by Jillian Neal
"What kind of girl was Meritt?" she asked and then cringed. "See, I always ask the wrong things. You don't have to answer that."
"If you ask me a question, I'm going to answer it. Stop thinking you've done something wrong. I don't think she was any kind of flower. She refused to be nurtured anywhere long enough to bloom."
Callie considered that for a beat too long before she nodded. "You can ask me stuff, too, you know. I don't mind."
"What's in that file folder?" He gestured to the folder still shoved in the door of his truck.
Chapter Eighteen
Callie had been certain he would ask something about Derrick. She was surprised he wanted to know about the folder. Grinning to herself, she realized how much she liked that she hadn't quite guessed him correctly. Maybe he asked the wrong kinds of questions, too.
"It's my grandparents’ bank statements. My dad's being weird and told my granddaddy that we need a new roof on the barn. But I swear they've already given Dad the money for that. I remember it. I just can't really tell when the roof was last replaced. It looks okay to me, but it's definitely not new. I have no proof that my dad is up to something. I just don't trust him as far as I could throw him."
"You okay with me asking you a tough question?"
"Sure."
"What's going on there with your daddy still living with the Simpkins even though he's not their kid?"
Callie half wished he hadn't asked that, but he hadn't shied away from any of her crazy questions so she'd muddle her way through this. "That's kind of a long answer."
"You don't have to tell me, but we got a decent drive ahead of us. I'm taking you to a steakhouse out in Odell."
Childhood memories resurrected themselves in her mind. Her mouth watered. "Are we going to McCoy's?"
He nodded. "Yeah, but I was kinda hoping you hadn't been there before."
"Nana and Pops used to take me the first day I arrived every summer. It was tradition. I love it there. It was always this place where I knew good things were about to happen." Something in Callie's belly did that flipping, twirling thing again. She had no business hoping that McCoy's was going to mean that an exhilarating relationship with Ford was about to happen. She was going to New York. On her own. She emphasized every word in her head and hated the way they sounded. "The steaks are delicious," she added quickly.
"We've got a table on the grill-it-yourself side. I'm hoping you'll think my steaks are even better than the chef's. I cook a mean steak if I do say so. Honest to god, I'm fighting with myself not to just take you back to my place. I can cook for you there, but I'm having enough trouble keeping my hands off'a you in my truck. If I take you home, all bets are off."
Unable to help herself, Callie grabbed the hand that was positioned on Ford's muscular thigh and laid it on her own. "Don't try too hard, but I always wanted to try out the grill-it-yourself side. Pops isn't a great cook, and they couldn't afford to go out very often so he didn't want Nana to have to do anything when he did get to take her out. But it always looked like people were having so much fun over there."
Ford squeezed her leg, and Callie suddenly wished she'd worn a much shorter dress. She wanted those calloused hands on her skin again, the way they'd been the night before. "Harold is a good man. I've always admired your grandparents."
It took her far too long to register his statement. She was too busy wishing away the clothes between them, which was stupid because they were supposed to be taking this slowly. "Me too. I love that they have that kind of love story that you just know isn't ever going to end even when everything else always does."
"I know I'm probably a dumbass for still thinking this, but I refuse to believe everything does. But you still haven't told me about how your daddy is still living with your grandparents. Do they need help kicking him off their land? All they have to do is ask."
Callie wished Nana and Pops would take Ford up on his offer, but she knew they never would. "Nana doesn't believe in divorce," she offered sheepishly. It was uncomfortable saying that to someone who had just gotten divorced. "I mean, she knows they happen but she uh...”
"Doesn't approve," he filled in the obvious blank on her behalf.
"Yeah."
"I'm not offended. Keep going."
Relieved at that, Callie shrugged. "My grandparents are just very old-fashioned. They're very religious. Nana tells people that we're related to Noah all the time. It's embarrassing."
Ford's chuckle was easy this time, like he genuinely enjoyed the story. "I s’pose we all are, aren't we?" He winked at her.
She tried to cover her embarrassment with a quick laugh. Her grandmother was awfully judgmental when it came right down to it, but Callie didn't like speaking negatively about Nana. "I'm pretty sure Nana doesn't think that, but yes, we are."
"I have a great-aunt on my mama's side who's convinced we're all related to Garth Brooks on her mama's side. She tells me I look like him all the time. 'Course her vision's about as good as a one-eyed bat, but she's still ornery that Garth and Trisha didn't have the wedding in Holder County."
This time Callie's laughter was genuine. She couldn't remember the last time she liked talking to anyone as much as she loved talking to Ford. "You're way better looking than Garth," she informed him.
He cocked his eyebrow at her. "You think?"
"I don't have to think. My vision is much better than a one-eyed bat. I can see you."
"Yeah, well, the point is sometimes you just gotta let people think whatever it is they're going to think. You're not going to change their mind. It's not worth your time trying. So, your grandmother doesn't hold with divorce. More power to her. But keep going with the story about your daddy and your mama."
"When my mom left, my grandparents took my dad's side, even though they don't really like him either. He stayed on the farm, and he helps them take care of it along with his other jobs. I've always sort of thought of him like having a splinter."
