Page 32 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
As she reached the door, she peered through the peephole. “Oh good!” Yanking the door open, she actually smiled at the person standing on her porch.
“Why’re you so cheerful?” Barry, the package-delivery guy, grumbled.
“Because you’re here to pick up the last of the holiday orders, and then I won’t have to look at them or think about them anymore.” Despite his usual crankiness, she couldn’t stop grinning. Not only was he taking the final boxes, but he never wanted to chat. If all visitors were as reluctant to linger as Barry, she’d answer her door more often.
“Well?” he demanded, as if proving her unspoken point. “Get them, then. I don’t have all day. You’re not the only one sending a bunch of useless crap out today. Busiest season of the year, so let’s go!”
While he was grumbling, she’d shifted the hand truck holding the stack of boxes over into the doorway. It had only taken a few seconds, but he still sighed audibly.
“Finally.” He scanned each of the labels and then stacked them onto his own dolly before wheeling them toward his truck.
“Happy holidays!” she called after him, and he lifted a hand without looking back. For a second, she thought he might be about to give her a rude gesture, but he kept it at a wave.
“Christmas miracle right there,” she said under her breath as she closed the door. She wondered if Mrs. Lin had watched the exchange and was right now getting photos of Barry on her phone. Her neighbor probably thought that Barry was another stripper-gram, complete with a tear-away delivery man costume.
Shaking off the rather disturbing image, Camille turned back toward her workbench and saw Lucy sitting primly next to her latest project. “Hey, LuLu,” she crooned, walking over to stroke the cat. “Have I been neglecting you?” With a small meow, Lucy arched her back into Camille’s hand, and she felt a flash of guilt. Lucy rarely used the cat door Camille had installed in the door between the house and the workshop, since the cat didn’t care for the chillier temperature of the shop. If she was venturing into what she considered the Arctic, then Lucy must really be feeling lonely.
“Should we get some lunch inside?” Camille asked, lifting Lucy off the bench and cuddling her. To her surprise, the cat allowed it. Normally, she hated snuggles and would grumble just like Barry until she was back on her own four feet. “I’ve been a terrible cat mom, haven’t I?” She carried Lucy back into the kitchen. As soon as they were through the door, Lucy twisted free and darted through the cat door into the workshop again.
“Huh.” Apparently, Lucy wanted to hang out in the workshop today. Camille figured that she wouldn’t mind the company, although she’d have to put the cat inside when she used her blowtorch. Camille tended to get lost in her work, and she didn’t want her cat to investigate and get burned by stray sparks.
But now that Barry had pulled her out of her work fog, she realized that she was, indeed, hungry—really hungry, in fact. A glance at the clock told her why. It was almost four in the afternoon. Peering into the depths of the fridge, she sighed.
“Why are you so disappointed,” she mumbled to herself, giving up on finding anything in the empty appliance and heading to the pantry. There had to be something in there that she could eat. “If you don’t go to the store, then your fridge stays empty.” She hated grocery shopping during the busier times of day, especially in the weeks before Christmas. There were so many people. The worst part was that she was acquainted with most of them, but not really friendly with anyone, so conversations were always stilted and uncomfortable.
She didn’t know why others couldn’t just keep their heads down and go about their shopping, but no one seemed to have the same grocery-store etiquette as she did, so she suffered through multiple awkward exchanges in each aisle. At the end of that misery, when she couldn’t take it anymore and left with one-tenth the number of items she’d planned to get when she’d entered the store, Camille still had to face Mrs. Murphy, who was nosy and abrasive enough to make Mrs. Lin seem like a sweet, unobtrusive angel.
As a result, her pantry was pathetically bare. “Nice prepper you’d make.” It wasn’t like she had an excuse for not having any unperishable food, either. That, she could just order online. She poked through the few cans. “What did I think I was going to make with bamboo shoots? Stir fry, maybe?” That actually sounded good, but she was lacking every other ingredient she needed. She realized that she was going to have to either suck it up and go to the grocery store or, alternatively, suck it up and go to Birdie’s.
After mentally reviewing the potential horrors a grocery store visit would entail, she settled on the diner as the slightly better option. Although Birdie’s didn’t take orders over the phone or online, they would box up her food so she could take it home to eat, and she could get enough to last her several days. That way, she could put off visiting the Borne Market a little longer. Even better, it’d give her time to finish the Springfield ranch order, and then she could possibly finagle another lunch invitation. Micah’s tacos had been really good, and she felt comfortable with Steve’s kids. With Steve himself, she didn’t feel anything as bland ascomfortable. Hedidmake her feel nervous and excited and hopeful and buzzing with anticipation.
