Christmastime Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

She looked at him blankly. “What?”

  He realized that he had skipped a step with her. But in his head it had made sense. “School. I was just wondering where you went to college.”

  “Oh. Just... I went to Oregon State.”

  “I figured you would go somewhere a little bit...bigger of a deal.”

  “It’s a great school,” she said, visibly bristling. “Go Ducks.”

  It was fine enough, he was sure. But he had gone to a top-ranked university with her father’s money. He had assumed that she would do nothing less.

  “I figured that you would go somewhere further afield,” he said. “That’s all.”

  She stiffened. “Things change.”

  “All right. I guess that’s true. So, what kind of house do you have?”

  “What, is this interrogate Sabrina hour?”

  “In fairness, it’s basically interrogate Sabrina five minutes. Hour is vastly dramatizing the situation.”

  “Have you ever bought a house?” she asked, clearly looking to turn the spotlight onto him.

  “Not a house. But a penthouse. New York City.”

  She blinked rapidly, her pale eyebrows knitting together. “But those cost...millions of dollars.”

  He just let the implication of that hang between them, and watched as her skin went slightly waxen.

  “Grassroots Winery and Laughing Irish?” An older woman with dark hair peeked out of one of the glass corner offices with a smile pasted on her face.

  “That’s us,” Liam confirmed.

  For some reason—instinct, something—he reached out and pressed his palm against Sabrina’s lower back to guide her toward the office. She stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze sliding over to him, irritation glittering sharply there.

  “Do you touch men you’re doing business deals with like that? Because I’ll tell you, that’s some mental image.”

  “No,” he said, lowering his hand slowly.

  “I don’t mind a little Brokeback Mountain fantasy, Liam.”

  “After you,” he said, waiting for her to walk into the office before he followed behind her.

  It had been a stupid thing to do, touching her like that. Normally, he would never do something so asinine with the woman he was doing a business deal with. He would normally never do that with anyone.

  There was just something about Sabrina that pushed him to do things he was usually way too smart to do.

  They took a seat at the table with the banker and with another person who was introduced as the notary. Gage West had apparently signed his end of the deal already.

  The stack of papers was indeed massive, and both Liam and Sabrina were given pens before the banker handed him the first page, which Sabrina promptly took. “We’re the first name on the documents, as we own a larger portion,” she said crisply.

  She signed quickly next to a sticky tab, then passed the paper back to him. As if it mattered which order they signed in as long as they signed on the right spot. But he could tell she was compelled to make an issue out of it, so he was going to let it go.

  They carried out the signing in relative silence, the only real conversation happening when the banker explained a page that he was certain both he and Sabrina already understood, but that she was legally bound to verbally expound on.

  Sabrina passed one paper to him, and he pressed his fingertips down on it, brushing the tips of them against hers. She jerked back, trying to look composed as she moved on to signing the next document.

  “There,” the woman said, smiling through the tension that was making the air crackle, “all finished. Congratulations. You are now the proud owners of some very nice property.”

  “Thank you,” Sabrina said. “I hope that you’ll come down for the grand opening. There’s going to be wine, cheese and all manner of festivities.”

  “Definitely,” the banker said, and Liam really couldn’t tell if she was being genuine, or if there was just no other polite response to give.

  Considering they had just signed a considerable amount of their lives over to this establishment, she did have to be polite.

  Well, it was a considerable amount of Grassroots’ life, and Lindy’s, he imagined. It wasn’t so much to him. Even if Finn was being adamant that it all be paid for with Donnelly ranch money, and not Liam’s.

  As they walked out of the bank, Sabrina still had a large, fake-looking smile plastered on her face. But as soon as the glass door closed behind them, she chucked the Styrofoam cup of coffee in the trash beside the building. “That was disgusting coffee.”

  He grimaced and sent his cup the same direction. “Agreed.”

  “Well, I need more coffee. Better coffee. So I’m going to head down to The Grind and grab some, and then I’m going to go to the shop.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  She looked...not shocked, but a little bit like she wanted to argue. “I don’t really have any plans. I just want to make a quick sketch of the floor plan so that I can get a rough idea of what we need to get, and you know, layouts and things.”

  “Right. Do you have a tape measure, anything on you?”

  “I can buy one,” she said, looking mulish.

  “I have a toolbox in the back of my truck. Why don’t you ride down with me?”

  He knew that she was annoyed. And he also knew that she would rather ride with him than protest. Because he could tell that she was caught between wanting to spend less time with him and wanting to act like it didn’t matter.

  For his part, he wasn’t really sure why he cared either way.

  Really? You don’t know why you care?

  As if his stomach didn’t clench tight when he smelled vanilla, which was a scent that he had always associated with her. Like he hadn’t quit a job because he’d worked closely with a woman who shared her name, and he couldn’t hear it without thinking of her and that devastated expression on her face when he’d left her that night.

