Sarsaparilla Showdown (River's End Ranch Book 14) Read online

  Copyright © 2017, Caroline Lee

  [email protected]

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  First edition: 2017

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  When your first two loves are books and ice cream (not necessarily in that order!) who has time to fall for something else? Sadie Mayfield has gotten really good at admiring handsome men from afar… After all, it’s not like they’d be interested in her, would they? But when Shawn starts frequenting her ice cream and soda shop at River’s End Ranch, she sets out to become his friend.

  Shawn McAllister—father, war vet, piano teacher—could use a friend. For years he’s shuffled his daughter Violet from place to place, trying to make ends meet, and hasn’t managed to maintain any sort of relationships. Here at River’s End Ranch he has a chance to settle down, but only if he can win the annual Chamber of Commerce contest on behalf of his new job.

  But when he finds out that his new best friend has entered her shop in the same contest, he knows that he has a problem. And the even bigger problem is that he’s beginning to suspect being “just friends” with someone as special as Sadie isn’t going to work, either.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOUGE

  SNEAK PEEK

  Other works by Caroline Lee

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  Sarsaparilla Showdown

  River’s End Ranch

  Book Fourteen

  Dedication:

  For everyone who has ever felt like a failure, with hope.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Mr. Hottie needs a refill.” Julia’s smirk was knowing when she popped her head into the back room. “I’m just swamped, as you can totally tell.” The tall brunette blinked way-too-innocently. “Could you please take care of him?”

  Sadie Mayfield lowered the mystery novel she was reading and popped the last spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. Her favorite employee—and best friend—loved to tease her about any eligible man whom Sadie had shown an interest in. And Sadie had definitely shown interest in this particular man, even going so far as to ask Julia to find out his name.

  Which, of course, wasn’t “Mr. Hottie,” but it might as well have been.

  Sadie swallowed, not even tasting the ice cream, which had been the whole point of hiding back here with a small bowl and the first scoop of this batch. But she’d followed her usual recipe exactly, and had no reason to think there was anything wrong with this week’s tub of ice cream, so she calmly dropped the spoon into the industrial sink and grabbed her apron.

  “Of course. Since you’re so swamped.” She pulled the apron over her head and tied it around her waist, then smirked right back at her best friend. “I mean, these dishes aren’t going to do themselves, you know.”

  Julia, realizing that her plan had backfired, groaned and rolled her eyes. “I was trying to do you a favor, boss. Go refill his coffee and make small talk. Consider flirting, Sade. Heck, maybe give him a special smile?”

  “I know how to flirt, thank you very much.” Sadie tried to squeeze by her friend, but it wasn’t easy; she was wider than Julia, thanks to her love of well-made ice cream. “Now excuse me, I have to go serve the customers.”

  Julia was laughing as she stepped towards the sink, and the sound buoyed Sadie out into the main room, her domain.

  She’d opened Sadie’s Soda Saloon several years ago, when the Westons had added the “Old West Town” to the center of River’s End Ranch. It had always been her dream to open a boutique ice cream parlor, and she’d loved the idea of using the old-west theme in the decorations. Being the only “saloon” in town—both the touristy Old West Town and the nearby town of Riston—meant that she got a lot of attention from the out-of-town guests. And it didn’t hurt that her ice cream and coffee were the best in the county.

  Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the pot off the warmer, nodded to Dottie, who was manning the register, and stepped around the counter. There was the usual crowd in the Saloon that afternoon, which was about an even mix of regulars and tourists. She greeted most of them by name as she offered to top off mugs, and eventually made her way to the table in the corner, where he sat.

  His name was Shawn, and he was gorgeous.

  That’s all she knew about him, but he’d been coming in here twice a week for the last month or so. He’d always order a black coffee, spread his papers out over the table, and work diligently for a few hours. He’d arrived today right at his usual time, and yep, his empty mug was now pushed towards the edge of the table.

  “Hi there. Need a refill?” She was already reaching for his mug, assuming the answer was yes, when he glanced up from his paperwork.

  Wow. He had really pretty eyes. Green, and green wasn’t that common of an eye-color, really. They were dark, and he had crinkles in the skin around the corners that made him look more approachable.

  Sadie never knew that eye crinkles could be so sexy.

  “I shouldn’t.”

  She was so busy staring at his eyes, it took a moment to register he’d actually replied to her rote question. “Huh?”

  Those green eyes flicked to the pot in her hand, then back up to her. “I shouldn’t, but thanks.”

  “Oh. Um.” Sadie resisted the urge to step back. Flirt, girl. “You sure?”

