A Good Old-Fashioned Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For what it’s worth.”

  “Thank you.” They just stared at each other for a long moment and her heart started to beat faster. She took a breath, trying to dispel the tension in the air. Trying to get rid of last night’s revelation. That she would really like to have some sex. With a man who was not James.

  And that she had specifically thought of this man.

  This one that got away from her when she was too young to know well enough what she wanted. When she was too young to know what a man could make her feel.

  Like you know now?

  Maybe she didn’t.

  Her sex dreams about Brooks had been more moving than actual sex with James ever had been.

  You were going to marry him.

  She shoved that disturbing thought aside.

  That was very much the wrong thing to be thinking while she was standing there staring him down. “So what kind of candy are you selling?”

  “The...the sweet kind.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll be making some of it. The kind that will be on the counter. Bonbons and things like that. Truffles, peanut butter patties, fudge. And I will try to get a hold of some local things...”

  “Well, that was what I was going to mention. I make candy.”

  “You do?”

  Of all the coincidences. She had gone back home, run into her ex-boyfriend, only to discover that he...made candy.

  “I mean, that’s not my business. But, I have a maple syrup farm.”

  “Do they have maple syrup outside of Vermont?”

  “If not, then I’m living a very strange and dangerous hallucination.”

  “Right. So you tap trees and things like that?”

  “Broadleaf maple. But I make maple syrup, extract, and classic maple candy.”

  “I can make maple fudge,” she said.

  “Well, that would work for me. But if you’re interested in carrying the products in your store...”

  “I would be. Very much.”

  “So what was your plan for the day?”

  “I’m...sorting out bins.”

  “How would you like to come out and see where the maple syrup is made?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  BROOKS HAD NO idea what the hell hallucination he was having. He was staring down the only ex that had ever hurt him, inviting her to come to his maple syrup farm.

  When he’d heard about Hope’s canceled wedding he’d been overtaken by the strangest set of emotions. He used her name as a curse, generally speaking, and when her engagement announcement had made the rounds in town—marrying that hoity-toity rich asshole she’d been with for years—his heart had turned to stone.

  Hearing that her wedding had been canceled—that he’d left her at the altar—Brooks had been...well he’d been pissed off and he wasn’t sure why.

  Pity for Hope wasn’t generally in his emotional wheelhouse.

  He couldn’t quite say why the fury at Hope Marshall lingered within him the way it did, but he really, really bore a grudge against the woman.

  He supposed it wasn’t all that fair. It was a bit like inviting a bear to a picnic and then getting mad when the bear wanted to eat you instead of a peanut butter sandwich.

  A bear was going to do what a bear was going to do.

  And a snotty little rich girl was going to marry an equally snotty rich douchebag, and definitely wasn’t going to stay with the boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

  And you broke up with her, remember?

  No. He didn’t really think of it that way, actually. Because Hope had already been out the door at that point. He’d just shut it behind her. And he didn’t see much point in being broken up about that.

  And now she’s coming to the ranch.

  Hell.

  Now she was coming to the ranch to get a gander at his maple syrup supply, which was not exactly how he’d imagined this little reunion going.

  He couldn’t deny there was a bit of poetic justice in walking into her store just in time to see her flat on her ass from a fall on the heels of hearing about her broken-up wedding. Yeah, he’d been a little bit happy about that too.

  More than a little.

  And he may or may not have gotten a couple of beers in him last night and had a rant at Garrett Roy down at the bar about it. But then, having one or two too many and having a rant about Hope was essentially his hobby. And had been for the past twelve years.

  He could see the dust trail before he saw her car, coming up the long driveway that led to his house.

  Hope had never been to his house back when they’d been dating. He’d never have asked her to that shack his dad passed off as a dwelling. Ever. She knew where he was from but she’d never seen it. He’d never wanted her to.

  She pulled up and parked the shiny little black car which now had a fine film of dust on it, and he tried not to think of it as a metaphor for them.

  She opened the car door and the first thing he saw was one fine bare leg, her skirt riding up as she pushed herself out of the seat and then adjusted her ponytail.

  Yeah. She was so damn pretty. As pretty as she’d been back in high school, and too good for him—too soft, too everything.

  She said nothing. She was looking around the spread, wide-eyed.

  “What?” He turned and looked at the big ranch house behind him. “Did you think I lived in a hole in the ground?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Must have me confused with my old man.”

  He did his best to moderate his tone. Not for Hope in particular. Really not.

  “No, I just...well, I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect that you were going to make a fortune farming maple, or however you say that. And how exactly did you end up doing that?”

  “Oh, I think there’s a few conversations we might need to have before we have that one.”

  “Like?”

  “How the hell did you end up out here running a candy store?”

  “Well, that would be related to the canceled wedding.”

  “I figured as much.”

