Make Mine a Cowboy

by A. J. Pine

  He didn’t answer but instead locked his screen and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

  “Hey,” he said. “Pearl got you working on Thanksgiving?”

  She nodded. “Sort of. We’re pretty booked up, but it’s mostly with out-of-towners coming to see family, so they won’t be at the inn for Thanksgiving dinner. But Gran’s head cook always prepares a feast and brings her husband and kids to the inn. The chief is coming too. Ivy and Carter. She still invites my mom and dad every year even though they’re barely on speaking terms, but they’re always out of town. Even I’ve been out of the picture since getting wrapped up in school and my residency and— I’m rambling. Sorry. What was the question again?” She laughed nervously.

  “Sam, Colt, and I are doing it up big at the ranch—just friends and family. We’re not calling it until late afternoon/early evening, so everyone who is not a Callahan can hit up their respective family gatherings first. Ivy and Carter said they’d stop by—I’m guessing after the inn. Casey’s going to drop in after she’s done with her family. And in case you’re worried about our skills in the kitchen, our head chef, Luis, is helping run the show along with his girlfriend, Anna, our produce supplier. I swear the night will be worth it just to listen to the two of them argue. It’s an interesting dynamic.” He took a steadying breath. “My parents will be there. You could stop by if you want, after you’re done at the inn.”

  “You want me to meet your parents?” she asked, her eyes wide and her voice wavering. “That’s a big deal, right? Like, people only do that when they’re actually dating.”

  She had a point, but so did he.

  “Wouldn’t Pearl think it was strange if I didn’t invite you? Come to think of it, why hasn’t she invited me?”

  Charlotte swallowed. “She asked, but I sort of told her that since we were both having our family dinners at the same time that we’d probably just meet up after.”

  Ben took a step back and crossed his arms. “But you didn’t know what time we were doing our dinner.”

  Charlotte winced. “I panicked. It’s one thing to lie to my grandmother with our dating life off camera, so to speak. It’s quite another to do it right in front of her. What if we mess up? What if she realizes…And now you want to do the couple thing in front of your whole family?”

  Her cheeks were flushed, and there was a vein pulsing in the middle of her forehead Ben swore he’d never seen before.

  “Okay,” he said, holding his hands up. “You don’t have to come. I can stop by Pearl’s after and stuff my already stuffed gut with whatever desserts are left over. Nothing formal. But enough to show her that we’re real—in her eyes, of course—to celebrate part of a holiday together. Just know the invitation stands…in case you change your mind. I can’t promise our crew will save any dessert though.” He winked at her. Ben hid his nerves behind the humor and charm. He’d always worn the traits like a mask, using them to hide his anticipation, his hope, and his fear. He crossed all his fingers and toes it still worked with her.

  The thing was, his parents would like her—really like her. Maybe he and Charlotte weren’t in it for the long haul, but he knew it would make his parents—his father especially—happy to see both his sons happy. What was wrong with putting on a show for them just like they were doing for Pearl?

  Maybe she was right, that it was a risk to try to perform for everyone, let alone her grandmother. The thing was, until rationalizing it in his head right now, Ben hadn’t given his initial invitation a second thought. He’d simply wanted her to be there, so he’d asked. Now he had to reconcile that want with the knowledge that she didn’t want the same thing.

  “I’ll try to stop by,” she finally said, getting him—thankfully—out of his head. “When things die down at the inn. But promise it will be low key, that no one’s going to be all up in our business or anything like that.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “No pressure, Doc, I promise. And I’m fine either way. Not holding my breath or anything.”

  Except…maybe he sort of was.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlotte held a hand over the boxed cake in the passenger seat—her grandmother’s carrot cake (and Charlotte’s favorite)—that Pearl insisted she bring after she practically kicked her out of the inn.

  “The man you’re dating invited you to meet his family,” Pearl had said when Ivy and Carter asked if Charlotte was going to join them at the ranch.

  “But I’m here, and you’re my family,” Charlotte had offered as a feeble argument.

