by Maddie James
Good Lord. He was sweating like a pig.
Inside, he could hear music and thought that was his cue to step inside the church, but he waited for a minute because that’s what he was told to do.
He sure hoped everything went as planned.
The wedding was small by design. Neither he nor Abby saw any reason for a big fancy affair. Her family drove in from south of Billings the day before—he’d met her parents and sister at the pre-wedding dinner. Tom and Sally came yesterday too. They’d met Abby several weeks earlier, and surprisingly, Tom had given his blessing.
“We just want you to be happy,” he’d said, choking a little on his words. John knew he missed his sister.
Of course, his kids and Abby’s Luke were there. He didn’t know who else was inside.
The side door creaked open. Parker stuck his head out. “Dad? It’s time.” But instead of opening the door more fully, he stepped out on the stoop.
John swallowed hard, wondering what his son was up to.
Parker met his gaze and shoved a hand into his jacket pocket. He pulled out an envelope and handed it to John. “It’s from me and Callie.”
He studied his boy for a moment, then sniffed and opened the flap, pulling out the card.
He stood there, reading it, and damned near fell to pieces right in front of his son.
“You okay, Dad?”
John lifted his gaze and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Reaching for Parker, he clutched him to his chest. “I’m fine, son. Just fine.”
His children had just given him their blessing—sort of. The card bore personal messages, one from Callie and one from Parker, telling him how happy they were that he’d found someone to love again, and that they would love Abby too. Of course, Callie’s was cryptic and non-committal, but the sentiment was there.
Still, it warmed his heart and meant everything.
“I love you, son. Where is that sister of yours.”
“She’s waiting to come down the aisle. We better get inside.”
“All right. Lead the way, best man.”
Parker grinned and opened the door. John stepped inside and took his place in the front of the church, just as he was instructed to do the night before at the rehearsal. Parker stepped up to his side.
It was then he looked up and spanned the church pews. There were more people than he expected. His gaze drifting, he noticed Buck and Kris, and Annie’s younger brother, Noah. Of course, Tom and Sally where there, too, along with their children, Gage and Olivia.
Luke stood on the other side of Parker. He tossed the boy a glance and winked. His heart warmed when Luke grinned back.
And then the music changed.
Callie stepped into the sanctuary and strolled slowly down the aisle. She smiled big at her father as she took her place in front across from him. She looked so darn pretty in her dress. He was certain she was wearing makeup that Abby had helped her apply.
God love Abby.
The music changed again. His gaze returned to the back of the church.
Abby Cooper, his bride, stepped into view and paused, looking back at him. Her father stood beside her.
So beautiful. So happy. Mine.
At that moment, the emotion that chased over him nearly dropped John Rankin to his knees. His eyes never left her face as she moved toward him. His heart hammered with each step she took. He’d truly been given a second chance at love, and he was not about to squander it. How he had gotten so luck, he didn’t know.
His love for Abby was different than the love he’d shared with Annie. Somehow, deep in his soul, he knew that Annie understood and approved. And on another level, Abby understood it too.
He should let go of the breath he was holding before he passed out.
As Abby handed her bouquet off to Callie, leaning in to give the girl a quick kiss on her cheek, everything in the room went silent—at least to his ears.
He heard nothing. No music. No whispering. No wind outside.
Only his galloping heartbeat.
He took her hands into his and held them tight. “You’ve never looked more lovely,” he whispered.
“And you’ve never looked so handsome.” She tipped her head up and smiled.
John had to steady himself. His knees may just buckle yet.
“You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” she murmured.
He tugged her closer. “Not a chance.” Then he turned to the minister. “How fast can you do this?”
The reverend smiled. “We are gathered here together today to unite John Rankin and Abby Cooper in Holy Matrimony….”
Abby’s gaze never left his. John didn’t let go of her hands the entire ceremony—except to place a gold band on her left finger, of course.
The End
****
Read on for the first chapter of CALLIE, Book 2.
CALLIE—Chapter One
Manhattan, New York City
March 2014
“You know I’m proud of you, baby girl, don’t you?”
Callie Rankin smiled and closed her eyes at the familiarity of her father’s words. She looked forward to their weekly calls, the deep draw of his voice pulling her back home again for a little while.
“I know, Daddy. I work hard. You taught me that.” She smiled and pushed back a curtain with one finger, staring out the window of her second-story walk-up. The street below was busy this Sunday morning. She itched to take a walk. The winter had been long and brutal, and this burst of springtime was a welcome change. “I do love my job. There’s talk of a promotion if I play my cards right.”
“You got that strong Rankin work ethic in you, that’s for sure,” he said.
She did. It had served her well in the rodeo days of her youth and continued to be an asset in her career. That work ethic was important to her. “That’s very true, Daddy.” And I owe it all to you.
There was a short pause, and then her father continued, changing the subject. “Sugar sure could use a good run around those barrels.”
“Sugar’s getting a little old for that, Daddy. Me, too.”