Before she could explain that ridiculous statement, Ford laced their fingers together and once again seemed to read her mind. "He was the annoyance that kept you from fully enjoying your time with your grandparents, and you couldn't get rid of him."
"Exactly."
"If you want, I can come take a look at the barn. I can give you a pretty good idea of when the roof was replaced. I have a fair amount of experience with that kind of thing. And I can go through those papers with you, too. I know all of the local contractors, so I'd recognize a payment to one of them."
"You'd really do that for me? It's not a very sexy newly dating kind of thing. Plus, I feel really bad suspecting my dad of something when I have no proof."
"This is the first date I've been on in something like twenty years, so bear with me while I fuck it up because I'm surely going to. I have no clue exactly what's supposed to come in what order, but if I can help you do something, I want to. It'd make me feel useful if nothing else." Callie started to assure him that he wasn't fucking anything up, but he kept going. "And don't feel bad about suspecting somebody's up to something they shouldn't be, even if it's supposed to be someone you trust. I had doubts about Meritt for years, but I refused to listen to my gut. I would've saved myself a lot of misery if I'd just trusted myself."
"Do you think that's really true though? I mean you would still have been in a relationship with someone like her, and that comes with misery I think. It does for me, anyway." Once again, Callie spoke without thought. She clamped her mouth closed and sealed it with her teeth. With every birthday, she wished that she'd outgrow that particular tendency, but it hadn't yet happened. "Sorry. Again. Forget I said that, too."
Ford gave her that low, rumbled chuckle that she swore sent the butterflies in her stomach into rapid flight. "I don't want to forget you said that. You're right. The only way out was through. I need to remember that. So, again, you don't have a single thing to apologize for."
"Sometimes I wish I could just keep my mouth shut." A distinctly naughty smirk formed on F
ord's features, and Callie's stomach did a somersault as she giggled. "Go ahead and say it. I know you're thinking it."
"I'm trying to be a gentleman," he insisted.
"Yeah, I know, but I don't want to be the only one who keeps saying things she shouldn't."
"Fine. I'm gonna say it, but I don't mean it quite as dirty as it's going to sound. I really like your mouth wide open, baby."
Her giggle morphed into full-blown laughter. "How could that possibly not sound dirty?"
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "It means I really like talking to you along with all of the other ways that statement could be taken."
"I really like talking to you, too. But I don't get why you're so certain you're doing something wrong on this date."
Ford eyed her, and she didn't care for the caution in his gaze. "Can I be completely honest with you?"
Disappointment threatened to implode in her belly. "I really don't have any interest in being in any kind of relationship with anyone who isn't completely honest with me. I've done that. It sucks."
"I get that. Believe me. And I'd never lie to you. I guess I was just asking if you were sure you wanted to know what's going on in my head."
"I'm sure."
"My brother looked up your Instagram account. I told him to shut it down, but I feel kinda bad about it. And I know I keep telling you that I don't know how to date, but you may not understand how inept I am at all of this. I have no idea what breadcrumbing, or cushions, or tumblefucks are or anything like that. It's kinda like I've been living in a vacuum for the last twenty years. The world went on without me. I don't feel like I'll ever catch up."
The humble honesty he extended erected some kind of solid foundation Callie hadn't even been aware she needed. She gave him a grin that she hoped would fill in the gaps her words were inevitably going to leave. "Breadcrumbing is a horrible thing to do to people. It's just leading someone on but leaving your options open in case someone better comes along. Cushions are something to fall back on." She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you don't know what they are. And I don't know what a tumblefuck is either, but that one sounds like way more fun."
Ford's chuckle didn't come from his soul. It was too shallow, held too much contempt. "My idiot cousin probably made that one up."
"It's okay that you saw my Instagram account. Lots of people look at it. That's kind of the point of having the account, I guess. I'm supposed to upload my photos to it more often. A lot of photographers get clients from there. But sometimes I want to do something without needing photographic evidence of it. That's probably a dumb thing for a photographer to say."
"It doesn't sound dumb to me at all. Sounds like you want to live your life sometimes instead of just recording it, which I swear is all people do nowadays." He threw the truck into park in the lot and was standing at her door a half second later.
Chapter Nineteen
Despite what he'd told her, the more Ford watched her in that dress the more he swore it was going to be his undoing. Damn thing was frustratingly opaque. Half of him wanted to cover what was exposed. Those plump tits she was showing off were for his eyes only. The other half of him wanted to tear it from her body. He wanted to devour her, to stake a claim that couldn't be undone. He may have been out of practice with dating and women in general, but he was fairly certain she was sending a message with that dress. She was showing off for him. He couldn't wait to assure her that the message had been received loud and clear.
Offering her his arm, he reminded himself of the many complications. She was planning on moving to New York. He sure as hell couldn't follow her up there, and he had no business even thinking that way. He was tied to the land that was tied to the county that his family founded. Those were ties that couldn't be undone. Not for her or anyone else. The ones on her dress however, those sure as hell could be.
