A Cadence Creek Christmas (Cadence Creek Cowboys)

by Alward, Donna

  “So that’s why you don’t want to own your own business? You don’t want to fail like your dad did?”

  Rhys nodded and stabbed some salad with his fork. “That’s exactly why. You said it yourself—you’re responsible and can’t just take off on a whim. You have other people relying on you.” His throat tightened and he cleared the lump away. “You mess up and it’s other lives you’re affecting, not just your own. I would never want anyone to speak about me the way they were speaking about him that day. My brother and I both left home after high school. It was two less mouths for my mom to try to feed, to be honest.”

  Silence hummed through the kitchen. It hadn’t turned out to be a very pleasant conversation after all. All it had done was stir up things he’d rather forget.

  “Well,” she said softly. “You’re back in Cadence Creek now, and the diner is the heart of this town, and your mom is fabulous. You’re steady and reliable, Rhys. There are worse things.” She patted his hand. “You don’t have to live down your father’s reputation. That was his, not yours. You came back to help your mom. Not everyone would do that.”

  She seemed so sure that she said the right thing as she smiled again and turned back to her meal.

  Rhys’s appetite, though, shriveled away to nothing as he picked at his food. She had no idea, none at all. Yes, he’d come back when his father died because Martha had needed him. And he’d gone against his instincts and done what she’d asked of him because she was his mother and he couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing one more person. He wondered what Taylor would say if she knew he’d gone from one bad venture into immediately investing in another?

  He’d come back to Cadence Creek with his tail between his legs. He was more like his old man than anyone knew.

  And he hated it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THEY RETIRED TO the living room after dinner. Taylor made coffee and insisted they leave the dishes. She’d need something to keep her busy tomorrow anyway. Besides, Rhys had turned surprisingly quiet. She wondered what that was about.

  “You okay?” she asked, offering him a shortbread cookie.

  “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” he responded, taking one from the plate.

  “I don’t know. You got quiet all of a sudden. After we talked about your dad.”

  She looked over at him. Despite his relaxed pose, his jaw was tight. “Rhys,” she said gently, “did you feel like it was your job to look after everyone after he died?”

  “Why are we talking about this?” He shoved the cookie in his mouth, the buttery crumbs preventing him from saying more. But Taylor waited. Waited for him to chew and swallow and wash it down with a sip of coffee.

  “Because,” she finally answered, “it seems to me you could use a friend. And that maybe, since I’m not from Cadence Creek, I might be a logical choice.”

  Confusion cluttered his eyes as they met hers. “Do I strike you as the confiding type?”

  She smiled. “Maybe you could make an exception. This once.”

  He seemed to debate for a while. Taylor pulled her knees up toward her chin and sank deeper into the cushions of the sofa, cradling her cup in her hands. How long had it been since she’d spent an evening like this, with a warm cuppa in front of a glowing tree? No files open, no cell phone ringing. Just a rugged cowboy and coffee and cookies.

  Simple. And maybe it would bore her in a couple of days, but for right now it was quite heavenly.

  “I had my own business once,” he confided, staring into his cup. “I had an office based in Rocky Mountain House. I’d wanted to start something away from Cadence Creek, away from my dad’s reputation. I was determined to make a go of it, the way he’d never been able to.”

  She got a sinking feeling about where this was headed. “What kind of business?”

  “Feed supplements,” he said simply. “I had an office, a couple of office staff and a few reps other than myself who traveled the area to the various ranches. For a while it was okay. Then I started losing money. It got to a point where I wasn’t even drawing a salary, just so I could pay my staff. I fell behind on the office rent and we shifted it to run from my house.”

  His face took on a distant look for a few seconds, but then he gave his head a little shake and it cleared. “It wasn’t long before I knew I had to shut it down or declare bankruptcy. Since I didn’t want the mark on my credit rating, I closed my doors. My final accounts owing paid my back rent and wages and I got a job as a ranch hand. I got to bring home a paycheck while my employees had to file for Employment Insurance since I laid them off. They had families. Little kids. Mortgages.”

  “But surely they didn’t blame you!”

  He shrugged, but the distant look was back. “A million times I went over what I might have done differently, to manage it better. The jobs I took—working the ranches I used to serve—kept a roof over my head. When my dad died, I quit. Sold the house and moved back here to help my mom.”

  He opened his mouth and then suddenly shut it again.

  Intrigued, she unfolded her legs and sat forward. “What were you going to say?”

  “Nothing,” he answered, reaching for another cookie from the plate on the coffee table.

  “You were going to say something and stopped.” She frowned. There was more to this story, wasn’t there? Something he didn’t want to talk about. Something about coming home.

  “You’re nosy, you know that?”

  She grinned. “I’m a woman. We don’t let anything drop.”

  “You’re telling me.” He sighed. “Look, let’s just say I wasn’t a big fan of my mother buying the diner. Running a small business is tough and she’s worked hard her whole life. She’s over fifty now and working harder than ever.”

