by Alison Kent
“The chamber had a presentation about signs of a meth lab.” He shrugged.
“And then Tad took over,” Suze said to Callie. “Staked it out on his own.”
“Suze…I was doing my job.”
“You get no support, Tad, and you know it.” She looked at Callie. “So Tad watched the place and arrested them.” She beamed at Renner, who colored. They were obviously a couple.
“No big deal,” he said. “I woke ’em up at 3:00 a.m. They were too groggy to argue with me.”
“It was good work,” Deck said. “And congratulations on your promotion.” He patted Renner’s shoulder. “Nice to see you both. I’ll be over to check out the new john, Suze.”
“Be careful. The gleam off the gold faucets could blind you.”
“Suze,” Tad warned, but his tone was affectionate.
When she and Deck had moved away, she murmured, “So those two are together, right?”
He put a finger to his lips. “Regulations say no fraternizing on the job. Tad’s serious about the rules.”
“Yeah, but in a small town? There aren’t that many eligible single people.”
“Rules are rules to Tad. He was trouble in high school but turned it around. He’s loyal to Loft for giving him a job right out of the academy.”
“See, that’s one good thing Taylor did.”
But Deck’s attention was drawn by someone calling his name. She recognized Mayor Dickson in the booth. He was about to dig into one of the overloaded burgers Ruby was famous for.
“Hey, Mayor,” Deck said.
“Deck.” He nodded gravely. “And Callie. Good to see you back. Your dad says you’re building a five-star resort out there. Our visitors’ bureau thanks you. Not that we have one, but if we did it would sure be grateful.”
“I’m happy to do my part,” she said, hoping her success would benefit the town.
“Tax revenue must be damn good,” Deck said. “With the police station getting that facelift.”
“Taylor got a line on some funding.” The mayor shrugged, then honed in on Deck. “You think any more about what I said?”
“It’s not for me,” Deck said.
“Sure it is. The mayor’s job is mostly networking and buttonholing. Some grant-writing and listening to folks bitch, but you hear lots of that with the chamber and the commission.”
“That’s plenty for me.”
“Why not get official credit for what you’re already doing for free? Tell him he’d make a great mayor, Callie. I want to retire, sell the drugstore, enjoy my grandkids more.”
She turned to Deck. “You’d be a great mayor, Deck,” she said playfully, pleased to see she’d annoyed him. “You should do it.”
“See you later, Mayor.” Deck took Callie by the arm and pulled her toward an empty booth. “Thanks a lot for encouraging the man.”
“What? I was just doing my civic duty.” She batted her eyes innocently as she slid into the booth. “Abrazo needs great leaders.”
“You’re relentless, you know that?” Deck was about to join her when a woman grabbed him by a belt loop. “Hey, you, not so fast.” Callie recognized Anita Hall, who’d been a rebel in high school, oblivious to any criticism of her wild ways.
“Hey, Callie,” Anita said. They hadn’t moved in the same circles, but they’d been on good terms. “How’s New York?”
“Great. You took over the real estate office, right? Lester retired?” Anita had been an agent in Tucson. She’d returned to Abrazo after divorcing her husband, who’d been something of a rat, Callie had heard.
“Yep. I’m a broker now. Building the business.” She turned to Deck, giving him a once-over that told Callie a lot. “I need you to check out this horse I’m boarding at the Circle U.”
“Give me a call anytime.”
“I’ll do that,” she said. “One of these days.”
As soon as Deck sat, Callie said, “You slept with her!”
“Excuse me?” He went pink.
“Don’t deny it. You’re blushing.”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“I remember,” she said. Deck had stayed quiet about their time together, too, though they’d never talked about it. It was as if it hadn’t been quite real for either of them.
She realized they were staring at each other. “So! Anita,” she said to change focus. “She’s pretty. Kept her figure.”
“She’s a good person. Escaped a bad marriage.”
“Taylor did, too. Maybe they should hook up.”
“Please.”
“Now, now. He gave Tad the promotion he deserved, remember?”
“Even a snake knows a good hire when he sees one.”
She slapped him with the menu.
“Relax. I said he was a snake, not a viper.”
“God!” She was pleased with their new camaraderie. “And why don’t you run for mayor? I’ve seen you here twice, and people practically throw you a ticker-tape parade when you walk in the door.”
“I do what I do because I want to, not because it’s a job.” Deck grabbed the menu and pretended to study it. “The crab fritters are still great,” he said, not looking at her.
“I know. I always have them when I—” She stopped, realizing what he meant. He looked straight at her over the menu.
“Oh,” she said. “That. Yeah.” She had had trouble eating back then and Deck had brought home a takeout order of Ruby’s crab fritters and fed them to her, bite by bite, filling her stomach for the first time in days.
They locked gazes, their minds raking through the past, pictures flying, memories racing by.
“What’ll you have?”
Still looking at each other they both said, “Crab fritters,” then laughed softly.
The moment seemed too bittersweet, so Callie broke off the gaze and reached into her purse for her to-do list. “So, Deck, I want your opinion.”
“You want my opinion?”
“Only if you can give it without going jackass on me.”
