The Rancher's Christmas Promise. Allison Leigh

but he definitely could see the shapely leg that emerged when the passenger-side door opened.

      It belonged to Greer, looking very un-Greer-like in a flowy sort of dress patterned in vibrant swirls of color that could have rivaled one of his aunt’s paintings. Half her hair was untidily pulled up and held by a glittery pink clip.

      He still knew it was her, though, and not one of her sisters. No question, considering the sharp look she gave him as she closed the SUV door and approached him. “You hauled my car here?”

      “I suppose there’s no point in denying the obvious.” He watched the big SUV pull around in the cul-de-sac and head back down the hill. The identity of the driver was none of his business. He wondered, anyway. “Boyfriend?”

      She frowned. “Grant. And why did you haul it?”

      No wonder the SUV had turned around and left. “You’d rather have it still sitting out on the side of the highway?”

      “Of course not, but—” She broke off, looking consternated, and only then seemed to notice that they had an audience. “How are you doing, Mrs. Gunderson?” She leaned down to pet the little round dog. Ryder wasn’t enough of a gentleman to look away when the stretchy, ruffled neckline of Greer’s dress revealed more than it should have.

      “Just fine, dearie. Oh, Mignon, don’t jump!”

      Mrs. Gunderson’s admonishment was too late, though, because the dog had already bounced up and into Greer’s arms.

      He was actually a little impressed that the fat Mignon could jump.

      But he was more impressed by the way Greer caught him and laughed.

      He had never heard her laugh before. Not her or her sisters. Her chocolate-colored eyes sparkled and her face practically glowed.

      And damned if he didn’t feel something warm streak down his spine.

      “You probably need a new thermostat,” he said abruptly.

      The dog was licking the bottom of her chin even though she was trying to avoid his tongue, but she didn’t put Mignon down. “How do you know?”

      “Because I checked everything else that would cause your overheating before I towed it back here.” He stepped around the two women. “And think about keeping your car key in a less obvious hiding spot,” he advised as pulled open the door to climb inside his truck.

      Greer’s jaw dropped a little, which gave Mignon more chin to lick. She set the dog down and trotted after him, wrapping her fingers over the open window. “You’re just going to leave now?”

      His fingers closed over the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. “What else do you figure I should do?”

      Her lips parted slightly. “Can I pay you for the tow at least?”

      He turned the key. “No need.”

      “Well, I should do something.” She didn’t step back from the truck, despite the engine leaping to life. “To thank you at least. Surely there’s something I can do.”

      The “something” that leaped to mind wasn’t exactly fit for sharing in polite company. Particularly with her elderly neighbor still watching them as though they were prime-time entertainment.

      He said the next best option that came to mind. “Next time I need a lawyer, you can owe me one.” He even managed a smile to go with the words.

      Fortunately, it seemed like enough. She smiled back and patted the door once. “You’ll never collect on that.” Her voice was light.

      “One thing I’ve learned in my life is to never say never.” He looked away from her ringless ring finger. “Where’d that dog go?”

      Greer looked around, giving him a close-up view of the tender skin on the back of her neck. She had a trio of tiny freckles just below the loose strands of hair. Like someone had dashed a few specks of cinnamon across a smooth layer of cream.

      He focused on Mrs. Gunderson, who was skirting the back of his trailer, calling the dog’s name. “Mignon, get out from under there, right now!”

      Greer had joined in, crouching down to look under the vehicle.

      He figured if he revved the engine, it might send the fat dog into cardiac arrest. He shut it off again and climbed out. “Where is he?”

      “He’s lying down right inside the back tire.” Mrs. Gunderson looked like she was about to go down on her hands and knees. “Mignon, you naughty little thing. Come out here, right now. Oh, darn it, he seems to have found something he thinks is food.”

      “Why don’t you get one of his usual treats?” Greer suggested.

      “Good idea.” Mrs. Gunderson set off across the street once more.

      If he’d hoped that her departure would spur the dog to follow, he was wrong. He knelt on one knee to look under the trailer. “Come ’ere, pooch.”

      Mignon paid him no heed at all, except to move even farther beneath the trailer.

      Greer crouched next to him. The bottom of her dress puddled around her. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

      Ryder slid his hand out from beneath the soft, colorful fabric that covered it. “He wouldn’t like getting flattened by my trailer, either.”

      “He’ll come out for his treats,” she assured him.

      “Since he looks like he lives on treats, I hope so.” It would take the better part of an hour to get home and he’d probably already used up Mrs. Pyle’s allotment of patience. If the treat didn’t work, he’d have to drag the little bugger out.

      “She’s actually gotten him to lose a couple pounds.”

      “He’s still wider than he is tall. Reminds me of my aunt’s dog, Brutus.” He straightened and looked across the street, hoping to see Mrs. Gunderson heading back. Instead, she was just reaching the top of her porch stairs and he could feel the minutes ticking away.

      * * *

      Even though he didn’t say anything, Greer could feel the impatience coming off Ryder in waves. She stood, hoping that Mrs. Gunderson moved with more speed than she usually did. It was obvious that he was anxious to be on his way. “Your aunt has an overweight poodle?”

      He lifted his hat just long enough to shove his fingers through his thick brown hair. “Overweight pug.” His blue gaze slid over her from beneath the hat brim as he pulled it low over his brow. “Adelaide spoils him rotten.”

      She couldn’t help but smile. “A pug named Brutus?”

      He shrugged. “She has a particular sense of irony.”

      “I love your aunt’s name,” she said. “Adelaide.”

      A dimple came and went in his lean cheek. “Coming from the woman who lives in that Victorian thing behind us, I’m not real surprised.”

      She leaned against the side rail of the trailer. “Does she live in New Mexico?” Greer and her sisters didn’t know much about Ryder, but had learned that he’d lived in New Mexico before moving to Wyoming.

      The brim of his hat dipped slightly. “She has a place near Taos.”

      “The only place I’ve ever been in New Mexico was the Albuquerque airport during a layover.” She glanced toward her neighbor’s house. The front door was still open, but there was no sign of Mrs. Gunderson yet. “Did you grow up there?”

      The dimple came again, staying a little longer this time. “In the Albuquerque airport?”

      “Ha ha.”

      His lips actually stretched into a smile. “Yeah. I spent most of my time in Taos.”

      So she now knew he had an aunt. But she still didn’t know if he had parents.