liked it better than his own perfectly decorated house, which he’d hired someone expensive to put together. Raine’s house was comfortable and lived-in; his place might look like it was straight out of a magazine, but it was hardly homey.
“This is nice.”
“This is probably about a tenth of the space of your house, but thank you,” she said drily. “Daisy and I don’t need more. She can get that at the ranch. I’m not really into personal possessions, which is a good thing since she acquired that enormous puppy. Along with my favorite pair of shoes, the rug in the kitchen has been a casualty. I happened to like that rug but I had no idea it was a culinary canine delight. He chewed it to pieces when my back was turned for about eight seconds.”
He had to laugh as he settled next to her on the couch. “Slater mentioned every time Mace went to acquire a pet, someone else in family became latched on to it and he had to try again.”
“It’s like visiting a zoo,” she agreed, also laughing. “The moment the infamous Mrs. Arbuckle-Calder became involved, game over. That woman makes an executive decision over whether or not you might need a pet, and if you are deemed pet-worthy, she’ll pick one out for you and just show up with it and drop it right inside your door. You don’t really get to say yes or no. How do think I ended up with the lion?”
He liked the way she kicked off her black flats and propped her feet on the coffee table, wineglass in hand. A gust of wind hit the rafters, but the fire balanced it nicely. “I wasn’t allowed pets growing up. My mother was opposed to the slightest hint of pet hair in her house, plus my parents traveled a lot, so pets were an inconvenience she didn’t want to suffer.”
Raine furrowed her brow. “No pets?”
“None.”
“Daisy would be desolate without her cat and dog.”
He’d had some moments of desolation, too, but he’d survived.
“Everyone is different. This is what I wanted to talk to you about. I know someone who produces Pixel motion pictures and I mentioned you were a graphic artist. I showed him your work, and he’s interested in talking about it. He’s fairly sure Wyoming is the end of the earth, but he’s willing to come here to meet with you.”
She stared at him. “What?”
Raine had the most beautiful unusual eyes. Not green and not gold, but a starburst mixture of of both colors.
“Pixel. Motion pictures. I—”
“I know what they are,” she interrupted, groaning and briefly closing those eyes. “Oh man, I swore I was going tell you no to anything...but that changes the game.”
“Anything?”
“Stop with the sexual innuendo, I’m processing here. I don’t have the time in my day to add another thing, but I can’t possibly pass that up. I thought you liked me. How could you dangle this in front of me?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m not even that qualified. I took some animation classes in college, but that’s it.”
He smiled. “My personal feelings about you aside, from what I’ve been able to see, you’re really talented. I’d never have mentioned your name otherwise. But I’m glad I did, because the producer agrees with me. He thinks you could be a valuable addition to the team.”
Raine glared at him from those vivid hazel eyes. “You knew this would be a graphic artist’s dream. This is a calculated move.”
“Of course I did. Never underestimate me.” He had known. He understood a lot about being driven. Why else would they be exchanging emails at two in the morning?
“What kind of company are we talking about?”
She wasn’t a fool, but he already knew that. “Let’s just say you’d recognize the name.”
She blew out a breath. “I knew you were trouble. I’m so busy right now as it is—”
“All you have to do is think about it and let me know if you want a face-to-face. I’m investing, so I want it to be topnotch. It’s in my financial best interest to help him find the best artist possible.” She opened her mouth again, undoubtedly to protest further, and he held up a hand. “That’s enough business for one night, especially when it’s Christmas Eve. I’m declaring the meeting portion of our evening officially over.”
Raine blinked, then raised a brow. “In that case, I think it’s time for the dinner portion of our evening. I hope you can stand spicy food.” She got to her feet. “Bring the wine, please.”
“I thought we were having hamburgers.” He followed her toward the kitchen, bottle in hand. “But yes, I do like spicy.”
Her kitchen was as interesting as the living room. A row of unmatched antique canisters sat on the polished counter. The appliances were modern but the vintage hutch in the corner held what looked like a beautiful set of old dishes and pink crystal glasses. A mobile made from tarnished silver forks hung over the farmhouse sink—another piece of décor that was quintessentially Raine and suited the room perfectly.
His mother would undoubtedly faint at the sight, but Mick again found himself both charmed and amused.
“Good.” Raine moved efficiently between the refrigerator and the counter as she set down a plate and several containers. “Green chili cheeseburgers are my indulgence on Christmas Eve. Questionably traditional, I know, but I love them.”
He grinned for what felt like the thousandth time that night. “Are you kidding me?” he said incredulously. “I’m from New Mexico. We didn’t move to California until I was fifteen. My aunt and uncle still live in Las Cruces. I have done some self-analyzing to try and figure out if I go to visit them, or just for the food.”
She gave him a surprised look that probably mirrored his own. “Are you serious? My cousin lives in Santa Fe. I love it there. She sends me the chilis every late August or early September and I hoard them like a miser.”
“The real deal? From Hatch? Don’t tease me.”
“Oh yeah.” Raine nodded, no doubt inwardly laughing at his expression. “I roast them myself and freeze them. I would save Daisy and the pets first in a fire, but I might consider going back in for my chilis.”
He’d just gone straight to heaven. “You’ve just given me quite the Christmas present. If I can help, let me know. Otherwise I’ll just stand here and drool.”
She pulled out a cutting board from a side cupboard. “Somehow I suspect your culinary skills are limited to making reservations, but if you can slice an onion, you have a job to do.”
“That I can do.” She was right, he didn’t cook often, but then again, he traveled constantly and home-cooked meals were hard to come by when one wasn’t often home. Maybe that was part of what he liked about Mustang Creek—every aspect of the community felt welcoming and homey. If you walked into an establishment like Bad Billy’s Burger Palace, you’d be greeted by name.
He hadn’t even realized until recently that that appealed to him.
Maybe he was just getting a little restless in his life. Something was missing, and he knew he was in Mustang Creek for
