A Cadence Creek Christmas (Cadence Creek Cowboys) (13 page)

“Miss.” She checked the boarding pass. “Miss Shepard. We’re going to be boarding in about fifteen minutes.”

“I’m not going to be on it.” She tried to stay calm and smiling. “And if I’m not on it, you’re going to have to pull the bags anyway, right?”

“Yes, but...”

“I don’t even care if I take them with me now. I can come back to get them. I don’t care if my ticket can’t be refunded.” Her smile widened even as the agent’s expression grew more confused. She leaned forward. “Would it help if I told you I fell in love and decided I can’t leave after all?”

The confused look morphed into sentimental amusement. “You’re absolutely sure you’re not boarding this flight?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“It might take a while. You’ll have to pick them up at baggage services.” She sent Taylor a wink. “I’ll call down.”

“Thank you! I’m sorry for the trouble. And Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” the agent returned, picking up the phone. “And good luck.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

R
HYS
PUT
THE
broom back in the storage closet and began running hot water for the mop bucket. He’d left Martha in bed with a cold; she’d insisted on getting up and coming with him to give the diner a good cleaning but he’d convinced her to stay in bed since she’d be needed when they opened tomorrow. Knowing she’d likely change her mind, he’d made sure to give her a good dose of cold medicine. She’d be asleep for a good few hours, getting some much deserved rest. He could mop the floors and do up the bank deposit without any trouble.

If only he could stop thinking about Taylor as easily. That last kiss she’d given him had been so sweet—a bit shy and a bit sad. He knew he had no choice but to let her go, but it was killing him. She’d awakened something in him that was unexpected and he didn’t know how to make it go back to sleep. At least a dozen times in the past thirty-six hours he’d grabbed his car keys, ready to drive over to Callum’s and tell her he wasn’t ready to let what they had end. But he’d put the keys back on the hook every time. It already hurt to let her go. To prolong it would only make it worse.

Something made him shut off the water, a persistent thump that came from out in the main part of the restaurant. Frowning, he stuck his head out of the kitchen and called out, “We’re closed!”

He’d nearly pulled his head back in when he saw the red boots.

His heart gave an almighty
whomp
.

She was supposed to be gone. Her flight was supposed to have left almost an hour ago. Maybe he’d been mistaken about the boots?

He slowly stepped through the kitchen door and into the front of the diner. There was no question, they were red boots. The only red boots like them he’d ever seen in Cadence Creek. Most of her body was hidden by the gigantic pine wreath hanging on the door, but he saw her long legs and the tails of her soft black and red coat.

He smiled as she knocked again, harder.

“Rhys, I know you’re in there. Your truck is parked right outside.”

His smile widened. God, he loved it when she got all impatient and bossy.

“I said we’re closed.”

There was a moment of silence. Then her voice came again, mocking. “Don’t be an ass. Open the door.”

He rather thought he could play this game all day. Except he did really want to see her. And find out why she was still here.

“Rhys!” she commanded. “It’s freezing out here!”

He couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing, half in surprise and half in relief that he actually got to see her again. He went forward and turned the lock back. Gave the door a shove and then there she was, standing in the snow, her dark hair in the customary braid and her eyes snapping at him from beneath a black hat, one of those stylish things women wore in the winter that wouldn’t ruin their hair.

“Hello, Taylor.”

She stepped inside, reached up and swiped the hat from her head and shoved it in her pocket. “Hi.”

“I thought you were leaving today.”

“I was.”

He locked the door again and faced her, his pulse leaping as he registered the fact that she’d used past tense. “Wait. Was?”

She nodded.

“Your flight get canceled or something?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t understand.”

For several seconds Taylor remained silent. “Do you have any coffee on or anything?” she asked. “I’m freezing.”

She was stalling, and the only reason she’d do that was that she was nervous. “I put a pot on when I got here. Have a seat.”

She went to one of the lunch counter stools and perched on it. He added the right amounts of cream and sugar to her cup and handed it over. “It’s probably not as good as mom’s.”

“Where is she, by the way?”

