One Night With The Cowboy

“How was the wedding?” Brie asked, after their drinks had been delivered.

“Short and sweet. And...nice,” he admitted. “I had some reservations, but Joe and Delia seem really happy together.”

“I still can’t believe it. I never imagined Joe Bishop as the marrying kind.”

“Seven years ago, he wasn’t,” Caleb agreed. “But most of our mutual friends are married or in committed relationships, some even with kids, and Joe decided he wanted the same thing.”

“But why the quick ceremony in Vegas?”

“I guess not every bride dreams of a big fancy event,” he remarked.

But they both knew that Brie had done so, because they’d spent hours talking about the wedding they planned to have one day. Of course, that had been a long time ago—before she’d gotten pregnant, when they’d let themselves believe that their families would celebrate their love rather than object to the nuptials.

Back then, she’d envisioned riding to the ceremony in a horse-drawn carriage and walking down the aisle in a designer dress with a bouquet of pink roses. Instead, she’d traveled more than four hundred miles in an old pickup truck to exchange vows in front of a fake Elvis wearing tattered blue suede shoes.

“And a positive pregnancy test can change a girl’s dreams,” she noted.

He wondered if her casual tone was an accurate reflection of her feelings or merely a balm to cover old wounds. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the wedding you wanted,” he said to her now.

“It wasn’t your fault, Caleb. And it’s ancient history, anyway.”

Which was his cue to speak up. “Actually, it’s—”

“So why did Joe and Delia decide to elope?” she interjected to ask again.

He suspected that she wasn’t as interested in the details of a wedding between a groom she’d lost touch with a long time ago and a bride she’d never met as she was in not hearing what he wanted to say. And though he couldn’t let her walk away from him again without knowing the truth he’d kept hidden for too long, he allowed her to steer the direction of the conversation, at least for now.

“Delia lost her father a few years back, and she didn’t want a traditional wedding without him there to walk her down the aisle,” he explained.

“What about Joe’s family?” she asked. “What do they think about the elopement?”

“Well, his mom gave him his grandmother’s ring, so I have to assume she knew what he was planning and didn’t have any objections.”

“An engagement is different than a wedding,” she pointed out, perusing the appetizer platter that had been set on the table and selecting a deep-fried ravioli.

He swallowed a mouthful of beer before venturing to ask, “Do you think your parents would have been okay if we’d announced an engagement before we got married?”

“It doesn’t really matter at this point, does it?”

“Maybe it matters to me.”

She dipped the ravioli in marinara sauce and popped it into her mouth. “Well, my grandfather might have had his heart attack before we ever exchanged vows,” she said, when she’d finished chewing. “And then we wouldn’t have needed to get a divorce.”

Though her tone was deliberately light, he sensed the lingering hurt beneath her words. “Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said.

Her brows drew together as she lifted her glass to her lips and sipped her wine. “My grandfather?”

He shook his head. “The divorce.”

She set the glass down again and traced a fingertip slowly around its base. “I’ve spent enough time today dredging up our past—can we talk about something else instead?”

“We need to talk about this,” he told her.

“Tell me about the Circle G,” she said, ignoring his entreaty.

“Really?” he asked dubiously. “You want to know what’s going on at my family’s cattle ranch?”

“I want to hear what you’ve been doing over the past seven years,” she said. “I know, from conversations with my sister, that your brother’s been busy with The Stagecoach Inn, Katelyn’s law practice is booming and Sky’s still tending bar at Diggers’, but I haven’t heard much about you.”

“Have you asked?” he wondered.

“That would be a good way to start the gossip mill churning, wouldn’t it?”

“The gossip mill never stops,” he pointed out.

“Well, I have no desire to add grist to the mill.”

“I heard you were back for the baptism of Regan’s twins,” he remarked.

“Proof the gossip never stops. But yes,” she said, and smiled then, obviously thinking about her infant nieces. “I’m not just Piper and Poppy’s aunt, I’m also their godmother.”

He wished he could ask her if she ever thought about the baby they’d lost, and all the ways their lives would have been different if their baby had lived. But he bit back the question, instinctively understanding that, even after seven years, bringing up the subject would rip a scab off a still-raw wound for both of them.

Instead, he snagged a cheese ball from the plate and washed it down with a mouthful of beer while Brie nibbled on an onion ring.

She wiped her fingers on a napkin when a chirp sounded. “Grace said she’d text to let me know the dinner plan,” she explained, retrieving her cell from her purse.

