by Jillian Neal
Fear flared in Chet's eyes. "Jesus, Ford, we're friends. What are you so mad for all the time now?"
Just then, Callie nuzzled her face against Ford's chest, and he swore his whole world tipped dangerously. Instinctively, he tucked her head under his chin, like a dumbass. "Move or be moved, fuckwhistle."
The entire bar went silent at that, and everyone moved to give him a wide berth as he managed to guide her out into the warm night.
She didn't protest when he lifted her into his arms to get her in the truck. There'd be hell to pay come morning, but for some unfathomable reason, he just didn't care anymore. He was sick to death of caring so fucking much about what this town thought of him.
Closing his eyes for a split second as he cranked the truck, he cursed under his breath when she laid her head down in his lap. God, it had been so long since anyone had needed him, had curled up on him, and let him soothe them. It had been more than a decade since anyone had their mouth that close to his member. And she just kept nuzzling against him. He wasn't certain if this was heaven or if this was hell, but he knew he was likely headed to the latter from the thoughts currently racing through his mind and the fact that his cock swelled out its approval.
He called himself an asshole for being thankful for the hard-on. It had been getting to him. The worries. The doubt. What if...things didn't work the way they were supposed to anymore? He'd told himself it was the stress and the whole debacle with Meritt, but he'd had his doubts.
But Callie Monroe laid her head in his lap, and he was raring to go again. Relief only added to the swelled effect.
Chapter Four
He managed to get another glass of water in her before he flung back the covers on his bed and settled her in. She'd roused for a few minutes on the eleven miles of gravel road it took to get to his house from the gates of Holder Ranch. But now he stood back and stared down at her in his bed, this woman he barely knew. Her long blonde hair was splayed across his pillow. Her jaw was slack and the tense lines of frustration she'd worn at the bar were gone. He wondered if the fear that had existed in her eyes was still there. Was it only obscured by her eyelids, or was it gone as well?
Refusing to acknowledge the fact that she looked like she belonged right there, safe, sleepy, and content in his bed, he shook his head. He was ridiculous.
He retrieved a bottle of ibuprofen and made her another glass of water. Leaving both on the bedside table, he retreated to the couch. He really was a lonely sap if he thought this woman looked like she fit into his joke of a life.
It sure as hell wasn't the first time he'd slept on his own couch since he hadn't shared a bed with his wife—ex-wife, he forced himself to remember—in well over a year. As he sank down on the worn leather cushions, he had to admit this was the first time he’d had no resentment over his sleeping arrangements, however.
Exhaustion weighted him, but Callie filled his head with a dozen random thoughts. He'd been in that bar because coming home to an empty house after signing divorce papers was akin to walking through hell again. God knew he'd made several trips. He'd been married for the last twenty-some-odd years. He didn't remember how not to be married, and there was another woman in his bed.
How the hell had he even gotten here? He'd gone to Rusty’s because he didn't want to be alone. Meritt had moved out three months ago, and he still didn't know what to think of that. Being with her for most of their marriage had been miserable, but it had been a constant. A known when there was so much he was unsure of. He had no idea if he wanted to ever fall in love again, or if he'd ever really been in love before. No. Alone in the dark he saw no reason to lie to himself. It was a joke of a marriage which went right along with him being tricked into it in the first place.
Failure taunted his mind and set up camp in his bones. Everything he'd tried with his ex had gone up in flames.
He'd spent so many days lost in an abyss of failure, not really fully conscious of whether it was day or night even. But that night, with Callie in his bed, he was anxious for daylight. He wanted to talk to her again, make sure she was all right, try to help her through the hangover if she'd give him a chance.
He wanted to erase whatever had caused the fear in her eyes from her existence.
