Christmastime Cowboy. Maisey Yates

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      “Yes.”

      They walked out the front door and back onto the wet, frigid street. In a couple of weeks, it would be decorated for Christmas, and there would at least be some glittering lights to pierce the eternal fall gray that had descended upon the coast. Right now, it was just cold and wet. Sabrina lifted her shoulders to her ears, trying to brace herself from the chill, and not at all trying to fortify herself against Liam’s presence.

      “You should be careful,” she said, unable to keep the words back.

      “With...what? I’m not running with scissors, I’m walking. With coffee.”

      “It’s hot coffee. I burned myself when I opened the lid.”

      “Sorry about the burn. But I think I can handle walking and drinking. Maybe you were just distracted.”

      “Me? Hardly. More like you were the distracted one. That girl was making a fool of herself over you,” she said, keeping her eyes determinedly fixed straight ahead on Main Street. Most of the shops weren’t open yet, and wouldn’t be for a couple of hours. Right now, only Pie in the Sky bakery was also up and running. The other shops, full of artisan gifts, vintage clothing and specialty foods, wouldn’t open until closer to ten, when the tourists were up and around.

      “I didn’t notice,” he said.

      That made her want to take the lid off her overly sweet coffee and splash it in his face. Because of course he didn’t notice. That was his MO. Make a young girl fall in love with him and then act like he hadn’t realized. Act like it was shocking and horrifying when she propositioned him.

      “Right,” she said stiffly.

      “Sabrina,” he said. “Are you going to spend our entire working relationship acting like you want to cut me open and feast on my liver?”

      “Don’t be an idiot, Liam. I don’t like liver.”

      “Are you going to spend our entire working relationship—”

      Sabrina stopped walking and turned to face him. “If you lecture me on my behavior, Liam Donnelly, I really will kill you. I have no problem working with you in a professional capacity, because I am a professional. But the fact is, you don’t know me. You knew me thirteen years ago. And even then, you didn’t know me that well. So, you have no idea whether how I’m behaving is just the way I behave, or if it has something to do with you. Because you don’t know me. Remember that before you lecture me again.”

      * * *

      THE THING WAS, he did know her. At least, he had back then. He wasn’t going to say that though. But the fact of the matter was, there was a point in time when he had known Sabrina better than just about anyone. Because they had talked. At first, because she had followed him around with an obvious crush, but then gradually because he had come to enjoy her company.

      That had been the problem with Sabrina from the beginning.

      It was part of the problem with her now. Because, no matter that he should feel nothing for her, she was far too beautiful for her own good, for his own good. Just like always.

      And when she’d kissed him...

      Well, when she’d kissed him he’d felt like the sun had come out from behind the clouds for the first time. Something about that kiss had made him feel deep, Far more raw, far more real, than he was prepared for.

      He was older now, and he doubted she could conjure up that stunning response in him again if she tried. He was also a little more jaded when it came to arousal, and still, she got to him.

      Even though she was vibrating with irritability, her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets, her posture rigid, as if she was doing an impersonation of a very indignant plank of wood, he still thought she was beautiful.

      He wasn’t sure what the woman he’d ordered his coffee from had looked like. The woman Sabrina had accused him of flirting with. That was the funny thing. Sabrina had been seething at him about how he could never know her, all the while assuming she knew him.

      He wouldn’t point out the hypocrisy, though, because there was no point. She was already mad at him. He would wait to throw something like that at her when she was relaxed and fine. That, at least, would result in a little more amusement.

      Not that he should try to make Sabrina angry, or enjoy it in any fashion. But he found that he did.

      “Sorry,” he said, not feeling sorry in the least.

      “I don’t believe that.”

      “That’s okay. A healthy dose of skepticism is a good thing.”

      She made a strange scoffing sound and tapped the top of her coffee cup. “Oh, I know. Believe me.”

      They walked on in silence. Until Sabrina cleared her throat. “So, what have you been up to for the past...well, since I’ve seen you?”

      He chuckled. “I don’t actually think you’re interested in that, Sabrina.”

      “I am interested in that, Liam. Do you know how you can tell? Because I asked. If I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t have.”

      “Well. You have seen me a couple of times in Ace’s bar, and you didn’t ask me then. In fact, if memory serves, you just left.”

      “Right. Well, I remembered that I had somewhere else I wanted to be.”

      “Where?”

      “Anywhere? Root canal?”

      “Surprisingly, you’re not the first woman to say she’d rather get a root canal then be around me.”

      Sabrina laughed, a short, somehow-unamused sound that was more than a little bit forced. “Well, I do hate to be unoriginal. Maybe not a root canal then. Maybe getting towed behind a fishing boat by my big toe?”

      “That I haven’t heard.”

      He didn’t answer her question, and she didn’t press. And then they had reached the end of the street, arriving at the vacant corner building he thought would be the ideal location for the showroom. They would catch most of the traffic as it came through Copper Ridge, and quite a bit of foot traffic too.

      Anyone headed down to the beach would most likely come this way, and anyone headed out toward the winery itself, or to the town of Gold Valley, would pass through as well.

      He could tell Sabrina all of that, but she was smart enough to figure it out on her own, and to see the advantages the location would bring to Grassroots. He had a feeling that any resistance she was putting up was just for the sake of it. Because she was still pissed at him. Which he had known, because of the aforementioned running out of the bar when she had seen him. Not that his own reaction had been neutral.

      But that was the thing about her. The thing that he could never quite figure out.

      He could forget women he’d had sex with. He had forgotten women he’d had sex with. More than once. He wasn’t exactly proud of his behavior in that particular arena, but it was what it was.

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