Christmastime Cowboy. Maisey Yates

around town. The sooner the better.”

      That would mean long, intense days in Sabrina’s company. Whether she wanted that or not.

      “We can do it,” he said. “But you are very busy, so I hear. So, you need to clear your schedule a bit so you can actually devote your time to serving my needs.”

      The look she gave him was so dry it could’ve sapped all the moisture out of the heavy coastal air. “Poorly phrased. But then, I have a feeling you did it on purpose.”

      “And you’re still not willing to clear the air between us.”

      “There’s no air to clear. I don’t feel comfortable around you, Liam, and I would think it was fairly understandable why. You humiliated me. You were cruel to me. At the very least, you should have treated me like a friend. Because even if I did have the wrong idea about what was happening between us, we were friends. I...I told you about my relationship with my father and you still... I trusted you.”

      Those simple words cut through every ounce of bullshit in him. He couldn’t give her a hard time, not after that.

      “We were friends,” she reiterated. “I had a hard time connecting with people because of my family’s position in the community, and you knew that. I got close to you, closer than I was to anyone. And I made a fool of myself in front of you and then you disappeared.”

      And when she found out exactly why, she wouldn’t be any happier with him than she was now. So, he wasn’t going to say a damned thing.

      “I did,” he said. “Because that’s what I do. At least, that’s what I did. But I’ve spent the past few years figuring out how to finish what I start. And I’ve done a good job with it. I’m still terrible with people, to be clear. The emotional part. But I know what I’m doing in business. And I’m going to make this successful. I promise you that.”

      “Are you going to apologize to me?”

      In that moment, she looked like the Sabrina he had once known. Young, vulnerable and far too innocent for the likes of him. Like someone who actually believed that he was going to apologize. He almost felt bad.

      Almost.

      “I’m not going to apologize,” he said. “Because leaving you like that was probably one of the nicest things I’ve ever done. Because if I hadn’t left you then, I would have left you after. And I stand by what I said.”

      Her cheeks turned scarlet, rage glittering in her blue eyes. “Right. Well, it’s emblazoned in my memory. So, there’s no reason to revisit it.”

      “What exactly are you mad about? That I didn’t have sex with you? Or that I left?”

      She sputtered. “That you... That you left. That you left and you didn’t say anything to me. I cared about you.”

      “And you’re still mad at me.”

      “Not every day of my life. But having you come back to town has been awkward.”

      “Well, I never imagined I would end up back here either. But here I am.”

      “Because of the ranch?”

      “Yes and no. I never intended to come back. Not even with part ownership of the ranch on the table. I had a big job. I liked what I was doing. Until one day I realized that I actually didn’t.”

      “Is that what happened with us? You were my friend until one day you realized you weren’t?”

      “I was twenty years old, and I was an asshole. That’s about it.”

      She looked...deflated by that.

      “Was, as in past tense? As in you aren’t one now?”

      He could tell she really didn’t want to let go of her anger. “I still am. But I would probably call before leaving town now.” That was a lie. He absolutely would not. And particularly not under those circumstances.

      She looked begrudgingly amused. “Well, as long as we both know the score. Which is the real difference between now and thirteen years ago.”

      “Which is exactly why I’m not the villain that you seem to think I am,” he said. “Because you didn’t know the score, Sabrina, and I didn’t take advantage of that.”

      “Fine. Let’s let it go then, okay? I’m Sabrina Leighton, I work for Grassroots Winery. It has recently changed hands and is under new ownership, and I am helping the new owner realize her vision.”

      “Liam Donnelly,” he said, sticking out his hand. She shook it reluctantly, those delicate fingers curling around his, and it shocked him how visceral the response was to that contact with her. “I’ve been living in cities for the past thirteen years. Chicago, mostly New York. I had what was arguably an early midlife crisis and decided to take my inheritance and live in a small town. But, apparently, I can’t just get used to ranching work, so I decided to take on this venture. Something to keep me busy. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.” He released his hold on her. “Or so I hear.”

      She didn’t say anything, but he noticed that when she lowered her hand back to her side she brushed her fingers against her pencil skirt, as if she was trying to wipe the impression of his touch off her. “That’s very interesting. And it seems like we should be able to work well together.”

      He looked around the space. “I think we should. So, leaning toward this place?”

      “Yes,” she confirmed. “I’ll see if Lindy can come down and have a look. Can I hang on to the keys? So that I can open it up when she has time?”

      “I don’t know,” he said. “Gage gave them to me.”

      “Come on. Do you honestly think he’ll care?”

      He smiled and then held the keys out. “No.”

      She took them, quickly, being careful not to make any contact with him this time. “I’ll let you know what she says. I’m guessing she’ll be on board. And once she is we can start making plans. We’re going to need shelving and...”

      “Seating. Refrigeration. Yeah, I have a fair idea. How elaborate is the menu going to be?”

      “For now? Nibbles only.”

      “Nibbles?”

      She raised a brow. “Yes. Nibbles.”

      “Okay. I suggest we maybe don’t call them that on the menu.”

      “We call them that at the winery.”

      “What’s wrong with appetizers?”

      “Look, Donnelly, you can name your cheese whatever you want to name your cheese. But this is primarily a Grassroots venture. We are going to own most of it. Controlling share and stuff. So, I get to call them nibbles.”

      “If you want to die on the hill of nibbles, be my guest.”

      “I do, thank you. Surrounded by nice cheese platters.”

      “Now, where cheese platters are concerned, I think we are on the same page.”

      “Have you ever done this before? I mean, restaurants. Or, things like this.”

      “No. Not specifically. But hotels, and there were restaurants in the hotel. So while I didn’t oversee food service specifically, I’ve definitely seen what works and what doesn’t. Though I’m sure that what works in Manhattan won’t necessarily be the gauge for what works in Copper Ridge. And there, you get to be the expert.”

      “Because I’m so exceedingly local?”

      “Yes.”

      “Why does that not feel like a compliment?”

      “I don’t know,” he said. “Sounds like your baggage to me.”

      She snorted. “All right. I’ll get in touch