Callie wasn't certain why her eyelids were so heavy or what was sitting on her limbs. Move. She tried to mentally urge herself upright. That's what she needed to do. She needed to sit up and find coffee and call back and beg that gross editor for that seedy magazine shoot, so she could actually pay Derrick's parents for letting them live in the pool house, even though they insisted payment wasn't necessary. But her body seemed to want to stay right where she was, and her eyes still refused to open.
Her brain was sluggish as well. Had their bed always been so comfortable? She couldn't remember. And Derrick usually kept the pool house so freaking cold. Did he forget to turn the AC down before he went to one of the guys' houses?
She was so warm and something akin to contentment settled through her despite the odd weight in her head and the cotton balls she was certain were growing in her mouth. Managing to turn on her side brought in a rush of sensation that almost convinced her this was some kind of odd dream. The delicious scent of male cologne permeated her lungs. It seemed to be woven into the sheets. A soft sigh escaped her mouth. Some part of her mind, that wasn't mired in the bowling balls in her head, wondered when Derrick had started wearing cologne and if his mother had picked it out. Mostly, Callie just enjoyed breathing in the seductive scent.
But when it was replaced with an even better smell, her eyes flew open wide. Sizzling bacon perfumed the air. Cologne was one thing, but Derrick had never once in their four-year relationship ever cooked anything at all. His parents had chefs for that.
She sat up in the bed and immediately realized that was a grave mistake. Her head fell forward into her hands. Her stomach made violent protest of her rapid movement. Where was she? Her heart thundered against her ribs, doing nothing to ease the nausea.
Terror propelled her to her feet. She prayed the contents of her stomach would remain in place as she stumbled over her sandals on the floor.
Her eyes darted around the bedroom as she tried desperately to place herself. How had she gotten here, wherever here was? Rushing to one of the windows in the room, she stared out at a burnt orange and indigo sunrise sweeping over an endless field. Realization rushed into her mind like a riptide. She was home. No. Not home exactly, but definitely in Oklahoma. Nowhere else had endless skies like Holder County.
Her pulse downgraded from all out panic to a more palatable alarm rate, until she recalled her trip to Rusty’s Spur. The acrid flavor of whiskey still burnt her tongue. What had she done? What would she tell her grandmother? Oh god. What would she tell Derrick? They really weren't quite broken up yet because he still hadn't acknowledged that she wanted out of the relationship.
Did that mean she was about to take her very first walk of shame after sleeping with someone she couldn't even remember on top of cheating on whatever Derrick actually was to her at this point? Revulsion and disappointment slammed into her gut like a brick. How could she have had sex and not remember anything?
It was Callie's desperation to get back to Nana, so she wouldn't worry, that gave her the courage to open the bedroom door. Sweat dewed across her back. What did you say to some guy you slept with but didn't remember? Bile ignited the path from her belly to her throat. Whatever she said to him would be easier than what she was going to have to say to Nana, so she tried to take solace in that.
When she stepped out into a wood-paneled living room, she paused. The worn leather sofa had a pillow and a few blankets on it. Someone had slept there. Scanning the rest of the large room, she noted spaces where it seemed furniture had once been. Something heavy had left indentations in the carpet. Since the television was set up on what looked like some kind of bedside table, she assumed an entertainment center had been there recently. A bookshelf sat mostly empty, save for a few rodeo buckl
es and a stack of Cattleman magazines on two shelves, to her right. Outlines of dust indicated that at one time books had been on the other shelves. It was like half of a life had been erased from the premises. That did nothing to soothe her nerves. She passed by the front door and called herself an idiot for not making a break for it, but she wasn't certain where her car was. She forced her reluctant feet towards the sizzle in the kitchen instead.
Hazy recollections of the night before filtered back through her mind. Money, and bank statements, and whiskey, and—she stepped into the kitchen—that supremely handsome cowboy that had been at the bar. Oh god. What had she done?
Chapter Five
Turning the bacon over with a fork in one hand, Ford cracked eggs into a bowl with the other. He'd heard Callie stirring in the bedroom, and he'd wanted to have her some breakfast ready.
