A Grand Teton Sleigh Ride: Four Generations of Wyoming Ranchers Celebrate Love at Christmas (27 page)

She created all these pieces?

Ty eyed her while she busied herself with some jars on the counter. She was beautiful and talented and softhearted, considering her offer to help him with his grandmother’s gift. He knew her offer benefited her, too, so she’d said, but still, she was kindhearted.

What was he doing here with this amazing girl? As a ski instructor, he met a lot of intriguing and beautiful women, but none of them held his interest. Not like Hayley. Mostly because they were here today gone tomorrow. They came to the ski resorts for a weekend of fun and weren’t interested in anything long term. Ty reminded himself that he had nothing to offer in a real relationship, except, well, himself. He needed to do more with his life in order to provide for a family.

A knot grew in Ty’s throat. Wow, this girl had him thinking about marriage and family, and he’d only just met her. He refocused his thoughts to the task at hand, once again perusing her beautiful pottery. Smooth colorful glazes in hues of blues and browns adorned pottery in all shapes and sizes, and then there were the sgraffito pieces, which he loved the most.

“You’re so prolific,” he said. “My grandmother is really going to be amazed.”

“I hope so,” she said. “Maybe I can meet her some time.”

Her suggestion surprised him. He studied her for a moment, with her crystal blues that took everything in. “Maybe so.”

He walked between the shelves, overwhelmed by the amount of pottery her small hands had produced. The artwork took his breath away. “I can’t even imagine how much time it takes you to create these pieces.”

“See anything you like?” she asked.

Her question startled him. Maybe he hadn’t been demonstrative enough over her work. “Everything.” He locked eyes with her. “I love everything. Boy, it’s going to be hard to figure out what you could create for my grandmother. But maybe …”—he touched a porcelain teapot overlaid with blue sgraffito—“she’d like a teapot similar to this, only slightly bigger.”

Oh boy. Why had he asked for something bigger? He was already going to be in trouble paying for this. Because he did, in fact, want to pay her for her work, if at all possible.

“I can do that. But I want you to think about it for a few days. Oh my goodness …” She slapped her hand over her mouth then dropped it. “I didn’t think to ask when her birthday is. I might not have enough time to do this. Please tell me her birthday isn’t tomorrow.”

Ty smiled. “Nanna’s birthday isn’t until December twelfth. I started looking early because I wanted something special.”

Hayley’s sweet face lit up with her cute dimples and just a hint of color in her cheeks. Ty undeniably wanted to spend some time with her outside this joint venture. But he had nothing to offer a girl like her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked

He’d never been good at hiding his emotions, and she was an artist. Had an eye for seeing things.

“Ty, if you don’t want to do this, please tell me. I hope I haven’t pressured you into this.”

“There’s nothing wrong. I definitely want to do this.” Just have to figure out how to pay her.

“Okay, so have a seat. I’ll make us some hot chocolate because no matter what the heat is on, I always get chilled if my hands aren’t working the clay. Tell me about your grandmother.”

“Aw, she’s great. She loves people and is very active in her church. Loves crafts.”

Hayley handed him a warm mug of hot cocoa and eyed him over the brim of her own. “That it?” she asked, arching a brow.

He scraped a hand through his hair, unsure what else to tell her. But he went on about how his grandfather died when Ty was young, and even told Hayley that he’d come to live with his grandmother as a teenager and why. What else did she need to know in order to create pottery that his grandmother would love? “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

“I think … no.” She huffed a sigh. “Have you ever thrown a pot on the wheel?”

He grinned. “I can’t say that I have.”

“Would you like to?”

The way she tilted her pretty blond head, what guy could turn her down? Good thing he’d taken off the rest of the day, though it would mean a smaller paycheck.

“Do you have to go anywhere? Because those clothes are going to get dirty, even though I have a couple of aprons.” She held up what looked like a butcher’s apron.

“I’m all yours”—he winked.

Hayley’s cheek colored a little. She focused on getting her clay out and prepared for the wheel. Ty stood back and watched, hating that he’d embarrassed her. Maybe he was coming on too strong, and he hadn’t meant to flirt with her at all.