“Home in bed with a cold.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Her face seemed to relax a bit, though—was she glad they were alone? He was still confused as hell. She was insistent on coming in but now that she was here, trying to get anything out of her was about like working with a pigheaded colt who refused to be bridled. Trying on the patience. Once he got the bit in her mouth she’d be just fine, he realized. It was just figuring out what to use to lure her in, make her explain.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” she said softly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Feelings rushed through him as he held her gaze. Pain, because prolonging the inevitable was torture of a special kind and they’d done it twice now. Hope, because for some reason she was here and not crossing thirty thousand feet over the Rockies. And tenderness, because he knew now that beneath the dynamo that was Taylor Shepard was one of the most caring, generous people he’d ever met. At the very least he could admit to himself that he’d fallen for her. Hard.

“The thought crossed my mind,” he replied.

“I forgot to give you your Christmas present,” she said, reaching into her handbag. “I apologize for the poor wrapping job.”

She held out a thin plastic bag that bore the logo of one of the airport gift shops.

Amused, he reached inside and pulled out a key chain with a fuzzy fake rabbit’s foot on the end.

“Someone told me that you rub a rabbit’s foot for good luck.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

It was then he noticed the horseshoe hanging around her neck, just visible in the “V” of her coat and sweater. She was wearing his Christmas present. That pleased him more than it probably should.

“Do you think I’m in need of some good luck?”

She put down her coffee cup but not before he noticed her hand was trembling the slightest bit. She was nervous. So was he. He had no idea what this all meant but he got the feeling they were standing on the edge of something momentous. Somewhere he’d never wanted to be again. Until now.

“Why don’t you try rubbing it and find out?” she suggested.

He felt like a fool, but she was here, wasn’t she? He’d indulge her. He rubbed the tiny faux-fur foot.

“Ok, Luck,” he said when he was done, spreading his arms wide. “Here I am.”

She got up from the stool, went around the counter, and grabbed onto his shirt, just above where he’d fastened the last button. “And here I am,” she whispered as she tilted up her head and kissed him.

His arms came around her by sheer instinct, pulling her against his body into the places where she fit so well. There was relief in holding her in his arms again, passion that ignited between them every time they touched. She tasted good and he kissed her back, loving the feel of her soft lips against his, the sleek texture of her mouth, the way she made the tiniest sound of pleasure when he nibbled on her lower lip.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “It
is
lucky.”

She smiled against his lips, but then pulled away a little and simply rested in his arms, her head nestled in the space between his shoulder and neck. A lump formed in his throat. Whatever he’d said over the last few weeks, he’d been a liar. There was nothing easy or casual or temporary about his feelings for her. They were very, very real. It wasn’t all physical. The way they were embracing now was much, much more than that. What a mess.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the diner?” Her voice was slightly muffled against his shirt but he heard her just the same. It was not what he expected her to say.

“What?”

She pushed back out of his arms and met his gaze. “This place. Why didn’t you tell me you were part owner?”

Nothing she could have said would have surprised him more. “Who told you that?”

“Your mother. Though I don’t think she meant to. It slipped out the other night.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal.” She frowned, a cute little wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. “For all your talk about not wanting to own your own business, not wanting to be the boss. Heck, you even said you hadn’t wanted your mother to buy this place.”

“I really didn’t want her to buy it. But she was determined. Once my mother gets something in her head...”

“Sounds like someone else I know. And you invested because?”

He frowned. “If I hadn’t invested all the money I’d gotten for my house in Rocky, she would have mortgaged herself to the eyeballs to have it. As it is, this place is free and clear in another four years.”

“You did it to protect her.”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t stop her from taking the risk, but at least I could help cushion the fall.”

“You did it thinking that you’d never see your money back.”

He remembered the heated discussions he’d had with his mother about taking such a big step. In the end he’d had no choice. Money was just money. This was his mother and Rhys knew he had to look out for her. “I did it knowing that was a very real possibility, yes. And not because I didn’t think she could do it. I just know from painful experience how many small businesses fail. She’d already lost enough over her lifetime. Her whole nest egg went into buying it, plus Dad’s life insurance money. If the diner went under, she’d lose everything.”

Taylor must think him an idiot. He’d made a business decision for reasons that had very little to do with business.

“You did it for your mother.”

“I know it was foolish. But she’s my mom.”