  As if he didn’t have a tattoo on his body that was dedicated to her.

  He could admit that now. He had been in pretty deep denial even when he had gotten the ink. But, as it had taken shape, as he had laid out what he had wanted, it was pretty hard for him to deny that the barefoot blond figure that rested beneath the tree that stretched over his shoulder and around to his back wasn’t inspired by her. That she wasn’t the picture in his mind when he’d thought of it in the first place.

  “Great. Let’s go. I suppose I should be grateful for you and your tape measure.”

  She stepped gingerly toward his truck and got into the passenger seat without waiting for him. He hadn’t bothered to lock it. There wasn’t really much point in Copper Ridge.

  He jerked the driver side door open and got in, starting up the engine. “Yeah, you probably should be a lot more grateful for me than you are.”

  They pulled out of the lot and headed back into town. There was one lone spot that he was able to parallel park in just in front of The Grind.

  “Two hour parking,” he commented as he got out and rounded her side. “We could walk from here.” He finished that sentence when she hopped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Sure,” she said. “If you want to lug your tools all the way down there.”

  “I think I can handle it.”

  He held the door open for her, but this time, did not put his hand anywhere on her body. She said nothing, but walked into the café in front of him. They got in line together, and he could tell that she was annoyed that they were together in public, and not just running into each other by happenstance.

  “What’s your poison?” he asked.

  “Just a coffee.”

  “That’s not at all exciting.”

  “You don’t find a strong jolt of bitter caffeine exciting? I do.”

/>   He laughed. “I suppose I do. A little more exciting with a double shot of espresso poured over the top.”

  When they got up to the front he ordered just that, and then ordered her regular coffee. She glared at him as he got his wallet out and paid. “What?”

  “I didn’t say you could buy me a coffee.”

  “I don’t recall asking you.”

  The girl behind the counter handed them their order with a slightly glum expression on her face. Sabrina snatched her coffee out of his hand and headed over to the cream and sugar station.

  “I hope you’re happy,” she commented, pouring a little bit of cream and a packet of sugar into her cup and stirring. “You’ve broken that little girl’s heart.”

  “That little girl?” he asked, gesturing back toward the counter.

  “Yes.”

  “First of all, she’s like five years younger than you. Second of all, why? Because she thinks I’m with you?”

  “You bought my coffee.”

  “Well. I was unaware that was small-town symbolism for a marriage proposal. I thought that you still had to give a couple of oxen to get a woman. I didn’t know you could get her with one cup of coffee.”

  She laughed reluctantly, and the two of them walked out of The Grind and onto the rain-soaked sidewalk.

  Sabrina looked both ways, and didn’t bother to go to the crosswalk. She just did half a jog across the street, conveniently forgetting the lecture she’d recently given him on the dangers of walking with hot beverages, and he followed.

  They walked past his sister-in-law Lane’s Mercantile, full of specialty foods, and then past Pie in the Sky, his sister-in-law Alison’s bakery, which was now across the street from them.

  “Main Street is becoming quite the Donnelly affair,” he commented.

  “The tasting room is not primarily Donnelly,” she said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it being part Donnelly, I suppose.”

  “Sure, sure.” He smiled at her, and she looked away from him.

  He shook his head.

  They rounded the corner to the front of their new store and Sabrina produced the keys. “Officially ours,” she said, jingling them before jamming the key into the lock. “After you.”

  She held the door for him and he went in ahead of her.

  She pulled a pad of paper out of her purse and paced around the room studying their surroundings. “So, we’ve already figured a few things out. But, we need to figure out how much seating we can put in here versus floor space, and of course there needs to be a bit of space for preparation. And for merchandise.”

  “Great. I’ll do some measurements and we can do a little Googling to figure out how big some refrigerated display cases are and standard table sizes.”

  “Thank God for smartphones,” Sabrina commented.

  He chuckled, setting his toolbox down and taking out his tape measure. “I hear that. We didn’t really have those last time you and I hung out.”

  She snorted. “I guess not.”

  “It’s funny,” he said. “All the things that have changed. That credit union for example. The building was not like that when I lived here.”

  “They built a new one about six years ago,” she said.

  “And another example. Your brother has been married and divorced,” he said.

  “Yes. Dramatically. And of course, the ownership of the winery has changed.”

  “True. And if it hadn’t, you wouldn’t have to work with me. Because there’s no way in hell your father would have let me in on a venture involving his precious winery.”

  It was her turn to laugh, an icy sound. “Well, if the ownership of the winery hadn’t changed you wouldn’t be working with me anyway. I mean, I wouldn’t be here. It would be a moot point.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “I’ve only been back at the winery for two years.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’ve been doing other things. Worked in banking for a while. I managed a bed-and-breakfast in Gold Valley and then I managed the hospitality portion of a dude ranch there called Get Out of Dodge. That’s where I met Olivia Logan. I’m not sure if you’ve met her yet. She works at Grassroots. She used to work at the same ranch that I did, but they scaled back when the owner had a heart attack. Quit taking as many guests and running as many touristy things.”

