No doubt I was smiling like a fiend, probably catching bugs in the shiny white grille of my teeth.
He slowed his pace just a little and so did I. Steering the shiny black gelding off the packed-dirt trail, he led me into a grassy field, a pasture to my mind. On a horse farm, maybe it had another name. But this was no formal paddock with reinforced split rail fences and partial stone gates. It was a meadow of tall grass and wildflowers, surrounded by old trees. If this part of the land was fenced, I couldn’t see any evidence. Maybe we were simply riding the Sonoma County hilltops between Damien’s property and the olive grove.
When he slowed down a bit more, I brought Windchime up beside his horse, finally straightening fully for the first time.
“What do you think?” he asked, spreading one arm wide to take in the sweeping view of hills and groves that rolled down to the Pacific in the distance.
“Incredible.” I laughed, still giddy from the ride, the man, the afternoon.
But as we stood there, the horses breathing a little harder while they stamped and snorted, my heart expanding with stronger feelings than Damien would ever guess, I knew I had to tell him the truth. He deserved to know that my secret was out. Fraser Farm might already be a destination on the Hollywood map of the stars, Reality TV Edition. Yes, there was such a thing.
Yet the bigger risk came from Rick. He’d never liked it that I took off after he got engaged to Nina. I think he’d envisioned himself having both of the Cortland girls twined around his finger. I had the vague sense he’d try to do something to hurt me, or retaliate against an old perceived slight in some way.
“Miranda?” Damien waved his hand in front of my face, Eclipse nudging Windchime. “It may be a great view, but it sure took you on a journey far, far away from me.”
He had no idea how much further apart we were about to get once I quit running from reality and told him the truth about Violet’s visit.
* * *
“AND YOU SAW this message Violet said she tweeted?” Damien nudged the gelding around a sharp turn on a path down the far side of one of the hills behind his property. It was a neutral zone here. He’d probably already crossed his property line, but to preserve the natural beauty of the place, he and his olive-growing neighbor kept it free of fences.
He’d planned a special day for Miranda, with the horseback ride and a treat he had waiting for them back at the farm. But the day had taken a slide a hell of a lot steeper than the terrain they navigated now.
“Yes. Not that I understand a lot about Twitter. But she said she had ten thousand followers and her note had already been...I forget what she called it...copied and sent out by seventy-five of them.” Miranda’s horse shook her head in protest at crossing a small rivulet, but stayed the course.
Damien had quit worrying about Miranda’s riding an hour ago, after seeing how well she kept her seat. She had a high comfort level around horses, a fact that Windchime seemed to have grasped early on.
“Re-tweeted,” he replied absently, his brain working overtime to think through the implications of what that meant. How much of a following did Miranda have?
The kind that meant photographers might camp out on his property? Or the kind that meant a few fans would troop up to his front door every other week?
“Wow.” She gave a dry laugh. “Someone knows his social media terminology.”
“I’m a sole proprietor with a fledgling company. I have no choice.”
“That’s what Joelle says about the tearoom. When you own the company, you do it all. Maybe you can teach—” Miranda stopped abruptly, her jaw snapping shut.
“I’d be happy to share what I know.” He looked her way sharply, wondering why she’d cut off the thought. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Her shoulders swayed with the motion of the horse, as did the barely there feather earrings that dangled from the delicate silver cuffs on her ear. Her full lips were pursed.