Page 9 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
“I’ll make a variety for you to try.” Her mind was working at a hundred miles an hour now, and she really wanted Ryan to leave so she could sketch out some of her ideas before she lost them. “Back to the wood…how much per foot?”
“How about you give us a discount on the wholesale cost of the metal sculptures, and I’ll do the same on the wood?”
“Sounds good.”
They worked out specifics quickly. From Ryan’s smug smile as he unloaded his truck, it was a better deal than he’d expected, but she wasn’t bothered by that. She’d gotten a good deal on the wood, and he’d agreed to pay a fair wholesale price for the metal pieces, so Camille was satisfied—or she would be if he’d just leave. She wanted to get the conversation over with so she could immerse herself in her brainstorming.
Unfortunately, it didn’t look like that was going to happen anytime soon. He was leaning against his truck, telling her a story about a hunting trip he’d just returned from, and Camille was having a hard time continuing to pretend to care about what he was saying. Her fingers twitched with impatience, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot, yet still he talked on.
Why is he still talking?She was getting almost desperate. This was exactly why she dodged people at the post office and only went to the grocery store when she knew almost no one else would be there. Her skin felt tight and itchy, as if her soul was going to burst out and run away if Ryan didn’t shut up and leave her alone in the next five seconds.Four…three…two…one…
“Okay!” she interrupted, the word bursting from her as her patience came to an abrupt end. “Nice to see you. I’d better get started on those metal pieces for your store.”
He stopped midsentence, his mouth still slightly ajar, and she didn’t wait for him to respond. Hurrying across the shop, she hit the button for the overhead door and turned back to Ryan. Although she attempted to smile, she was pretty sure it was more of a grimace.
“Thank you for delivering the wood,” she said, knowing that her belated attempt at graciousness wasn’t going to smooth over her earlier rudeness, but she didn’t really care that much. If it had been anyone else, she might have worried about hurting their feelings, but Ryan had enough confidence to absorb the blow to his pride. When he didn’t immediately move toward the driver’s side of his pickup, she briefly considered hiring a shop bouncer. “I don’t want to keep you from your work. This must be a really busy time for you, since Christmas will be here in a few weeks.”
Finally, he pushed away from the truck. “Right. I’ll see you when you have some pieces for the ranch store, then?”
“Yes!” She was so relieved he was finally leaving that she smiled at him much more widely than the moment deserved. He paused, looking thoughtful. She made akeep movingmotion with her hands, and he finally climbed into the driver’s seat, although he shot her a smirk first. Camille didn’t even attempt to interpret his look. He could make whatever faces he wanted, as long as heleft.
When the engine turned over and he started pulling out of the shop, she waved, her thoughts already back on the nativity scene she’d mentally sketched out already, her mind ticking through her scrap inventory, trying to pick out pieces that would work.
The truck stopped, and the passenger window rolled down.
“Have you eaten yet?” Ryan asked.
She stared at him, the majority of her brain still focused on metalwork. “Yet? You mean today?” It was a stupid question. She realized that as soon as it was out, but it was Ryan’s fault for throwing out such a non sequitur.
His smirk was back. “Actually, I was talking about lunch. We could go to Birdie’s to celebrate our new partnership. My treat. Sound good?”
No, it sounds awful.Camille barely caught herself before she blurted out the words. They were too rude, even for Ryan, who apparently was never, ever going to leave her workshop. “I’ve eaten already. Besides, I have a pile of orders to do before Christmas, plus these new pieces, so…um. No.” It sounded so stark that she added a limp “Thank you.”
His smirk faded, his mouth drawing into a tight line that she actually preferred to his usual smile. At least it showed how he was really feeling. “Another time, then.” The window slid closed, and the truck began rolling again.
As soon as the pickup trailer hitch cleared the opening, Camille pushed the button to close the overhead door. When the bottom met the ground and the door’s motor went silent, she let out a long breath. The workshop was hers again. She took a moment to appreciate the wonderful solitude before she hurried over to her workbench and grabbed a sketch pad. The weather vane was going to have to wait until she’d gotten some of these ideas out of her head and down on paper.
Ryan’s aggressively flirty behavior niggled at her thoughts for only a second before she dismissed him and focused on the nativity scene taking shape on the paper. He was finally gone, and she’d know better the next time someone knocked.
There’d be no answering the door; she’d just hide until they left.
* * *
I didn’t think this through.Camille tapped her gloved fingers nervously on the steering wheel as she drove up the curving driveway toward the Springfield ranch. She cursed herself for not considering the fact that, once the metal sculptures had been planned out and welded and finished, they somehow had to get to the ranch shop. Since she was pretty sure Ryan wouldn’t ever come by her house again after the way she’d shoved him out the door, there was only one option left.
She’d boxed up the pieces, loaded them into her car—the same old Buick that her grandma had driven—and made the trek out to the Springfield Christmas Tree Ranch. Despite her nerves, she had to admit that the surroundings were beautiful. The drive was festooned with garland and lights and red bows, and a pristine blanket of snow covered the gently rolling pastures that made up the front of the property. The rows of cultivated evergreens provided a dark-green backdrop to the shop and the main house, and the mountains in the distance were both hazy and huge.
The whole place seemed almost too perfect to be real, like something out of a cheesy Christmas movie. There was even a snow sculpture of a horse in the front yard. As Camille parked in the almost-full lot, she craned her neck to take in the surprisingly fine detail on the snow horse. She wondered whose work it was, since it was several steps up from the traditional three-ball snowman.
Refocusing on the store in front of her, Camille blew out a breath as she pulled the key from the ignition. The shop was cute, a miniature version of the Victorian house behind it. The engine of the car ticked as it cooled, reminding her that the seconds were passing, and nothing would be accomplished if she stayed out here like a chicken—except that she’d get very cold.
“Let’s do this,” she muttered to the box of metal sculptures. The words didn’t really motivate her, but a minivan trundling up the driveway toward the store did, reminding her that the longer she waited, the more people would see her sitting out in the cold. With her luck, it’d be one of the chattier Borne residents. They’d try to talk to her, and she’d either go silent or start babbling, depending on how her brain wanted to embarrass her today, and then she’d have to pretend she was waiting for someone to explain why she was sitting like a lump in her car outside the gift shop. Then whomever she’d gotten stuck talking to would know she was lying, since everyone in town was painfully aware that she was the friendless almost-hermit.
The nightmare scenario played out a little too realistically in her mind. Hurrying to get out of the car, she circled to the other side to grab the box. It still took a mental pep talk to get her feet to carry her to the entrance, and she shifted the heavy box to her hip to open the door.
It swung open, and she braced herself for the sight of Steve, but he wasn’t there, only wreaths and decorations and people she didn’t recognize. Warm air filled with the smell of pine and cedar and cinnamon surrounded her as she used her hip to bump the door closed. Moving toward the register, she took a better look around, but she still didn’t see a single acquaintance.Thank God.
It wasn’t until her shoulders dropped that she realized how tightly she’d been holding herself. Now that she knew the only people in the store were strangers, she relaxed, and her anxiety about coming to the ranch seemed almost silly.
