Champagne and Cowboys

by Donna Michaels

  “I never took you for a snob, Cass,” Liz reproached.

  “That’s not how I meant it,” Cassidy said. “It just seems inappropriate to get personally involved with someone who works for you.”

  “He doesn’t work for me. He just does work for me. There’s a big difference,” Liz said.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Griff manages properties for several people and also owns a few of his own. He runs a family ranch too. He’s a pretty sharp guy. And not too bad on the eyes if you ask me. He seems to like you, so why not have a little fun?”

  “I’m not interested in a hook-up, Liz. I’ve never been comfortable with that kind of thing.”

  “Maybe it’s time you got comfortable,” Liz replied. “And I’ve just given you the perfect opportunity.”

  “I’m not about to play the helpless invalid to seduce that cowboy.”

  “Why not? I sure as hell would! But who says you have to do the seducing? I noticed the way he was looking at you. All you need to do is give him a little encouragement and I promise he’d be more than happy to take the lead.”

  “Forget it, Liz.” It wasn’t so much that Cassidy didn’t want to move on, she and Doug had been divorced for ten months, and it had been over long before that. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had sex. Maybe Liz was right about moving on but the thought of dating terrified her, let alone sleeping with someone new. She’d only been with two men, and both had been long-term relationships.

  “Just think about it, okay?” Liz said. “Want to see your room now?”

  “Yeah, I would. I wouldn’t mind a nap either. I think the pain pills are finally kicking in.”

  Liz handed her the crutches. Cassidy hobbled behind Liz to a spacious bedroom with gorgeous heart of pine floors, a hand-stitched quilt on a canopied queen bed, and a breathtaking view of the mountains.

  “There’s an ensuite bath through that door,” Liz said. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

  Cassidy propped the crutches against the wall and sank into the pillow top mattress with a deep sigh. “It’s perfect. Thank you again for inviting me, Liz, but I feel awful about ruining your holiday. Please don’t cancel any of your plans because of me.”

  “We’ll talk about it later, sweets,” Liz replied with a sympathetic smile. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Nothing thanks,” Cassidy yawned. “I’ll shower later after I take a nap.”

  “Griff should be in with your bags in just a minute.” The words had barely left Liz’s mouth before a knock sounded on the half open door. “Okay if I bring these in?” Griff asked.

  “Sure,” Cassidy said. Liz opened the closet for him to stow the bags.

  “Anything else you ladies need, just call me.” He looked in Cassidy’s direction, holding her gaze just a second longer than necessary. “I really mean that.”

  “Thanks,” she answered softly.

  With a tip of his hat, the cowboy left.

  This time Liz caught Cassidy watching his departure. “Reconsidering?” she asked with a smirk.

  “No Liz,” Cassidy said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the view. How old is he anyway?”

  “Early thirties,” Liz replied.

  “And he’s still single? Screams player to me.”

  “I don’t think so,” Liz said. “He was engaged a couple of years ago but I think she broke it off.”

  “Any idea why?” Cassidy asked. She didn’t know why she was so curious.

  “I don’t know,” Liz answered. “But he was pretty torn up over it. I don’t think he’s been involved with anyone since.”

  Cassidy filed that away as she propped back on the pillows. Not that she was interested. Even if she was, a sprained ankle put a serious damper on any aspirations of a holiday fling. Nevertheless, she couldn’t push Griff’s deep blue eyes, and dimpled smirk out of her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

  Griff left the Lovett’s place with a grin stretching his mouth. He didn’t know what had made him goad a woman he’d only just met, but something had sparked between them from almost the moment he’d lifted her into his arms. He’d carried her up the stairs because it was the gentlemanly thing to do, but he hadn’t put her down right away because he hadn’t wanted to. It had been too long since he’d felt a woman’s soft curves in his arms. She smelled damned good too—good enough to eat. Cassidy Cantrell was the first woman who’d kindled his interest since his split with Jessica, the one he’d always thought he’d marry.

