Welcome Wagon (River's End Ranch Book 13)

by Adams, Amelia C.

  “Thanks.” And then, to her surprise, he stuck out his hand. “You’re Sadie, right?”

  “Yep. Sadie Mayfield.” She took his hand, and wasn’t entirely shocked by the warmth that climbed up her arm from the place where their skin touched. “No relation to the Mayfield Ice Cream family, although I sure wouldn’t mind.” He didn’t seem to get her joke, so she hurried to say something else before she swallowed her own tongue in embarrassment. “And you’re Shawn?”

  “McAllister.”

  Shawn McAllister. The part of her that was still stuck in plump-girl, never-been-dated high school hell wanted to run home and doodle his name in a pink journal and cover it with heart stickers. Instead though, she tried to be a grown-up. A business owner, for goodness’ sake. “Nice to meet you.”

  He nodded again, and dropped her hand. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d felt the same thing she’d felt when they’d touched, or if it was just wishful thinking on her part. He was gorgeous, and she was…she was just Sadie.

  “I’ll… uh.” She took a hasty step back, and then another, suddenly not sure that she could stand seeing him close up again after that moment they’d shared. “I’ll let you get back to your work.” Another step back. “Let me—or Julia—know if you need a refill. Remember, on the house.”

  Sadie didn’t even wait to see him acknowledge her offer, but turned and tried not to scurry behind the counter to busy herself with the three new customers who’d just walked in. But for the next hour, she kept an eye on him. He never did finish his second cup, and never once looked up at her again.

  It probably was just wishful thinking on her part, but it didn’t matter. In the years before she’d gained her self-confidence and learned how to charm people, she’d been used to being overlooked and ignored. She had plenty of experience watching good-looking guys and sighing wistfully.

  Shawn McAllister wasn’t any different.

  ***

  Three days later, Shawn parked his beat-up truck in his space beside the RV and rested his head against the back of the seat. He sighed, thinking about the check in his wallet for the next month of little Billy Stevens’ lessons and the cost of gas. At least the truck’s heater was working, which wasn’t always a guarantee. Last winter the darn thing had cut out, and he and Violet had spent the season as bundled up inside the truck as they’d been out.

  For now, though, he pulled on his gloves and zipped up his old jacket. The first snow had come and gone, but the air wasn’t as biting as it’d be in a few months, he knew. He could still leave the keyboard strapped into the passenger’s seat without fear of the cold ruining it.

  Shawn grabbed the leather briefcase he’d found at that thrift store in Post Falls—the same place where he’d gotten all of Violet’s new jeans—and slammed the truck door behind him. He made sure to lock it because besides his daughter, that keyboard was the most precious thing in his life.

  He briefly considered heading inside, but the dinette in the RV was pretty small for all of his paperwork, and the place just felt wrong when he was in it by himself during the day. No matter how long they’d lived in it, he still preferred to take his work elsewhere.

  Which is why he found himself tromping through the morning’s dusting of snow towards the Old West town in the center of the ranch. He’d visited the café, and the restaurant, but always felt bad sitting there without ordering food. But at the “saloon,” he could nurse a coffee for a few hours and work. Besides, it was well-heated, which meant it was nicer than the RV.

  His reasons for preferring to work at the kitschy coffee shop had nothing at all to do with the seriously sexy lady running the place. At least, that’s what he’d told himself for the last few weeks.

  Shawn put in his usual order at the counter, and then found his preferred table in the corner. The tall brunette hadn’t given him her usual cheerful welcome, and he wondered if she was too harried—the place didn’t look any busier than usual, though—or if he’d ticked her off somehow. All he knew was that her boss wasn’t anywhere around.

  Not that he’d looked for her as soon as he’d walked in, or anything.

  Sadie Mayfield. She’s introduced herself last time he was here, and he hadn’t really stopped thinking about her since. Listening to Billy Stevens play his scales, helping Violet with her homework, frying up their dinner each evening…he’d been thinking about her. Wondering what she liked. Why she sometimes blushed. What kind of music she listened to. If she liked taller men with daughters.

  He scowled and forced his attention to the chart in front of him. Shut it, McAllister. You’re happy the way things are now. Nothing to tie you down. Nothing to risk failing.

  Picking up the steel ruler and the pencil, he focused on creating the last column. This might be easier with a computer, but he preferred to draw charts out himself. The process reminded him of creating set designs on graph paper back at school, or of planning out missions on a map at base. Besides, it’d be a long time before he had enough money to waste on a laptop.

  “Here’s your coffee, Shawn.”

  He’d been aware of her approach, of course—he’d never been able to get rid of all the skills the Army had beaten into him—but had assumed it’d been the other girl, Julia. His head whipped around when he realized who it was.

  Sadie. She stood over him, holding two mugs, and looking so hesitant he wanted to jump up and demand she tell him what was wrong so that he could fix it.

  Instead, though, he swallowed down the impulse and nodded. “Thanks.” When he reached for the mug, their fingers brushed, and he felt that same awkward tightening deep in his stomach that he’d felt earlier in the week when he’d shaken her hand.

  He might’ve made a joke, except that he saw the way she snatched her hand back and wrapped it around the second mug as well. When she took a sip, he realized that she’d brought her own drink over to his table.

  Which made him feel almost like a host. “Do you want to sit down?”

  He used his foot to push out the chair across the table, and she only hesitated slightly before her lids lowered slightly and her lips quirked not-quite-convincingly. But she sank into the chair anyhow.