  “You wished she had stuck with working her shift and going home at the end of the day. Leaving the stress behind.”

  “Yes.”

  She understood. He’d felt terrible when his own business had failed. He’d seen the bad reaction from people when his dad had failed. He wanted to spare his mother any or all of that. She got it. She even admired him for his protective streak.

  “Some people aren’t satisfied with that, Rhys. I wasn’t. I wanted to build something. I wanted to know I’d done it and done it on my own. But I understand where you’re coming from. I’m responsible for my employees, too. It’s a big responsibility, not just financially but morally. At least for most people, I think, and if not it should be. People need to look at their employees like people and not numbers. Even if I wanted to make a change, I know I’m not the only one to consider.”

  “You thinking of changing?”

  The question stirred something uncomfortable inside her. “Nah, not really. Like I said—I’m just overdue for a break, that’s all.”

  She liked it better when they were talking about him. She put her hand on his knee. “You help her a lot, don’t you? Around the diner. Fixing things and whatever needs to be done.”

  He looked away. “Of course I do.”

  “And you don’t get paid.”

  He hesitated. “I’m not on the payroll, no,” he said.

  “You’re a good man, Rhys.”

  She meant it. The things he said made perfect sense and only served to complicate her thoughts even more. She was enjoying the downtime too much. She hadn’t truly loved the work for a while now, and she was finally admitting it to herself. Sometimes it felt pointless and frivolous, but every time she considered saying it out loud, she heard her father’s voice proclaiming that very thing. She was just stubborn enough to not let him be right. Damn the Shepard pride.

  Every time she thought about making a change, she was plagued by the realization that it wasn’t just her who would be affected. Her employees needed wages. Her landlord was counting on her rent. Suppliers, caterers...
All of that would trickle down, wouldn’t it? Walking away would be just about the most selfish thing she could do.

  They were quiet for a few minutes, until Rhys finally spoke up. “This business of yours, you’ve had to fight hard for respect, haven’t you?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “With your family. Your father’s hugely successful, Jack’s running what can only be considered an empire and Callum, while way more low-key, has fulfilled the family requirement for a spouse and grandchild. Must be hard standing next to that yardstick.”

  “I’m doing just fine, thank you.” Indignation burned its way to her stomach, making it clench. She wanted to be able to tell him he was dead wrong. Problem was she couldn’t.

  “Hey, you don’t have to tell me that. You’re one of the most capable women I’ve ever met. But seeing your family at the rehearsal dinner, I got the feeling that you had to work just a little bit harder for the same recognition.”

  “You’re a guy. You’re not supposed to notice stuff like that.”

  She put her cup down on the table and folded her hands in her lap.

  His voice was low and intimate as he replied, “I only noticed because I can’t seem to take my eyes off you whenever you’re around.”

  And there it was. The acknowledgment of whatever this was. Attraction. Curiosity. Carnality.

  “I thought we weren’t going to do this,” she said softly. She kept her hands folded tightly in her lap to keep them from going where they wanted to go—on him. “I’m only here for a few days.”

  “Then there’s no danger. We both know what’s what. We’re going in with our eyes wide open.”

  She looked up at him and was caught in his hot, magnetic gaze.

  “Since that night in my truck, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, reaching out and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried.” His fingers grazed her cheek and before she could reconsider, she leaned into the touch, the feel of his rough, strong hand against the sensitive skin of her face.

  “Are you seducing me, Rhys?” His thumb toyed with her lower lip and her eyes drifted closed.

  “With any luck.” He moved closer, leaning forward slightly so she began to recline against the cushions. “We’re adults,” he stated. “We’re both wondering. It doesn’t have to go any deeper than that.”

  Tentatively she lifted her hand and touched his face. “Usually I’m the confident one who goes after what she wants.”

  He smiled a little, his gaze dropping to her lips. “You don’t want this? I could have sworn you did.”

  “I didn’t say that,” she whispered, sliding deeper into the cushions.

  “That’s what I thought.” His voice was husky now, shivering along her nerve endings. He leaned closer until he was less than a breath away.

  The first kiss was gentle, soft, a question. When she answered it his muscles relaxed beneath her hand and he pressed his mouth more firmly against hers. Her pulse quickened, her blood racing as he opened his mouth and invited something darker, more persuasive. His hand cupped her breast. Her fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. He sat up and stripped it off, leaving him in just a T-shirt. She expected him to reach for the hem of her sweater but instead he took it slow, braced himself over top of her and kissed her again. His lips slid along her jaw to her ear, making goose bumps pop out over her skin and a gasp escape her throat.

  “I’m in no rush,” he whispered just before he took her lips again, and they kissed, and kissed, and kissed until nothing else in the world existed.

  Taylor’s entire body hummed like a plucked string. Rhys felt so good, tasted so good, and it had been too long since she’d felt this close to anyone. Yearning and desire were overwhelming, and his leisurely approach had primed her nearly to the breaking point. The words asking him to stay were sitting on her lips when he softened his kiss, gently kissed the tip of her nose, and got up off the sofa.

