A Cadence Creek Christmas (Cadence Creek Cowboys) by Donna Alward Page A

again, there was something to be said for distraction. And he did enjoy pushing her buttons. It was a nice break from his self-imposed “dry spell.”
    “Good wine?” he asked, reaching for his glass.
    “One of my favorites, from Mission Hill. Do you like it?”
    He did, though he wasn’t much of a wine drinker. “It’s okay.”
    “What’s wrong with it?”
    “Nothing. I said it was okay.”
    A look of understanding lit in her eyes. “You don’t drink much wine, do you?”
    He shrugged. “Not as a rule.” When would he drink wine? It wasn’t like he went on dinner dates or was the kind to chill out at the end of the day with a nice chardonnay. At her distressed look, he took pity on her. “Look, I’m a guy. Most of us around here are beer men, that’s all. Which would be totally out of place at this dinner.”
    “Oh, is it too fancy? I tried to keep it fairly traditional. Nothing that people can’t pronounce, that sort of thing, you know?”
    Gone was the sharp tongue and sassy banter. She was actually concerned. A few days ago he might have taken her comment differently, like maybe she meant the people of Cadence Creek weren’t as sophisticated as she was. But that wasn’t it. Her brow was wrinkled in the middle. He knew without asking that she’d tried very hard to come up with a menu that people would like.
    “What’s the main course?” he asked.
    “Beef Wellington, Duchess potatoes, green beans and roasted red pepper.”
    “Sounds delicious.”
    “Well, Avery approved it, but then she approved just about everything I suggested.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, Rhys, did I railroad her into stuff? Did she feel she couldn’t say no?”
    “Hey,” he said, beginning to take pity on her. “Where is all this doubt coming from? You’ve said from the beginning that this is your thing.”
    “It is, but...”
    He nudged her elbow. “Why did you pick this as the menu?”
    She picked at her salad without eating. “Well, I tried to come up with something that was fancy enough for a wedding, something special, while keeping in mind the guest list. This is a meal for ranchers and, well, regular people. Not crazy movie stars or visiting dignitaries who only eat fish and sprouted grains or that kind of thing, you know?”
    “So you tailored the food to the guest list?”
    “Of course. I always do.”
    “Then why are you so worried? Know what I think? I think that for most people this is going to taste like a fancy meal out that’s not intimidating, you know? Nothing they can’t recognize or need to pronounce in a foreign language.”
    Their salads were removed and the main course put in front of them. Rhys’s stomach growled. He’d only managed a few bites of the salad and the beef smelled delicious.
    “I swear I’m not usually like this. Not so insecure.”
    “Is it because it’s Callum?”
    “Maybe. Then again, I don’t usually do weddings. That’s the one day everyone wants utterly perfect. There’s more freedom with parties. But wedding days?” She took another sip of wine. Was quiet for a moment. “I screwed one up once.”
    “You did?” Was Taylor actually going to admit she’d made a mistake? It didn’t strike him as her style.
    She nodded. “The bride was allergic to strawberries. I’d forgotten. You don’t mess with a bride on her wedding day, you know? She had a breakfast for her bridal party. I never thought twice about giving the chef dominion over the menu. I trusted him completely.” She winced at the memory. “The wedding colors were pink and cream. The chef added strawberry coulis to the pancake batter. She got hives and her face swelled up like a balloon. Four hours before her walk down the aisle.”
    Rhys was intrigued. “What did you do?”
    “We tried cold cloths, creams...it wasn’t until the antihistamine shot that she really started to improve. But the ‘getting ready’ photos never happened, and she still looked rather pink and puffy in the pictures. Not