by Jillian Neal
"Get out of my house. Now." Ford pointed to the door they'd let themselves in.
Maddox huffed, "You don't even know how to date now. It's different than it used to be. You need some cushions and a few tumblefucks before you go falling for somebody else. Leave the possibility of breadcrumbing her in case you need to."
Narrowing his eyes, Ford glared at his cousin. "Do you think you're speaking English, or have you had some kind of stroke we should all know about?"
The idiots still seated on his couch both rolled their eyes. Maddox shook his head. "He doesn't even know the lingo."
Jamie's expression turned grave. "You're going to get your heart broken again like Mad-dog said. She’s got leaving in her blood."
"I thought he was worried about my nuts, not my heart," Ford huffed. "Neither of which are in any danger. So, for the third time, get out."
Maddox, at least, stood. Ford took this as a good sign since it was one step closer to getting them out the door. "You don't need to be dating anyone. You need to get laid. One doesn't have anything to do with the other anymore. You need some cushions, like I said. A few side chicks that you can get some tail from if this whole thing with what's-her-name goes south."
"Callie," Ford ground out. "Her name is Callie, and I do not want side chicks, cushions—whatever the hell those are—or tail. I want you to leave. I'm not going to do anything stupid."
"Are you going to buy her flowers before you pick her up?" Maddox quizzed.
"Is there some kind of problem with that?"
"Yeah, because that's doing something stupid. You're going to scare her off if nothing else. She's probably dated in this decade at least. You have to play by the new rules. And you need cushions so you have something to fall back on. See how that works."
Though it was true that Ford hadn't dated in the last two decades, he had no interest in learning anything about whatever all of those words Maddox had just spouted off meant. Except maybe one. "Okay, what the hell is a tumblefuck?" He instantly hated himself for asking. The smirk on Maddox's face only made Ford double down on the self-loathing. "You know what, never mind. Forget I asked."
"It's kind of like a fuckbuddy but one who doesn't mind getting filthy with you. They get turned on when you get rough. That'd let you work out some of that frustration you've been living with for the last twenty years."
Keeping the towel clasped tight in one hand, Ford marched to his front door and swung it open. "Out. Now."
Jamie stood. "Just simmer down for a minute. Have you even stalked her feeds yet? Do you even know how? Before you let this girl get in your head, you need to know what you're getting into."
Ford had absolutely no idea what that meant, but he wasn't asking any more questions. And he didn't have to. Before his very eyes, Jamie pulled up Callie's Instagram account and started scrolling through images. "Damn, she's gorgeous."
"Give me that," Ford almost dropped the towel in an effort to get his hands on his little brother's phone.
"Careful. Don't double tap anything, or she'll think I'm stalking her on your behalf."
Her feed was an odd combo, half filled with animals in ridiculous costumes. The other half, however, was filled with an endless number of California sunsets and a series of manhole covers that she'd somehow made look interesting. They told a story the same way the old water tower had given her its secrets.
Ford came to an image of Callie herself blowing the wispy fluff from a dandelion. Those lush curves that made him harder than concrete were clad in a barely-existent bikini, and Ford swore it was all he could do to lock his hungry moan behind his teeth. Her lips were drawn in a perfect pucker. He skipped right over imagining kissing her and went straight to how those bee-stung lips would look wrapped around his shaft. His cock twitched at the image, and that towel wasn't going to cover jack shit if he didn't get things under control. He shoved the phone back to Jamie. "Turn that off, and don't let me catch you looking at it again. She ain't yours to look at."
"See that. That right there. That's what I was worried about. You're already talking like she's yours to protect. Promise me you're not going to fall head over boots for this chick. It's all over town that you were licking her spit last night at Rusty’s." Of course it was. Because he couldn't do anything in that godforsaken county without everyone knowing about it. "Where'd you disappear to after that, by the way?"