  “You did all that just for...for fun?”

  Her shoulders twitched, and her face went tight. “What do we have so far?”

  “For what?” he asked, frowning.

  “For the dining area. How many tables and chairs?”

  He gestured toward the picture windows. “Two with two chairs here. And maybe we can do one with four chairs here. Probably five or six additional tables here in the center of the room. But we need to keep enough space available for the wine.”

  “Right. Right. I’m thinking of talking to somebody around town who might have an idea of where we can get shelving made. Something that’s a little artisanal...”

  “You can talk to Lane. But don’t think I didn’t notice that you derailed the conversation. Why haven’t you been working at the winery?” he asked.

  “It’s been thirteen years since you were back in town, Liam. Did you really think I was only going to have one job for my entire life?”

  “Hell no. Not for one second. But I also figured that you would go to some big East Coast school. And I certainly didn’t think you would have come back to the winery after it had passed out of your parents’ control. What does your dad think of that?”

  “He thinks poorly of it,” she said stiffly. “But that’s fine. He thinks poorly of me.”

  Liam huffed out a laugh. “Now that isn’t true. Your dad thinks you’re everything. Believe me.”

  “Right. Is that some coded reference to the fact that he paid you to leave?”

  Liam felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. “You...”

  “I know. I know why you left. I know that my father offered you money to leave. You didn’t just run away because my naked breasts offended you. In hindsight, I was never sure if it was better or worse that you had an incentive.” She swallowed hard. “I have to say, it’s actually good to know that you did something with that.”

  “That I did something with what your father gave to me?”

  “Yes. Because whatever we were about... Our friendship, whatever you want to call it... If you were going to sell it, Liam, I’m glad that you got something out of it. I’m glad you went to school. Not because I’m happy for you, but because at least I know I got traded for something bigger than a really fast car that you were just going to crash in the end, or something.”

  “I already told you that what I did was a kindness to you. You were seventeen years old, Sabrina.” He crossed his arms and watched her. She was agitated, her shoulders twitching, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Right. Right. And you were protecting me from your big bad penis. I know. And you know what? Maybe if you had just left I would believe that. But you took a payoff, and then you left. Mostly, I think that my virginity wasn’t worth however many thousands of dollars my father paid you. I think that for you sex was cheap, so you might as well go have it with someone else with a flush bank account. Why not? But you know what, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because I don’t regret that we didn’t...you know. I just don’t. But I don’t need you up on any high horses about it.”

  “Why did I end up at the big university and you didn’t? I swear to God, if that bastard gave me your money...”

  She looked stunned. By his anger, but he didn’t know why. As if he didn’t have any conscience at all? Yeah, he hadn’t been the nicest guy where she was concerned. Or in general, but he didn’t think he was entitled to money that had been earmarked for h
er education. No way in hell. If he had been told that, he wouldn’t have taken it. Bottom line.

  “No. That’s not what happened. My family had more than enough money to send you, me and a few Dickensian street urchins to the university of our choosing. My father and I had a falling-out after you left.”

  She looked so arch, so stiff when she said the words. And at the same time, so immeasurably fragile. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Not the way that he had done earlier in the day, unthinkingly placing his hand on her lower back. Even if he wasn’t in the habit of doing that with women, it was still something of a generic touch.

  No. He wanted to trace the line of her high cheekbones, down the edge of her jaw, to explore the changes in her face.

  The new hollows in her cheeks, the slight little crinkles at the corners of her eyes. To learn the thirteen years he’d missed through touch, as well as through talking to her.

  She had always made him want things like that. Things he didn’t understand. Things he had certainly never wanted with anyone else.

  Liam had not been...chaste. Not in the last decade, and certainly not before. But Sabrina had never been about sex. At least, not entirely.

  “What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “The hell it doesn’t. Your father is a puppet master,” he said. “If he can’t control it, he doesn’t like it.”

  She shook her head. “No. What I did wasn’t okay.”

  “What did you do?” he repeated the question.

  She closed her eyes, looking pained. “I got drunk and shouted something... Something I shouldn’t have. In front of the most influential people in the county.”

  “What did you say?”

  She met his gaze, looking somewhat defeated. “Oh. I just revealed to all in attendance that my mother was having an affair.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  SABRINA WAS MAD at herself for telling him any of this. She was mad at herself for walking into this discussion. For letting him know that she had made herself vulnerable like that, that she had been so affected by losing him.

  But honestly, she had been angry at herself for thirteen years. For detonating a bomb in her life because she had lost what she could see now was simply a crush. At the time, it had felt like love. Destroyed, broken love. As if her heart had been pulled out of her chest, still beating, and dashed to the rocks to be pounded by the surf. No one had ever suffered as she had, she had been certain.