The thought of her quarter horse, though, sent a slight spiral of homesickness into her belly. “I do miss her. I would stable her here but that’s impossible and she wouldn’t be happy. Besides, I work a lot of late nights and I don’t know when I would be able to ride her.”
“Your life sure has changed.”
He always said that, as if it was a surprise—like her leaving was just yesterday. Fact was, it was coming up on ten years since she’d left Rock Creek Ranch for college. It was his way of staying she had changed. “I’m still the same ol’ Callie though,” she teased.
He laughed and took in his bellow. “Montana misses you somethin’ awful, baby girl.”
Translation: He missed her something awful. She knew he did. It wasn’t Sugar, or Montana, it was him. “I’ll be home soon, Daddy.”
“When?”
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her planner. She was the only one of her friends who still carried a paper planner and didn’t record everything on her cell. Phone tucked between her chin and shoulder, she sifted through the pages. “Let me see when I can get away. Maybe July or August.”
“It’s been two years, girl. You realize that?”
“What?” Certainly not. “I’m sure it’s been—”
“Nope. Two years since the last Christmas. So, it’s been almost two and a half.”
Oh, dear. She flipped a few more pages. “August. I’ll come in August, Daddy. Promise.” She could almost see his nod.
“August is a good month,” he said. “Your mama’s birthday and all. Maybe we’ll ride up to the family plot.”
Callie’s eyes immediately stung. She reached for the locket around her neck and fiddled with it—a simple gold locket her father had one time given to her mother. Now it was hers. “I’d like that a lot,” she told him, trying not to sniffle.
“Me, too. So, I’m expecting you now, girl. Go
t that? A Rankin doesn’t back down on her word. I can’t wait to see you in August.” He paused and then added. “But if you can come before then, it sure would be good. Got some things to talk about.”
Something prickled in her chest. Oh? “Daddy, is everything okay?”
He snorted. “Sure, it is. Just some business about the ranch I want to go over with you and Parker. You know, one day Rock Creek will be yours.”
She wished he wouldn’t talk like that.
Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was something heavy in her heart, but things were suddenly off. His mood had shifted from happy to talk to you to serious shit on a dime. That prickle morphed into a trigger of worry and curled up under her breastbone. How could she tell him she never intended to run the ranch with Parker? He knew that, deep down, didn’t he?
But her father was a stubborn, Alpha rancher used to getting his way.
He continued. “And you need to be prepared, Callie-girl, for me to convince you to stay.”
“Daddy, you know—”
“I gotta run now. Time for me to get out of the kitchen and into the saddle.”
She glanced at her watch. Seven o’clock in the morning there. Didn’t matter that it was a Sunday. Ranch work never ends. “Okay, Daddy. Give my love to Parker and the others. Abby too. Love you and talk soon.”
“Love you more, baby girl. Love you more.”
He clicked off the phone before she did. With a sigh, she sat by the window and looked down at her planner, now in her lap. She fished a pen out of her bag and wrote the word “Montana” in big block letters across the month of August.
She stared at the word for a moment.
No more skirting it, no excuses. She was going home.
Beneath the word Montana, she made a list:
Schedule vacation
Get airfare
Book rental vehicle
Get head on straight.
****
Yellowstone River Roundup, Montana Fair
Billings, Montana, August 2004
Not a thought ran through Callie’s head as she leaned up on Sugar’s neck to gain speed. Every fiber of her being concentrated on one task—horse and rider moving as one around the cloverleaf. Relieved they’d gotten around the tricky second barrel without error, they sped toward the final one. Callie focused on keeping her hands in position. Pushing back in the saddle and sitting on her pockets, she approached the third turn.
Murphy’s voice burst through her concentration, guiding her. She’d heard his words a million times.
Stay two-handed. Look past the barrel. Find your spot.
Don’t start the turn too early.
Wait. Wait. Keep low.
There you go. Leg even with the barrel. Drop your hand. Saddle horn.
Squeeze with your inside leg. Let Sugar do the rest.
They burst out of the third turn, barrel upright, and her quarter horse raced toward the line. The crowd exploded. Her heart danced in her chest.
Did she beat the best time?
Callie pulled up to a fast stop between the gates and turned her horse into the pen to her right. She looked up at the timer.
Fourteen-point-one-two seconds. Her best time ever.
I might have done it!
One more rider to go and she could win. Her daddy would be so pleased!
Giddy inside, she searched through the faces at the back of the arena. She urged Sugar forward and finally spotted Murphy standing by the back gate. She cantered toward him.
Tall and slender, he leaned his backside against the fence, arms loosely crossed over his chest. Tan from the sun and ranch work, his dark forearms showed below the turned back cuffs of his starched western shirt. His hat sat square on his head and beneath that white brim, his dark gaze was fixed upon her.
He smiled. Callie pulled Sugar up in front of him and grinned back.
“I think you did it,” he drawled.
“I think I might have.”
Unable to contain her excitement any longer, Callie slid from the horse. As soon as her boots hit the dirt, she was moving forward. Fast. Murphy pushed off the fence and they drew together, like magnets.
