Humbling Her Cowboy (Miller Brothers 0f Texas Book 1) Read online

  “I’ve been almost everywhere but Alaska and Hawaii.”

  “You travel a lot?”

  “I used to. I’ve been sticking around the west for the most part over the past three years.”

  “Did something change?”

  She shrugged, feeling like she had divulged enough. “Life’s always changing, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose.” He didn’t say anything further, seeming to understand that she was done. For someone who had been raised with a silver spoon, he seemed surprisingly empathetic. Or maybe she was just being a bit enamored because he’d helped her so much. He was no longer the scary boogeyman who had chased her down twice and scared the absolute pants off her. Instead, he was the confusing and backward rich guy who she couldn’t puzzle out.

  She’d always been good at puzzles.

  They didn’t talk a lot on the way back, just eating and chewing. And yet it was nice.

  Frenchie hadn’t quite realized just how much winter isolated a lot of the people in her situation. They didn’t tag as much because it was harder to work with the spray-paint when it felt like their fingers were going to fall off from the cold, and even harder to keep the paint from being ruined. Not to mention that everyone was so set on trying to find shelter, stay warm, and get food that their usual hangouts and meeting places sort of fell by the wayside.

  It was nice to just be next to someone, sharing a human activity. Even if she didn’t entirely trust the handsome man. But she also didn’t… not trust him.

  They made it back to the clinic with only a half-hour passing, and that was with them seriously slowing down on their return walk. Frenchie finished the last of her kebab and downed her coffee, throwing it in the trashcan outside of the clinic.

  “You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

  He shrugged again, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I want to.”

  “So you’ve said.” She studied his face, trying to figure him out. Every time she felt like she had him pegged, he would go and do or say something ridiculous. Sometimes, she felt like they were speaking different languages. “But why do you want to? Did you like… murder someone and you’re trying to make up for it? Did a ghost of Christmas Past come and tell you that you need to change your ways?”

  “No, nothing like that,” he answered with an easy smile, and if that didn’t make her heart skip a beat. What was that about? “And FYI, it would have been Jacob Marley, if we’re going by the classics.”

  “Eh, I never read it. I always just preferred to watch the Muppets’ version every time it came on. The Marley brothers had the best song,” Frenchie said.

  “I… don’t think I’ve ever watched that.”

  She couldn’t help it when she turned to him with wide eyes. “You’ve never seen A Muppet’s Christmas Carol!?”

  “Why do you say that like it’s a crime against humanity?”

  “Because it practically is! A Muppet’s Christmas Carol has the best songs, the best costuming, and some of the best puppetry of all the specials that start playing around the holidays.”

  “Uh-huh, and you are a completely unbiased expert,” he said, his eyebrows raising.

  “I’ll have you know that I am. I’m certified, one hundred percent holiday movie special extraordinaire.”

  “Ah, forgive me for ever doubting your knowledge then. I should have known better.” He chuckled.

  “Yeah, you definitely should have. And who knows, maybe I’ll forgive you if you show that you understand the error of your ways.”

  “And just how am I supposed to do that?”

  She found herself smiling as she answered. It was like being back in the diner, except she was about five times more relaxed than she was that day.

  “By watching the movie, of course.”

  “Right, right. The answer is so obvious now.”

  She looked up at him, worried that she was pushing it too far, but she saw that easy smile was on his face and for once, he didn’t look worried or confounded. It was a good look for him, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was a normal girl, and he was a normal guy, if there could ever be something between them.

  Wait, no, why was she thinking like that? She needed to shove that thought out of her head immediately.

  Her mind scrambled for something to distract her, so the next thing she knew, her mouth was blurting something out.

  “So how old are you if A Muppet’s Christmas Carol wasn’t a part of your childhood?”

  He hesitated for a moment, his eyebrows going up to his thick hairline. He couldn’t be older than his forties, but then again, with rich people it was so difficult to say.

  “I’m thirty-two. Going to be thirty-three in a few months,” he answered.

  “Huh, so you’re like a decade older than me. That’s wild.”

  “You’re twenty-three?”

  “Yup and have been for about four months. So really, you’re nine and a half years, but a decade sounds better.”

  “Oh yes,” he said flatly. “That sounds so much better.”

  “Aw, come on, don’t be salty just because you’re old.”

  “I’m not old,” he huffed. “And what on earth does salty mean?”

  That surprised her. “You have to be kidding me. Everyone knows what salty means.”

  “I guess that everyone doesn’t, because I don’t have any idea.” He squinted at her, rubbing his strong jaw. “I reckon you’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

  “Nope. I’m sure your ancient brain just wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

  If he were anyone else, she might have been worried about setting him off. Her mouth had gotten her into trouble ever since she could remember, and there was only so much teasing people could take before they eventually lashed out. But Solomon just huffed another laugh and crossed his arms.

  “I’m beginning to feel very attacked here.”

  “Oh, are you? That’s a shame. Truly a shame.”

  “Really? Because your tone says otherwise.”