He swallowed down another dose of rampant desire as they approached the hostess stand. "Holder, reservation for two on the grill side," he spoke the words out into the ether. He couldn't take his eyes off Callie long enough to address anyone in particular.
"Give us five minutes to scrub down your grill, sir. You can wait at the bar." The hostess gestured to the large high-top bar directly behind her.
Truthfully, he could use a drink. Anything that would dial down the conflicting emotions at war in his body would be a merciful blessing. But given that they'd begun this friendship or dating relationship or whatever the hell this was with her being drunk off her ass, he wasn't certain drinking was a great idea. Guiding her towards the rainbow display of liquor bottles and beer taps, he cleared his throat, "you want something to drink?"
"I promise never to get drunk again. I swear. I don't normally drink like that. It was just all too much."
"I don't mind you drinking, baby, as long as you don't push it to extremes. I just don't want you doing it unless I'm there. I'm aware that makes me sound like a possessive asshole."
She grinned at him and shook her head. "Then I must really like possessive assholes."
The bartender gave her a somewhat concerned smile. "What can I get you two?"
Ford cleared his throat. "Uh yeah. I'll take a Jack and Coke, and the lady will have...?" He turned to her. Keeping her gaze locked on him, her teeth sunk into that full bottom lip again. Ford swore his hard-on was now choking him.
"You know," she turned to the bartender, "what I really want is an Old Fashioned."
Ford wasn't certain where the rumbled noise of pure hunger had come from exactly, but suddenly, he knew that he had what she needed and maybe more importantly, what she wanted. He decided that was all he really needed to know.
His hand caressed the bare skin of her back as he guided her towards their grill. He swore the slight friction could set the whole restaurant ablaze. Those huge brown eyes of hers met his hungry gaze. Her body tensed and a delicious breath of air escaped her lungs. The way she responded to him was a hundred-proof shot right to his chest. There was power in the arc between them. Was he just imagining that? He somehow still doubted himself. But Jesus Christ, if he could make her needy touching the dip of her back, what might happen if he got his hands other more exotic locales. No. Dammit. Slowly. He was supposed to be taking this slowly. She wanted an old-fashioned romance. That's what she was going to get.
Callie's heart continued to dance in her throat. She swore when Ford touched her back she felt it places much deeper inside of her, places she really shouldn't beg him to touch even though that's exactly what she wanted to do. Chill bumps skittered across her bare shoulders despite the heat emanating from her. A moment of guilt tugged at her when she recalled that Derrick had never had that effect on her even by half. But she brushed that moment away and focused on the way the stubble on Ford's jaw sharpened its already impressive angles, and the assuredness in his hands when he pulled out her chair for her and let his fingers graze her shoulders like perhaps he didn't want to let go.
If Ford would ever allow her the honor of photographing him, she'd want shots of those hands, strong and capable, of his shoulders substantial and strong, and of his ass caught up in those Wranglers that she swore she'd learn to sculpt if she could somehow recreate that.
"Sit tight, baby doll. I'll be right back." His announcement yanked her out of the visual inventory she'd been taking of his body.
"What? Where are you going?"
"You're cold," he gestured to the chill bumps still residing on her shoulders. "I'm getting you my jacket." He shot what looked like a warning glare to every man in their general vicinity and then returned in record time from his truck. He draped a deliciously soft leather jacket on her shoulders. Suddenly, she was surrounded by the scent of leather and of Ford. Unable to help herself, she dipped her head to the coat and drew a deep breath. For the first time in her life instead of feeling small, despite the size of the jacket on her petite frame, she felt protected.
For a girl who hadn't been cared for in so long she wasn't certain how to react, she melted.
"Thank you."
"You never have to thank me for doing my job, but I should probably thank you."
"Why?" Intrigue expanded in her mind. There were still so many questions she wanted answers to. They constantly bubbled up from her throat.
"For letting me be a gentleman." He shook his head. "For not being a bitch. There I said it. Meritt used to yell at me if I opened a door for her. She said it was insulting. Of course, when I stopped doing it she'd yell at me then, too."
Callie considered for a scant half second. "You know what I think?"
"What's that?" She swore that grin of his should be qualified as a Class A addictive substance.
"I think sometimes it's hard to remember that you deserve better. It's not just this one big, bad decision that you made one time. It's a thousand small, insignificant things that we chose not to see. The lens was out of focus, and we never corrected it."
He grunted what sounded like an agreement then lowered his head. "You're right. You're so damn smart, too. I had nothing over a blind man if I was choosing not to see. But I'm correcting that lens now. I'm sorry I brought her up. I don't mean to do that."
Before Callie could insist that she really wasn't very smart and that she didn't mind him bringing up Meritt, a waiter approached. "What are we grilling tonight, Mr. Holder?"
"Oh, do you two know each other?" Callie grinned. It would be fun to meet some of Ford's friends.
Both Ford and the waiter paused uncomfortably. "Uh," Ford cleared his throat, "I'm sure we've met out here a few times."
"Everybody knows the Holders," the waiter insisted like Callie clearly wasn't very bright.
"Oh. Right." Somebody really needed to invent some kind of word vacuum that would allow her to suck all of the wrong words she continued to say back into her brain.