by Jillian Neal
"Bring us two tri-tips, some potatoes, some corn on the cob, I'll shuck it, and," he turned his attention to Callie, "do you want a salad?" He seemed pained to ask. She wasn't sure if cowboys didn't agree with having a salad with a steak, or if Meritt had some kind of issue with him offering her a salad as well.
"What kind of salad?"
He shrugged. "The only kind I know how to make is pretty much just lettuce with cheese and those hard bread things with ranch dressing."
Dear lord, she was quite certain that the entire state of California did not know that ranch dressing existed. At least no one in Los Angeles County did. The salad Ford had just described, including the croutons, sounded as heavenly as she was certain the steaks were going to taste. "That sounds perfect," she assured him.
"Good. But if you want something different, I'll figure it out."
"I don't want anything but you. Uh," she cleared her throat and fought not to visibly cringe, "I mean the salad just like you said."
A flash of a cocky smirk appeared on his features, and Callie decided maybe she wouldn't have vacuumed that admittance away just to see him grin like that.
Since the restaurant really only provided raw ingredients to the people manning the grills, the food came out quickly. Ford expertly tore the husk away from the corn and lined up a few spices for the steaks. Callie sat entranced with the assuredness in the way he moved, the flex and bunch of his biceps and roll of his shoulders as he turned the meat. Appreciation tumbled through her mind. There'd been no debate or discussion on what they were ordering. No apathy about trying to select from a dozen tasteless choices. Ford knew what he wanted, and he went after it. She couldn't recall Derrick ever making plans for them. If they went somewhere, it was because his parents made him go and bring a date. They made all the plans. Never him.
If Ford taught her nothing else, she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that laid-back California cool was not something she ever wanted again.
Chapter Twenty
"How do you want your steak, sweet thang?" Ford grinned at his date. He was actually on a date and having a damn good time. It still felt like he was living somebody else's life.
"Medium well," she leaned closer to the grill, closer to him.
He shook his head. City girls. "You want me to burn it?" he teased just to hear her giggle. "If I cook this past medium-rare, it'd be a crime. They'll throw me out of the Cattleman's."
"Well, I wouldn't want to cause you to lose your membership. I just prefer it not to still be mooing."
For some ridiculous reason that he had no hope of figuring out, Ford made a low bellowed noise, precisely like cattle, when he turned the steaks on the grill. He did make certain only she could hear him. He hoped. When she doubled over laughing and clutching at her chest, he decided being an idiot was worth it if he could keep her laughing like that. Honest to god, he couldn't recall the last time he'd just been stupid with someone. He loved the intimacy of it. If he'd done something like that with his ex, she would've called him a dumbass and told him to stop embarrassing her. But Callie's hearty laughter surged life's blood through his veins. She laughed hard enough to draw laughter from him as well.
"You have a great laugh," he informed her.
Her eyes all but disappeared again as she gave him a megawatt grin. "You have a great moo."
He'd laughed more in the last five minutes than he had in the last five years. "I do have a fair amount of experience listening to it."
"I'm really excited about taking pictures on the ranch if you're still okay with that. I'd like to add them to my portfolio before I..." she clamped her mouth shut.
"Before you what, baby?"
"Nothing."
Ford didn't care for that at all. He'd lived too many lies, kept too many things locked tight behind his jaw. "I thought we were going to be honest with each other."
A bolt of pain flashed in those eyes of hers. "Sorry. I was going to say before I send the second installation to Nina Morales. But...something about that felt weird to say."
Did that mean she was rethinking New York? He couldn't possibly allow her to do that. Christ, not because of him. And that one lie he was still living resurfaced in his head. The one that had kept him sane for the past few days. They barely knew each other. But that really wasn't true. How the hell did he feel so close to her? "Uh," he forced a nod, "I can help you get some good shots. Tell you where to stand and all of that. I want to help you, like I said."
"That would be great."
"Do you want to get started tomorrow morning?"
"I'd love to, but I can't stay with you tonight. Nana would...well you probably know what she'd say and how she'd worry."
"We're taking this slowly, remember? Let me at least get Nana to like me a little before I go and blow it by keeping you tied to my bed." Once again, he lamented his choice of words. Where did things like that keep coming from? His lips parted on an apology, but the intrigue in her eyes kept him from verbalizing it.
"That sounds very interesting," she whispered before she took another slow sip of her Old Fashioned and glanced away from him. Heat climbed from between her lush breasts to her cheeks in seductive swirls. Whether it was the alcohol or embarrassment at what she'd just said, he wasn't certain, but he intended to find out.
He cleared his throat and began plating their food. "I can come pick you up in the morning."
"What time?"
"I need to be on horseback by five thirty."
"You mean like five thirty in the morning? But...I'm not even sure my coffee maker works that early. The sun isn't even up then."
His grin expanded further. "The sun not being out is what makes it great. It's cooler out, and like I said there's not a prettier sunrise anywhere than on horseback on Holder Ranch."
"Oh, I have no idea how to ride a horse. I'd just slow you down." Fear perforated her excuses.