  He stared at her, her blue eyes, her pretty blond hair. Her cheekbones were sharper than the last time he’d seen her, but she still had that full, lush figure that he’d always liked.

  He’d seen a picture of her a couple of years ago. She’d been looking downright thin, and he hadn’t liked it. Then he’d been mad that he’d thought about it at all. But it hadn’t stopped him from having a thought.

  Many thoughts.

  He had remembered the way she used to look at him. Full cheeks, sweet and sunny, like he might be something special. And he had always known that eventually the look in her eyes would dim. Sooner or later.

  Then, she’d gone and gotten accepted into a college across the country.

  And hell, he’d always known that she was headed that way. And he wasn’t going to hold her back. His life was going to look different, and he knew that. Things just weren’t the same for them. Maybe if he were some kind of brain trust he could’ve gotten that scholarship or something, but he wasn’t. What he knew was hard work. What he valued was hard work. Not sitting and reading and studying and remembering facts. Hope was the one who was good at that. But then she hadn’t even gone off and done anything with it. She just got engaged.

  To the kind of rich prick he’d always known she was secretly waiting for.

  Back then, she had been too young and naive to even make the most of their ill-fated relationship.

  If you were going to date beneath you, you ought to at least enjoy getting dirty.

  But no. Hope had held on to her virginity through their entire relationship, and then gone off to college, where he imagined the man with the biggest bank account had been given that honor.

  “Can you not look at me like
you want to roll me in maple syrup and put me on an anthill?”

  “Well damn, Hope, still descriptive as ever.”

  “Hopefully more so. I like to think I’ve improved with age.”

  She had. Dammit. “I’m not looking at you any kind of way.”

  “You are. Let’s get one thing straight, Sullivan Brooks, I did not come back to town to go toe-to-toe with you, or...for any reason to do with you. You happened to walk into my candy store right as I—”

  “Fell.”

  “Yes, I fell. I did fall. It’s basically been that kind of month.”

  She sighed and reached into her car, and produced an insulated bag. “But I would like to see your facility. And... I brought you some salmon.”

  “You brought me salmon?”

  “I did. Preportioned salmon. As a peace offering of sorts.”

  “Babe, I fish. I have a freezer full of salmon. And venison. And elk. I’m pretty self-sufficient in the meat department.”

  “Please take my salmon, Brooks. Please.” She looked wide-eyed then. “I will trade it for this delightful tour of your maple farm.”

  “And if I don’t take the salmon?”

  “We don’t have to be cordial to each other. We can just be exes. And you know what, we’re not even significant exes. We dated in high school.”

  Not significant. Hell and damn.

  “You loved me in high school,” he said.

  Her mouth dropped open and her cheeks went pink. “You are...the worst. You really are.”

  “Hey, I’m just reminding you of how it was.”

  He remembered her tear-streaked face as she asked him to just say whether or not he loved her. Like it would change anything. She could say whatever she wanted, but that didn’t make it true. The girl could tell herself that she loved him, but that didn’t mean she did.

  “It’s not my favorite memory,” she said, her jaw tight. “Show me the syrup. Please take the fish.”

  “I’ll take the fish. If you explain the fish.”

  She let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. The fish is from the wedding.” She cleared her throat. “I stole it.”

  “You stole the fish.”

  “I did. Because my in-laws paid for the wedding. And it just seemed like a petty way to get back at them for everything.”

  “His parents didn’t leave you at the altar. He did.”

  “Fine. He did. But they were...not a fun part of the whole thing.” She stood there for a moment, and there was a hardness to her features that he didn’t remember ever seeing there before. “You know when it’s over and you realize you should have known a lot sooner?”

  That got him. Right where he pretended he wasn’t still tender for her. “Yeah, Hope. I do.”

  “I’m not talking about us.”

  “No. You’re right. Let’s take the salmon into the house, then I’ll take you out back to see the trees.”

  He let her into the house, and it wasn’t at all because he wanted her to see how nice of a place it was.

  No.

  He wasn’t that petty.

  It wasn’t because he wanted her to see all the top-of-the-line appliances, half of which he didn’t know how to use. He’d had them installed just because he could. It wasn’t because he wanted her to see how nice the kitchen cabinets were, or the fact that he had made something of himself.

  “This is a nice place,” she said, walking over to the refrigerator and opening it, taking the salmon out of the insulated container and putting it inside.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “I’m glad to hear that you’ve...done well for yourself.”

  “You never asked about me?”

  “My parents aren’t exactly invested in the Jasper Creek gossip chain. You know they think they’re better than everyone else. And now they live in Hawaii, where they can be better than everyone else in nicer weather.”

  “Oh right. Your parents always felt that way.”

  “Don’t start. Twelve years, twelve minutes. It doesn’t matter, it’s the same conversation. You think I think I’m better than you.”

  She remembered how it had started, being paired off in science. It was a cliché, honestly. Study buddies.

