Cowboy at Midnight by Ann Major Page B

probably keeping you—”
    â€œNo.”
    Her father was an exercise addict. He biked or jogged for miles every morning before he went into his office to pull teeth, build bridges and preach dental hygiene to the hordes in need of conversion to daily flossing. Exercise time was the only time he had for himself. Luckily Mother approved of exercise.
    He turned. “I’ve got ten more miles to—”
    â€œDon’t you want to see me open your present?” Like a greedy child she tore the paper off, gasping when she discovered an exquisite miniature silver horse wrapped in tissue.
    She fingered the fine workmanship of the gleaming figurine. “Why, it’s beautiful, Daddy! How sweet of you to remember.”
    He pulled his mirrored sunglasses off, studying her face too intently. Usually he was her absentminded father. Today his kindly blue eyes burned with fierce protective pride, just as they had the day he’d finally taught her to parallel park.
    â€œYou used to give me a horse on every birthday when I was younger.”
    â€œUntil your mother said the last thing you needed was more horses.”
    â€œI…I could never have enough little horses. Not if they were gifts you picked out.”
    â€œWhen you were a little girl, it was so easy to love you.” He hesitated. “I’ve missed you.”
    â€œI know.” The gift and his saying those words made her long for that innocent time before she’d become a teenager, when she’d been so sure of her parents’ love and pride in her, especially his. But life marches on. She was an adult now. And she’d disappointed them. There was no going back.
    â€œIt’s just that I’m so busy,” she said.
    â€œYou’re just like your mother in that way.”
    His words stung.
    â€œI…I’d rather be like you.”
    â€œYour mother’s a whirlwind, a real mover and a shaker.”
    â€œYou’re as easygoing as she is uptight.”
    â€œI used to be. She keeps me moving,” he continued. “That’s for sure. She puts a weekly calendar on the fridge. If I don’t look at it every morning, I can get into lots of trouble. But enough about your mother.”
    Amy sighed in relief.
    â€œI’d better let you get to work.”
    â€œThanks for coming by, Daddy.”
    He backed down the steps. She glanced at the little horse one last time before rewrapping it in tissue and setting the box on her kitchen windowsill. By the time she’d closed her door and dashed down the stairs, he was a lone figure biking down the trail into the woods of Pease Park.
    Sometime today she had to call Mother. As always, Amy dreaded her mother’s critical questions and demands.
    Amy stared out at the sparkling turquoise pool. What was Steve doing right this moment? If only she had the right to call him and find out.
    What was his life like? Who was he really? Her chest tightened. What did he care about? What were his quirks? His passions? She swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat and was surprised how much it hurt that she would never know.
    When she reached her Toyota, a hot wind blew through the trees and made her ponytail flutter against her nape. She remembered Steve’s burning mouth there. Memories of his mouth, hot and seeking in even more intimate places, made her tender pelvis ache. How was she ever going to get through her day if she kept thinking about last night?
    Â 
    Steve was only five minutes late to the governor’s office; however, Tom kept him waiting because he’d had to fit an important state senator into his schedule before their breakfast meeting.
    â€œCrisis about school funding,” his secretary had said rather wearily as she’d handed Steve coffee. “But you’re lucky. The later it is in his day, the farther behind he runs.”
    While Steve sipped black coffee in the waiting room, he thought about Miss Sally Jones.