Her arms went around his neck. “Thank you so much, Murphy. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He swept her into his arms and swung her around. She giggled like a little girl.
When her feet hit the ground again, everything swirled to a sudden stop. The whirlwind of the past thirty seconds or so abruptly halted and Murphy’s gaze—those dark, soul-filled eyes of his—captured hers and held. For that moment, Callie wasn’t the rancher’s daughter anymore and he wasn’t the ranch hand. He wasn’t the guy who pushed her to run harder, take the barrels tighter. Nor was he the person she often confided in when things got tough with her stepmother or siblings. Or when it felt like her daddy was ignoring her.
And she wasn’t just any cowgirl. She was more. Something else was going on. Something awkward and irresistible and unnerving, all at once.
Murphy leaned in and a foreign zing moved up through Callie’s chest, almost taking her breath. Her heart thumped madly.
“Murphy,” she whispered.
But she didn’t get a chance to finish her thought, as his lips descended and brushed hers.
That mere touch lit a spark inside Callie she didn’t know what to do with. She pushed back before the kiss could go any further.
“Murphy, don’t.”
He shook his head, as if to pull himself out of a trance, and his hands dropped to his sides. “Callie, I’m sorry. I….”
“It’s okay.” She turned and grasped Sugar’s reins. “I need to get back—”
Another cheer went up from the crowd. Callie’s gaze shot to the timer. Thirteen-point-nine-six.
Shit.
A couple of hours later, Callie sat in the passenger side of the truck while Murphy drove. They’d left Billings twenty minutes earlier and were on their way back to Rock Creek. Twenty minutes of silence was a long time in the close quarters of the truck cab, but it was time enough for Callie to sit and think about what had almost happened earlier. And they had a lot of empty minutes to fill ahead of them. The tension was thick as butter.
He’d wanted to kiss her.
And she’d nearly let him.
Callie wanted to think it had all come about unexpectedly. That it was an impromptu, impulsive kind of thing on Murphy’s behalf. But she knew it wasn’t. Things had been changing, building between them for a while.
The lingering touches. The flirts. The over the shoulder grins.
Glancing to him, she studied his profile. His jaw was set. He was thinking, too.
She had to cut this off at the pass. “I’m leaving in two weeks, Murphy.”
He stared straight ahead. She watched his lips thin out a little. Then he nodded. “Yep.”
“It’s college. It’s what I need to do.”
“Yep.”
“Is that all you are going to say?”
In one quick motion, Murphy swerved the truck to a pull-off at the side of the road and parked. He turned and looked at her, his left arm draped over the steering wheel. “What do you want me to say, Callie?”
She was a bit taken aback. His stare was intense, and every inch of it made her heart beat a little faster. If she had half a brain, she would rush into his arms again and let him kiss her silly. And if he did—if she let that happen—she knew everything she’d planned for would suddenly change.
Everything.
She would stay. They’d be a couple. And she’d be stuck in Montana, and her miserable little life, for the rest of her days.
“I’m going to college,” she told him. “I’m leaving the ranch.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Callie, I… Please. Let’s talk. I am falling in love—”
He cut off the last words and she was glad.
He was older. Twenty-five years to her eighteen. He was ready to settle down. Get married. Have kids.
She wasn�
��t. Not yet.
Would he wait for her?
No. That was unfair.
The tension in her jaw was almost painful. The intense look in his eyes was even more so. “No, Murphy,” she whispered. “Don’t. You deserve someone who wants what you want—a life here. I’m not that girl. There is nothing to talk about.”
“There’s no one else, Callie….”
The crack in his voice was almost her undoing.
Callie shook her head. Please don’t make this difficult. “No, Murphy. I’m leaving. Two weeks. And I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Or if I’ll be back.
****
Manhattan, June 2014
Callie looked down at the official letterhead stationery of her employer, MediaBurst, and read the offer one more time. Slowly. Drawing in a silent but lengthy breath, she cleared her head and concentrated on the words.
They were offering her a promotion.
Not only a promotion, but also a raise. A big one.
“What do you say, Calandra? Will that figure do?”
Steadying herself and smiling, she looked across the desk to Greg Hammond, the HR manager for MediaBurst. He winked and her stomach turned a little icky—he was always flirting with her and had asked her out to dinner on numerous occasions. The wink was highly inappropriate from someone in his position. She, of course, was not interested in dating anyone in the company.
“I would say,” she replied.
“Do you accept?”
She licked her lips. She hated doing that, it was a habit, especially when she didn’t have her lip balm handy—which was also a habit. But her lips were suddenly parched.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Let me reiterate the terms aloud, so we are both clear.” So, I am clear.
The years ticked off in her head like a time machine moving at a clickety-clop pace. She’d worked for MediaBurst for six years. She had landed the job within days of graduating from college and moving to New York City. Six years ago, social media marketing was a mere blip on the screen. Now, it was her specialty, and she was damned good at keeping up with the trends and advertising specifics, while also studying up on new platforms to use them to her client’s best advantage. She’d worked hard.