  She felt strangely cold and empty without his weight pressing upon her. Maybe he was going to hold out his hand and lead her down the hall, which would suit her just fine. If he could kiss like that, she would only imagine his lovemaking would be spectacular and...thorough. She swallowed roughly at the thought and got up, ready to take it to the next step.

  Except he was reaching for his coat.

  Her stomach dropped to her feet while heat rushed to her face. “What...? I mean where...?” She cleared her throat, crossed her arms around her middle, feeling suddenly awkward. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He shoved his arms into the sleeves but wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Not at all. It’s just getting late. I should go.”

  She wasn’t at all sure of herself but she lifted her chin and said the words on her mind anyway. “For a minute there it kind of looked like you weren’t going to be leaving.”

  For a second his hand paused on the tab of the zipper and the air in the room was electric. But then he zipped his coat the rest of the way up. “I don’t want to take things too fast, that’s all.”

  Too fast? Good Lord, she was leaving in a matter of days and he was the one who’d said he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She wasn’t innocent. She knew where this sort of make-out session was headed. And he was putting on the brakes without so much as a warning? Just when she thought she understood him, he did something else that made her wonder who the heck he was.

  “What happened to ‘we’re both grown-ups’?”

  Now he had his boots on. One moment they were sprawled on the couch and the next he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. What in heaven’s name had she done wrong?

  “Let me take a rain check, okay?”

  This night was getting stranger by the minute. “Rhys?”

  He took a step forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s fine, I promise. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Right. Because he’d be here twice. Great.

  Still dumbfounded, she heard him say, “Thanks for dinner.” Before she could wrap her head around what was going on he was out the door and headed for his truck. He didn’t even let it warm up, just got in, started it up and headed out the driveway to the road.

  What had just happened?

  In a daze she gathered up the cups and the plate of cookies and took them to the kitchen. She expended her pent-up energy by washing the dishes and tidying the supper mess, and then went back to the living room to turn off the Christmas lights, still reeling from his abrupt change of mood.

  His cotton shirt was still lying on the floor in a crumpled heap. He’d been in such a hurry to leave he’d forgotten to pick it up. She lifted it from the floor and pressed it to her nose. It smelled of soap and man and aftershave, a spicy, masculine scent that, thanks to the evening’s activities, now elicited a physical response in her. Want. Need. Desire.

  She stared at it while she brushed her teeth and washed her face. And when she went to bed, she left the penguin pajamas on the chair and instead slid into Rhys’s soft shirt. Having the material whisper against her body was the closest she was going to get to Rhys. At least tonight!

  But the week wasn’t over yet. And she was pretty sure he owed her an explanation.

  * * *

  Rather than drive into Edmonton to shop, Taylor decided to explore the Cadence Creek stores for Christmas gifts. After her conversation with Rhys about running a small business, she felt the right thing to do was to buy local and support the townspeople who made their livelihood here. For Avery and Callum, she bought a beautiful evergreen centerpiece for their table from Foothills Floral. The craft store sold not just yarn but items on consignment, and she bought Nell a gorgeous quilt in pink and blue with patchwork bunnies in each square. The men were a little harder to buy for, but she ended up being delighted at the silversmith, where she purchased both her father and Jack
new tie clips and cuff links, the intricate design a testament to the artist’s talents.

  While she was browsing the handcrafted jewelry, a particular display caught her eye. Beautiful hammered and sculpted silver pendants on sterling chains shone in the morning sunlight. She picked one up, let the weight of it sit on her fingers, a delicate horseshoe with tiny, precise holes where nails would go. She smiled to herself, remembering asking for a lucky horseshoe at the wedding and how Rhys had informed her that a rabbit’s foot got rubbed for luck.

  He’d amused her, even then when she’d been her most stressed.

  She let the pendant go and moved on. She still had her mother’s gift to buy and then the groceries for Christmas dinner.

  At the drugstore she picked up a gift set of her mother’s favorite scent, and hit the grocery store for the turkey and vegetables needed for dinner, loading everything in the trunk of her car. She must have done okay, because the bags nearly filled it to capacity.

  The last stop was the bakery, where she figured she could grab something sweet and Christmassy for the holiday dinner and maybe sit and have a coffee and a piece of cake or something.

  Anything to avoid going to the Wagon Wheel. She was too afraid of running into Rhys, and she had no idea what to say to him. Sleep had been a long time coming last night. This morning he’d been by early to do the chores, and was already gone when she’d finally crawled out of bed.

  The first thing she noticed as she went inside was the welcoming heat. Then it was the smells—rising bread and spices and chocolate and vanilla all mingled together. Browsing the display, she immediately decided on a rich stollen, her mouth watering at the sight of the sugar-dusted marzipan bread. She also ordered a traditional Christmas pudding which came with a container of sauce and instructions for adding brandy.