He laughed.
“So why aren’t you?”
“What?” He tilted his head curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Why aren’t you intimidated?”
He smiled again and the dark depths of his eyes warmed. “Oh. That’s easy. I said that most guys have a problem with women who are smarter than they are...”
“And you’re not most guys?”
“I never said you were smarter than me.”
Without thinking, she kicked him under the table. Her toe hurt but he barely even flinched. “You are an infernal tease!”
“And you love it. Because you like a challenge.”
How did he possibly know her so well? It was vastly unsettling.
She picked at her cake another moment or two before putting it down and facing him squarely. “What do you get out of this, Rhys? You and me. We’re doing this dance and I’m not sure I see the point of it.”
“You mean because we’re so different and all?”
She lifted one shoulder. “That’s only part of it. We both know that on Boxing Day I’m headed back to my life, so why bother?”
Taylor lifted her gaze to meet his. Something curled through her insides, hot and exciting. This simmering attraction they had going on made no sense. They were as different as water and air. But it was there just the same. This chemistry. Rhys Bullock was exciting. A small-town farmworker who hadn’t the least bit of initiative and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
And yet, maybe the attraction stemmed from his confidence, a self-assurance that he knew who he was and was exactly where he wanted to be. While she didn’t quite understand his choices, she had to admit she was the tiniest bit jealous that he’d gained that understanding while she was still trying to figure it all out. He didn’t need accolades. Rhys Bullock had the confidence to know exactly who he was. He was comfortable in his own skin the way she’d never been.
“Why you?” He leaned forward a little. “Beyond the obvious fact that you’re crazy hot and my temperature goes up a few degrees when you enter the room?”
She suppressed the urge to fan herself. “Rhys,” she cautioned.
“You asked. And for what it’s worth, I’m not looking for ties and commitments.”
“Funny, because you’re a pretty grounded guy. I’d kind of expect someone like you to be settled down with two-point-five kids and a dog, you know?”
Something flickered across his face. Pain? Anger? It disappeared as fast as it had arrived. “Start dating in a town this size and suddenly the town gets very, very small. Especially when things go wrong.”
“Ah, like that old saying about...doing something where you eat.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Exactly like that. Look, you’re a novelty, Taylor. An adventure. A safe one, because in a week’s time you’re going to be gone.”
“So I’m a fling?”
His gaze sharpened. “A couple of kisses hardly constitutes a fling.” He took a calm sip of his coffee. “You’re an anomaly. You intrigue me. You know how to keep me on my toes.”
“I’m glad I’m so amusing.”
“Don’t act like your feelings are hurt. We both know that the last thing you want is to be ordinary.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone appreciates the alternative.”
“That’s because you highlight every single one of their flaws. You’re not always right, but you’re committed.” He put his hand over hers. “That kind of commitment can take a toll. I can see you need the break.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m perfectly fine.” She looked away, unexpectedly touched by his insight. How could he see what everyone else did not? The whole wedding she’d felt like she was losing her edge. Normally she’d be fired up and excited about the New Year’s job, but instead she was dreading it. What on earth was wrong with her?
He squeezed her fingers. “Oh, Taylor, do you think I don’t recognize burnout when I see it?”
She pulled her hand out of his grasp and sat back. “I’m not even thirty years old. I’m too young for burnout. Besides, what would you know about the pressures of running a business, with your ‘put in your shift and go home’ attitude?”
Silence rang in the kitchen for a few seconds. “Okay then.” He pushed out the chair, stood and reached for his hat. “I should get going. I have some work out at Diamondback before coming back tonight to do the evening chores. Thanks for the coffee and cake.”
She felt silly for going off on him like that—especially when he was right. At the same time, she didn’t need to have it pointed out so bluntly. And the way he’d spoken so softly and squeezed her fingers? Argh! The sympathy had made her both angry and inexplicably tearful.
“Rhys, I...”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said evenly, going to the door and pulling on his boots. “I’ll see you later.”
He was gone before she had a chance to do anything. To take back the snippy words. She’d judged him, when she knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of such judgment.
She turned her back to the door and leaned against it, staring at the Christmas tree, fully decorated, standing in the corner. She couldn’t even muster up a good dose of Christmas cheer.
Maybe Rhys was right. Maybe she was a little burned out. But she couldn’t just take off and leave things. She had clients and commitments. She had employees who were counting on her for their livelihoods.
One week. Somehow she needed to recharge during this one week. With a heavy sigh, she went to the kitchen, retrieved her coffee and headed back to the bedroom. Coffee and a book in bed was as good a start as she could come up with right now.
* * *
Rhys was glad of the physical labor to keep him going. He’d been up early to head to Callum’s for chores, then to Diamondback, and now back at Callum’s for the evening milking. Plus he hadn’t been sleeping well. He’d had Taylor on his mind. Something had happened between them as they’d danced at the wedding. Then there was this morning in the kitchen. Lord, how he loved bantering with her. She was quick and sharp and it was like a mating dance, teasing then pulling away. Except that when it got a little too honest she ran scared and the game was over.