Thanking the Lord for small favors, since it seemed no one knew where they'd gone when they'd left the bar, Ford grunted out his annoyance instead of answering. He'd be busting up frozen ponds in hell before he'd tell anyone where he'd taken Callie. Besides, his family would surely think he'd lost his mind if they knew they'd gone up the water tower.
"I'm not holding this door open for my health," Ford reminded them.
They needed to go, so he could get on with dealing with all of the doubts this ridiculous conversation had brought on, stacked right on top of all of the rest of the doubts he'd been carrying around all day. What if he didn't know how to take things slowly? What if he didn't do right by her? What if he was too old for her? What if she wanted someone who knew what the hell breadcrumbing was? Was that something he should know? God, how the hell was he this old when there was still so much he hadn't figured out?
This wasn't at all how he'd envisioned life in his forties. God, when he was that dumbass kid up on the water tower with a pocket knife, he couldn't even see the single lie that was right in front of him. That lie had robbed him of twenty fucking years of his life.
Maddox shook his head. "Fine. We're out, but do three things for me. One, fuck her but don't fall for her. Two, do not talk about Meritt to this chick. Three, don't shave."
Giving his cousin a complimentary eye roll to go with his huff, Ford stared him down. "Why the hell not?"
"Women like a little scruff. A little beard burn south of the equator reminds them who was spending time in their lap of luxury."
"Out," Ford seethed. He gritted his teeth until his molars protested, but no amount of willpower kept his mind from envisioning the images Maddox had painted. His heart pounded out its approval at the idea of tasting her, of marking her, of letting her soak down his chin with her juices. He wanted to know her flavors, and that was sure as hell not what he needed to be thinking of before going to pick her up for their first official date.
Before he could slam the door behind them, Maddox handed over a box of condoms Ford hadn't noticed he was carrying. "Let's not make the same mistake twice."
"Get the fuck out of my house." Ford shoved them to the porch and sealed his door shut. He threw the condoms in his bedside-table drawer and ordered himself not to put one in his wallet. Surely, he wasn't that guy anymore.
He returned to his bathroom. Lifting his razor from the counter, he stared in the mirror and wondered what Callie saw when she looked at him. An old cowboy incapable of taking care of what was his? She'd told him he was hot the first time she'd seen him, but she was also drunk off her pretty little ass. That wasn't exactly a steady foundation from which to figure things out.
At four forty-five, Callie smeared light peach gloss on her lips and stepped back to inspect the dress she'd selected. It was her favorite. A dark lavender sundress that swept the toes of her boots when she walked. The spaghetti-strap top showed off her boobs rather nicely in her opinion. Not too much. Not too little. It was the perfect first-date dress. It was kind of odd, considering what they'd shared the night before, that this was their first date, but she wasn't going to get hung up on it.
Her grin expanded further when a knock on the front door sounded ten minutes before five. She wondered if he'd been counting the minutes all afternoon the way she had. Racing to the door, she cursed under her breath when her father beat her there. When had he shown up? And why did he have to have such terrible timing? Her stomach clenched, and dread slithered over her. "It's for me. I've got it." She tried to whisk past him without actually coming into contact with him.
Abe gave her that a
ll-too-familiar look of disdain as he turned the knob. Ford barely spared her father a glance before his eyes landed on her. "Hey there." He winked at her, and her knees turned to the consistency of overcooked spaghetti.
"Hey," she drew the single word out into far too many overly breathy syllables. She was locked in his hungry gaze for much longer than was customary for a first-date greeting, but she didn't care. The fire in those icy-blue eyes warmed places in her she'd forgotten existed. He was carrying what looked like a hand-picked bouquet of sunflowers. They were her favorite. How had he known? She took them from him and lovingly touched each flower.
"Aren't you one of the Holder boys?" Her father's question both punctured the moment and dripped with contempt.
Ford cleared his throat. "Uh, yes sir." He offered Abe his hand. "I'm Ford. I'm one of Barrett's sons. You and I have run into each other a time or two, but I know I look like all of my brothers."