  Pearl had simply scoffed. “As soon as we’re done straightening up here, you’re officially banished from the inn until further notice. Or until your next shift.”

  And true to her word, as soon as the dishes were cleared and coffee was served, she’d sent Charlotte off to the ranch with a belly full of turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and a whole lot of nerves.

  This was ridiculous. She and Ben were friends. Friends who kissed. And maybe had some really spectacular sex every now and then. So she was meeting his parents. Big deal. This didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like either of them had admitted to anything more than caring about each other. They were both doing a great job at convincing themselves that for all intents and purposes, it was still a pretend relationship—one so Gran wouldn’t worry or meddle. Now she and Ben were pretending by spending one of the biggest family holidays together—after which they’d keep on pretending they would never have to say good-bye.

  No. This wasn’t going to be stressful at all.

  She parked right outside the ranch’s dining hall, her slightly trembling hand still acting as a seat belt for the cake. She couldn’t decide if it was due to the car not having time to warm up on the short ride or the butterflies in her stomach. Probably a healthy dose of both.

  She stepped out of the vehicle and smoothed her coat over her sweater-covered flannel shirt and jeans. She was getting used to pulling on her boots instead of a pair of heels. And the last time she’d put on a dress? It had been weeks since Ben had taken her on their first “date.” She’d fallen into a rhythm here, but even that wasn’t real. Even if she forgot it from time to time, Gran would be on her feet sooner rather than later, and Charlotte would return to the life she’d built.

  She could see all the smiling faces inside—Carter and Ivy, Sam and Delaney, Colt, Casey, an animated couple she guessed were Luis and Anna, and a slightly older couple she knew were Ben and Sam’s parents. And then there he was, her vacation cowboy.

  Her throat tightened, and her belly flipped. She told herself it was nothing more than general nerves about joining a family gathering where she was the outsider, that it didn’t have anything to do with seeing Ben Callahan smile, even from a distance.

  She reached back into the car and grabbed the cake, then closed the door with her hip. After one more steadying breath, she squared her shoulders and marched toward the door.

  Wait…Did she knock? On any other day, this was a public dining hall—at least, public enough for the guests of the ranch. But everyone in there was family or friend, someone who definitely belonged in this scenario, while—standing in front of what she was sure was an unlocked door—Charlotte still felt so very far from either of those labels.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and gave herself a silent pep talk.

  You can do this. In fact, you just did at the inn. It’s food and people, one of whom is the man you can’t stop thinking about, one is his brother, and two are his parents, and everyone else are the closest people in his lives here in Meadow Valley. Piece of cake!

  She should really just go back to the car.

  “Are you…meditating?” she heard someone ask. It was a man’s voice she didn’t entirely recognize. “I do it every morning,” he said when she didn’t respond. “Helps me center myself into my day. I’m guessing you need some centering before heading into the lion’s den, huh?” He chuckled, and she heard the door click shut, so she opened her eyes.

  “C
olt,” she said, putting a face with the voice. “I was just— I mean, it was sort of meditating in the way that you might look at freaking out as meditating?” She laughed nervously as the handsome, golden-haired cowboy flashed her an easy grin. Good Lord, a girl could get used to being greeted by gorgeous ranchers on a daily basis.

  He laughed again. “Nothing to freak out about in there other than trying to find an extra stomach or two to put away all food we still have.” He raised his brows at the box in her arms. “Looks like you brought more. Come on in. He’ll never admit it, but there’s someone inside who’s been checking his phone every ten minutes. I think he might be a little anxious to see you.”

  Anxious to see her? It should have eased her mind, but instead it just made her more nervous.

  Her palms were sweating. Oh God. Was she going to leave handprints on the cake box?

  “Yeah. Great. Excellent. Let’s, uh, go inside!” she said with way too much gumption to sound natural.

  “After you.” Colt pushed open the door and held it so she could walk through.