He set her plate in front of her and then took the seat beside her. He lifted her chin with his hand until she had nowhere to look but in his eyes. "I'm about to do that thing where I say something that could be considered kind of crude."
Her cheeks slipped along the calluses of his fingertips as she smiled. "Say it anyway."
"I'll teach you how to ride, baby. Whenever you're ready. And I won't let you fall."
She managed to nod against his palm. He slowly returned his hand to his own lap as she asked, "Is it okay if it's not tomorrow? Learning to ride a horse while taking pictures seems like a lot to manage."
"Of course. I'd never force you to do anything you don't want to do. I'll get my brothers to pick up my slack, and I'll take you out in the truck."
"I don't want your brothers not to like me," slipped from her mouth as she speared a piece of steak with her fork.
"They'll be fine. Don't worry about it." He'd catch hell for loading them with more work, but she was worth it. The absence of her skin from his hand stung. Without thought he returned his touch to her thigh under the lace of that dress. Her breath gave a slight hitch. Her reactions to his every touch continued to shred his resolve to take this slowly. He was clinging to a cliff with one hand.
A waitress carrying a water pitcher interrupted their moment. "Can I get you something else from the bar or refill your waters?"
Ford turned and offered Tammy Decker a nod. Her family lived on the outskirts of Holder County. He wondered how long she'd been working out here. "I'll just take some more water." He lifted his eyebrows to Callie in question.
"Me too. Just some water please."
Tammy refilled their glasses and then set the water pitcher down. "You know, Ford, I just have to tell you I think it's great that you've moved on from Meritt so fast...even if she is awfully young."
Before he could come up with any kind of appropriate response to that, not that there was one, Tammy whisked away to refill more glasses.
Chapter Twenty-One
"I'm not that young," Callie immediately insisted, but the waitress was no longer near
by.
"I'm sorry about...that and...her," Ford stumbled over an apology.
"I'm not that young," Callie repeated. It was as if saying it over and over again would somehow make it true. But she didn't feel that young. She'd lived a lot of life. That should matter more than the years. Ford worked his jaw visibly. She wondered if it was the comment about moving on that had thrown him or the one about her age. "I'm twenty-eight." She beat him to the inevitable punch. He was trying to figure out how to ask her that very question. She wanted to make it easier on him. That got two slow nods. "How old are you?"
"Forty-two," he coughed over the numbers and downed half of the water the waitress had provided. "I told you last night I was old."
"I don't think you're old, but is this going to be a problem for you because I don't really think age has anything to do with anything. I've known people who were young in their nineties and people who were just existing in their twenties. It's just a number. It's not a sunrise." She squeezed her eyes shut and again wished for that word vacuum.
"What does that mean, honey?" Ford's hand gently soothed her thigh.
She shrugged. "Sunrises matter. How you spend a day matters. Minutes matter. Sometimes even whole hours matter. What you've been through matters. Years don't. I mean, do you remember every single thing you did in a whole year?"
Suddenly, he was nuzzling his face in her hair and brushing kisses on her cheek. "So damn smart. I spent a lot of years just existing so I get what you're saying. It's not a problem for me, but we're likely to get a lot of comments like that." He gestured towards the waitress. "And if you decide I'm too old to mess around with..."
"I'm not going to decide that. You're a sunrise."
"You think?"
"I know," she assured.
"I'm starting to think you're the whole damn day, baby. I still feel like I need to take ten steps back. I don't want to tie you down."
She did consider for at least a full second before the comeback that was poised on her tongue sprang free. "But tying me down sounded like fun."
The rumbled groan that he planted in her ear was worth it. "Be careful what you wish for. It's been a long damn time for me."
"I thought it was just last night," she couldn't help but remind him.
"I'm still not okay with that, and that isn't what I meant."
"I wish you were okay with it because it meant a lot to me."
Ford tossed his napkin down on the table. His steak was gone but the salad and potato were still only half-eaten. "Do you want to get out of here?"
Callie still had a few bites of steak left. It had been the most delicious thing she'd ever had in her mouth, but suddenly that just wasn't what she wanted to taste. "Please."
After several long moments of silence as they drove, Ford finally admitted, "I don't trust myself enough to take you back to my place. Honest to god you look so fucking beautiful I couldn't keep my hands off of you in a restaurant."
Callie loved that she did this to him, that she made him lose control, loosen the tight reins of self-restraint he kept on himself. They drove past a dirt road turnoff that she recognized in the unincorporated land between the Holder city limits and Odell. "Do kids still park up at Cliffhart Ridge?"
"If they do, they'd likely kick me out for being too old." So the age thing was getting to him. Disappointment twisted Callie's stomach. She'd just have to show him that it didn't matter.
"I love the story of that place. It's really romantic." The way Callie had heard it, the daughter from one feuding family out in Burns fell secretly in love with the son of the other family. When they'd turned eighteen they'd run up to the ridge and built a house. They'd had a little farm up there. From the highest vantage point nearby, they could see people coming in case their families tried to come after them, but the trees were thick enough around their cabin that they couldn't be seen. Those same thick trees had provided cover for lust-driven teens for the past eight decades. Callie had never been up there, and she'd always wanted to go.