  She couldn’t help it, she cackled outright. When was the last time she had laughed like this? She didn’t know, but she enjoyed the sensation.

  “Hey, what time is it?” he asked.

  Frenchie looked at him blankly, holding up her hands in a “how should I know” gesture.

  “I don’t have a phone, dude. But my internal clock is pretty good, so if I had to guess, we’re somewhere between twelve fifteen and twelve thirty.”

  He squinted his eyes suspiciously and pulled his own phone from his pocket. Geez, it really was huge! Bigger than his hand, and that was saying something. He pressed a button on the side then gave an appreciative nod.

  “Twelve twenty-five. Not bad.”

  “You get a good sense of it when you’re wandering around.”

  “I bet. I never even think about it, you know. If I need to check the time, I am always close to something that can tell me.”

  “Ah, a luxury.” She closed her eyes, remembering all the times when she used to have something to carry around. “But also, sometimes it’s really freeing not living your whole life by a time clock.”

  “And that’s what I’m doing?”

  She shrugged, peaking at him with one of her eyes. “Is it not? I don’t know your life, I’m just assuming.”

  He didn’t answer, and she watched his face carefully to see if he was angry, but he just seemed contemplative. Huh, that wasn’t the first time that he didn’t answer because he seemed to be really thinking about her words, and she didn’t know what to do with that. She was used to people brushing her off or dismissing her if she said something controversial, strange, or decidedly “Frenchie.” But he didn’t do that. How bizarre.

  “Well, do you think we should go in and check to see if she’s up? It’s been about an hour and a half almost since I got here.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Frenchie said.

  They walked inside, him holding the door for her, and the r
eceptionist nodded to her from the desk.

  “She’s up now,” the woman said quickly, but not impolitely. “But she’s still coming around, and they’re going over all the care she needs to do to make sure she doesn’t get an infection or reinjure herself. You’re probably looking at another half hour or so.”

  “That’s fine,” Frenchie said automatically, more relief flooding through her. She had been worried that something would go wrong. “We can wait.”

  “Actually, I’ll have you fill out these papers for her. I figure you know the drill.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Frenchie took the clipboard and went to sit down, Solomon following her. When she sat, she couldn’t help but notice that he sat a seat away from her. Weird.

  “What did she mean by that?” he asked.

  “These outtake forms require a lot of info we don’t have, like current address and things like that. We all have some bullhonkey answers we write down with local shelters we’re on good terms with, or the number of one of the good social workers around. You know, the usual.”

  “Nothing that you ever say sounds usual,” he muttered under his breath, which made her chuckle.

  “I told you, you live in a bubble. All this stuff is just the real world for us poor folks.”

  He made a noncommittal sound and she returned her attention back to the paperwork. She didn’t want to make Tawny wait a second longer than she had to.

  The minutes ticked by and she did indeed end up handing the clipboard back before Tawny came out. In the back of her mind, she tried not to think of how much time Solomon was spending on her, from driving an hour one way to driving an hour back and how much he was sitting around. Considering how much he made, his time had to be costly, and yet he didn’t even look agitated as he waited for Tawny to be released.

  When she finally was, they took their time getting her to the truck, setting her up against some pillows in the back seat so that she could prop her legs up. Apparently, she’d twisted her knee pretty badly, resulting in it being dislocated, and they’d popped it back into place at the clinic. Frenchie was grateful she hadn’t been around for that part. She’d dislocated her shoulder twice when she was younger, and it wasn’t something that she would want a repeat of.

  “Where are we going?” Tawny said once they were driving along. Her voice was much raspier than usual, and Frenchie tried not to think of why.

  “My friend Solomon here set us up with a room for your recovery.”

  Frenchie didn’t miss the look Tawny gave her through the rearview mirror. She just shrugged in response, her shoulders coming up to her ears. Thankfully, the young girl seemed to understand. And if she had any questions about how or why that had happened, she didn’t ask. Tawny was good that way. She really just wanted to make her money and save up enough to get to California, where she was hoping to join a dance troupe. Frenchie’s heart dropped when she wondered just how much the girl had been set back by the attack. Hopefully she had been burying and hiding her money too; otherwise, whoever had attacked her had made off with thousands. Frenchie didn’t know her exact finances, but she knew that Tawny needed at least four grand to get there and have a place to stay, and she’d been working hard since she was fifteen.

  Ugh, it was all so depressing. It seemed like any time one of them took a few steps forward, something would push them a million steps back. It was exhausting.

  As if to punctuate her point, Tawny fell asleep on the short drive to the hotel. It was less than ten minutes, but she was out like a light. They parked, and Frenchie didn’t want to move her right away.

  Solomon said, “Why don’t you wait here with her while I take the stuff I bought up to the room? I don’t think we should leave her alone, but I don’t think we should wake her up just yet.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  “All right, I’ll make sure to take my time.”

  He got out, making sure to shut the door quietly after he pressed a button that she guessed popped the trunk. It wasn’t until he fully disappeared around the back of the truck that she realized he left his keys in the ignition.

