Flint—the fifty-year-old man who looked like he could chew up railroad spikes for breakfast—blushed. He actually blushed under that salt-and-pepper beard. “Ma’am.”
“Oh, Bea, please. Everyone calls me Bea.” She rubbed her dog lightly over the back and angled herself slightly so they could see his face. “And this is Mr. Milton.”
The dog shot them a mutinous look that said, Get me out of here. I’ll share my kibble with you.
Flint chuckled and rubbed the dog on the top of the head with two knuckles. “Not quite a farm dog, is he?”
“Oh, no. He’s my baby.” Bea snuggled the dog a little and smiled. “But you must understand about that. The horses are like your babies, right?”
The man stared, glassy-eyed, then shook his head. “I wouldn’t say—”
“I could tell you were a nurturing man,” she cooed, interrupting him. Flint didn’t seem to mind anyway. Hooking one arm through his, Bea pulled him toward the house. “A man that cares about his animals is a man you can trust, don’t you agree?”
“I do,” he said, getting into the swing of things. The man could have been her father, but that didn’t stop him from clearly fantasizing about Bea. He followed along with her like a dog on a leash. Except Bea never used a leash for her damn dog.
“That’s why you’re just the perfect fit for me!” Bea laughed and bumped his shoulder with hers, much to Milton’s disgruntlement. “I mean the ranch. Red’s just the best there is, isn’t he? And did you see my brother up there on that horse? It’s magical.”
Trace turned around and doubled over, hands on his knees, trying his hardest to not bark out a laugh. Red kneed him in the thigh and motioned to follow behind the pair heading toward the house.
“Well, I agree Callahan’s got a good rep,” Flint said as the magic of Bea’s spell started to wear off and commonsense took over. “But I’m still not sure yet.”
“Oh.” Bea stepped back a little and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push. It’s just, there was this other man here a few days ago and I thought you two were friends. I thought he sent you. Oh, darn it, what was his name?”
Trace looked to his left and watched as Red’s face went blank. What the hell was she pulling?
“It reminded me of a bird. Ostrich? No, that’s silly. Oh, well. No matter.” Bea swatted the thought aside. “I just thought you two were friends for some—”
“Partridge?” Flint said, stopping dead in his tracks.
“Oh, that’s a bird, isn’t it? Maybe that’s it!” Bea lit up and patted Milton’s butt. “You’re so good at this. Yes, a man—maybe it was this Mr. Partridge, though I’m not exactly positive—was around the other week and I’m not sure how I got it in my mind you two were friends.”
“More like enemies,” Red muttered to Trace. “Confirmed enemies.”
Ah. The dawn broke. Trace debated ending the little act now, sending Bea off to the house and wrapping up the meeting. It’s what Peyton would have done. But something, call it instinct, held him back. Since Red wasn’t jumping in to stop the show, Trace could only assume his infamous gut was talking and saying to let it play out.
Bea squeezed Flint’s arm, and her eyes widened. “I think your arms are bigger than Trace’s!”
And that was his punishment for following instinct. He stepped forward, intent on breaking it up, but Red put out a hand. “Let her finish,” he said from the corner of his mouth.
“Did Partridge buy anything?”
Bea’s nose scrunched as she thought. “Um, I’m not sure. I’m not really a businesswoman, you know. I don’t handle that sort of thing. But he looked so happy when he left, and he said he’d be back soon… .” Bea chewed on her bottom lip and hugged Milton tighter. If it was possible, the dog’s eyes bugged out even more. “Oh, no. Did I get this wrong? Maybe it wasn’t Partridge after all. There are so many bird names. I can’t be sure now. Don’t hold me to it.”
Flint shook his head. “I’m not worried about that.”
“Oh, please don’t tell anyone I mentioned it!” She grasped his wrist in a desperate move, her eyes going wide and a little watery. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back the tears. “I don’t want to make a mess of things and I hope I didn’t ruin any secrets or surprises. Please don’t tell.”
Flint patted her hand, looking more fatherly now than lecherous. “I wouldn’t dare. You did the right thing.” He angled his head back a little. “Callahan, should we head back to the office and talk numbers?”