"Is that your way of saying you want me to take you up there?" He didn't sound like he minded the idea so much, just that he was trying to figure out what she wanted him to do.
"I always wanted to go, but Nana would never have let me when I was here during the summer. Plus, no boys were ever interested."
"I don't believe that for a minute. You weren't the problem. Haying was."
"Haying?"
"Cattle ranchers hay all summer. We almost never leave the ranches. Nobody took you up there because no one was around to see you. I haven't been up there since I was sixteen, but if you want to go, sugar, say the word."
"I want to go."
Ford spun the truck around in the middle of the empty road. Callie beamed at him. Freedom, pure and wild, burst through her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The truck bounced and lurched as the dirt road up to the ridge grew more narrow. Ford knew the terrain should've been familiar. He'd brought girls up there dozens of times when he was a teenager, and yet it all felt strangely new and untainted.
Callie was almost buzzing in the seat beside him, and he loved getting to show off the outskirts of Holder County for someone who still appreciated all of its eccentricities. Low tree branches painted the windshield of his truck as he pushed them deeper into the woods.
"I'm so excited," she squealed. "This is perfect."
And it was. Since it was a Tuesday night, there were no kids up there. They were entirely alone to watch the sunset over the ridge. He couldn't have planned anything more perfect if he'd tried.
Her mind fascinated him just as much as those sinful curves of hers. The way she'd take off on an idea without any careful planning, without wondering what people would think if she asked for what she wanted. It was so refreshing he swore she was baptizing him anew.
Two yellowtail hawks circled over the ridge as the sky tinged pink silhouetting the surrounding trees.
He put the truck in park and tried to remember if he'd ever had any moves worth using. Probably not. Never dating as an adult put him at a distinct disadvantage. But when she turned to him with that come-get-me grin and those killer eyes, he knew he never would've been able to use moves on her anyway. She was just too real, too authentic in a world that wasn't.
"I haven't just not been up here. I've never been parking anywhere." She scooted a little closer, and he swore his breath disintegrated in his lungs. "But I think this is the part where we kiss."
"Come here to me," he summoned on a low growl. "But I'm going to give you the same warning I gave you last night at the bar. Once I start, I might never be able to quit."
"Good. I don't want you to quit."
"Back to me being a possessive asshole, but it's a fucking turn-on that I'm your first for this."
"I told you I must like possessive assholes."
"So fucking beautiful," were the last intelligible words he made before he dipped his head to hers and drank in her kisses like good whiskey on a cold day.
When Ford's fingertips tracked down over her breasts almost cautiously, Callie arched into his hesitant caress. She swore her boobs had swollen to the point of being painful trapped in the dress. She prayed he'd take the offer. Her body knew he could bring her relief. And he did. Jerking the cups of the dress down on a low growl, he revealed her. Her nipples throbbed out their appreciation.
"This dress," he groaned before he swirled his tongue around one nipple and then the other. "Damn thing has been driving me to distraction all night." On his next pass he suctioned his mouth to her and sucked with fervor. Releasing her, he panted out, "Is that what you wanted, doll baby? Did you intend to drive me wild?"
"What if I did?" she challenged on a half breath.
"If you did, then I'd be of a mind to brand your tits with my mark, so you wouldn't be showing them off for other men."
"Oh god." She shuddered. "Do it."
He straddled her over his lap. The long skirt portion of the dress rucked up her legs
, granting her pussy access to the promise of the steel-hard ridge centered at his zipper line. For most of her life, she'd believed that you couldn't ever do things for the first time again. But something about that cowboy who was visibly struggling to figure out what he was allowed to touch in his truck that night changed the things she'd been so certain of. She swore she was sixteen again. The interior of that truck in the middle of that sunset ridge became her whole world, the past and the present.
A harsh shudder tore through her as he began to punish and then forgive the skin of her breasts with his wicked tongue. Those massive hands of his gripped her ass holding her at his mercy. God, she loved the aggression just as much as she loved that she was the one who made him lose control like this. That aggression became a requirement, a necessity. Screw water and air. Those hands, his mouth, his still-trapped erection behind his Wranglers—that's what she needed to survive.
Unable to remain still, she ground against him desperate for pressure and relief. When he finally released her breast from his mouth, his head fell back against the seat. He gasped for breath and stared at her, like he wasn't quite certain what to do next.
"Ford, please," she urged.
"You make me so fucking hard. Christ, do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been like this? I was...worried."
The devastation in his voice drowned a little of her fervency. She cradled his face in her hands and gave herself the length of one breath to revel in the scrape of his stubble on her palms. "There's nothing wrong with you," she soothed. He'd been grieving a marriage that ended long before it was officially over, but she didn't want to point that out just then. Her reproductive organs wanted much less talking and much more fingering. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since anyone made me feel this way?" She gestured to her own crotch under the messy folds of satin and lace.
He locked those steel-blue eyes on hers, and with delicate precision let both of his hands ascend slowly under the dress. He never dropped his eyes. He only watched her as his roughened fingertips explored her thighs. Gradually. A scant inch at a time.