  She was ready for the chatter to screech to a halt like a needle being dragged across a record, for everyone to stare at the party crasher who was technically invited yet still felt like a twelfth wheel, but the revelry continued without interruption.

  Except for the dark-haired, blue-eyed cowboy who looked awfully sexy in a formfitting dark green sweater, jeans, and his ever-present dusty boots. He strode toward her like she was the only person in the room.

  It was like there was a spotlight on her now, which should have made her freak out even more. Instead the biggest, dopiest grin took over her features as he greeted her with a bone-melting kiss.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Doc,” he said softly, his lips parting in a smile against hers.

  She cleared her throat. “I…um…I brought cake,” she said, taking a step back and nodding at the box still in her hands, the one they somehow avoided smashing with what she considered a greeting to end all greetings. “I didn’t make it. Pearl did.”

  Ben raised a brow. “That wouldn’t be her famous carrot cake with the best cream cheese frosting I’ve ever tasted, would it?”

  “I heard that!” a man called out from behind Ben, and they both turned to see who Charlotte assumed was the ranch’s chef, Luis, staring daggers in Ben’s direction.

  Ben laughed. “Don’t mind him. He’s very protective of his reputation, but everybody knows that when it comes to baked goods, no one holds a candle to your grandmother.” He took the box, which she relinquished with pleasure. “I’ll go set this with the other desserts and then introduce you to—”

  “There you are!” Ivy exclaimed, appearing behind Ben. “Come on. You need a glass of champagne. Sam’s about to make some big toast, and a toast isn’t a toast without a glass of bubbly.” She grabbed Charlotte’s hand. “I may have had a glass or two of bubbly already,” she said with a giggle.

  Charlotte shrugged as Ivy dragged her away from a grinning Ben, who simply shrugged right back. Ivy led her to a table that had a couple of bottles sitting in a bucket of ice on one side and a cooler full of canned and bottled beer on the other, a table that was, conveniently, out of earshot from the one where everyone had been eating.

  “Bubbly!” Ivy said, and filled a champagne flute for Charlotte.

  It was a little more upscale than the Solo cups Ben had used for their first date—something more akin to what she’d grown used to back home in New York. Yet she could have sworn the plastic cups added a little something extra that night. A little something more Ben Callahan.

  “Okay, spill,” Delaney said, coming up behind them and refilling her own flute.

  Suddenly Casey was there too. “Yeah, Doctor. You want to tell us what’s up with that kiss? You know I’m the last one to get up in anyone’s business—”

  Ivy snorted. “You run a pub,” she said. “The only pub in town. You are up in everyone’s business whether you like it or not.”

  Casey narrowed her eyes at her friend, and Ivy waved an olive branch in the form of a freshly poured glass of champagne. Casey cleared her throat, and Ivy groaned, setting down the bubbly and reaching instead for a frosty bottle from the cooler.

  “Now that’s more like it,” Casey said, popping the top off on the table’s edge. She turned back to Charlotte, who was watching the whole exchange with a mixture of amusement and relief. She figured, though, that the spotlight was back on her.

  “Hi,” Charlotte said, her nerves returning. “Happy Thanksgiving?” The greeting came out like a question, one she hoped asked, Can I get away with just saying that?

  But the other three women stared at her, brows raised.

  “Hey,” Delaney said, her voice gentle and maybe a little hesitant. “I know firsthand what it’s like to get swept up in the whirlwind that is Meadow Valley. I fell in love with this town before I ever met Sam.”

  Charlotte nodded, but she wasn’t really following. “I’m no stranger to this place,” she said. “Spent my summers here until I was a teen.”

  Delaney nodded. “Yeah. I know. But there are Callahans here now. That changes things a little. And I think what Casey was trying to say about that kiss—”

  “Is that I’ve given and received plenty of kisses hello. From relatives. From…friends…” Casey said. “And that—what just happened between you and one of those Callahans Delaney was talking about—was a far cry from friendly and just as equally far from that little no-strings-attached thing you had going the last time you were here.” She raised a brow.

