by Alison Kent
“I know. And I’m not second-guessing you. I just wish you’d take it slower. You were always in such a rush, even as a girl. Take a deep breath, study all the options, then make a move.”
“I know what I’m doing. This is my business.” She had a plan and a schedule and she couldn’t afford delays.
“Deck knows the ranch and how things work out here. Between the two of you, you’ll nail this, I know.”
She stared at him, fighting not to snap. She’d dealt with clients like him—they wanted improvements, but not if they had to change their business model or approach.
Callie knew she could pull out all the charts and graphs and profit/loss statements in the world, but it wouldn’t change her father’s mind. He needed time to adjust to the paradigm shift. She had to be patient. She wanted to do this right. Soon enough, she’d be back to New York and her life. She sighed.
“I won’t sell anything right away. And I’ll talk with Deck.” Oh, yeah. The minute she could get out of here. “But I’m going ahead with the resort changeover. Are you okay with that?”
“Of course. I gave you full rein.”
“I have a contractor coming out early in the morning. I’d like you to meet him with me.”
“I can’t, I’m afraid. There’s a concert in Tucson, so I’ll stay at Dahlia’s overnight. Deck can be my stand-in.”
“Your stand-in?” This was too much.
“With the two of you working together, what could go wrong?”
Plenty. Everything. Her simmering anger was sending up stinging splashes. “Where is Deck, by the way?”
“Out in the south pasture, I believe. He drove some fencing supplies out to the hands.”
Her father seemed to pick up her tension. “I meant it when I said the place is yours to do what you want. I just don’t want you to disappoint yourself. You always put your heart on the line.”
“I know what I’m doing, Dad.”
Dahlia tapped on the door, then peeked in. “Lunch is on!”
In the kitchen Dahlia poured sienna-colored tea into three mugs. A tray of falafel and a bowl of Greek salad rested on the table.
Callie would drink a little tea to be polite, then take off. The brew smelled bitter, not minty. She held her breath and sipped. The biting liquid shriveled her tongue, just as Deck had described. “This is different,” she said, dumping in more honey.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Dahlia beamed. “It’s hibiscus, rose hips, ginseng and a sprinkle of my little secret.”
“It’s quite…intense.”
“That’s because it’s fresh. You’ll feel clear-headed and vibrant today, I promise.”
“I need that, all right,” she said. Got anything for seething frustration? She couldn’t wait to confront Deck. What if he was trying to sabotage her so he could buy the ranch? Maybe he’d changed, after all. Or maybe she’d overestimated him from the beginning.
“My beauty aides offer the same healing properties for the skin,” Dahlia continued. “They repair free radical damage and rejuvenate cells. It’s the ingredients, of course. My base is jojoba oil. Then I add various natural elements—aloe vera, yucca root, mesquite honeycomb, desert sage….”
As Dahlia rattled on, Callie wanted to scream. Her heart was racing, her scalp felt tight and she’d begun to sweat. Probably all the held-back tension. “I’m sorry, but I really need to talk to Deck. How about we meet about your products tonight?”
“Oh, but we have a concert.” Dahlia sounded stricken.
“Then tomorrow? If you get here early in the morning, you can meet the contractor, Dad. I’d like that.”
“Deck will do right by the Triple C. I won’t interfere. I won’t have time. Dahlia keeps me too busy.”
“Too busy?” Dahlia asked. “Do you feel like I push you?”
“Only when I need it.” He reached for her hand.
“That’s good.” She relaxed. “Drink your tea, darling.”
Very sweet, but it put Callie’s teeth on edge. She barreled outdoors, only to find nothing to drive except the ATV used for spraying ditch banks, a tractor or a horse. She chose Wiley, hoping she wouldn’t give the poor guy a stroke riding full-out.
Wiley managed an easy gallop, and the pleasure of riding him distracted her a little from her anger at Deck, though her heart was doing an odd race-thump she couldn’t attribute to her irritation. What the hell was it?