“And the job at Diamondback?”

“Security. The best way to take care of her, to protect her, was to minimize financial risk. At least I bring in a regular paycheck that I, or rather we, can rely on.”

Taylor reached out and pressed her hand to the wall of his chest. “You are a dying breed, Rhys Bullock. You protect the people you love no matter what. There’s nothing foolish about that. What about your brother?”

“He’s been gone too long, I think. He’s off doing his own thing. He just said, ‘Whatever she wants.’”

It had been Rhys who’d come home and helped his mom through those first days of grieving. Who’d met with lawyers and bankers. There had been no way he was going to let her go through that alone.

Taylor squeezed his hands. “Let me guess, Martha insists on you taking your share of the profits.”

“Of course. I draw out the same percentage of profit as I initially invested.”

He didn’t quite like the keen way she was looking up at him. Like she could see right through him. He wasn’t exactly lying...

She lifted one eyebrow. “You use the profits to pay down the loan, don’t you?”

Busted. “Perhaps.”

“And your house?”

He met her gaze. If she was after the whole picture, she might as well have it. She could probably still catch another flight today.

“Rented.” Because by using all his equity he’d had nothing left for a down payment.

“And Martha doesn’t know. She thinks you own it?”

He nodded. “That’s right. You’re looking at a full-time ranch hand with a rented house, truck payment and not a scrap in savings.”

“So that’s why you didn’t tell me? Pride?”

She was here. Things were bigger between them than he’d ever planned. “No, not just pride. There’s more. You know I never wanted to be like my dad. I was so determined that I’d do better. That no one would suffer because of my mismanagement.”

“But someone did?”

He nodded. “Her name was Sherry. She had a couple of kids. She was my office manager—and my girlfriend.”

“Oh, Rhys.”

“I let them down so completely,” he explained. “She blamed me, too. For losing the business. For putting her out of a job when she had the children to support. For...” He cleared his throat. “For breaking her heart.”

“So you carried that around, on top of losing the business?”

“She depended on me. I can’t blame her for being angry.” He ran a hand over his hair and looked in her eyes, feeling miserable. “So you see I don’t have a lot to offer in the way of brilliant prospects.”

She took his hand. “That’s not true! You work hard and you put the ones you love first. You made your mom’s dream come true. You’re strong and honest and loyal. You’ve got two strong hands and the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.” Her smile widened. “Know what else you’ve got?”

“What?”

“Your ace in the hole. Me.”

* * *

Taylor gazed up at him, filled with admiration for the man he’d become. He really had no clue, did he? Rhys was self-assured, knew his place in the world. But he didn’t understand how extraordinary he was.

“You? Come on, Taylor,” he said, pulling away a little. “Look at you. You’re successful. Your business is profitable enough to keep you in designer boots and who knows what else. We’re as different as night from day.”

“Not as different as you think. Just so happens that we’re peas in a pod, you and me. I was in a relationship a while ago, too. At the same time as that wedding story I told you about—remember the bride with the allergy? I was so upset about that. I mean disproportionately freaked out. John accused me of being cold. Of caring more about the business than I did about our relationship. The thing is he was right. And so your little digs about proving myself really hit a nerve. I was at a crisis point and he bailed. You weren’t the only one who thought you were incapable of making a personal relationship work, and I really wasn’t interested in risking myself like that again, you know?”

“He was an idiot.”

She smiled at Rhys’s blind loyalty. “No, he was honest. And the truth is, I didn’t invest enough in our relationship. Probably because I didn’t love him. I loved the idea of him. But not him. The idea of losing him didn’t make me lose sleep. It didn’t break my heart or make this heavy pit of despair settle right here.” She pressed her fist to her stomach. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Not like it felt about an hour and a half ago while I sat in Edmonton airport wondering how I could ever be happy if I left you without telling you how I feel.”

His lips dropped open. He hadn’t been expecting that. Neither had she. Neither of them had expected any of this.

“Do you really think I care about your bank statement? Truly? When have I ever given the impression that my goals are about making money?”

He shook his head. “You haven’t,” he admitted. “It’s always been about proving yourself, meeting challenges.”

“That’s right.” She tugged on his hand. “Come sit down. I want to run something by you.”