After twenty-eight years of life, Callie still hadn't figured out how her father managed to make his nods come off with disapproval.
Abe narrowed his eyes. "Well, that tells me who you are but not why you're here."
"Dad," Callie huffed, feeling a little more brave than she normally did in Abe's presence, a side effect of Ford being so close, she suspected. "He's here to pick me up."
"Pick you up for what?"
Ford edged his way in the door, forcing Abe to step back. "We're going out to dinner, but I'll have her back at a decent hour...sir." The final word rang with a note of irritation that Callie rather liked. Maybe he already had her daddy figured out.
"I'm way too old for a curfew," she informed both men. "Let's just go." She needed to get him out of there before her father managed to do or say anything else.
That twitch of recognition in Abe's eyes was never a good sign. She scooted closer to Ford, placing herself between her father and her date, and braced for impact. Her father looked much too pleased with himself.
He went in for the kill. "Don't you have some kind of bad blood with that guy Chad Atkins? Is he the local rep for PETA or something? I thought I heard about a fight between the two of you recently."
Callie had absolutely no idea who Chad was, but Ford must've despised the guy. For a split second utter hatred clouded his eyes. He cocked his jaw to the side and huffed, "I wouldn't say we were on friendly terms, but you heard wrong. He ain't worth me letting my fists fly. You ready to go, Callie?"
The universe must've had wretched PMS that night. Before she could take Ford's offered arm, her cell phone rang in her hand. She'd been waiting on Derrick to return her numerous calls and messages all freaking day. He'd waited until that very moment to do it.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" her father demanded.
He'd seen the name on the screen. She mentally cursed Chad, Derrick, her father, and technology in general. "Uh, no. I'll talk to him later." She forced a smile for Ford. "Let's go."
"Let me get this straight," Abe continued. Callie swore she could hear the audible tearing of flesh as her father continued to spin the knife. "You're refusing calls from your fiancé," then turned to Ford, "and I'm pretty sure you're married. Callie, you are the epitome of your mother."
"He's not my boyfriend anymore," Callie vowed.
"I was married. Heavy emphasis on the was," Ford corrected right on top of her statement.
"Sure." Abe shook his head.
Chapter Seventeen
Ford offered Callie his hand to help her up into his truck.
"I'm so sorry he's like that," she started in as soon as he was settled.
"Hey, what have I told you about apologizing for things you have no control over?"
"But he's just so awful. He does things like that just to be an ass. He loves making people uncomfortable." She eyed Ford cautiously for a split second. "I don't even know who that Chad guy is, or how my father knows him."
"He's the idiot I caught in my bed with Meritt. He's friends with your old man, so I have no doubt Abe knows he's not a PETA rep. And don't worry, I'd gotten a new mattress before I let you sleep there."
Callie hid her face in his hands. "I am so, so sorry."
Since he hadn't yet put the truck in drive, he ran his fingertips under her chin, reveling in that silky soft skin, and tipped her head back up to look at him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't have anything to do with any of it."
He fought the desperate urge to demand to know about Derrick. He'd seen the name on her phone screen. The asswipe still hadn't gotten it through his head that they were over. The idea that Derrick might be trying to get her back flooded Ford with possessive ire. But she wasn't his to claim. Yet.
"My father isn’t all I have to apologize over. I know you saw who was calling me. I swear to you I have tried everything I can think of to get Derrick to understand that I'm not coming back to California. And even if I was, I don't ever want to see him again. He just won't listen to me. I've called over and over again. I'm shocked he called me back. I even wrote him this long email spelling everything out in short readable sentences. I thought surely if he saw it in black and white, he'd get it through his thick head. But I don't think he's even opened the email."
Keeping her face cradled in his hand, he tried to sort through the endless complications now associated with this date. "If you need to talk to him, sweetness, I understand."
