Christmastime Cowboy. Maisey Yates

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СКАЧАТЬ us,” Liam confirmed.

      For some reason—instinct, something—he reached out and pressed his palm against Sabrina’s lower back to guide her toward the office. She stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze sliding over to him, irritation glittering sharply there.

      “Do you touch men you’re doing business deals with like that? Because I’ll tell you, that’s some mental image.”

      “No,” he said, lowering his hand slowly.

      “I don’t mind a little Brokeback Mountain fantasy, Liam.”

      “After you,” he said, waiting for her to walk into the office before he followed behind her.

      It had been a stupid thing to do, touching her like that. Normally, he would never do something so asinine with the woman he was doing a business deal with. He would normally never do that with anyone.

      There was just something about Sabrina that pushed him to do things he was usually way too smart to do.

      They took a seat at the table with the banker and with another person who was introduced as the notary. Gage West had apparently signed his end of the deal already.

      The stack of papers was indeed massive, and both Liam and Sabrina were given pens before the banker handed him the first page, which Sabrina promptly took. “We’re the first name on the documents, as we own a larger portion,” she said crisply.

      She signed quickly next to a sticky tab, then passed the paper back to him. As if it mattered which order they signed in as long as they signed on the right spot. But he could tell she was compelled to make an issue out of it, so he was going to let it go.

      They carried out the signing in relative silence, the only real conversation happening when the banker explained a page that he was certain both he and Sabrina already understood, but that she was legally bound to verbally expound on.

      Sabrina passed one paper to him, and he pressed his fingertips down on it, brushing the tips of them against hers. She jerked back, trying to look composed as she moved on to signing the next document.

      “There,” the woman said, smiling through the tension that was making the air crackle, “all finished. Congratulations. You are now the proud owners of some very nice property.”

      “Thank you,” Sabrina said. “I hope that you’ll come down for the grand opening. There’s going to be wine, cheese and all manner of festivities.”

      “Definitely,” the banker said, and Liam really couldn’t tell if she was being genuine, or if there was just no other polite response to give.

      Considering they had just signed a considerable amount of their lives over to this establishment, she did have to be polite.

      Well, it was a considerable amount of Grassroots’ life, and Lindy’s, he imagined. It wasn’t so much to him. Even if Finn was being adamant that it all be paid for with Donnelly ranch money, and not Liam’s.

      As they walked out of the bank, Sabrina still had a large, fake-looking smile plastered on her face. But as soon as the glass door closed behind them, she chucked the Styrofoam cup of coffee in the trash beside the building. “That was disgusting coffee.”

      He grimaced and sent his cup the same direction. “Agreed.”

      “Well, I need more coffee. Better coffee. So I’m going to head down to The Grind and grab some, and then I’m going to go to the shop.”

      “I’ll go with you.”

      She looked...not shocked, but a little bit like she wanted to argue. “I don’t really have any plans. I just want to make a quick sketch of the floor plan so that I can get a rough idea of what we need to get, and you know, layouts and things.”

      “Right. Do you have a tape measure, anything on you?”

      “I can buy one,” she said, looking mulish.

      “I have a toolbox in the back of my truck. Why don’t you ride down with me?”

      He knew that she was annoyed. And he also knew that she would rather ride with him than protest. Because he could tell that she was caught between wanting to spend less time with him and wanting to act like it didn’t matter.

      For his part, he wasn’t really sure why he cared either way.

      Really? You don’t know why you care?

      As if his stomach didn’t clench tight when he smelled vanilla, which was a scent that he had always associated with her. Like he hadn’t quit a job because he’d worked closely with a woman who shared her name, and he couldn’t hear it without thinking of her and that devastated expression on her face when he’d left her that night.

      As if he didn’t have a tattoo on his body that was dedicated to her.

      He could admit that now. He had been in pretty deep denial even when he had gotten the ink. But, as it had taken shape, as he had laid out what he had wanted, it was pretty hard for him to deny that the barefoot blond figure that rested beneath the tree that stretched over his shoulder and around to his back wasn’t inspired by her. That she wasn’t the picture in his mind when he’d thought of it in the first place.

      “Great. Let’s go. I suppose I should be grateful for you and your tape measure.”

      She stepped gingerly toward his truck and got into the passenger seat without waiting for him. He hadn’t bothered to lock it. There wasn’t really much point in Copper Ridge.

      He jerked the driver side door open and got in, starting up the engine. “Yeah, you probably should be a lot more grateful for me than you are.”

      They pulled out of the lot and headed back into town. There was one lone spot that he was able to parallel park in just in front of The Grind.

      “Two hour parking,” he commented as he got out and rounded her side. “We could walk from here.” He finished that sentence when she hopped out onto the sidewalk.

      “Sure,” she said. “If you want to lug your tools all the way down there.”

      “I think I can handle it.”

      He held the door open for her, but this time, did not put his hand anywhere on her body. She said nothing, but walked into the café in front of him. They got in line together, and he could tell that she was annoyed that they were together in public, and not just running into each other by happenstance.

      “What’s your poison?” he asked.

      “Just a coffee.”

      “That’s not at all exciting.”

      “You don’t find a strong jolt of bitter caffeine exciting? I do.”

      He laughed. “I suppose I do. A little more exciting with a double shot of espresso poured over the top.”

      When they got up to the front he ordered just that, and then ordered her regular coffee. She glared at him as he got his wallet out and paid. “What?”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