Now she was thinking about Steve again. Closing the pantry door with a firm click, she headed toward the front closet to get her coat. She needed food, and then she could go back to work. The sooner she finished the order, the sooner she could visit the ranch. She snorted a small laugh. How quickly she’d changed from dreading a trip to the ranch to avidly looking forward to it.
It wasn’t until she was outside Birdie’s that she realized she wasn’t really fit for public viewing. Her sweatpants had a small hole burned in one thigh and a paint stain on the other knee. At least her coat covered most of an even more disreputable hoodie. She tugged on her stocking hat, hoping it would hide the fact that it’d been several days since she’d last washed her hair…or brushed it, actually.
“Quit being silly,” she said under her breath as she opened the door to the diner. “You’re not going to see anyone you care to impress anyw—Oh. Hey, Ryan.” Her gaze flicked over his shoulder, looking for Steve. A mix of anxiety and anticipation swirled through her at the thought that he might be at the diner with his brother. Sure, she was a hot mess at the moment, but she couldn’t help wanting to see him. When she didn’t spot Steve, a mixture of disappointment and relief filled her, with the former heavily outweighing the latter.
“Camille. Good to see you.” Ryan’s wide smile made her feel a bit guilty for her preoccupation. “I’m just about to get some early dinner. Come sit with me.” He reached for her elbow, as if to escort her across the small seating area, and she automatically stepped back out of reach. This time, her glance over his shoulder took in all the other people in the diner. Yes, they were watching avidly, just as she’d expected. Her sigh was deep but silent. If she’d known that she’d become the entertainment to go with the diner’s early-bird special, she would’ve taken her chances with the grocery store.
“No, thank you.” She realized that Ryan was watching her, his smile fading. “I’m just going to get some food to go. This being my busy time of year and all.”
Making an obvious effort to erase his frown, Ryan scolded, “You need to take time to eat.” He reached toward her arm again, and Camille retreated another step. With all her daydreams about Steve, having Ryan be his usual aggressively flirty self with her was especially unappealing. Now her back was literally against the wall, and she knew she needed to be an adult and deal with the situation.
“Ryan…” Taking a deep breath, she glanced at their hushed audience. The two servers had shifted closer and were unabashedly eavesdropping. It was hard enough to have this conversation without a good portion of the Borne population listening in. There was nothing to be done about it, though. If she put off the conversation or allowed Ryan to drag her over to one of the booths, it was only going to complicate things. What was developing—or what she hoped was developing—between her and Steve felt very fragile at the moment, and she didn’t want to do anything that might ruin it before it could become something wonderful.
The thought of Steve gave her courage. She lowered her voice, knowing it wouldn’t do much good. “Ryan, I’m not the most socially…aware person. Because of that, I’m not sure if you’re just being friendly, or if you’re flirting because that’s what you do with everyone, or if you’re really interested in me, but I just want to make it clear that I don’t want to be anything except friends with you.” When he just stared at her, she figured she should make things very, very clear, since she was being all brave and up-front for the moment, and she knew it probably wouldn’t last, and she’d go back to trying to wiggle out of uncomfortable social situations by being as nonconfrontational as possible. “Platonicfriends. And, you know, business associates, since I really like being able to sell some of my pieces at your ranch, and I think that’s been a good deal for you, too. I hope it has been, at least.”
The silent seconds ticked by, and she was pretty sure that no one in the diner even breathed as Ryan’s face gradually hardened. She braced herself for his reaction, hoping it didn’t involve yelling or swearing.
To her surprise—and relief—his usual smile returned. It was a bit stiff around the edges, but it was there, which meant that Ryan was going to follow the regular social rules and not scream at her in Birdie’s in front of everyone. “Sure. Of course. I’ve only thought of us as friends, so I’m sorry if I misled you into thinking I wanted it to be…more.”
A huge breath of relief escaped, and she reached out to pat his arm but thought better of it before her hand made contact. She was so glad that Ryan was going to be civil that she didn’t even argue with him about his implication thatshepursuedhim. If he was going to stop asking her out, then it was worth allowing him this sop to his pride. “Good. Thank you. Great. Okay. Now that that’s settled, I’m going to just…go. Lots of work to do, with Christmas and everything.”
“Didn’t you want to order some food?” Ellen, one of the servers, called out as Camille shoved open the door.
“No, thanks! Not really hungry!” She was much more desperate to escape. The thought of sitting at the counter, waiting interminable minutes for her food to be ready while the other customers gossiped about her, killed any desire she had for food. She’d brave the Borne Market, since most of the town was obviously eating at Birdie’s and had already witnessed her painfully uncomfortable chat.
Despite the awful awkwardness of it all, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d dreaded Ryan’s repeated come-ons until she’d put a stop to them. Even though she knew running into him in town and at the ranch wouldn’t be all that pleasant, at least for a while, it would still be much better than it had been.