  Although he still wasn’t quite over her, he’d resolved to start fresh with the New Year. He wasn’t expecting to find the love of his life, but it was past time to get back on the horse. He had no doubt Liz would jump his bones with little more than a tip of his hat and a smile, but he wasn’t about to chance his business relationship or his reputation on a meaningless fling. He’d been real careful to walk the line—to keep things on a friendly but professional footing.

  Cassidy, however, was another story, and he wondered what hers was. He’d hardly been able to take his eyes off her from the moment he’d seen her, but it wasn’t just her pretty hazel eyes, the silky soft blond hair that had brushed against his chin, or her delectable curves, there was just something different about her. Mandy had been mighty chatty when she’d helped with the luggage. He didn’t learn a whole lot, but she did volunteer the answer to the most important question—Cassidy Cantrell was single. Recently divorced from “a real tool” in Mandy’s words.

  He wasn’t looking for anything serious. He was still too raw from his break up, but maybe Cassidy was too. If that was the case, and she was still hurting, he could think of lots of creative ways to sooth her pain.

  Chapter Three

  A knock sounded on the door. Cassidy opened her eyes and sat up with a groan. Her ankle still throbbed like a sonofabitch. The pills had really knocked her out but hadn’t done much for the pain.

  “Cassidy?” Liz entered. “Mandy and I are starving. Are you up for some dinner?”

  “Dinner? Already?” Cassidy asked, trying her best to shake away the cobwebs. She felt less hungry than hung-over.

  “Yes. It’s six thirty,” Liz answered. “We have a table at Snake River Grill at seven fifteen. I made all our reservations last week,” Liz explained. “Otherwise the best places would all have been booked.”

  Cassidy grimaced. “I hate to be a wet blanket, but I don’t know if I’m quite up to going out tonight. Why don’t you and Mandy go on without me? I’m still a little out of it. To be truthful, I’d rather just veg on the sofa and order a pizza delivery.”

  “Are you sure, Cass?” Liz asked, looking hesitant.

  “Yeah. I’m sure,” Cassidy reassured her. “It’s been a really long day and the ankle hurts like hell. I promise I’ll be much better company tomorrow.”

  “All right,” Liz replied. “Just know I’ll hold you to that. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  After taking a hot shower, Cassidy changed into some yoga pants and a Carolina Panther’s tee, and then dialed for a pizza. All wound up from the events of the day, she considered pouring a glass of wine but then decided it wouldn’t mix well with the pain pills. Settling back onto the sofa, she flipped through the television channels, hoping to find something to coax her into the holiday spirit. After surfing around for about twenty minutes, she finally decided on one of her favorite movies on Netflix. She’d just made it through the opening credits when the door bell rang.

  “Hang on please!” she called out, hit the pause button, and then grabbed the crutches. “Be right there!” She hoped they’d hear her through the door and wait long enough for her to gimp over to answer it. She propped a crutch against the wall to free her hand and swung the door open to find Griff standing there with two pizza boxes, a six pack, and a dimpled grin. Her gaze focused on the dimples. She’d always found dimples sexy on a man. Why did all cowboys seem to have them?

  “Got your pizza,” he said.

&
nbsp; “How did you know?” she asked. “Did you bug the phone or something?”

  “Nothing so stalkerish,” he answered. “I was at the pizza place picking up my own order when you called yours in, so I thought I’d save the delivery guy a trip.”

  “Thanks Griff. You really didn’t have to.”

  He grinned. “What I really didn’t have to do is tip the delivery guy to let me bring it to you. Can I come in?”

  The request took her aback considering the state of her appearance. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, and she was wearing a terry bathrobe over her tee shirt and yoga pants. In truth, she was surprised he hadn’t just handed her the box and run.

  “Sure. I didn’t mean to leave you standing there. You just surprised me.” She grabbed her crutches and moved into the kitchen.