Soon she could see the truck and the hands working on the fence. She stopped Wiley in the shade of a mesquite, looped the reins over a branch, then started toward the workers.
Deck headed her way, looking curious and concerned. “Is something the matter?” he asked when he was close.
“Yes, something’s the matter.” She ignored her heart’s strange rhythm and focused on what she’d come for. “You undercut me with my father. You said I was wrong about the ranch.”
“He asked me what I thought and I told him,” he said calmly. “I said the same thing to you, Callie. What’s the big deal?”
“Are you after the Triple C? Is that what this is about?”
He paused and something flickered in his eyes.
“So it’s true. You do want the ranch.”
“I considered making your pop an offer, yeah.”
“And you looked into getting a loan.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Abrazo is a small town. Word gets around.”
“It was Loft, wasn’t it? If you believe more than a third of the BS he spews, you’re a fool.”
“He has an equally high opinion of you, Deck. As far as Taylor goes, I appreciate the help of a friend.”
“You think that lazy, conniving asshole would do a thing for you without payback? He’s not your friend, Callie. He wants in your pants.”
Possibly true, but Deck had no basis to say that. “You’re a fine one to talk about being conniving. When exactly were you going to tell me you wanted to buy the ranch?”
“Cal said you were coming out, so that was that. Why bring it up?”
“And it’s just a coincidence, huh? That you were trying to talk him out of the changes I want to make?”
“Look, if the Triple C were mine, I’d tighten the operation and grow organic beef. I wouldn’t pander to bored tourists. But Cal handed the place over to you. If that’s what you’re into, go for it.” He shrugged. “I hope you realize it’s a hell of a lot more work than planning a party.”
“What?” His smug look sent the truth roaring through her. “I get it. You think if you discourage me I’ll give up and you can buy the ranch from Dad.” She was seeing red now, burning with betrayal. “I never would have thought that of you.”
“You think I would plot against you?” he said, low and angry. “You know me better than that, Callie.”
“I don’t know what I know. I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend. You want to build Club Med in the desert, go for it. Your father asked my opinion and I gave it. My conscience is clear.”
He was telling the truth and she knew it. Had known it. Deck would never hurt her or her father. Why was she so outraged? So eager to fight with him?
“What’s going on?” He stared at her. “You’re pissed at me after last night. That’s what this is about.”
“That’s not true,” she said faintly, though she began to wonder. There had been a measure of relief to have a reason to be angry at Deck.
“I am your friend, Callie,” he said again, fire burning in his eyes. “And as your friend I have to warn you about Loft. His dad was an honorable guy who worked hard for the town. I don’t know what went wrong with Taylor. Maybe he expected the sea to part because his dad was chief, and when it didn’t, he decided to cheat. I’ve seen his handiwork. Don’t trust the guy. For your own good.”
There was that smug tone, that I-know-best arrogance that burned her up, even when he was right. “What is it with you and Taylor? Are you jealous of him?”
“Of Loft?”
He snorted. “Frankly, I don’t know what you ever saw in that clown.” He glared at her and she glared right back. He was jealous, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
“I know what I’m doing, Deck,” she said, ignoring the Taylor argument to return to the ranch. “My father seems to think you have all the answers. He insists I include you in the plan.”
“Smart man,” he said.
“Whatever. The contractor will be here early. I’d like you there for any questions I can’t answer.”
“I can do that.” He paused. “Listen, at least check the builder out. Talk to other clients besides Loft.” He raised his hands. “Sorry. Like you keep saying, you know what you’re doing.”
“And if I want your input, I’ll ask for it.” Now she seemed to be trying to out-asshole him.
“You’re the boss.” He ran a finger along the brim of his hat in a mock salute, just this side of sarcastic.
“And please refrain from going behind my back to talk to my father.”
“Your father knows his own mind. Take a deep breath here. I’m on your side. I just happen to disagree with you.”