Straddling the wheel, she plopped the clay on and explained to Ty about how important it was to center the clay. How difficult it could be. Ty thought about how that was kind of like a person’s life. It could be tough to find your way, find the center and stay focused. He was twenty-eight and still trying.

Watching her now, he felt like he’d wasted so much of his life. Look at all she’d created, and he had nothing to show for his efforts.

“Okay, Ty, it’s your turn.” She slid from the seat. “I’ve centered it for you and started the process. All you have to do is dig your hands in and make something.”

He laughed. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is for some, and for others, not so much.” Mischief crept into her eyes. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He didn’t miss the challenge in her tone and straddled the wheel. He pressed his thumbs into the center of the clay, and immediately it went all wonky. Off center. “I see what you mean.”

He expected her to place her hands over his and show him that way, but no, she centered the clay again and talked him through it. When he was done, he’d created a squatty bowl.

“Not bad for your first time.” She slid a wire beneath the pot and gently removed it from the wheel, placing it on the nearby table. “I’ve never actually taught anyone to do this before. That part was harder than I thought, too.”

Ty stood there covered in clay, unsure what she had planned next. Her gaze flicked over him. “You can clean up at the sink.”

She stripped off her apron, and so did he. At the sink, he washed his hands. He never thought he’d enjoy this activity so much and knew it had everything to do with the girl who’d pulled him into her life. While he dried his hands, the door swung open.

“Hayley, you coming to supper?” a deep voice asked.

“Daddy! I’m sorry.”

“You got caught up in your art, I see.”

Ty turned to face her father. The man then noticed Ty. Surprise registered in his face before he covered it.

“I didn’t know you had company. Don’t know how I missed seeing another vehicle out there.”

“This is Ty Walker,” she said.

Her father thrust his hand out to Ty. “Glad to meet you, son. I’m Hart Covington, Hayley’s father.

Hayley looked nervous and flustered. She grabbed his arms and tried to usher him to the door. “I made your favorite tonight, Daddy, and I’ll be right in to join you.”

The man didn’t budge. Instead his gaze stayed glued to Ty. “Aren’t you going to invite your friend, Hayley? Where are you manners?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t, sir,” Ty said. But his stomach chose that moment to rumble. Time had gotten away from them both.

“Nonsense,” her father said. “Hayley makes a mean stew. You need to eat.” The man winked and left Ty alone with Hayley.

“He doesn’t take no for an answer, does he?” Ty asked.

“No, he doesn’t.” She came over to the sink and washed up, too. “Please let me talk about the pottery, okay? Daddy doesn’t know I have pieces at Blue Mountain.”

A shadow of guilt crossed her face.

“I won’t say a word.” As long as the man didn’t ask too many questions. “But, why would you keep that a secret? What’s to hide?” Ty regretted the words. This wasn’t his business.

She blew out a breath. “It’s a long, complicated story.”

Ty wanted to say he wasn’t going anywhere, that he had the time to listen, but he heard in her voice that she didn’t want to share it.

Why would Hayley’s father want her to keep her talent locked up in this little cabin studio? Why wouldn’t he want to share it with the world? But Ty didn’t know anything about her relationship with her father or the family dynamics. Maybe it was a stretch, but he hoped to remedy that.

T
y took his first spoonful of Hayley’s stew and almost closed his eyes to savor the tasty dish.

Suddenly aware that both Hayley and her father watched him, waiting for his reaction, Ty grinned. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Certainly rivaled his grandmother’s.

That seemed to meet with their approval, and both Hayley and her father started on their own bowls of stew, accompanied by fresh homemade rolls. How did she do it all? Ty could see easily enough that she enjoyed cooking and pleasing people.

Her father had given him a quick tour of the ranch house while Hayley set the table and readied their supper. Ty especially enjoyed all the old photographs covering the walls, depicting the Covington family in years gone by—old ones mixed with new ones. He asked lots of questions, grateful he was able to keep her father talking about himself and the history of the ranch, instead of turning the conversation Ty’s way.

There was something he’d been weighing since he first met Hayley. That she might have been confused about his identity. He wanted to clear that up, but the afternoon had gotten away from him, and he found himself sitting at her table, facing her father.

Finished with his stew, Mr. Covington placed his napkin on the table and leaned back, a gauging look in his eyes. Ty felt like he was on trial. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for anyone with a romantic interest in Hayley. But then her father likely figured Ty had an interest in her. And he wouldn’t be wrong, though that’s not why he was here.