  “Go ahead and sit down,” Griff urged. “I know where everything is in this place better than you do.” She plopped down on a bar stood and watched as he shed his jacket and moved efficiently about the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

  “I shouldn’t have any alcohol,” she said. “I’m on pain medication.”

  “I thought of that.” He raised the six pack to display the label. “I figured you for more of a wine drinker but this was non-alcoholic. ’Sides, pizza is always better with beer.”

  She laughed. “Okay then. I’ll have one.”

  He reached for a glass.

  “I’m fine with the bottle,” she said.

  His brows rose ever so slightly. “I never would have taken you for the bottle swigging type.”

  “Why’s that?” she asked as he popped the top and handed her the drink. “I promise you I swigged plenty of bottles with my pizza back in my college days.”

  “I guess some things are universal.” He raised his bottle in a playful salute, took a drink, and then set a plate in front of her. “Let me guess, you ordered a veggie special?”

  “Wrong, cowboy.” She grinned. “I got the bacon and sausage with extra cheese.”

  “That’s not a very feminine choice,” he said.

  “But it goes with the movie I picked. It’s one of my holiday favorites.”

  “Really?” He looked intrigued. “And just what kind of holiday movie would go with a bacon and sausage pizza?”

  She took a bite and studied him for a long silent moment. “Since you are so pre-disposed to stereotyping, I don’t think I’m going to tell you.”

  Griff wasn’t put off in the least. He’d always appreciated a challenge and that’s exactly what she was doing, intentionally taunting and challenging him. It was time to up the ante. “How about if I guess?”

  “You won’t guess,” she replied confidently.

  “Give me three hints.”

  “Why is it so important?” she asked.

  “Maybe I like a challenge.”

  She smiled. “It’s a waste of your time even with hints. You will never guess what my favorite holiday movie is.”

  “C’mon, Cassidy,” he coaxed. “Just give me three hints. If I get it wrong I’ll be your slave for a day. Fetch and carry, cook, clean, full body massage, whatever you like.” He hoped she’d take him up on the massage. She was covered from neck to foot, but he still remembered the feel of her small supple body in his arms. He relished the thought of stripping off her layers and revealing what was hidden beneath.

  She laughed. “I do like the sound of that slave penalty.”

  “What if I guess right?” he asked. “What do I win?”

  “I won’t be your slave,” she said.

  “How about if you pay a forfeit—yet to be determined?”

  “That’s like signing a blank check,” she exclaimed. “I don’t think so!”

  “All right, then promise you’ll spend New Year’s Eve with me.” The request spilled from his lips before he even realized what he was saying.

  “New Years?” she repeated, and pursed her pretty mouth.

  She had nicely shaped lips. He wondered how she’d taste. He’d been testing the waters, hoping she’d respond to him, but so far, she was less than receptive.

  “Yeah. How about dinner at the Couloir?” he said. “There’s no place better to view the fireworks and glow stick skiers.” He’d have to pull some major strings to get a reservation this late but the manager owed him a big favor.

  “Dinner with you doesn’t sound like much of a forfeit, compared to your day as my slave,” she replied. “Seems like I’m coming out ahead either way. All right, cowboy, you just sealed your doom. I’ll play.”

  “Write it down,” he said.

  “Write what down?”

  “The name of the movie,” he replied. He rose and went to a drawer to look for a pen and paper.

  “You think I’d cheat?” she asked.

  “I’m not taking any chances. Here.” He straddled the bar stool beside her and handed her the pen and a note pad.

  She scribbled something down, tore the paper off the pad and then folded it twice. “All right. I wrote it down. Now I’ll allow you three hints but you’ll have to ask the questions. Fire away.”

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  She frowned. “I hardly see how it’s relevant.”

  “It’s relevant,” he said. “If I know how old you are, I know what movies were popular when you were a kid. Most of us are pretty nostalgic this time of year.”