“Then we understand each other.”
She would check out Garrett Templeton because it was sensible, not because Deck told her to do it. He made her so damn defensive.
He had a point about her anger, though. The aftermath of sex at the springs still bothered her. She’d been irritated by his casual response, alarmed by how much it had meant to her.
Okay, so he was right about that. He was wrong about the resort and if he couldn’t help her, then he’d better stay out of her way.
CALLIE LIKED Garrett Templeton right away. His bid was reasonable, he had money-saving ideas, and he seemed enthusiastic about the project. Deck showed up as requested, but said little and disappeared the minute Garrett left. The tension between them had been palpable.
After Garrett left, Callie put in calls to two of his previous clients, talked with Stefan and read her e-mail. Looking for travel writers she might pitch a story to, she learned that the National Travel Writers Association would be holding a conference in Phoenix in late April. Groups like that often booked nearby excursions for before and after the meeting.
Rancho de Descanso could be ready by then, even adding time to Garrett’s optimistic estimates. On the Web site, she found the name and number of the conference chair. A half hour later, her infectious enthusiasm and rock-bottom bid earned her a tentative yes. What a coup. She would save thousands in advertising dollars, plus good reviews from travel writers meant credibility she couldn’t buy.
Good, good, good. Callie was working her magic. Things were beginning to click. To top off the morning’s good news, Finn Markham from Valhalla e-mailed that he’d be out in two weeks to see the ranch.
Buoyed by her success, she decided to hit Ernie’s for some healthy snacks to keep her from succumbing too often to Cooky’s deadly caramel-cinnamon rolls. She swung by the kitchen to see if she could pick up groceries for him. He seemed so happy to see her, she dreaded telling him he’d no longer be ranch chef.
Cooky’s list in hand, she climbed into the ranch’s oldest pickup to head for town. She was flying down the dirt road halfway to the highway when the truck abruptly quit on her.
She tried the starter twice. Nothing. Slamming the steering wheel with her palm, she swore a blue streak, then got out to check under the hood, which was a pointless exercise.
Unless the truck needed water or oil, she didn’t have a clue what to do. It was two miles to the highway, where she could hitch a ride to town, except then she’d need a ride back with a load of groceries. Her only choice was to walk back to the ranch and snag another vehicle. She hoped that more than the ATV and Wiley remained.
Looking up the endless dirt road, she wanted to scream in frustration. The pace out here was maddening. No one seemed to mind delays or distractions or side trips. Even Garrett had sounded pretty laid back. She hoped that wouldn’t mean he couldn’t meet her deadline. She would be so glad to get back to New York, where things moved fast—a speed she preferred.
She trudged down the road, wishing she had something to occupy her mind—a book, a magazine. She could think through some marketing ideas, but she brainstormed better at a keyboard.
She hated being stuck with her own thoughts.
As she walked, she couldn’t help but notice how pleasant it was out here. The sun felt just warm enough. A light breeze lifted her hair and brought the smell of the river to her. Nice. The hills were a pretty blue in the distance. The sky was bright blue with cotton-ball clouds.
Enjoy the moment, she told herself. Be here now. That was a common theme in meditation, therapy and stress management, though she’d never had much luck with any of them.
She looked back to check how far she’d traveled. The truck sat on the road barely two football fields away. Damn, damn, damn. She’d lose the whole day this way. She turned back and began to race-walk. Might as well get a workout.
A few yards farther and she heard a vehicle approaching. This was good. This could save her. It was a Jeep. As it neared, she recognized Deck behind the wheel. This could be uncomfortable, but she held out her thumb anyway.
Deck grinned through the windshield.
She smiled back, the friction gone for the moment, and walked up to his window.
“I didn’t think to warn you about that truck,” he said. “The alternator’s about shot. I’m heading into town for lunch. Can I give you a lift?”
“I’d slow you down. I have to grab groceries.”