“You ask a lot. I’ll do my best.”
“I want to keep the Old West feel to some degree. I can get a good price on some Conestoga wagons from a theater company, so people can sleep in them like the pioneers did.”
He gave her a sideways look. “You’re serious?”
“A ranch in Colorado says it’s very popular with guests.”
“We already do overnight pack trips. You’d have storage and maintenance. Canvas rots, remember?”
She pondered that. “Good point.” She crossed out that item.
“You’re taking notes?”
“Always.”
“Then cross off Wild West shows, too. Your dad hired an acting troupe to do shootouts one season. The noise made the little kids cry.”
She laughed and pretended to write. “No…shootouts. Good. Any classes will be self-sustaining. We have to watch costs.”
“What kind of classes?”
“Bird-watching, weaving, maybe photography. We’ll offer special-event packages. Valentine’s Day lovers’ getaway, Fourth of July fireworks. For Halloween, we’ll call it Ghost Ranch and do a murder mystery.”
“Oookay.” His eyebrows were wiggling again.
“Don’t you dare laugh.” She pointed a finger at him. “I know what I’m doing on this. I’m boosting our wine cellar and we’ll do sunset trail ride wine tastings.”
He opened his mouth, then seemed to stop himself. “I get it. Sophisticated guests with sophisticated palates.”
“You’re catching on.”
“By the way, Trinity Church is changing its community hall. You could score padded folding chairs for next to nothing for songfests on the patio.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Gently. That okay?”
“This once.” She smiled.
“If you’re looking for a decorator, talk to Caroline Bestway. New owner of the gift shop. She did the Dicksons’ house. Bank manager’s, too. Saved them tons. She makes the
curtains herself.”
“Really? She makes curtains?”
“Don’t sneer. She had her own interior design business in Chicago before her husband got the ranching bug.”
“I’ll stop in to see her. Thanks. I’ve got to save where I can, since I can’t salvage the adobes.”
“Why not? They’re historic.”
“And they smell like dirt and crumble like crazy. Rosita says they’re hell to clean.”
“You need to keep Rosita happy, that’s for sure.”
“Luckily, she’s willing to supervise more staff. I want to keep as many employees as possible.” She remembered her biggest employee problem. “Do you have advice on how to break it to Cooky that I’m hiring a gourmet chef?”
“Why would you do that? Cooky’s great.”
“At what he does, sure. He can stay on as sous chef and baker, but I need a fancier menu than steaks and cowboy beans.”
“Cooky thinks you love his food.”
“I do. It’s not that.” She paused. “He’ll be devastated, huh?”
Deck nodded. “So tell him what you want and let him try to make it.”
“You see him handling braised elk osso bucco with Madeira mushrooms? Really?”
“A good cook is a good cook. He’s been written up for his mesquite-grilled steaks and jalapeño blue-corn bread, you know.”
“This has to be spectacular.”
“You owe him an audition.”
“You’re right. I’ll talk to him.” She took a breath and smiled at him. “Thanks. You were helpful without being—”
“An asshole?”
She nodded. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m glad we’re friends.” Deck put his hand over hers.
“Me, too,” she said, not happy about the more-than-friendly feelings that thrummed through her body at his touch.
She returned to the ranch in time to hear from both of Garrett’s clients. They had good reports, so she offered Templeton Construction the job. Work would begin Monday.
Checking off those items on her list, she smiled. Things were moving. She was making progress. When you set your mind to something, you’re a sight to see. Deck’s words hung in her head. Deck hung in her head, too, for better or worse.
Glancing out her bedroom window, she saw the sun had begun to drop. Nothing beat the startling brilliance of a desert sunset. She headed out to the porch for the full effect.
She nodded at the couple on the bench swing drinking beer and shelling the roasted peanuts provided free to guests, then slipped into a creaky pine rocking chair at the far end of the porch.
She rocked slowly, noticing the curve of the seat smoothed by so many people over the years, letting the breeze stir her hair. She felt good here, she had to admit.
But then who wouldn’t love winter in Arizona?
Except she’d never minded summer, either. The heat felt right, like a hot pad to sore muscles.
This was just a working vacation, really, which explained the pleasure. She’d be glad to get back to her life, be done with all the memories and hassles.
She breathed deeply, closed her eyes, relieved to notice the bees in her brain had ceased buzzing. She felt present. Content. She heard a murmur, a whinny, then footfalls.
She looked toward the corral, where Deck was swinging onto Brandy. He galloped the horse around the corral, leaning over to talk to the animal, a hand on her withers.
Callie pictured that hand on her body and shivered. Before she knew it, she was at the fence, her chin on her forearms.
Rounding a turn, Deck saw her. “Callie.” In the failing light, his teeth gleamed white in his huge smile.
She grinned back. “You’re working overtime.”
“There’s no time clock on a ranch.”
“True. Looks like you’ve got Brandy eating out of your hand.”
“She loves to run, so I let her have her head.” The horse tossed her mane, high stepping around the corral.
“She looks fun to ride.”
“Want to give her a try?” He climbed off the horse and brought her close to the fence where Callie stood.
