Christmastime Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

  Her pale cheeks turned red. She pressed her lips into a thin line. “The kiss is why you didn’t leave?”

  “I had just met with your father. I came out of the house, and there you were, standing by the barn.”

  “He offered you money, and then what?”

  “I told him I would think about it. I told him that there was nothing between us, but if he was really concerned I would think about taking his offer and leaving, but it wasn’t that simple... Because of my grandfather.”

  It had been a lie.

  He had told himself it was because of his mom. Because if there was one thing he had never wanted to do it was hurt people the way that she had. By simply not thinking. By only thinking of herself, only looking out for herself and how she might be able to get ahead.

  So he had told the old man he would think about it. And he had walked out of that house and seen her there, the sunlight shining behind her like a halo. She was standing next to that big old oak tree... That image of her lived in his head, was inked on his skin.

  He had wanted to talk to her, to tell her what was happening. Three months, and she had become a friend to him. And something deeper. Something more. It wasn’t what he had wanted, but it was true and in that moment he hadn’t been able to deny it, not to himself.

  His memories of Sabrina were funny. Because he didn’t let himself think about them. Not in one continuous rush. He remembered bits and pieces, and he did that on purpose.

  Let himself have images, moments. That was how he had managed to get that tattoo without being completely honest with himself about what it was.

  But whatever he remembered, he rarely let himself remember those feelings. That friendship.

  Liam was a lonely bastard, there was really no sugarcoating that. He didn’t have close friends. He loved his younger brother, had spent his life shielding Alex from the worst parts of their home life. But shielding someone meant never really being close to them. Keeping a wall between the two of you, and he’d been fine with that.

  He had felt close to Sabrina. Had felt real with her.

  It was why he hadn’t taken the money without thinking.

  “I came out and saw you,” he reiterated. “And then you asked me to walk out to the grapevines with you.”

  They had done that often, walked through the rows of vines, concealed from anyone who might be in the house. Just to talk, that was what he always told himself. And it was what he told himself that day too.

  She had looked up at him, those blue eyes glittering, and whatever words he’d been about to say had evaporated and blown away on the breeze. He could smell sun, the earth, the damp river and the sharp pine trees. And, under all of that, vanilla. She always smelled like vanilla.

  Then she had done something he hadn’t expected. She had launched herself into his arms, wrapping herself around him, clinging to him as she pressed her lips against his.

  And he knew that he should push her away. Knew that he should grab hold of her hips and set her back, break her hold, break the spell. But he didn’t. He just stood there and let her kiss him.

  It was a sweet kiss. He couldn’t remember ever getting one like it in his life.

  Affection, desire, feelings, all caught up in one simple gesture that had nothing on the kind of physical intimacy he was used to sharing with women. And it lit a fire in his stomach that he could no more combat than he could put out.

  “I remember,” she said, the words scratchy.

  “That’s why I didn’t say anything. Not then.”

  “Because you felt sorry for me? And then you let me make an even bigger idiot out of myself because I thought that... I thought you liked it. Kissing me. I knew that you were too nice...too good to ask me for more.”

  She looked away from him, and he did what he’d been itching to do since this morning. Hell, maybe it was something he’d been itching to do for thirteen years. He put his hand on her cheek, slid his thumb along her silky skin, down her jaw, along her lower lip.

  He wasn’t sure what he expected. Maybe to get hit. But she didn’t hit him. Instead she froze, standing there looking at him with those blue eyes, just as she had on that day so long ago before he had held her in his arms.

  But she didn’t fling herself at him. Not now. She didn’t possess that kind of abandon anymore. That kind of fearlessness. She had bound it all up, just like her hair. He could feel all her repressed...everything...bubbling to the surface. And yet, she still stood frozen, not making a move.

  “I wasn’t too good to ask you for more,” he whispered. “I was never as good as you thought. Hell, the fact that I took your dad’s money and left? That’s evidence enough. I should have talked to you. But I thought it might be better if you hated me.” He shook his head. “That was my version of a kindness, Sabrina.”

  He let his hand drop down to his side.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, and she swallowed hard. “Admit it then. I mean, really admit it. Not the doublespeak and name-calling, and talking about how you did the right thing.” She opened her eyes, and when they met his this time they were blazing. “Tell me that you wanted me. That you’re a liar. That you pushed me away because you didn’t want to have to talk to me. So you just hurt me instead, because it was easier. You admit that. Don’t lie to yourself about how honorable you are. Honor would have been admitting that you didn’t want the responsibility of having a virgin, not that you didn’t want her at all.”

  Liam took a step back, grinding his teeth together. This was a pointless conversation. One that made him ache in strange places, and in expected places too.

  “Coward,” she said.

  He didn’t have any words. Not a single fucking one. Instead, he closed the distance between them, grabbed hold of her face and held it steady. He hadn’t kissed her back when she had been seventeen. He had simply let her kiss him. And then, when she had come into his cabin, the one that he lived in on her parents’ property, and stripped her coat off to reveal all that pretty pale skin, he hadn’t even touched her.

