Page 7 of A Cowboy Christmas

“You know how to ride?” I lick my lips before I look down at her curves and think about all the ways I’d like to break her in.

“What?” Her cheeks burn, and I wonder if her pussy lips are the same color. “Oh, ride horses?”

“Sure,” I say, not bothering to clarify.

“No, I’ve never been on one.”

“I see.” I cock my head to the side before I push away from the door. “You come out to the ranch tonight, and I’ll teach you how.”

With that, I walk out of the office feeling ten foot tall and bulletproof. Joy winks at me on the way out, and I tip my hat in her direction. I’ll have to remember to thank her later.

Chapter Five

Sabrina

I’m a bit surprised at how long it took for George to come and pepper me with questions about Booker coming back here. Then I found out there was a late rush of orders he had to help cover.

He has a weird crush on Booker. “Crush” might not be the right word. I know it’s mainly about money, and I bet that’s hard for Booker. You never know if someone wants to talk to you and be friendly because they actually enjoy being around you or if they are after something you have. No wonder Booker can be standoffish.

I have the opposite problem. For the most part, people avoid me like the plague, but I still hear their comments under their breath. That was the nice part about working back here in the office. I don’t enjoy being by myself because I get lonely, but it’s better than being around people who hate you for things beyond your control.

“So what was that about?” George gets straight to the point, not asking me about the books.

“He needs help with the Christmas tour thing the town does.”

“Really?” George’s bushy eyebrows pull together.

I wouldn’t have guessed that Booker would take part in it, but Mary Beth can be pushy. She’s actually pretty scary, but she’s clever about it. Her insults and digs come in the form of a backhanded compliment. At least when George is a dick, he does it right out in the open.

“Yeah.” I shrug, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Probably more for my benefit than for George. I won’t let myself make this into something it’s not. My father used to tell me I did that all the time.

This is a job and nothing more. Booker is being nice, that’s all. That’s what he needs me for. But I can’t help but wonder why he asked to take me riding. I guess to show me around.

“He’s thinking of a Christmas tea party,” I say and try to get back to where my mind should be.

“So you’ll need food.” George collapses into the same chair I occupied yesterday. It’s almost comical how things have changed since then.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” I start piling up the papers that I’ve already gone through. Entering everything into the computer took some time, but now reviewing the books is much easier. I have already seen spots that can be fixed. If I can get George to agree.

“A tea party is more than tea, right? It’s all those tiny sandwiches.” I never thought George and I would be hanging out in his office talking about tea party food, but then again, I also never thought Booker would notice me. Add to that fact he’s asked for my help. He must not keep up on town gossip, but I can’t figure out why he bothered to single me out.

"Maybe, but that will be all up to Booker.” I need to find out what all he wants done.

“But you can pitch the idea, right?”

“I suppose. Joy could make some treats too.” It does sound really cute. We could have tea and hot chocolate for the kids.

“Now you’re thinking.” George claps his hands together, smiling for the first time, I think, ever. At least it's the first instance I've ever witnessed. Was all his barking and assholery behavior related to stress? Not that it should give him a pass. I'm stressing out but not being a total jerk face.

“Do you want to check out what I’ve been working on?” I shift the laptop over so that he can see the screen better. I brought my laptop from home because I had a feeling his computer would slow me down. Everything is online anyway.

“Can you print it out?” George leans forward, squinting, so I grab his glasses out of the desk drawer for him.

“No, we’re not going to print it out. It would actually be harder to see it that way. Come over here.” I motion with my hand for him to move the chair closer, and he reluctantly does it. “Now I want you to be open to a few things. A few possible changes.”

“Changes?” he huffs.

“Well, do you want things to remain how they are right now?”

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