The Rancher's Christmas Promise. Allison Leigh

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. Siblings. Other ex-wives. Anybody else at all besides Layla. “What’s it like there? It’s pretty artsy, isn’t it?”

      “More so than Braden.”

      “Does your aunt get to visit you often?”

      “She’s never been here. She doesn’t like to travel much anymore. If I want to see her, I have to go to her.” He thumbed up the brim of his hat and squinted at the sky.

      “You’re anxious to go.”

      “Yup.” He knelt down to look at the dog again. “My housekeeper’s gonna be peeved.” He gave a coaxing whistle. “Come ’ere, dog.”

      “Your housekeeper’s Doreen Pyle?”

      Still down on one knee, he looked up at Greer and something swooped inside her stomach. “Keeping close tabs on me?”

      She ignored the strange sensation. “Braden is a small community. And I happen to know her grandson pretty well.”

      “Dating him, are you?”

      She couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped. “Since he’s not legally an adult, hardly. Haven’t even had a date in—” She broke off, appalled at herself, embarrassed by the speculative look he was giving her. She pointed, absurdly grateful for Mrs. Gunderson’s timely reappearance on her front porch. Her neighbor was holding something in her hand, waving it in the air as she came down the steps. “There’s the treat.”

      And sure enough, before his mistress had even gotten to the street, Mignon was scrabbling out from beneath the trailer, practically rolling over his feet as he bolted.

      Ryder straightened and gave her that faint smile again. The one that barely curved his well-shaped lips, but still managed to reveal his dimple. “Never underestimate the power of a good treat.”

      Then he thumbed the brim of his hat in that way he had of doing. Sort of old-fashioned and, well, rancherly. He walked around his truck and climbed inside. A moment later, he’d started the engine and was driving away.

      Mrs. Gunderson picked up Mignon, who was happily gnawing on his piece of doggy jerky, and stood next to Greer. “He’s a good-looking one, isn’t he?”

      At least her elderly neighbor could explain away her breathlessness. She’d had to climb her porch stairs to retrieve the dog treats.

      Greer, on the other hand, had no such excuse. “He’s surprising, anyway.” She gave Mignon’s head a scratch. “I’ve got to go call my dad before he drives out to haul my car that no longer needs hauling.”

      Then she hurried inside, pretending not to hear Mrs. Gunderson’s knowing chuckle.