  But she wasn’t a kid anymore, and he doubted she was a virgin.

  Hell, there was no point pretending they were going to be professional at this point. That ship had sailed. It had sailed far beyond the horizon line, and it wasn’t coming back.

  So he was going to do what he hadn’t done then. To hell with the consequences.

  He lowered his head and pressed his mouth against hers. Gentle, just for a fraction of a second. Just gentle enough so that when she gasped in shock he could take advantage of those sweetly parted lips, press deeper and slide his tongue between them.

  She was frozen. As he had been that day long ago. This time, she was the one who was shocked. If he hadn’t been so intent on kissing the hell out of her he might have smiled.

  But it wasn’t time to smile.

  He wrapped his arms around her, gathering those slender curves up against his body. And it was like something in him sighed. As if he’d been holding a breath for thirteen years and it had finally, finally been released.

  There had been other kisses. Other women since then. But until now he hadn’t realized that there had been a whole part of himself left untouched. A part of himself that only Sabrina had ever come close to.

  Were you protecting her then? Or running from this?

  He pushed that question aside, and pushed himself more firmly against her, backing her up against the wall. Her hands were trapped against his chest, and he wasn’t entirely sure if she was clinging to him or trying to get a hold so she could shove him away. But he didn’t give her a chance to do either. Instead, he gathered both wrists in one fist and lifted her arms, pinning them against the wall above her head.

  She wiggled, arching her back, pressing her breasts more firmly against his chest, a frustrated sound on her lips.

 
Yeah, he was frustrated too. Thirteen years’ worth of frustrated.

  And this time... This time...

  Well, he didn’t know how to finish that any more than he had back then. But at least now if there were consequences, when it ended, she would be an adult. Relationships ended, that was part of life. He’d just had no desire to be the first relationship that ended for her. Had wanted nothing to do with that kind of responsibility, with inflicting that kind of pain on her.

  You hurt her anyway, jackass.

  Yeah, he had. And so had Jamison Leighton.

  Basically everyone she trusted.

  He pulled himself away from her, his chest heaving, his breath coming in sharp, short bursts.

  He released his hold on her wrists, and it took her a moment to slowly lower her arms back down to her sides. She blinked, looking dazed.

  And then suddenly, she seemed to come back to herself, the color mounting in her cheeks as she looked around the room, picked up her purse. She must have dropped it on the floor at some point when they had been kissing, along with her notebook. He hadn’t even noticed.

  He had a feeling some walls could have collapsed and he might not have noticed that either.

  “Let’s just... We don’t...” She waved a hand.

  He nodded once. “Fair enough.”

  Her eyes met his, and then she looked away again, brushing her fingers through her hair, which was still bound up in that tight little bun. He should have dealt with that first thing. Should have released it, so he could see that long blond hair flying free again.

  She was so skittish. The Sabrina he’d known had not been skittish.

  The Sabrina he knew had flung herself into his arms with abandon.

  But he supposed he didn’t deserve to be mystified by the lack of it now. He had been part of destroying it.

  Had had a hand in creating this cautious, repressed creature that seemed so different than the girl he’d known.

  But as they silently gathered their things and headed out of the shop, he could think of only one thing. That she might be completely different in many ways, but she still smelled of vanilla.

  And she still tempted him in ways he couldn’t afford to give in to.

  * * *

  “YOU HAVE TERRIBLE AIM,” Clara Campbell said, looking at Sabrina with disdain.

  “I said I was terrible,” Sabrina said, walking over to the dartboard and collecting her ill-thrown dart, which was listing sadly to the side, barely sticking into the edge of the corkboard. “You wouldn’t listen. You said you wanted to come to Ace’s and play darts.”

  “We should have played for money,” Clara commented.

  Olivia, who had been standing there relatively quietly, holding her own darts, simply shrugged. “Oh, I wouldn’t like to gamble. Plus, I would lose badly.”

  “Maybe we should make a wager,” Clara said. “How about it? Losers buy the winner’s drink?”

  Olivia nodded. “That sounds fair. I guess it’s my turn.”

  Olivia took a timid step to the green line that was painted on the scuffed wooden floor. She looked around, seemingly distracted by the chaos around them. It was Friday night and Ace’s was packed full of people letting off steam at the end of the workweek, or, just drinking because they had to work over the weekend.

  A lot of the men in the bar were fishermen, or they were ranchers, and they didn’t get Saturdays and Sundays off. Of course, that meant they drank every night.

  Sabrina watched a couple of college girls approach Ferdinand the mechanical bull. They were drunk and giggly, and the group they were with was egging them on. Sabrina shook her head. She was glad she was more sensible than that.

  And she refused to think about her moment of nonsense earlier. That door was closed. Firmly. Completely.

  She turned her focus back to Olivia, who lifted an unsteady hand, cocked it back and let the dart fly. Straight into the bull’s-eye.

  An impish smile tugged at the corner of Olivia’s mouth. “Beginner’s luck?”