“So, tell me, Ty, how did you and my daughter meet?” Ty fished his napkin from his lap, buying himself some time, and placed it on the table next to his bowl. He leaned back in his seat as well, with a quick glance to Hayley. She’d not wanted to bring up the fact her pottery was at the Blue Mountain studio.

This was her chance to jump in, which she did. “Daddy, I met Ty when I was in town. He was at the Blue Mountain Art Gallery looking for a gift for his grandmother. I offered to help.”

“What were you doing at the gallery? Don’t tell me Jim’s been bothering you about showing your pieces again.”

Ty didn’t miss the fear mixed with hurt in Hayley’s eyes. “He’s already put a few of my pots in the gallery, and they sold quickly, Daddy. That’s when I met Ty. I took a few more in, and he works at the studio and helped me carry the pots inside.”

A knot constricted Ty’s throat. She had brought him into the big reveal—why? So she wouldn’t be alone when she told her father? And that wasn’t all of it. She had Ty all wrong, just as he suspected. He wasn’t sure it mattered all that much, but now he saw that it mattered.

“You don’t have time to mess with that, Hayley. There’s too much work for you on the ranch. And you know I don’t think much of artists or ski bums and all that’s grown popular in the valley. That stuff is a waste of time.”

The man needed to seriously look around him—Jackson Hole was all about art and skiing, and less about cattle ranching. Regardless, Ty was in a predicament. He didn’t want to correct Hayley on his employment in front of her father, but if he didn’t, her father would think he’d covered up the truth. No. It was best to get that out in the open now.

“I need to clarify something,” he said, dread souring in his stomach. “When I helped you with your pottery, Hayley, I was in the studio looking for something for my grandmother. That’s it. I don’t work there.”

Her father laughed. Ty couldn’t help but hear it as mocking his daughter. He kept his anger veiled, though. Hayley’s big blues grew wide, and she pursed her lips. Clearly, this wasn’t the best time to break the news to her, at least in her eyes.

“Then tell us, son, where do you work?”

He wanted to blurt out that he wasted his time as a ski bum. But he hadn’t been raised to disrespect others, even when they were impertinent. “I work as a ski instructor, splitting my time with that and working at the National Elk Refuge.” Maybe the man would appreciate that, at least. “In the summer I guide white-water rafting groups.” Paint houses. Whatever it took to make ends meet.

Ty mouthed an “I’m sorry” to Hayley.

“A ski instructor,” she said. “I’ve never been skiing.”

Laughter erupted from her father again—a strange mix of mocking and yet a teasing warmth in his eyes, confusing Ty. The man pushed back his chair and stood.

“A ski bum and an artist. Don’t you make a cute couple?” He thrust his hand out to shake Ty’s once again.

Weird, after the insult, but Ty didn’t refuse him.

“It was nice to meet you, son. I’m sure your grandmother is proud of you.”

Ty wished he could retort that she was, as a matter of fact, but that wasn’t true at all. Ty wished he would have listened to his grandmother, all these years. Even if he stayed in his field of work, he could have taken things to the next level instead of working part-time. But until this moment, he had lived to ski and nothing more.

Hayley’s father excused himself and left the table, ambling into what looked like a study. Hayley was at Ty’s side, pulling him to his feet. She ushered him into the kitchen.

“Oh Ty, I’m so, so sorry. Daddy doesn’t really mean to come across rude. It’s just his way. I hope you’ll still let me make something for your grandmother.”

“You sure you still want to? Doesn’t sound like your dad is going to let you.”

She cocked a brow at him. “I’m twenty-four years old. I can make my own decision, and Daddy knows that. It’s just … I’m all he has left here. I’m the heir to this ranch, this is the Covington legacy. Lots of ranchers have sold out to kazillionnaires over the years, but my family has held on to this ranch. Daddy wants to keep it in the family. So you see. It’s complicated.”

“No wonder he was assessing me. Thinks I’m after his daughter, and maybe his ranch one day.” Ty was out of his element here. These people were worth a lot of money, but that didn’t seem to affect Hayley. She was down to earth, warm, and friendly.