  Her very first experience with sexual chemistry had been the result of science class, but it hadn’t helped either of them get a passing grade.

  He’d been standoffish when they were first paired up, grumbling about snobs.

  Sorry, the only snob here seems to be you, she’d said.

  That had made him laugh. From there they’d formed a truce and she’d felt sweaty whenever he’d gotten too close or touched her hand passing her a pen.

  Then in the lead-up to their presentation they’d been studying in her room, while her parents were out at a community theater production and she’d gone from never having kissed a guy to second base in about fifteen minutes. All it had taken was for him to get close. To look at her with those eyes and sparks had just gone off.

  It had been exhilarating.

  They’d connected there. They’d struggled when it had come to getting to know each other. Her house bothered him. It was big and fancy and he never wanted her to see his.

  You still think I’m a snob!

  Look how you were born, Hope. It’s not your fault. Your parents won’t even let me in the door now that they know I’m more than a study buddy. You just don’t see it.

  Oh, thanks, Brooks. That makes me sound like not just a snob, but a dumb, pitiable snob with no control over her thoughts.

  And when you graduate, where are you going? You staying here?

  I...no.

  Because you’re too good for Jasper Creek. Too good for me.

  And because they were seventeen they’d quit fighting and kissed instead.

  “You are better than me, Hope Marshall. That’s just a fact.”

  “I’m not better than you.”

  His stomach went tight, and he ignored it. The two of them left the house, and he made his way down the front steps to the trail that went straight off into the maple grove. “I bought this place from a man who’d started it and didn’t have the patience to see it through. The trees were already mature, ready to tap. And now, well, as shopping local has become a bigger thing, getting your syrup from where you live has become a little bit of a bigger issue. I’m able to off-load the stuff at farmers markets, in CSA boxes. Honestly, I do more business than I can keep up with. It’s been a lot more successful than I anticipated. We do the candy and things to go in the online store, but it would be nice to have it in a storefront.”

  “I love the idea. I love the idea of using the syrup to make candy. And fudge.”

  “You always did have a sweet tooth.”

  She laughed. “Not for the last couple of years. And now I can’t seem to stop.” She bit her lip, and everything in him went on red alert. Damn that girl, she always could get his body to sit up and beg like a sad puppy dog.

  “I have a bag of Skittles in my purse. I ate most of it on the way here.”

  “Not Skittles,” he said, feigning horror.

  “James’s family doesn’t eat sugar,” she said. “They think it’s bad for you. And that your body becomes addicted to it, and that we are all slaves to overly manufactured poison. Something about your adrenals? Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had Skittles?”

  “How long?”

  “Well...twenty minutes,” she said, sticking her hand into the bag and pulling out a couple pieces of candy, then popping them in her mouth. “But before that, quite some time.”

  He frowned. “So, what was going to be in your wedding cake?”

  “We weren’t going to have a wedding cake. We were going to have cheese. A four-tier cheese platter. At my wedding.”

  “That doesn’t seem rig
ht.” The girl he’d known, she would have wanted buckets of candy. And a big cake in bright colors.

  “I don’t even know who that was. And coming back here, setting up the candy store... I don’t know, I feel more like me than I have for a long time.”

  He stared at her, and the question rose up inside of him. Who was she? Because yeah, he remembered that she’d been a little hummingbird who existed on sugar. And he remembered that she was blonde, and that she was pretty.

  And he remembered that he had been the recipient of the first blow job she’d ever given, and that his was the first male member she’d ever seen.

  Yeah, he remembered those things.

  He also remembered that he was the first man to ever go down on her, and that he was responsible for her very first orgasm in the front seat of his pickup truck. It was an inconvenient thing to remember while standing there staring at her out in the middle of the trees.

  But he couldn’t say if he really knew who she was. Not for certain.

  But then, what did that even mean? She was fancy. She’d gone off to live a fancy life and it had bitten her in the ass. And maybe the real reason she was back here was that being around people who were a little bit smaller than she was had always made her feel good. At least, that was what he’d always wondered—if what she’d really liked was feeling as though she had the advantage in whatever relationship she was in.

  “Well, come out and see the trees.”

  They walked on back to the maple grove and stopped at the first tap and bucket.

  “So, this is it.” He wasn’t really sure what he’d intended to accomplish with this. What had seemed clear before seemed a lot less so now that she was here.

  “How did you...? I mean, seriously, why this? Why did this interest you?”

  “Beef is pretty saturated around here. Dairy...just not that interested. But I always did like working the land. This place came up for sale about the time I was looking to buy. I did a little research and saw that since most of the start-up was done for me, I could make it profitable pretty quickly.”

  “How did you get the money to buy the place?”

  “Work.” She stared at him. “That’s something that you do, and you get a paycheck for it. It’s not when your dad gets out his wallet.”