  Once she was sitting beside him, though, Shawn struggled for something to say. “So…you run a coffee shop, huh?”

  He managed not to wince. Way to go, Captain Obvious.

  But she just smiled, and took another sip of her drink. “I own it, really. The Westons wanted a soda shop here, but I convinced them that coffee would be just as profitable, so we added that to the menu. And ice cream, of course.”

  “Ice cream?” His brows rose as he settled back in his chair and hid his wince when the scars pressed against the wood. “I saw that on the menu, but haven’t seen anyone order it.”

  “That’s because it’s winter.” She smiled, and his stomach tightened again. She was pretty just walking around—her brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, and that cheesy apron just barely covering all of her nicely rounded bits—but when she smiled? She was somewhere between an imp and an angel. “In the summer, this place makes as much from my ice cream as it does from coffee.”

  “Your ice cream?” He was trying to focus on her words, and not the way her lips moved when she blew on her drink.

  “My own recipe,” she said proudly. “It’s kind of a passion of mine.” And then she laughed, and waved her hand at herself. “Which explains why I look like this, I know, but it’s worth it. Ice cream is my favorite food, and I’m pretty serious about it. I research recipes and try new combinations all the time.”

  His brows rose again. “Really? I didn’t realize the world of ice cream was so…”

  “Involved?” She smiled when he nodded. “That’s okay. Not many people do. But it makes me happy, and I figure that’s what matters.”

  “I figure you’re right.” He liked that she knew what she liked, unapologetically. “I’d like to try some of your ice cream someday.” He’d like to try a lot more, frankly, but he wasn�
�t about to mention that out loud. “If it’s half as good as your coffee, it must be perfect.”

  A pink tinge colored her cheeks, and he saw her fingers tighten around the mug. “Thanks. I’ll have to take your word for it, though. I don’t… um, I don’t actually drink coffee.” Her smile was bashful. “This is hot chocolate.”

  An ice cream connoisseur and a barista who didn’t drink coffee? Sadie Mayfield was just more and more intriguing, wasn’t she? “Well, whoever’s making it is doing a great job.”

  “Thanks. I don’t drink it, but I make it. It’s my dad’s recipe.” She gulped her hot chocolate, and when she pulled the mug away, there was just a bit of chocolate on her upper lip. Shawn watched as her tongue flicked out to lick it up, and suddenly got real jealous. “I follow it exactly, and it’s made the saloon popular.”

  He forced his attention back to the conversation. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “You’re the only coffee shop in town, aren’t you?”

  “Yep. And we can do all of the fancy brews, too, although most people just prefer it plain. Sugar and milk, and sometimes flavorings…but we can do the frothy froo-froo stuff too, if they want.”

  Shawn had never liked froo-froo coffee, although Tammi had. “And you’ve got a great ambiance here too.” He gestured to the shop’s decorations, which were some of the neatest he’d seen. The whole place had been set up like a real Old West saloon. The counter where the coffee was made—and presumably the ice cream was stored—looked just like a bar out of an old movie, complete with a large mirror behind it. The tables were mismatched, a combination of artfully scarred wood and green baize-covered “poker” tables, and a large chandelier hung from the center of the room. There was even a fake balcony that circled the upper walls, with doors painted on, and a real Estey upright along the front wall.

  Overall, the shop reminded him of a set he’d designed in a class years ago for Crazy For You. “This place looks like it belongs on a movie set.”

  “I’m pretty proud of it.” She grinned. “Although the Westons did most of the design.”

  He asked her a few more questions, and was impressed with the way she answered. Actually, he was more impressed with the way she could keep most of her attention on him, while still keeping an eye on her customers and how Julia was handling everyone. Actually, he was most impressed by the way the afternoon light made the skin at the base of her throat look so darn kissable, but he tried to tamp down that realization.

  It almost worked, too.

  She’d just started to answer his question about the support beams over the bar when his phone alarm went off, and her lips snapped shut.

  Fumbling for his pocket, Shawn muttered an “Oh, shoot.” Violet! He’d have to hurry to get down to the bus stop in time. He downed the rest of his coffee and scrambled to get his papers together, barely recognizing that she’d gathered both mugs and stood.

  As he shrugged into his coat, he met her eyes across the table. She was standing awkwardly, like she wasn’t sure if she should just leave, or what.

  “Do you … do you need any help?” she asked.

  “No.” He smiled sheepishly to cover the dismissal. “I just lost track of time.” He stopped in the process of zipping up the old coat and swallowed. “I was too busy enjoying the conversation.”

  At his words, her face lit up in another smile, and it made him feel…nice. Like maybe he wasn’t as bad at talking to women as he’d always assumed. Like he’d made her feel good somehow. Like he wasn’t a failure.

  “Well, goodbye, Shawn.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded briskly and pulled on his gloves. “I’ll see you. I mean…” He was in here on the days that he didn’t have after-school lessons, and those were also the afternoons he could meet Violet’s bus. “Next Tuesday.”

  “Next Tuesday.” She nodded, and offered him a tentative smile. “I’ll see you.”

  And later, when he stood alone at his daughter’s bus stop and waited for the tell-tale sound of brakes in the distance, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and bounced a little. Although honestly, the memory of her smile did more to warm him than anything.

  She made him warm all over, and it had been a long time since he’d felt that way about a woman. Since before Tammi, and his deployment. Since before that stupid mistake that had cost good men their lives. Since he’d realized what a failure he was.

  When Sadie smiled at him, he didn’t feel like as much of a failure. Which just proved how little she knew him.