“I’m out of practice.” She would love a spirited horse beneath her, a lovely sunset ahead, Deck at her side.
“You two will get along fine. You’re both full of heart.” He held out his hand and she let him help her over the fence.
“I remember those jeans,” he said, checking her out.
“Just my old Wranglers.”
“I happen to know the right back pocket has a tiny hole and the left is missing a rivet.”
She craned to look. Deck put his finger first on the small hole, then on the pocket. His touch went straight through her.
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
“Not about you, no.”
She’d never missed much about him, either, back then. The way he cupped her face before he kissed her, how silky his hair felt, that tiny scar on his chin, the way he listened to her, head cocked, as if her words meant everything to him.
They stood too close together and Deck leaned down, close, closer, his breath rasping, ready to kiss her.
She tilted her face, closer still, ready to kiss him back.
Brandy bumped them apart with her nose.
“Smart horse,” Deck said.
“I guess.” Why tempt each other? That was childish. Their new rapport was too important to risk. They both knew better.
“You need help up?” he asked.
“Not with sensible jeans on,” Callie said, taking the reins, running her hand down Brandy’s neck. “Hey, girl. You okay with me on top? Can I climb up? Go for a ride. Hmmm…?”
Oh, yeah, Deck thought. On top is great. Or on the bottom. Sideways. Ride me any way you like. Every word out of Callie’s mouth got him hot and hard. If she’d described scrubbing grout, he’d be ready to slam her against a wall. He’d almost kissed her, for God’s sake. So stupid. Sex would knot the loose rope that held them together as easy partners at the moment.
She would have responded. He knew that. If he’d hauled her into his arms, she’d have gone as far as he wanted to go. She would be content with just sex, he was certain. For him, there was no “just” about sex with Callie. Not any more. Maybe not ever.
Callie swung herself gracefully onto the saddle. Brandy shimmied sideways and lowered her head, threatening to rear.
“Whoa, girl,” Deck said, reaching for the hackamore.
“We’re fine,” Callie said, locking her knees onto the horse’s body, giving a quick, hard tug to the rein, showing Brandy she wouldn’t put up with any nonsense.
Brandy snorted, chewed the bit and tossed her head, then shook herself and settled, responding to Callie’s handling. Callie was a natural and a great match for Brandy.
When he was certain she was ready, he opened the gate, then mounted Ranger and caught up with horse and rider.
“I forgot how fun this was,” she said, her color high, her smile so big it lit her eyes, which gleamed in the dusk light.
Maybe she’ll stay. The idea floated up from his belly like a bubble of hope.
“Too bad I got all caught up in being cool and stopped riding.” She shook her head, puzzled at herself.
Lucky died and broke your heart. But he knew better than to say that. She would bristle. He grinned at his newfound wisdom.
“What’s so funny?” she asked warily.
“Nothing, just, let’s see….” He looked at his watch. “It’s been four hours since I last made a jerk of myself.”
She smiled, then hesitated. “You don’t have to walk on eggshells, Deck. We cleared the air. You can be honest.”
Forget New York and come home. Stay here where you belong.
“Within reason,” she added. “No telling me my butt looks big in these jeans or anything.”
“Your butt looks great in those jeans. In the tight ones, too. Hell, in a burlap sack. You have a great ass.”
“Now that’s my
kind of honesty.” She laughed and he joined her, the sound rising in the dusk, making his heart float up to join that bubble of hope that she would stay.
They rode fast for a few minutes, side by side, glancing at each other. Callie looked thrilled. He nodded toward the shortcut to the creek, allowing her enough time to slow Brandy and guide her onto the winding trail.
Brandy led the way along the stony path and before long they’d reached the creek. The horses drank and he watched Callie survey the horizon, where the descending sun tossed color to the sky. She was so pretty against the sunset palette. Feminine and strong, tall in the saddle. The breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders and he was glad she hadn’t worn a hat so he could see her entire face.
“This feels so nice,” she said, lifting her face to the sky.
“It’s been a mild winter.” He was afraid he’d start carrying on about how pretty she looked.
“But I never minded the heat.”
“That’s because you’re a true Arizona girl.”
“My mom said the desert made all its inhabitants tough as nails—plants, animals, people.”
“She was right, your mom.”
She smiled, looking out at the horizon. “You don’t get sunsets like this in the East. Of course, when you see this every night, you probably take it for granted.”
“I try not to. In fact, I’ve painted this scene more than once. Can’t always do it justice.”
“So you’re still painting?” She turned to him as if startled by the idea. “You were so shy about your art back then. I only saw the canvases because we spent time in your trailer.”
“I still use it as my studio. I hauled it over here.”
“Really?”
He remembered holding her on the cot, the air smelling of linseed oil, paint streaking their bodies from where they’d brushed against the countertop.
“I can’t believe you didn’t mention this when you told me how you spend your time. Do you show your work anywhere?”
He laughed. “I paint for myself, Callie.” Art didn’t have to be on display to have value.
“I’d like to see your paintings.” She turned in her saddle to look at him directly, leveling her gaze, unrelenting.
“One of these days, sure.”