Tears welled in Callie’s eyes. Her situation seemed so hopeless. She loved Tagg with all of her heart, but he still saw her as the enemy. She would always be the daughter of his fiercest competitor. “Dad, you don’t have any plans to retire, do you?” Was it silly of her to hope?
He looked a little baffled and shook his head. “Not a chance. Who would I leave my legacy to? You don’t want it.”
Oh, God.
Life just kept on getting more and more complicated.
Eight
Tagg walked through the door late that afternoon and Callie’s heart beat a little faster when their eyes met. She left the paint chips and fabric samples she’d been carefully studying on the kitchen counter and walked over to greet him.
“How was your trip?”
Tagg pushed back his black felt hat and smiled. “It went well. I’m happy to be home, though.”
“You are?”
“Yeah.” He seemed a little surprised by his admission. “I guess I just realized that, the second I walked through the door.” He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek—a regular, honey-I’m-home kind of kiss that brought Callie immense joy.
“I’m happy to have you home. Are you hungry?”
He shook his head. “No, but I could use a drink.”
“Soft or hard?”
“Definitely hard.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
Tagg followed her into the kitchen and tossed his hat on a chair. She moved efficiently, grabbing a tumbler from the cabinet and going into the parlor to retrieve the liquor. While she was gone, Tagg had moved to the granite island where she had samples all spread out. She poured his drink.
“What’s all this?” He stared at the items on the counter.
Callie handed him the glass and stood beside him. “Don’t think I’m silly, but I’ve been thinking about decorating the nursery. Colors and patterns have sort of been popping into my mind. So, on my way home from town today, I picked up some samples.”
He studied the pastel paint chips and glanced over half a dozen squares of fabric she’d laid out. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“It’s a little early. But I’m kind of excited.”
Tagg glanced at her stomach and his brows rose. He noticed the little bump expanding under her navel. Her jeans were fitting much tighter, so she’d put on a pair of black spandex that actually revealed her newly plump belly even more. “Maybe not too early.”
Was there a hint of excitement in his voice? He came up behind her. His breath caressed her throat. And to her surprise his hand cupped her belly, ever so gently. She closed her eyes.
“Do you feel anything yet?” he asked.
“Only that my jeans aren’t fitting right. The baby,” Callie began, and for the very first time, she really felt pregnant with the reality of that little bump taking hold, “the baby is popping me out of my jeans.”
Tagg stroked her stomach and she prayed he wouldn’t disappoint her, wouldn’t say something to spoil the moment. “I’ve only been gone overnight, but I can see the difference.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“Not strange, Callie. Natural. And fitting.”
Callie placed her hand over his and they stood there together, quietly enjoying the moment.
She spoke softly. “I missed you, Tagg.”
He kissed her neck and pressed her closer to him, her back resting against his chest. “It was nice coming home to you, Callie.”
Callie’s lips trembled. She’d never thought she’d hear those words from Tagg. It wasn’t an admission of love but was wonderful to hear nonetheless.
“Why’d you go into town?” he asked, breaking their embrace to sip his drink.
Callie stepped to the side of the counter, the pastel paint chips catching her eye. Lie, a little voice in her head begged. Lie and don’t bring up The Hawk’s name. But as she peered into Tagg’s gorgeous eyes, she couldn’t do it. She owed him and their relationship the truth. “I met my father for lunch.”
Tagg took another sip of his drink and digested the information. He nodded and then dropped the subject. “So what color do you like?” He pointed with his index finger at the options on the counter.
“Oh, uh…I don’t know. I think sage green is nice for a boy. But then, I’m a sucker for pink, if it’s a girl.”
Tagg picked up the cotton-candy-pink paint chip. “That would be a first in a Worth household.”
“Awful?”
“Just different. I grew up in a house full of men. We didn’t do pink.”
Callie laughed, relieved that Tagg didn’t get bent out of shape at the mention of her father’s name. “I guess I jumped the gun. Can’t really decorate the room until we know if the baby is a boy or a girl.”