It was fully dark outside as he finished tidying the milking parlor and went to the stainless sink to wash his hands. What was she doing now? Having dinner? A bubble bath? His fingers paused for a moment as that idea saturated his consciousness, crowding out any other thoughts. He imagined her long, pale limbs slick with water and soap, tendrils of hair curling around her face from the steam rising from the bath.
Not dating came with a price. It was like anything else, he supposed. Deny yourself long enough, and temptation was nearly too much to bear. And Taylor Shepard was tempting indeed.
But he knew what she really thought of him. That fact alone would keep him from knocking on her door again.
He shut off the tap. He knew a damn sight more about running a business than she thought. His livelihood and his mother’s future were tied up in the diner. And he knew the pain of failure, too. It wasn’t even a matter of his savings. It was a matter of trying to make things right for employees. Creditors. Putting himself last, and scraping the bottom of the barrel to keep from declaring bankruptcy. The unfortunate part was that he hadn’t just messed things up for himself. It had messed up Sherry’s life. And by extension, that of her kids.
He rubbed a hand over his face.
Never again. Punching a clock made for a lot less stress in the end. Taylor had no right to judge him for it.
He shoved his gloves on his hands and stepped outside into the cold. His feet crunched on the snow and he was nearly to his truck when the front door to the house opened.
“Rhys?”
He turned. His breath formed a frosty cloud as he saw her standing in the circle o
f porch light, her arms crossed around her middle to keep warm. Her long braid fell over her shoulder again, neat and tidy. Just once he’d like to take that braid apart with his fingers and sink his hands into the thick softness of her hair.
“You need something?” he called out.
There was a slight hesitation. “I... Do you want to come in for a few minutes?”
Hell, yes. Which was exactly why he shouldn’t.
“It’s been a long day, Taylor.” He put his hand on the door handle.
“Oh.”
That was all she said. Oh. But he was just stupid enough to hear disappointment in her voice as well as a recognition that it wasn’t about the long day at all.
He closed his eyes briefly. This was very likely going to be a big mistake. Huge.
“Maybe just for a minute.”
She waited for him, though she had to be nearly freezing by now. She stepped aside as he climbed the steps and went inside to where it was warm. He heard the door shut behind him and fought the urge to turn and kiss her. The desire to take her in his arms was so strong it was nearly overwhelming. Whatever differences they had, the connection between them was undeniable. It made things very complicated.
“Did you need something?” he asked. “I’m pretty handy if something needs fixing.”
Taylor slid past him into the living room. He noticed now that the tree was lit up, a beautiful specimen glowing with white lights and red and silver decorations. A few presents were beneath it, wrapped in expensive foil paper with precise red and green bows. “Tree looks good.”
“Avery did it before she left.”
“I didn’t notice it this morning.”
She met his gaze and he’d swear she was shy. “It looks different when it’s lit up.”
“So do you.”
He shouldn’t have said it. Keeping his mouth shut had never been much of a problem for him before. But there was nothing usual about Taylor, was there? She provoked all kinds of unexpected responses.
“About this morning,” she said quietly. “I asked you in tonight because I owe you an apology.”
He didn’t know what to say. Taylor didn’t strike him as the type who apologized. Or at least—came right out and said it. He recalled the night of the rehearsal dinner, and how Taylor had told Martha that she’d underestimated her. She’d expressed the sentiment in a roundabout way when talking to Rhys. But not a full-on apology.
She came forward and looked up into his eyes. “I was overly sensitive this morning, and I said something I shouldn’t have. It’s not up to me to judge your life choices. Everyone makes their own decisions for their own reasons and their own happiness. I don’t like it when people do it to me, and I shouldn’t have done it to you.”
He’d respected her intelligence before, admired how capable she was. But this was different. Taylor had a lot of pride. Making a point of saying she was sorry took humility.
“It’s a bit of a hot-button with me,” he admitted. “I tend to be a bit sensitive about it.”
“Why?” She cocked her head a little, and the motion made him smile.
“It’s a long and boring story,” he said lightly.
“I bet it’s not. Which is why you’re not talking.”
He couldn’t help it, he smiled back. It might be easier to stay away if he didn’t actually like her—but he did. She was straightforward and honest and made him laugh.
“Listen,” she said, her voice soft. “I made cannelloni for dinner and there’s enough to share. Have you eaten yet?”
Her lips had some sort of gloss on them that didn’t add much color but made them look shiny and plump. He swallowed and dragged his gaze from her mouth back to her eyes. “Um, no.”
“Take your boots off, then, and come inside. I promise that I won’t poison you.”
She said it with one eyebrow raised and her lips curved up in good humor.
He questioned the wisdom of hanging around, and then his stomach rumbled. As Taylor laughed, he took off his boots and left them by the door.
“Bathroom’s through there, if you want to wash your hands. I’ll dish stuff up.”
When he arrived back in the kitchen, the scent of tomato and garlic seduced his nostrils. “That smells so good,” he commented, pausing in the doorway.
