Page 41 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

Melissa

Thursday evening, the guys take me into Long Pine for drinks.

Darla and Sammy are manning the ranch in our absence, with Sammy doing the cooking. It left room for plenty of jokes regarding his ability to whip up a decent dinner, but since Darla’s been having her taste issues, Sammy is the second best qualified to feed the ranch folks without killing them, so to speak.

“It feels weird not being in the kitchen at this hour,” I tell Colton as we take a seat at one of the corner booths of the Cavalier, Long Pine’s surprisingly not-too-shabby pub and diner.

“That’s just force of habit,” he replies, handing me the drinks menu. “Get yourself a drink, and the weirdness will slip away.”

“Word of advice. The tequila makes everything slip away,” Mitch quips.

“Including my consciousness,” I laugh. “No, thanks. I think I’ll stick to mulled wine tonight.”

Ethan nods in agreement. “That actually sounds pretty good.”

“This is nice,” I say, casually leaning back as my fingers splay across the seating to enjoy the velvety feel of the burgundy red fabric. “Really nice.”

“It used to be a local dive. A shady watering hole until about eight years ago, when the owners sold it to Marty,” Colton says.

“Marty, the butter guy?” I ask.

“Yup.”

“The man does get around,” Mitch chuckles softly. “Lots of butter cash to spend.”

Looking around, I see some familiar faces—mostly people I’ve met running with Darla. A few I met at the farmers’ market here in Long Pine. It’s nice to see them unwinding in the evening, laughing and drinking as the juke box takes everyone on a trip down ’80s memory lane.

“Thank you,” I tell the guys with a soft smile.

“For what?” Mitch asks me with a curious glimmer in his dark eyes.

“For taking me out on a date, I guess,” I shrug shyly.

Mitch covers my hand with his. “Honestly, we can do a whole lot better than this for a first date. How about we consider this a night out for drinks and chatter instead?”

“Well, to be fair, we did agree we’re going to keep things fun and simple,” I say, reminding myself that I shouldn’t bite more off than I can chew.

“I don’t know about you, but I could eat,” Ethan intervenes. “They make a mean pizza here at the Cavalier.”

“Pizza sounds great,” I reply, and he waves one of the waitresses over.

As soon as she sees us, she lights up like a star. Spry-looking and in her early twenties, the girl has a familiar shape to her face, her eyes, her smile, and overall demeanor. I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel as though I’ve seen her before.

“Ah crap,” Mitch mutters as soon as he sees her.

“Ah crap, what?” I ask him.

“That’s Daisy,” he says, nodding at the bubbly waitress practically gliding toward our table. “Sammy’s niece. Bit of a Velcro chick.”

Sammy’s niece. Hence the familiarity. I recognize some of her features now.

“A Velcro chick?” I mumble, then give Mitch an even more confused look.

“Sticks to you like Velcro,” Ethan says. “That is, if you’re a guy and you seem rich.”

Mitch looks at Colton. “You know the drill, Colt.”

“What? What’s going on here?” I ask, but nobody seems to want to answer.

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