A tender smile played at the corners of her mouth, and she shook her head. "I've been talking to him for years. Nothing I say is going to make him listen. All I want right now is to get out of here and not think about Derrick."
"You look so damn beautiful I have no idea how I'm supposed to keep my hands off of you tonight," spilled from his lips without his permission.
And there it was—that eye-crinkling, beaming grin that undid him every time he saw it. "Do you really think so?" She lifted her head from his hands and stared down at the dress Ford longed to see in a lacey puddle on his bedroom floor.
"I don't say things I don't mean," he reminded her. "You're fucking gorgeous. I'm trying to be a gentleman, but damn baby—you're not making it easy."
He watched the words resonate in her head. She couldn't seem to stop grinning. "Nana thought it showed off too much cleavage," she admitted with an adorable giggle.
Ford laughed. "As long as you're out with me and I'm the one getting to see them, Nana and I will have to agree to disagree."
"Thank you for the sunflowers and for saying that. It's been a long, long time since anyone thought I was pretty."
"Was the boy blind along with being deaf, honey? My god."
That brought on a quick laugh that held far too much sadness in its depths. "I guess I could ask you the same thing about Meritt."
Since this Derrick asshole wouldn't listen to her, Ford wanted her to know that he would. "My cousin told me not to talk about Meritt on this date, and I don't want to, but I also want you to be able to say whatever you need to say. I want to hear it, whatever it is."
"Wow," she breathed the word. "I don't think anyone's ever
said that to me either."
Oddly pleased at that, he cranked the truck. "Anytime you want to talk, I'm here for it."
"I always ask the wrong questions," leapt from her mouth before she bit her lips together.
His brow furrowed. "Explain that."
"People tell me that all the time. I mean...I was just gonna...ask something stupid. I was trying to stop myself. Forget it."
"Questions aren't stupid, baby. They're how we figure things out. Maybe you've already got more figured out than you think, so the questions most people ask you already know the answer to. So, ask me whatever it was." He sounded more demanding than he'd intended, but he wasn’t going to redact his order.
"You're sure?"
So hesitant. He wondered if there was ever anything she did that she didn't question first, and he wondered if that was a product of Derrick the way his rampant doubts were a direct result of Meritt. "I'm sure."
; "Well, it's just when you said that Chad is who you caught in your bed with your ex, you said for me not to worry because you'd gotten a new mattress before I slept there. I guess I sort of wondered why you were worried about me being there instead of yourself."
She didn't ask the wrong questions, Ford determined. She asked the hard ones, the ones people didn't have ready answers to, so they told her she was the one that was mistaken. He refused to be a person who didn't answer her questions, even if his answer was I just don't know. "I think," he paused and really considered, "I just don't want you to have anything to do with her. I don't want whatever it is we're doing here to be associated with Meritt and me. I don't ever want you to think I'm on the rebound or whatever. Does it make me an asshole to say I don't want you tainted with her?"
"Not at all. I don't really want to have anything to do with anyone who hurt you like that. And if I do ever end up back in your bed, I want it to be with you and I don't want her to have ever been there."
Oh, she was going to end up in his bed over and over again if he had any say, but he was still determined to do right by her. It wasn't going to be that night. "You are aware you're killing me, right?"
"Sorry." She wrinkled her nose.
He shook his head at her. "I'm debating if I'm going to let you apologize for that one. I want you in my bed, baby. More than I should. But I have to do this the right way. You deserve the right way."
"How'd you know sunflowers are my favorite?" There was another one of those questions that spiraled out of her mouth seemingly without her permission.
And again he wasn't entirely certain how to answer her. She just seemed like a sunflower kind of girl. Beautiful. Wild. Strong. Those big brown eyes that were just a little bit too big for her face and lips that drew naturally into a smile, genuine and full. "I've never given it too much thought, but I think they're my favorite, too, and you just seem like a sunflower kind of girl."