Chapter Twenty-Seven
Riley could not remember ever feeling so relaxed. Of course, after being wound up so many times this weekend, thanks to the man holding her now, it wasn’t a big surprise.
She stretched, feeling a bit more than decadent in the big bed in the luxurious room. “Remind me to thank Nic…if I ever leave this place,” she said lazily.
“I was thinking maybe a bushel of mistletoe. Not that she needs any encouragement to be kissing Jackson.”
Riley smiled so widely at that she figured she must look like the proverbial Cheshire cat. Not only at the silly words, but at the way she could feel him talking, he was holding her so closely.
“I think I understand,” she said. “Finally.”
“And I think I,” Miles said, lifting his head just enough to give her yet another kiss, “finally understand the true breadth and scope of the Last Stand grapevine.”
She giggled at that, and inwardly marveled at herself. Her, giggling? She hadn’t done that since…well, what she called the dark ages, the age when Derek had destroyed every expectation she’d ever had.
And now this man was building her new ones.
She thought she’d save that text Nic had sent Saturday morning forever. Maybe she’d even print it out and frame it.
You vanished. Miles vanished. The grapevine says you left together, and you didn’t head home. So wherever you two are, stay there. Jackson and I will cover for you at the ranch for the weekend.
She’d sent back a simple heart, knowing that would answer it all.
“Now that’s a friend,” Miles had said when she’d shown the text to him.
“A friend who understands,” she’d said softly. Which had brought on another bout of the sweetest, hottest sex she’d ever imagined possible.
But it was getting late on Sunday evening, and reality was knocking on the door. And so was the awkwardness. What now? Did they just go back and act like nothing had changed?
And Dad. She was going to have to tell him…
something. And no matter how often she told herself she was twenty-four years past the time when she had to account to him for everything she did, he was still her beloved father, and also her partner on the ranch.
She’d have to say…something. And it was going to be a shock, after all this time, for her to tell him she’d…
She’d what? Given in to a weekend of fiery-hot, incredible sex? Or had she done something silly, like fall like a wounded oak for a man who would be headed back home, back to a place she’d hoped to never set foot in, probably right after the wedding?
She’d never been one to just put off thinking about things, but she tried now. She’d just have to deal with it when it happened. Whatever happened.
“What’s wrong?” Miles asked.
“Just feeling a little ridiculous.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been a legal adult for two decades and I’m worrying about explaining my absence to my father.”
He smiled. “Only reason I’m not is mine is halfway across the country.” The smile faded. “But maybe I should be worried about explaining to yours?”
She stared at him for a long moment. And suddenly the absurdity of it all hit her, and she burst into laughter. For the second time this weekend, she laughed as she hadn’t for years. She was afraid for a moment that he would take it wrong, but now he was laughing too.
“I guess,” he said when they had to stop for breath, “there are some things you really never outgrow.”
And as it turned out, all the worry was unnecessary, to her shock. Because when they arrived back at the ranch, her father was happily ensconced in the living room watching a football game. The ranch looked as it always did, with no undone chores leaping out and nagging at her.
“That Jackson works pretty hard, for an actor,” her father said. “And you obviously taught Nic well when you were babysitting her, back in the day.”
“I…yes, he does…and she learned from her dad, like I did, not…” She floundered, not sure what else to say. She was about to dodge into the kitchen when her dad spoke again.
“Everything’s fine,” he went on as the game hit a pause. “They saw to everything. The most strenuous thing I’ve done all weekend was go out to check on the foal. Who is fine. Up and walking all over the place.”
“Oh. Good.” She sounded like an idiot, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She flicked a glance at Miles, whose expression was carefully neutral.
Her father unexpectedly let out a low chuckle. “Relax, Riley. I’ve known this was coming since you told me about the day you took him up to the overlook. So I’ll only say, it’s about time.” He shifted his gaze to Miles. “And I only have one thing to say to you as well. You take care with my girl.”
“Yes, sir,” Miles said respectfully.
He went back to his football game as if they’d done nothing more than discuss the weather.
It wasn’t until they headed back outside—she wanted to go see the foal herself—that Miles whispered to her, “Why do I feel like a teenager who just got away with something?”
Riley couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing.
“Another reason I approve,” her father called out from behind them. “That’s a sound I don’t hear often enough.”
Riley blushed then—she could feel it. But Miles called back into the house, “Then I’ll make it my mission to fix that, Mr. Garrett.”
“You manage that, you’ll have to start calling me Jim.”
“How about I start with James and work myself the rest of the way up?”
This time it was her father who laughed, and it warmed Riley’s heart to hear it because the sound had been rare from him as well since his injury.
“Speaking of work, I suppose we’d better get back to it?” Miles said briskly as he closed the door behind them.
They did, although to Riley it didn’t seem like work.
At least not the way she was used to it, focused utterly on the goal of completing her mental list for the day.
No, images kept playing through her mind, memories of the weekend, images of the man beside her, of his beautiful body sliding into hers, and her own body showing her she had never known it as well as she thought she had.
She’d never imagined such feelings, such impossible soaring sensations were possible.
She’d always been what she called based in reality, her imagination limited to solving problems, utterly grounded.
Miles Flint made her fly.
And the next two weeks flew by. They worked hard, side by side, day after day. And the nights…the nights were a gift she’d never expected to receive in her entire life.
The first week they spent almost isolated, seeing almost no one except the livestock, the couple of day hands who were just as busy, and her father.
Her father who never blinked when Miles didn’t go home at night, just as he hadn’t blinked when he’d shown up with a duffel bag full of clothes and other necessities.
“Not even a question,” she said, amazed after the third night.
“Not on my end, either, even though Nic saw me packing that bag.”
That amazed her even more. And as if he’d read her expression—he really was darned good at that—he smiled and said quietly, “She said they’re all rooting for us.”
So am I.
She’d finally had to admit it Friday night as she lay, delightfully exhausted, in his arms. Had to admit that she wanted this to go on forever.
Even though she couldn’t see how it could.
His life was somewhere else, hers was here, and while long distance was a lot easier than it once was, with video calls and texts, that couldn’t replace nights like last night.
“So,” he asked, cuddling her even closer, “now that everybody that matters knows…are we going public?”
Her mouth twisted wryly. Then she remembered he came from a place where relationships were often hidden. Often, she suspected, so there could be a big paparazzi gathering when they did, as he’d said, go public.
“Do you really think the Last Stand grapevine isn’t already buzzing?” she asked.
“I’m sure it is,” he said. “I’ve learned not to underestimate it. But are we going to prove the buzz is true?”
She propped herself up on one elbow. “Would you rather not?”
He drew back slightly. “I’d rather carry a sign proving it.”
“Or call the media?”
He frowned. “Is that what you think?”
She sighed. “No. Not really. It’s only that sometimes where you’re from, what you do and deal with, seems overwhelming.”
“But we’re in Last Stand now. And if it’s going to get out, I’d rather it be here, first. Because it wouldn’t have happened if not for this place.”
And with that tribute to her home, he melted away all her reservations. “In that case, Mr. Flint, I think we need to hit the Christmas market this weekend. That’ll do it.”
He laughed, pulled her close again, and she spent the next half hour thanking him in a very personal way for what he’d said about this place she loved.