Tagg gazed at her stomach again. “When will we know?”
She shrugged. “In a month or two, I think.”
“Well, in that case, maybe we should put our efforts into Penny’s Song. I’m going to put on a little rodeo for the children when they arrive. You know, show them some roping and riding.”
Callie liked that idea. “I was a pretty good barrel racer. Though I never did it for the rodeo, I can find my way around those barrels again.”
Tagg shook his head. “No, Callie. I’d rather you not. It’s too dangerous.”
“Tagg, I’d only go through the motions. There’s nothing dangerous about that. I’d set up the barrels and show them the ins and outs.” She grinned at her little pun.
“You think you’re funny.” Tagg sighed and scratched his head, then gazed into her eyes. “Okay.”
Callie felt she was winning small battles in her quest to gain Tagg’s trust. After feeling her situation was hopeless this morning while speaking with her father, Tagg’s change in attitude when he’d come home today had given her an inkling of hope. If she could build on that, then they’d have a fighting chance.
Brutal memories flooded his mind as Tagg tossed and turned in bed, his heart pounding, his body trembling. During the day, Tagg’s head was crammed with enough Worth business to keep from remembering Heather’s death. But nighttime was different. Often, the stilling silence while lying in the dark caught him off guard. Tonight was one of those nights when he couldn’t push away those punishing guilt-ridden thoughts.
Tagg strode through the front door of the main house, eager to see Heather. He needed to hold his wife in his arms, to feel her golden-wheat hair slide between his fingers, to see the look of love in her eyes when they finally came face-to-face.
She was his solace. She was his peace. She made his life complete.
Tagg had never loved this way before. He’d taken one look at her and known the Rodeo Queen was going to be his.
He found her in the parlor. Sitting beside a man, their heads intimately close, their bodies nearly brushing. Tagg’s smile vanished and he pursed his lips. He’d never seen this man before—a man who obviously knew Heather all too well.
He stopped short of entering the room, leaning against the door frame. “Heather?” She closed her eyes briefly and when she finally opened them to peer at him, a look of guilt crossed her features. She averted her gaze.
The man stood and crossed the room, offering his hand. “I’m Pierce Donnelly.”
Warily, Tagg shook his hand. “Taggart Worth.”
“I was just on my way out.”
Tagg gripped the man’s arm as he tried to brush by him. “Who are you?”
Heather rose from the sofa. “Let him go, Tagg. I’ll explain everything.”
Tagg released him and watched him walk out the door, then turned to his wife. Heather confessed to him that Pierce was her first husband. A boy from her past whom she’d married right out of high school. They’d been together for two months before they’d had the marriage annulled. Teary-eyed, Heather explained to Tagg that she’d been keeping up correspondence with him, sending him money when he needed it and that she’d never wanted anyone to know she’d been married before.
Stunned by the news, Tagg cursed vehemently as he tried to comprehend why she’d kept this secret from him. He accused her of purposely betraying and deceiving him even as Heather denied it, crying her eyes out. Furious with her, he wouldn’t listen to her explanations. He didn’t care that she’d known Pierce from childhood and that he had a drinking problem and needed professional help. He didn’t care that Heather didn’t want to abandon Pierce fully and that he’d relied on her friendship. All Tagg cared about was that his perfect wife had intentionally lied to him over and over, shattering his image of her, of them.
She tried once more, “I was going to tell you…”
Tagg turned his back on her, refusing to look at her, refusing to accept her countless apologies. “You should have, Heather. You should have trusted me.”
“I know, Tagg, I know. What can I do to make it up to you?”
He turned to her and shook his head. “I don’t know.” He was angrier with her than he’d ever been in his life. And hurt as hell. “I can’t think straight right now. I need to get out of here for a few days to cool off. I’ll go somewhere. I don’t know…maybe to Jackson’s place in Phoenix.”