  “All right. I was born in 1986. You do the math.”

  So she was twenty-nine to his thirty-two. “How long have you been divorced?” he asked.

  Her frown deepened. “How did you know I’m divorced?”

  He reached for her hand and traced the white line on her left ring finger. Her hand was small and delicate with skin smooth as silk. She stiffened at his touch but didn’t pull away. “How long?” he asked, caressing her knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

  She responded with a tiny shiver and then drew her hand away. “That question has nothing to do with movies.”

  “I think it does,” he argued. “People often gravitate toward certain things based on experiences. It’s human nature to like what we can relate to.”

  “A little less than a year ago,” she answered. “What about you? Have you ever been married?”

  “No. I was close once. We grew up together, dated off and on through high school and college, but she broke it off two months before the wedding. I didn’t even see it coming.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “It was for the best. I thought we wanted the same things, but she only wanted out of Wyoming.”

  “I once thought Doug and I wanted the same things,” she said. “Maybe we did in the beginning but then everything changed.” Her pretty eyes clouded. “Now you’ve wasted two questions. You only have one left.”

  He sat back and pursed his mouth. “Given this is your first Christmas alone, I’m guessing romances aren’t all that appealing. I’m also going to take a chance here and rule out all the sci-fi, thrillers, horror, and action-adventure films, which leaves us with comedy, musicals, and animation.”

  “Why would you automatically rule out action adventure?” she asked.

  “Because women only watch those under duress, just like men only tolerate romantic comedies because they set the right mood for sex.”

  She shook her head on an exasperated huff. “There you go stereotyping again! Is that what you really believe? You think all women only watch chick flicks and Hallmark specials? Do I look that boring to you?”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that at all,” he replied. “Your footwear is anything but boring.”

  She regarded him with arched brows. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve mentioned those boots. Do you have a secret shoe fetish, Griff?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, suppressing a grin, “but I’d be hard pressed to find a man who didn’t have a weakness for fu….” He barely caught himself before blurting ‘fuck-me’ shoes. “Er…real
ly high heels.”

  “I could say the same about cowboy boots.” She eyed him head to toe with a seductive look. “A lot of woman have a weakness for those too.”

  “Oh yeah?” He leaned both elbows on the counter top, leveling his gaze with hers. No doubt about it, Cassidy Cantrell was stirring interest in long neglected places. “If that’s so, Miz Cantrell, I have to ask if you’re one of those women.”

  “Yes.” She smirked. “I own five pairs.” She took a long swallow of beer and snatched up another slice of pizza.

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “This conversation has once more steered way off course,” she said. “For the record, I happen to love action movies.”

  “Then you’re an exception to the rule,” he said. She was becoming more interesting with every little revelation. “You prefer action over musicals? That helps to narrows the field. I can now cross off White Christmas and The Sound of Music.”

  “Ooh!” she exclaimed. “I hate White Christmas but I love The Sound of Music. I know all the songs by heart.”

  He laughed. “Do you really?”

  “Yes,” she said, “but my singing is restricted to when I’m alone in the car.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I once made my dogs cry.”

  “They cried?” He laughed. “Maybe they were just singing along?”

  “No.” She shook her head solemnly. “It was a pitiful sound. I’m very certain they were crying, but I think you’re stalling now.”

  “Maybe I’m enjoying the company.”

  “Me too,” she confessed, looking suddenly soft and vulnerable. “Everything in my life has been so serious lately. I was determined to change all that but then I hurt myself. Now my whole holiday is ruined.”

  “Maybe not,” he said. “Sometimes it helps a great deal to slow down whether we want to or not. Rushed decisions are almost always bad ones.”

  “You’re right about that,” she agreed. “But I’m very far from making any decisions about anything. My life is really a mess right now.”

  “Maybe that’s just a matter of perspective,” he argued. “You can look back on it as a mess or you can set your sights forward and view it as a clean slate.”