  Clara narrowed her eyes. “Why do I doubt that?”

  “I have two more throws,” Olivia commented blandly.

  And she took them, getting a bull’s-eye each time.

  “How?” Clara sputtered.

  “My dad had a game room in the basement,” Olivia said simply, shrugging. “I used to get bored and go downstairs and throw darts. Do you guys want to play pool next?”

  “No!” Sabrina and Clara said in unison.

  Clara shook her head, as the three of them walked over to the bar. “I would never have thought that you, Olivia Logan, were a secret game shark.”

  Olivia batted her eyes. “I contain multitudes.”

  “Okay,” Sabrina said. “Your drink is on us. Whiskey?”

  “Diet Coke, please,” Olivia said.

  Sabrina shook her head. “Fine. I’ll have a whiskey.”

  “I’m just getting a Coke,” Clara said, handing Sabrina a five.

  “I didn’t figure I would be coming to a bar just to drink alone,” Sabrina said despairingly. She signaled for Ace, who wandered down to their end of the bar.

  He flashed her a smile, the kind of smile that had been known to bring women to their knees, and up to his room above the bar, for years. But not anymore. Now Ace was happily married to town princess Sierra Thompson, née West, and the proud father of two little girls.

  He was still good-looking, but definitely a one-woman man.

  “Whiskey,” Sabrina said, “on the rocks. And a Coke and a Diet Coke with nothing fun in them.”

  He laughed. “You got it.”

  Sabrina turned around and scanned the room, hoping in vain to find one man in the place that made her feel even an iota of what Liam made her feel. A man who might be a fifth as good-looking. She was desperate enough to take that measly of a fraction.

  “What’s up?” Clara asked, lifting her hand and fiddling with the rather sizable engagement ring there.

  “Nothing,” Sabrina said.

  The fact that Clara was now engaged to Liam’s younger brother made things...well, tricky. Because she knew that Clara was curious about Sabrina and Liam. And that she was very curious about how they were getting along. And Sabrina had no desire to talk about it.

  She had even less of a desire to talk about it now that she and Liam had kissed.

  Really kissed.

  Her throat felt tight and scratchy, and her face felt hot just thinking about it.

  “Really?” Clara asked.

  “Really,” she said, turning as Ace brought the drinks. She gave him the cash and handed out the beverages.

  She lifted her whiskey tumbler to her lips, relishing the burn. And then the door to the bar opened, and she nearly killed herself breathing in that golden fire.

  “You did not tell me that Alex and his brothers were coming tonight,” she said, putting the glass down quickly, trying to keep herself from visibly gasping and wheezing.

  There they were. The whole pack of Donnelly brothers. From broad-shouldered, muscular Cain, the oldest brother, to Alex, who was so very like Liam, with the same green eyes and slightly darker hair. Then there was Finn, brown haired and blue-eyed, designed to break hearts with one of his hard-earned smiles.

  They were all hot. Every last one of them.

  But it was only Liam who made her heart feel like it was running a marathon it could never, ever win.

  Clara winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Is it...Liam?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes,” Sabrina said, “it’s all of them. Every Donnelly.”

  “I mean, is he the reason that you’re making that face?”

  Sabrina grimaced. “Yes. Yes, he is the reason I’m making this face. I just spent half
the day with the man, I don’t need to see him again.”

  Plus, after that kiss, she had scurried off like he’d tapped her ass with a branding iron. And he had let her. Frankly, he’d seemed like he had regretted what had happened just as much as she had.

  And she had. Regretted it. There was absolutely no part of her that had gloried in it. That had shouted finally and leaned in to it. That had been thrilled to have Liam Donnelly at last see her as a woman.

  That had been so damned happy to discover she wasn’t actually broken. That a kiss could light her on fire the way that one had long ago.

  And even if there was a small part of her that had felt that way, it had immediately been quashed by the realization that apparently it was only Liam that could make her feel like this.

  She had kissed other men. Had gone on dates. Had tried. She had tried to want someone else. She didn’t. She never had. Another way that she felt irrevocably scarred by damned Liam Donnelly.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I REALLY DIDN’T KNOW,” Clara said, looking apologetically at Sabrina, who did nothing more than take a larger gulp of her whiskey than she would have otherwise. She said nothing. Because there wasn’t really anything to say.

  She couldn’t yell at her friend, even if she wanted to, because she knew that it wasn’t like Clara had set her up for failure. Or for disaster. Clara would never do that.

  Olivia looked wide-eyed, and potentially a bit too interested in all the drama. But then, she imagined with Olivia’s history—her one, steady relationship—this was well outside her sphere.

  All things considered, Sabrina found it borderline laughable that she had man drama. It was only ever the one man. Just the one.

  And he was coming right toward them. Well, in fairness, he wasn’t leading the pack. Clara’s fiancé, Alex, was, with a sharp and determined look on his face.

  He approached the group, putting his hands on Clara’s hips, leaning in and kissing her neck. “Fancy meeting you here.”