  Hottie was careful to place his pencil down on the graph paper in front of him before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “No. Heaven knows I could use some.” He ran his hand through his hair, his long fingers catching and pulling at the too-long dirty-blonde waves, and Sadie’s mouth went dry.

  Eye crinkles, a week-old beard, and hair that reached well below his ears. It was like this man had reached into her head and pulled out everything she’d been secretly attracted to since her high school days of scribbling in a diary, and slapped them together to tempt her. Her fingers itched to run her own fingers through his hair, and she tightened them around the handle of the pot.

  “I’ll help make the decision then.” She pulled his mug closer and filled it up halfway. “There. Refills are on the house, but this way you don’t have to drink it all.”

  “Oh, alright then. If it’s on the house.” That’s when he smiled, and Sadie’s knees went weak. His front teeth were crooked, and that made him look so much more…touchable. Oh dear.

  The way his smile made her feel was better than a brand-new mystery novel. Almost better than a fresh batch of ice cream.

  “You…ah. You want any cream? Sugar?” Like she hadn’t spent a month watching him order
from Julia and knew exactly how he liked his coffee.

  “Nah, but thanks.” He reached for the mug and picked it up with a sigh. “That costs extra.”

  “Oh.” They didn’t cost extra, but his comment was telling. He’d really not ordered a refill all this time, just because he didn’t want to spend the money? Was he that tightfisted, or did he just not have money to waste?

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind.” She tried a smile of her own, but wasn’t sure if it worked. She still felt a little wobbly from his smile. “I could maybe make exceptions for my favorite customers.” As flirting went, it was a lame line, but she wanted—needed—to keep talking to him.

  Only, it might’ve been the wrong thing to say, judging by the way the skin around his eyes tightened, and he didn’t look up at her as he lowered the mug from his lips. “No exceptions, not for me. Thanks though.”

  Ugh. Sadie actually shuffled back a step, totally embarrassed that she’d obviously said the wrong thing. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Julia peeking out from the back room, smiling encouragingly. Sadie couldn’t go back there, pick up her books again, and tell her best friend—the one who’d been pushing her to speak to Mr. Hottie for two weeks—that she’d chickened out and ran off because she’d stuck her foot in her mouth somehow.

  So instead, Sadie smiled and searched for something to say. Something to distract him from her apparently unwelcome offer.

  Luckily, it came when she glanced down at his paperwork. “Oh! The annual Chamber of Commerce contest.” The entry form was sticking out from under his graph paper, and she reached down with her free hand to shift it into the open. “Are you entering?”

  “Yeah, hopefully.” He hesitated, then placed the mug down on the far edge of the table, away from the papers. “The entry fee isn’t too much, and I thought it would be good…”

  “What’s your business?” Every year, the Riston Chamber of Commerce ran a contest to award a cash prize to the business that “most embodied the spirit of Riston”. This year, it was the other prize Sadie had her eye on, and the reason she’d entered as soon as it was announced.

  “I’m…”

  She watched his tongue flick out over his lower lip, and felt her knees go wobbly again. Was that a nervous tic? If so, she’d have to make him nervous again.

  “I run the ranch summer camps.”

  “This ranch?” When he nodded, hesitantly, she planted her free hand on her cocked hip. “I didn’t realize that River’s End Ranch ran summer camps. Like, for kids?”

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Wade Weston hired me part-time to try to set up the program for next summer. He wants to offer kids’ camps, along with the childcare facility here in the Old West Town, to try to attract more families. But the camps are probationary, and we need a few hundred sign-ups before he’ll give the go-ahead to start hiring staff.” He glanced up at her, and appeared flustered.

  Sadie wanted to tell him that it wasn’t a big deal—she could listen to him blather on for hours—but settled for looking as interested as possible.

  “Ah…anyhow. I thought that a grant from the Chamber of Commerce would not just be handy, but would make good publicity. You know, make people aware of the camps and what the ranch could offer kids.”

  “That’s a great idea.” She smiled, and when he returned it, hers grew. “Good luck.”

  She meant it, even though they’d be competing against one another. She wasn’t terribly competitive, but she’d like to win the prize, as it would bring in a lot of new customers for the Saloon, but she had to admit that the kids’ summer camps were a good use of the publicity, too.

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

  He knew her name? “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, 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 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 make a new pot of coffee. 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 was probably 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 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 just as bundled up inside the truck as they’d been outside.

  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 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 the 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, 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’d 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 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 order, 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 was 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, 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 experienced earlier in the week when he’d shaken her hand.

  He might’ve made a joke, except he saw the way she snatched her hand back and wrapped it around the second mug. 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 a bit and her lips quirked not-quite-convincingly. But she sank into the chair anyway.