what’s the difference? Would an extra three weeks really matter?
And if the Baylors were really okay with him staying in Nic’s former quarters, then he wouldn’t feel like he was intruding on Jackson, Jeremy and Nic so much when they were busy prepping for their wedding.
In fact, he was fascinated by Barbara Baylor, and would love to talk to her more about how she functioned so well in a world mostly designed for walking.
He sat there for a while longer before finally admitting to himself the one thing that kept him playing this mental game.
Riley needs help.
It would be silly to let that be the deciding factor. And yet…
Three phone calls later, he had a flight, he’d left a message for his sister and then Jackson, and was in his bedroom, packing. And more than just the carry-on this time. And he knew by the lightening of the mental load once the decision had been made that it was the right one.
As he settled into his seat on the plane, for the same flight he’d taken last time, he noticed he also had the same crew. Including flight attendant Andrea, who seemed to recognize him.
“Can’t stay away, huh?” she asked, bringing him coffee as she had last time.
“Apparently not,” he said, smiling back at her.
He wondered, as she turned away to deal with today’s full first class, if things had been different, he would have pursued the attractive young woman.
Even if her intricate hairstyle again reminded him of Christi.
But somehow all he could think of was what he was heading toward. Who he was heading toward.
Sure, he’d be pretty much useless when it came to the finer points of ranching, but he was in good shape and strong, so he could help with the grunt work, couldn’t he?
He grinned inwardly at the thought of shoveling manure or worse, remembering all the borderline crude jokes the wranglers had made on Stonewall. More than once he’d seen one of them staring at a particularly messy deposit and saying, “Hmm. Didn’t realize Swiffer had been here.”
He leaned back in the seat, closed his eyes, and gave his mind permission to roam.
Some of his best ideas came when he did this.
Some of his silliest, too, but that was a small price to pay when the simple act of unleashing his imagination had resulted in the three shows that had landed him in the position he was in now.
Yes, reeling a bit from the implosion of Stonewall, but he’d get past that. Eventually.
He was just glad his friendship with Jackson hadn’t ended when the show did.
On that thought, his mind took off, seizing upon that nebulous idea that had struck him earlier.
Somehow, no matter how much he told himself it wouldn’t be possible, the idea wouldn’t quite let go.
And he’d learned not to ignore that simple fact, that if a possibility kept coming back to gnaw at him, it was worth investigating thoroughly.
That decided him. He was going to talk to Jackson about it. Because without him, it would be pointless to even consider.
But first he would have to tackle the other challenge of this perhaps foolish idea.
One Riley Garrett.