  Ivy bit her lip and nodded. “He’s barely been able to sit still all night. I can’t even tell you how many times he found some excuse to get up and peek out the window or take a step out onto the porch.”

  “Seven,” Casey said bluntly. The other three women stared at her. “What? Don’t judge. You all go home to someone in your bed at night while I, apparently, live vicariously by being up in everyone else’s business. Ben stepped out onto the porch after I walked in and again when Luis and Anna started going at it about whether or not his wedge salad—prepared with Anna’s grape tomatoes and blue cheese—would have been better complemented with the balsamic glaze she suggested or the homemade blue cheese dressing Luis prepared. Plus his five trips to the window, and that’s just since I showed up.”

  Everyone’s eyes widened, and Casey groaned. “Fine,” she relented. “I am in everyone else’s business. Ugh. When did that happen?” She took a long swig from her beer.

  “You really like him. Don’t you?” Ivy asked. “And if Casey’s mild stalking is correct—”

  “Hey!” Casey said with a pout. “I didn’t say I was proud of my behavior.”

  “Then it looks like Ben feels the same way,” Delaney added. “We didn’t mean to ambush you, by the way. It was just really hard to miss that kiss.”

  Really strong like. That was all this was, right? Friends liked one another. And she liked Ben. A lot.

  Good Lord. She sounded like a middle schooler even in her own head. The truth was she’d be lying to her friends and to herself if she tried to brush off her feelings for Ben as like. There was certainly an L-word involved, though, and if she said it out loud, then what? She’d resent Ben if he pressured her to stay when he knew she couldn’t. Wouldn’t he feel the same if she asked something that monumental of him?

  “I—”

  She was saved by seeing Sam standing at the main dinner table, awkwardly tapping a fork against his champagne flute.

  “A toast!” Charlotte blurted instead. “We should head back over.”

  “Um…sorry, folks, if I’m interrupting,” he called out to everyone still at the table as well as the women still by the makeshift bar. His deep voice only somewhat masked his apparent nerves. “I’m not usually one for speaking in front of an audience, but I kind of wanted to do something I haven’t done in a good long while.” He motioned toward the group of women. “Vegas, how about you and your friends join us?” he said wit
h an easy grin, his eyes on Delaney.

  Charlotte grabbed a bottle of beer and—not being as adept as Casey—used the bottle opener to remove the cap. Then the four women made their way to the table. Ivy slid into her chair next to Carter and Casey took the seat on her other side. Delaney found her spot next to Sam, and Charlotte blew out a breath as she took the one remaining empty seat in between Ben and her cousin. Hey, that was right. She wasn’t entirely the odd woman out. She had family here too!

  “What’s happening?” she whispered to Ben, handing him the beer and finally taking off her coat and tossing it on the back of her chair.

  “I have no idea,” he whispered back. “Buckle up, though, because my brother has been full of surprises lately.” He tapped her champagne flute with the bottom of his bottle. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

  “When Ben and I were kids,” Sam continued, not giving Charlotte a chance to respond, “Thanksgiving was a big deal at our house. It was a time when all four of us were in one place. Mom and Dad would spend the day in the kitchen together preparing all of our favorites—everything we tried to re-create tonight—and the table would always be surrounded by family and any friends who didn’t have family nearby.” He glanced around the table. “Kind of like this. And even though Ben and I always groaned about it—because it meant we had to wait for dessert—I think we both sort of enjoyed the tradition, one I’d like to reinstate. Where we go around the table and share one thing we’ve been the most grateful for in the past year.” He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek and then took his seat between her and Delaney. “And because it’s my game, I get to go last. So, Mom, what do you think?”

  The older woman swiped at a tear under her eye and nodded. She linked both arms around the man sitting next to her, Sam and Ben’s father. “I’m just so grateful to be here, doing this, with my family—that we found our way back to each other.” She looked specifically at the older Mr. Callahan. “And that we did it while there is still time.”