A Cadence Creek Christmas (Cadence Creek Cowboys) (8 page)

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 of 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.

“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

T
HEY
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.