When he lifted his head to see her timid form swaying in his kitchen, he swore it took him a minute to locate words. A cascade of loose blonde tangles swished over her shoulders. Her eyes were red-rimmed and worried, but it was the nervous way she chewed on her lip that crushed him. Was she scared of him?
Clearing his throat, he set to do whatever needed to be done to get her to trust him, though he had no rational reason for requiring her trust. "I'm not quite sure what you remember from last night, but I'm Ford Holder. You're on Holder Ranch. And...I slept on the couch all night long."
Relief washed over her features which oddly unknotted his shoulders as well. She nodded at him and then cringed and rubbed her head. "I remember meeting you," she whispered. "Just not much after that. I'm really sorry. I don't normally drink much."
Grinning at that, he scooped the bacon out of the skillet and heaped it onto her plate. "Yeah, well, me either. I had a rough day yesterday, and I know the Holder men have a reputation of being way more sinner than saint, but I grew out of the sinner stage a while ago. None of us would ever have done what you're worrying about. You're safe here. Anytime." He half hoped his slight confession might elicit one from her as well, but she just studied him as he scrambled the eggs.
"That smells really good," she admitted almost begrudgingly. "But I really need to get back to the farm. My grandmother has probably already called the sheriff."
"Sally was going to call Delphia last night and tell her you were staying with a friend. At least have something to eat before you go. It'll help with the headache." He refused to admit to himself that he didn't want her to leave yet. He wanted to know more about her. He didn't want to be alone.
If she gnawed those bee-stung lips of hers anymore she was going to draw blood. Stop looking at her mouth, asshole. His own mental scolding did nothing to distract his attention from her beautiful face.
"So, uh," she shrugged, "if you were going to sleep on the couch, why did you bring me here? I don't know you."
It was a decent question, and not one he had any kind of logical answer to. "You seemed like you needed a...friend." He finished up the eggs and added them to the plate and then poured her a large mug of coffee.
"And you want to be my friend?"
He hated the skepticism in her tone, and his own issues slithered too close to the surface for him to keep them locked up. "If I've learned anything from all of the shit with my divorce, it's that I don't get to decide whether or not someone else stays in a relationship. But, yeah, I guess. If you need a friend, I'm game. But that's up to you."
When he nodded to one of the barstools he'd shoved up to the counter, since Meritt had taken their kitchen table, Callie reluctantly settled on it. It took Ford a minute to admit to himself that he was jealous of a barstool because it had her ass against it. He blamed his own insanity on the fact that he hadn't had sex in years. Jesus, he was hard up.
He needed to take Callie back to her grandparents’ farm. He hadn't been in prison. She wasn't the first attractive woman he'd seen. He had to get his shit together.
But she was so much more than attractive. She was gentle, and her kind eyes seemed to see things others missed. She ignored the food to continue her visual inventory of his face. "I'm sorry about your divorce."
He shook his head. "Don't be."
"Why?" She studied him like she could actually see the man he'd intended to be instead of the one he'd become. "If we're really friends, then I would be sorry that you went through something that made you unhappy."
For some reason, Ford spoke the truth for the first time since he'd filed the papers. "I'm not so sure I'm unhappy. No. Scratch that. I am sure I'm not unhappy. The only part that sucks is the whole damn county talking about me constantly. The fact that she's gone is a relief. I know that sounds fucked-up though."
"I've pretty much figured out that the truth almost always sounds fucked-up. It's easier to lie to yourself. Then we get so used to our own lies that when we're really real we don't recognize it."
Damn. "You a psychologist or something?"
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "No, I'm just an expert at lying to myself, so I get it."
This was the most intriguing conversation Ford had taken part of in ages. "What have you been lying to yourself about?"