“I got time.” Like everyone else out here, Deck didn’t seem to mind a delay.
She climbed in, aware of how close they were. The silence soon became unbearable. They both spoke at once.
“Deck, I—”
“Listen—”
They laughed together, the sound almost musical.
“You start,” he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“I want to apologize to you. I know you wouldn’t plot against me. I…I don’t know—I was upset.”
“You know me better than that.”
“Years have passed. You might have changed.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t even change my Stetson. I’m the same guy you knew back then.”
“Yeah,” she said. “You are.”
“And I still care about you, Callie.” His words reassured her, warmed her. Then he wrecked it. “That’s why I don’t want to see you do something foolish.”
“That’s exactly the kind of patronizing remark that pisses me off.”
He started laughing.
“You think it’s funny pissing me off.”
“I think it’s funny that whenever I talk to you I turn into an arrogant jackass.”
“For God’s sake, quit it!” She laughed, relieved to feel the taut string between them sag and swing in the warm air. “And you were right. I guess after last night, I felt upset.” Her face burned. “I swear I’m not really such a bristly bitch.”
“So, how about a truce?” He held out his hand and she took it, liking the strength in his grip.
The silence was easy now, as if they’d opened a window in a stuffy room and were at last inhaling fresh, clean air.
“I guess I’d better confess, too,” Deck said when they were nearly to town, his smile mischievous, his expression mock sheepish. “Maybe I am a little jealous of that jerk.”
She laughed. “Tell me something I don’t know.” Then she got serious. “I know this job is bigger than event planning, Deck. I’ve done my homework, but I could be over my head.”
“No chance in hell. When you set your mind to something, you’re a sight to see.”
“Thanks.” She wanted to hug him with gratitude. His faith in her meant a lot.
“So, what did you think of Garrett Templeton?” she asked.
He paused, as if not certain how to answer.
“Be honest. I swear I won’t bite your head off and feed it to my young.”<
br />
He chuckled. “Okay. He promised a lot. But builders always do that. Add twenty percent to the time and costs he estimated.”
“Of course. I’m going to talk to some clients. If the reports are good, I’m going with him. He can start right away.”
“The job’s pretty straightforward.”
“Maybe he’ll come in early and under budget.”
“You know the chance of that.” Then he seemed to catch himself. “Sorry. Let’s let the glass be half-full for once.”
“Thanks,” she said, relieved at his attitude.
Deck parked at a meter between the diner and the market. “Lunch at Ruby’s, then groceries?”
“Sure.” She touched his arm as he was getting out. “I am counting on you, Deck. I value your advice.”
“Whatever you need, Callie. I’m there.”
For the first time, she felt as though the burden wasn’t solely hers. She had Deck on her side. As long as she kept her needs strictly professional, they would be just fine.
7
THEY’D BARELY STEPPED into the diner when a man called Deck’s name. He wore a police uniform and sat across from a young woman. They both grinned up at Deck.
“What have we here?” Deck said. “The brains of the Abrazo police force are off duty? The town’s in trouble.” He turned to Callie. “Callie Cummings, this is Officer Tad Renner and Ms. Suze Holcomb, secretary to the chief and general in-the-know person.”
They greeted each other, then Deck spoke. “You liking your new digs, Suze?”
“Way too fancy.” She shook her head.
“Suze…” Officer Renner warned.
“Don’t shush me, Tad. Only the best for Chief Loft.” She rolled her eyes.
Renner frowned at her, then spoke to Deck. “Thanks again for your help on that bust.”
“You did the job. I’m just one nosy citizen. For that matter, the Smiths started it by complaining about cars all hours of the night down their road.” He turned to Callie. “Some low-lifes plonked a trailer out west of town and started making meth.”
“The Smiths were no help. They complain if coyotes howl,” Suze said. “You saw the guy had a truck bed full of antifreeze. How did you even know that was an ingredient?”