  Wow, that was a pretty huge sign of trust. Especially considering that he was going inside to the building on the second floor. It would be so easy to drive off with it and take it somewhere that could strip it before they ever got caught. His truck was really high end, she had no doubt that she could get enough to set her up for months. Maybe even turn her life around completely.

  Except she would never do that. Period. And especially never do that to someone that had helped both her and her friend. Her stepfather may have had some choice words about her, but when it came down to it, she did have morals and principals, and stealing someone’s truck didn’t fit into the paradigm.

  Closing her eyes, she let herself sit back against the seat for a moment. Her belly was full, her feet didn’t hurt, and her friend was safe with her again. For how awful the day before had been, things were certainly looking up. She had to be careful not to get too used to it, because it was all going to end after a week.

  But still, a whole lot could be done in a week. Especially if—after the first day of making sure Tawny was all right on her own—Frenchie went down to the reception area and used one of the lobby computers. She could go grab that track phone she had been thinking about and fill out some online applications, really take advantage of all the time she had been given.

  She was so deep into her mental plans that she nearly jumped when a knock sounded on her door. It was Solomon, and since his keys were inside the truck, he was locked out.

  Rolling down the window, she batted her eyes at him. “Can I help you, sir?” she teased.

  He cracked a smile at that. “You ready to get out? It’s been about fifteen minutes or so, but we can just sit for a while, if you like.”

  Frenchie looked at Tawny, who was passed out so hard that she was drooling a bit on one of the pillows he had piled in the back.

  “We can talk.”

  He smiled at that and went around the truck, sliding into the driver’s seat. Frenchie was already set with a question for him as soon as he settled in.

  “You’re a part of the Miller family, right?”

  He grimaced, and she wondered why. “You looked us up?”

  “No. I don’t really have steady access to the internet. But when you mentioned I tagged several of your family’s places, I guessed you had to be a part of that rich Christian ranch family I hear on the news every so often.”

  “You listen to the news?”

  “I overhear things, mostly. Funny, you don’t really seem like much of a cowboy.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Sure, this is what… the fourth, fifth time we’ve met and you haven’t yee-hawed even once.”

  He laughed, shaking his head at her. “Ah yes, because that is the measure of whether or not someone is a true cowboy.”

  “That’s what John Wayne taught me. What, are you telling me you have a trusty steed that’s always by your side and a loyal dog?”

  His mirth faded a bit, and his stare out of the window grew heavy. “I don’t. For being the heir of our ranching operation, I don’t actually spend much time on the ranch.”

  “Well that’s a real shame,” she said. “If I had a ranch, I would be petting all the animals every single day.”

  “Oh really? You like animals.”

  “I love animals. I miss having a pet, but I really travel around too much. Although I was thinking about maybe befriending a stray dog for protection’s sake, but that means all my stray cat friends will stop hanging around.”

  “Our ranching operation is huge. It would take me days to pet every animal, let alone play with them.”

  “So?”

  He gave her a reproachful look. “What do you mean, so?”

  “You’re rich! So what if it takes you two days to pet all of them. Just spend the two days petting them then. What’s the point of having a mega-corporation if you can’
t enjoy the good things in life?”

  “And the good things in life are petting all the livestock in my family’s business?”

  She reached over and playfully swatted his arm. “The good things in life are being able to boop snoots and pet the heads of all the wonderful creatures on your property.”

  “That’s one way to look at it.”

  “Come on, you’re telling me the heir of the Miller fortune doesn’t even make time to ride his horse?”

  “It’s been… a couple weeks.”

  His tone said it was more than that. Interesting.

  “Huh, I can’t imagine being as loaded as you and not using it to actually enjoy yourself.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, and the conversation petered out. She didn’t mind, however, thinking of what it would be like to walk out of her house and be able to saunter over to a beautiful horse, or even horses.

  She’d been able to see plenty of the noble creatures in her travels, and even ridden one a couple of times at the carnivals and shows she got gigs at. It was something she never got tired of, and maybe if it wasn’t so cold, she’d walk as far as she could out of the city until she reached ranch country where she could draw them to her heart’s content.

  The quiet lasted on for a while before Solomon shifted. “Do you think we’ve given her enough time?”

  Frenchie looked back to Tawny, who had stopped drooling, her chin was resting solidly on her chest.

  “Yeah, let’s get her into a bed. It’ll probably be the softest thing she’s slept on in months.”

  They both got out of the truck and went about the slow process of waking her up and helping Tawny out of the truck and inside. The receptionist didn’t say anything about the sorry state of the young woman between them, and Frenchie was eternally grateful for that.

  They reached the door and Solomon helped her walk to one of the beds, where Tawny immediately fell right back asleep. Well, it was good for her to know that she had an opioid sensitivity while she was young.

  “And she didn’t have anything to carry up, right?” Solomon asked, turning to Frenchie. She just shook her head, trying not to think about Tawny’s beloved fiddle and one of her tools that helped her earn as much money as she did.