He nodded as she unlocked the screen to read the message.

“Apparently there’s been a slight change of plans,” she remarked.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“They got tickets to the seven o’clock show of Cirque du Soleil.”

He glanced at his watch. “You have to go now?”

She shook her head. “No, they only got two tickets.”

“Your friends didn’t get one for you?”

“Grace said there were only two available, but Grace has a habit of thinking she knows what’s best for her friends without consulting them.”

It took him a moment to read between the lines. “You think she didn’t try to get you a ticket?”

“She feels pretty strongly that I need to spend some time with you, to achieve relationship closure in order to move on with my life.”

Which was similar to what his brother had said, so maybe there was some validity to the argument. “Is that what you want—to move on with your life?” he asked.

“It’s been seven years,” she reminded him. “I think I need to move on with my life. We both do.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” he challenged.

“Maybe you have. But the fact that you’re here with me now would suggest otherwise.”

He nodded in acknowledgment of her point. “I guess I just always thought—hoped—that you’d eventually come back to Haven and we’d work things out.”

“There’s nothing left to work out,” she said gently.

“Do you really believe that?”

“It’s been seven years,” she said again.

“Which doesn’t answer my question,” he noted.

He was right, of course, but Brie hadn’t expected him to pick up on her effort to sidestep his query. In her admittedly limited experience, men weren’t usually very intuitive. But Caleb had always been more attuned to her thoughts and feelings than anyone else she’d ever known.

And because she still didn’t know how to answer his question, she tried to buy herself another few seconds by lifting her glass to her lips again—only to discover that it was empty.

As if on cue, the waitress appeared. “Can I get you another glass of wine?”

“Just the bill, please,” Caleb said, before Brie had a chance to nod her head.

“Of course,” the server agreed, and hurried away.

“Maybe I did want another glass of wine,” Brie said.

“You can have one with dinner,” he told her.

“We still have half a plate of appetizers right here,” she pointed out.

“I need real food,” he said.

“This tastes real to me,” she said, selecting another onion ring.

“Does it taste like steak?”

She dropped the onion ring back onto the plate.

He grinned. “Let’s take a walk, darlin’.”

Since her plans for a girls’ dinner had fallen by the wayside, she decided there was no harm in sharing a meal with an old friend—even if that old friend was also her ex-husband. So after Caleb signed the check, they headed out to the strip.

But he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to find a restaurant, and he held her hand as they weaved through the crowds.

“So I don’t lose you,” he explained, when he linked their fingers together.

And because it felt both natural and comfortable to hold his hand, she didn’t protest. Or point out that they’d lost one another a lot of years before.

They talked while they walked—casual conversation about mutual acquaintances and family members. The initial awkwardness had passed and being with him felt easy and familiar again. It also made Brie remember all the good times they’d shared, and that enticed her imagination to wander down the dangerously tempting path of “what if.”

They lucked out and managed to snag a table at Prime—a steak and seafood restaurant inside the Courtland Hotel. Caleb put his hand on her back as they followed the hostess, and even through the fabric of her dress, Brie felt the heat of his touch branding her skin and making her knees weak.

The small square table was covered with a white linen cloth and set with gleaming silver and sparkling crystal. Comfy armchairs were positioned on adjacent sides of the table, contributing to the intimacy of the atmosphere. Caleb pulled one of the chairs away from the table for her, and as Brie lowered herself into the leather seat, she found herself thinking that this suddenly felt a lot like a date with a capital D.

When they’d been dating, and trying to hide the fact from their respective families, they’d never shared a meal in a fancy restaurant. Because even grabbing a bite at Diggers’ had stretched their budgets—and set tongues wagging. Instead, they’d usually chosen to spend their meager dollars at Jo’s, where they could hang out as friends without anyone blinking an eye.

Brie had never felt as if she was missing out, though. And she’d especially enjoyed the times that they’d taken their pizza up to the old cabin at Crooked Creek and eaten it cold after making love.

She dragged her attention back to the present when she was handed a leather folder. The hostess then recited the drink and dinner specials and promised that their server would be over in just a minute.

“This is few steps up from Diggers’,” Caleb remarked when they were alone, the comment suggesting that his thoughts had wandered down a path similar to her own.

“It’s very nice,” she agreed, opening her menu to peruse the offerings.

“Of course, you must dine in fancy restaurants all the time in New York.”