She put her hand on his arm, her teary eyes filled with sincerity. “No, Tagg. You shouldn’t have to leave your home. I’ll go. It’ll give us some breathing room. I owe my mother a visit. I’ll leave tonight for Denver and we’ll talk when I get back. I promise I’ll make this right.” Tears spilling down her cheeks, her voice broke with deep emotion. “I love you so very much.”
Tagg nodded, unable to manage even a halfhearted smile. He didn’t say the words she wanted to hear. He didn’t ask her to stay. He let his pride rule his heart.
Later that night, a firm knock resounded on Tagg’s door. The shocking news was a blow that nearly destroyed him. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Worth, but you’re wife was killed in a plane crash.”
Tagg broke out in a sweat, his body shaking uncontrollably. This memory was too vivid, too real. He’d seen everything in color this time. His chest constricted and he had trouble catching his breath. He bolted up from his prone position on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to free his mind of the haunting memories and the mistakes he’d made with Heather.
Moonlight streamed into the bedroom and illuminated the woman lying next to him in bed. His new wife. Callie. She stirred restlessly, and Tagg didn’t want to risk waking her.
Without a sound, he rose from the bed, testing his legs for stability. He was still shaky when he walked out the door and headed to the corral.
Princess lifted her head when he approached. She was the feistiest of his mares, the one who was always alert, always on guard. Trick, the filly, Russet and Starlight slept on the ground, the mares preferring the summer nights outside to the stable.
It was okay that Princess didn’t approach him. He didn’t want to disturb her. He didn’t want to disturb anything. The open range and the vast starlit sky eased his mind, granting him a minuscule amount of peace. He stared out, grateful for the ranch and the plentiful land that had been in his family for generations.
He’d built his house on the very spot where Elizabeth and Chance Worth once lived, more than one hundred years ago. He envisioned them here, starting up the ranch, struggling with drought, disease and rustlers, yet forging on despite their obstacles—their deep love and devotion getting them through dark days. They’d known their share of adversity and he wondered if the land, the Red Ridge Mountains and the infinite sky had brought them the same sense of comfort.
“Tagg?” Callie’s sweet voice broke into his thoughts.
He turned and saw her step off the porch clad in a white nightgown that barely reached her knees. Her thick, dark hair framed her face, the curls bouncing against her chest as she moved toward him, guided only by the light of the moon.
Maybe it was the moment, or the mood he was in, but Callie’s presence as she came to stand before him filled an empty hole inside him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
A curly lock of hair had fallen forward onto her cheek and he reached for it, gently tucking it behind her ear. He traced his finger along the side of her face and down to lift her chin up and look into her pretty caramel eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You couldn’t sleep again?” Her voice held concern. “And you came outside for the mares to lend you comfort?”
He smiled. “Something like that. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“I was worried.”
He took her hand in his, skimming over her fingers gently. “I appreciate it, Callie.”
Her voice was a soft whisper as she squeezed his hand. “I’m here for you. What can I do to help?”
He leaned closer and brushed a tender kiss to her lips, his mouth lingering near hers. “That’ll help some.”
“I’m glad.”
They stood there for a few silent moments, gazing out at the night sky. When a chilly breeze made Callie shiver, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and walked her toward the house. “Let’s go back to bed.”
They entered the house quietly and climbed back into Tagg’s big bed. He curled his arm around Callie and spooned her until she fell asleep. The weight of his burden had been lifted tonight. He grasped at the tranquility he felt and closed his eyes, finally free of the bad memories darkness usually brought him.
Tonight, Tagg forgot who Callie’s father was.
Tonight, Tagg fell a little bit in love with his wife.
To his amazement, the notion didn’t frighten him as much as it once would have.
Two days later, Tagg slammed the drawer in his office with enough force to rival an Arizona monsoon. The vibration shook the desk and echoed off his office walls. His coffee cup rebelled from the force and splashed liquid all over his files before dripping onto the hardwood floor in a muddy mess. He found no satisfaction in almost breaking the drawer. He slammed it again for good measure. Once again, the desk shook.