"Pretty much everything." She broke off a piece of bacon and brought it to her lips and then moved on to the eggs. He shoveled eggs into his mouth to keep from watching the tines of her fork slip between her teeth. He and his hand definitely needed a shower session because this was ridiculous. "This is so good," she moaned and picked up another piece.
That little moan did things to him. Things he was certain were not okay since he barely knew this woman. He called himself an asshole again for good measure. "I'm...glad you like it."
"It's better than Nana's, but never tell her I said that."
That brought a grin to his face. The motion was so foreign he wondered when the last time he'd smiled had been. "I meant to get back here a little earlier and get you some food. I've got six hundred steers on full-feed so I had to get them fed, and then we had a few calves born this morning that I needed to check."
"You've already been to work this morning?" Astonishment lit in her eyes.
He swore every word she spoke strung him tighter. Mildly concerned he was going to snap and do something incredibly inappropriate like pull her in his arms and taste that bacon from her full pink lips, he forced a nod. "Yeah. This time of year we try to get up pretty early. Gets hot on horseback later in the day. Cattle ranchers don't miss a lot of sunrises."
She gave him a timid grin, and a little of the exhausted pain seemed to drain from her features. "You like that."
His brow knitted. "I like what?"
"Sunrises. I could tell when you said that."
"Oh," Ford nodded. People made observances about his life all the time. Oldest Holder grandchild to the oldest brother. Successful cattle rancher. Reliable man. Failure at being married. Expectations seemed to always come with the observations. He'd spent most of his life understanding who he was supposed to be, but he wasn't ever certain he knew who he really was. He couldn't recall anyone ever stating something that was so true it was almost intimate. "Yeah. I guess I do. I know this ranch is in the middle of nowhere but..."
"It's the middle of your whole world?" She took another guess. "That's what I always think about my grandparents’ farm. Well...all of Holder County really."
Callie had absolutely no idea why she'd just announced that, or why she kept talking between each bite of the first breakfast that didn't involve kale and a Vitamix courtesy of Derrick's mother, who thought Callie needed to lose a little weight. "Have you ever seen a sunset off the California coast? It's beautiful. When the light is just right, for just a few seconds, you can get great pictures. But it's nothing like Oklahoma sunrises. They're the best, I think."
He gave her another grin, and something stirred in her belly that had nothing to do with the food. "Yeah, well, Oklahoma definitely has its perks, I guess."
"The sky goes on and on..."
"Forever," he completed her sentence. "I've n
ever been to California, but I can't imagine anything beats here. Do you like taking pictures?"
"I love it. I'm a photographer. Kind of." Callie wasn't entirely certain what she was. Animal photographer to the wealthy wannabes was not an appealing title. She'd intended to specialize in photography that incorporated everything from landscapes to the beauty of women in their natural form, the way the universe had intended them to be seen. She wanted to do boudoir photography that made women remember how to connect with their own beauty. No photoshop desired or required. That was just the kind of studio she planned to open in New York after her internship. There would be no appointments available for Fido in a toy golf cart with his own clubs.
"If you want some pictures of the sunrises out here, there's no better place to see them than this ranch. Just let me know. I don't mind picking you up early and showing you where you'll get the best shots."
She nodded a little too enthusiastically for the state of her headache. It did nothing to help her decipher why Ford looked like he wished he hadn't made that offer.
Returning to the breakfast, she scooped up another forkful of eggs. She didn't understand why the food made her feel so much better when she'd been worried she was going to vomit a half hour ago, but she decided to question that later.
"Do you live in California now?" he inquired.
Callie considered that. Ford had been honest with her about his divorce and being her friend and even about sunrises, which to her were far more important than either of the other things. "No. Not exactly. I mean...my boyfriend lives there." Disappointment expanded in Ford's icy-blue eyes. She corrected herself both quickly and probably stupidly. "But he's not my boyfriend anymore. It's just...I'm not sure he knows that yet. I've tried to tell him several times. I even finally just sent him an email, but he hasn't even opened it yet. He's not good at listening."