She’d only left on the under-counter lighting, which cast a warm and intimate glow through the room. A cheery red and green plaid tablecloth covered the table, and she’d lit a couple of stubby candles in the middle.
Suddenly he wondered if he’d fallen very neatly into a trap. And if he actually minded so very much.
“Do you eat like this every night?” he asked casually, stepping into the room.
Taylor blushed. “Confession time, I guess. I planned dinner a little late because I was hoping you’d say yes.” She placed a glass casserole dish on a hot mat on the table, then added a bowl of salad and a bottle of white wine. “I thought I’d have some wine, but if you’d prefer something else?”
“Wine is fine. Just a single glass, though.” He was trying to decide what he felt about her admission that she’d planned dinner with him in mind. “You wanted me to come to dinner, and yet this morning you were pretty mad about seeing me here.”
She hesitated, wine bottle in hand. “You complicate things for me. But I was here today at loose ends, no work to do, no one to talk to. It seemed lonely to eat here alone and I didn’t want to go into town again.”
“So I’m a chair filler.”
“I decided to stop being annoyed with you and enjoy your company instead.” She finished pouring the wine.
When she was seated he sat, and reached for the cloth napkin. “What do you do in Vancouver, then? I mean, at meal times?”
It occurred to him that maybe she didn’t eat dinner alone. A beautiful woman like her. It was stupid to think she wasn’t taken, wasn’t it?
She took his plate and served him a helping of the stuffed pasta. “I usually pick up something on my way home. Or I get home so late I just grab something quick in front of the TV before hitting the bed.”
“This pace must be a real change for you.”
“A bit. Different, but not entirely unwelcome, actually.”
She added salad to his plate and handed it back. “I’m very good at what I do, Rhys. I’ve built the business from the ground up and I’m proud of it. But sometimes I do wonder if I’m missing out on something.”
He nearly bobbled his plate. “You’re joking, right?”
“Not really.” She sighed. “Of course, it’s entirely possible I just need a vacation. I haven’t taken any time off in a while.”
“Since when?”
She served herself and picked up her fork. “Nearly three years. I took a very brief four-day trip to Hawaii. A few days of sun, sand and fruity drinks with umbrellas.”
“Four days isn’t much time.”
“It was what I could manage. It’s not like punching a clock and putting in for two weeks of holiday time.”
“I know that.” He tasted his first bite of cannelloni. Flavor exploded on his tongue—rich, creamy cheese, fresh basil, ripe tomatoes. “This is really good, Taylor. I never knew you could cook.”
“My mom taught me.”
“Your mom? Really? She strikes me as a society wife. Don’t take that the wrong way,” he warned. “Your mom seems very nice. But I kind of see her as someone who, I don’t know, has things catered. Who outsources.”
Taylor nodded. “Sometimes. But growing up—we weren’t hurting for money, but we didn’t have household staff, either. Mom kept us kids in line, helped with homework, decorated like Martha Stewart and cooked for her own dinner parties. At least until we were much older, and Dad’s firm was on really solid ground.” She speared a leaf of lettuce. “I
learned a lot about my event planning biz from my Mom. She’s an organizational whiz.”
“Hmm,” he mused. “Seems we have something in common after all. While my old man was out taking care of business, my mom held down the fort for me and my brother. I’ve never met another woman who could make something out of nothing. She worked at the diner during the day, but she was always helping my dad with his ventures.”
“What did he do?”
Rhys shrugged. “What didn’t he do? He sold insurance for a while, a two-man operation here in Cadence Creek. When that didn’t fly, he was a sales rep for some office supply company, traveling all around Alberta. He sold used cars after that if I remember right.”
And a bunch of other jobs and schemes that had taken him away more than he was home, and never panned out as he’d hoped. Time and again he’d moved on to something newer and shinier, and financially they’d gone further and further in the hole.
“Sounds industrious,” Taylor commented easily, reaching for the wine and topping up her glass.
“Yeah, he was a real go-getter,” Rhys agreed, trying very hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice and not doing such a great job. He’d loved his dad but the legacy he’d left behind wasn’t the greatest.
She put the bottle down carefully and frowned. “You aren’t happy about that, are you?”
He focused on his pasta. “Dad was full of bright ideas and a little fuzzier on the execution. It was my mom who kept her feet on the ground and really provided for us kids. Problem was, every time Dad moved on to something better, he usually left some damage in his wake. Debts he couldn’t pay and employees out of a job. It didn’t get him the greatest goodwill here, you know? We were lucky that everyone loved my mom. Otherwise maybe we would’ve been run out of Cadence Creek.”
“Surely it wasn’t that bad,” Taylor said, smiling.
“I know I wasn’t supposed to hear, but one day I was passing by the hardware store and I heard these guys outside talking. They called him ‘Big Man Bullock’ and not in a nice way.”
He couldn’t look at her. For some reason that single memory had shaped him so much more than any other from his childhood, good and bad. In that moment he’d decided he would never be like his father. Never. Only for a while he had been. He’d let so many people down. It was his biggest regret.
A Cadence Creek Christmas (Cadence Creek Cowboys) Page 10