“Sonofabitch!” He spit out every other expletive he knew. Neither the slamming nor the cursing made him feel any better. He stared at the screen on his computer in disbelief and shook his head as he reread the email he’d received this morning from PricePoint Foods in Tucson. “I don’t get it.”
He’d practically had that contract wrapped up with a pretty baby-blue ribbon. And they didn’t have the balls to call him with their decision. Instead, they sent him an email. “PricePoint is sorry not to be doing business with Worth Enterprises this time around. As a courtesy, a representative from our company will be in touch with you shortly.”
“I won’t hold my breath.” But Tagg would. He had to get to the bottom of this. It had to be Sullivan’s doing. Big Hawk Ranch was the only other Arizona company large enough to accommodate such a lucrative contract. Their ranches were almost equal in size, steer for steer and acre for acre.
“Damn you, Sullivan.”
Someone knocked on his door and before Tagg had time to react, the door opened and Clay stepped inside. He took one look at Tagg, removed his tan felt hat and sat down. “Morning, brother. What is it? What’s put that piss-poor look on your face?”
Tagg reigned in his anger. He looked at the computer screen one more time then cast his older brother a baffled look. “Big Hawk Ranch beat us out of another deal.”
“That so?”
Tagg rubbed his forehead and let go a heavy sigh. He had to deal with this rationally. “Yeah. What I can’t figure is, I’m giving them the best market price I can. Any lower and we’d be losing money. I’ve worked on this for weeks, had our legal department look it over and flew to Tucson the other day to try to seal the deal.”
“Are you sure it was Sullivan?”
Tagg nodded. “The contracts are supposed to be confidential, but PricePoint execs drop cow-dung-size hints. It’s better for them to have their competitors in a price war. So, yeah, I know for a fact it’s Sullivan.”
“Not much you can do about it, is there?”
Tagg winced. Sullivan had beaten him twice at his own game and Tagg didn’t like losing to Callie’s father. He’d simply have to get him next time around. Not that Worth Ranch would go under without these contracts; they had their regulars who were loyal to the Worth name and reputation. It was a matter of pride and bragging rights now.
“How are things going otherwise?” Clay leaned back in the leather seat and crossed his booted ankle over his knee.
Clay was asking about Tagg’s marriage in a roundabout way. He didn’t usually talk about his private life to anyone, but he’d cut his brother some slack today because he needed the distraction. “Everything’s fine. Callie and I are working up a little show for the kids when they arrive. I’ll do some roping and riding. She’ll show them how a barrel race works.”
Clay’s brows lifted. He shot him a curious stare. “So you and her, you’re getting along?”
“We just about have to, don’t we? We’re married.”
“Not all married couples make it,” Clay said casually though it was evident he was talking about his own former marriage to Trish Fontaine. The subject of Trish was taboo and Tagg knew not to go there.
“We’re having a baby, remember?” Thinking about the little mound spurting up from Callie’s stomach put him in a better mood. “Callie’s showing signs now.”
“Really?”
“I’m doing what?” Callie stepped into the room holding a tray of freshly baked oatmeal cookies and two tall glasses of lemonade.
“Man, oh, man, those smell delicious. Hi, Callie.” Clay sat up straight in his seat.
“Morning, Clay.”
“She bakes?” Clay looked at Tagg.
“I bake,” she said. “Never had much time before, but I’m enjoying the kitchen a little bit more these days.” She set the tray down on the desk and then glanced at the halfhearted clean up job Tagg had done with the spilled coffee. “What happened in here?”
Tagg shot a warning glance at Clay. He wasn’t ready to tell Callie about his latest loss, needing time to sort things out. Suspicion pushed through his mind about Callie and her father. The minute Tagg went out of town, Callie has visited with The Hawk. She had access to Tagg’s accounts, his office and his computer. He didn’t want to believe the worst about his wife, but how could he be sure where her true loyalty lay? Tagg had no proof, nothing to go on, so he shelved his suspicions. Though he wanted to trust Callie, he still wasn’t there yet. “Had me a little spill, that’s all.”
Carrying the Rancher's Heir Page 13