“I go out to eat more than I probably should,” she acknowledged. “But rarely to fancy restaurants. In fact, one of my favorite places reminds me a lot of Diggers’—right down to the burly bartender.”

“I wouldn’t describe Sky as burly,” he said, his eyes twinkling with humor as they met hers. “Though she can definitely be surly, at times.”

“I was referring to Duke, not Sky,” she chided. The former was the owner of the bar and grill; the latter was his sister, an employee at the bar.

“Oh.” He nodded. “That does make more sense.”

Brie was smiling when the server, who introduced himself as Eric, delivered a basket of warm bread and a pot of whipped butter to the table.

Caleb ordered a bottle of Argentinean Malbec and Eric uncorked it at the table, then poured a first glass for the customer’s approval. He swirled the liquid in the bowl, passed it under his nose and finally sipped before nodding. The server then poured a second glass for Brie.

“When did you become a wine connoisseur?” she asked, when they were alone again.

“I’m hardly a connoisseur,” Caleb said. “But I paid attention when Macy was explaining the tasting procedure to my brother.”

“Macy’s the manager of the inn, right?”

“And now Liam’s fiancée.”

“Your brother proposed to a single mom of triplets?”

He nodded. “And if you think that’s surprising, you should see him dote on those kids.”

Except they both knew that wasn’t likely to ever happen.

On the rare occasions that Brie went back to Haven, she’d done everything she could to avoid running into Caleb. She’d been apprehensive about seeing him: uncertain about what to say, wary about how she might feel. And for more than seven years, her efforts to elude him had been successful.

Though she hadn’t been thrilled about making another trip to Nevada, she hadn’t anticipated crossing paths with Caleb in such a crowded city so far from Haven. Now she was sharing wine and conversation with him, remembering how much they’d once shared—and how much she’d missed him when he was no longer a part of her life.

She shook off the memories and melancholy and turned her attention back to her menu as Caleb set his aside.

“You know what you want already?” she asked, surprised that he’d decided when she’d barely skimmed through the appetizers.

“I’ve always known what I wanted,” he said.

She felt his gaze on her and wondered—for a brief moment—if he was referring to something other than food.

“Steak,” he said, when she peered cautiously at him over the top of the leather folder, and added a wink for good measure.

“Oh, right.” She quickly skimmed the rest of the menu offerings, then closed the cover as the server returned to their table.

Brie ordered the prime rib with garlic mashed potatoes and pan-seared broccolini; Caleb opted for the porterhouse steak with a loaded baked potato and sautéed green beans and mushrooms.

When Eric disappeared again, Caleb buttered a slice of bread and offered it to her.

As she started to shake her head, her stomach growled in protest.

He grinned and moved the bread closer to her lips. She instinctively opened her mouth and took a bite. She didn’t think about the intimacy of eating from his hand until her bottom lip caught on the pad of his thumb.

She abruptly pulled away, her lip tingling at the point of contact. Caleb’s gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered as she carefully chewed the bread.

“Maybe it’s not all in my head,” he mused quietly.

She didn’t ask.

She didn’t want to know—or try to put into words whatever was still between them. Because she could deny it until the cows came home, but it was obvious that something still was.

Thankfully, Caleb didn’t seem to expect a response. Instead, he set the bread on her plate and drew another slice out of the basket.

“Tell me how you know Grace and Lily,” he suggested, as he dipped the knife into the butter.

She latched onto the neutral topic gratefully and spent the next several minutes telling him about her first weeks at Columbia and the development of her friendship with the other two women.

When the waiter returned with their meals, they stopped talking to focus on their food. After dinner, they lingered over coffee and warm apple cobbler with vanilla bean ice cream drizzled with brandy caramel sauce. Though Brie had insisted that she couldn’t eat another bite, Eric brought two forks with the dessert and Caleb urged her to try a bite, and somehow one little nibble turned into more.

She didn’t know what time it was when they finally got back to their hotel. She wasn’t thinking about the clock as they made their way, still hand in hand, through the lobby where enormous chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting glittery light over everything below. They skirted around the towering fountain, its basin filled with coins of various shapes and sizes, to the bank of elevators.

Caleb punched the call button, and while they waited for the doors to open, Brie realized that she wasn’t quite ready to walk away from him again.

She’d agreed to see him tonight because Grace and Lily had insisted that it would give her a sense of closure, but now that it was nearing the time to say goodbye, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. Not yet.

Instead, she kissed him.

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