“So MUCH for your housekeeping skills,” Cody said as Callie studied the blackened bottom of the pan.
Callie dropped the scorched pan back onto the stove with a bang. Both fists planted firmly on her waist, she tilted her head up and glared at Cody pointedly. She didn’t know what had happened to him in the few minutes since they had made love with an incredible mix of passion and tenderness, but in the interim he had undergone a metamorphosis she most certainly did not like. “Cody,” she warned tightly, her notorious temper fast approaching the danger zone, “if you value your life, don’t start.”
Taking that as an invitation, he rocked back on his heels and folded his brawny arms in front of him. “Wish you’d said that to me a mite earlier, Callie darlin’,” he drawled.
He is not going to get to me, no matter how much he goads.
Her head held high, Callie shouldered her way past him and carried the scorched saucepan to the sink, slapped it down, then added a generous squirt of dishwashing soap.
Cody lingered next to her shoulder as she turned on the hot-water spigot. He was standing annoyingly close.
“Hate to break it to you, but I seriously doubt you’re going to be able to wash that pot clean,” Cody said, buttoning his shirt.
Callie turned to glare at him. En route downstairs, he had tied his hair back with the familiar rawhide strip. He hadn’t bothered to comb it first, he had just smoothed it with his hands, and it had a rugged, sexy look to it she found even more annoying. Plus, his beard had been a constant reminder of the less-than-desirable changes he had undergone in her absence. Without it, he looked more like the man she had fallen in love with. The man she might still be in love with, as much as she loathed even thinking about that possibility, considering the way he was acting.
“Then perhaps you can try,” Callie said stonily, resisting the urge to cry.
“Nope,” Cody refused politely. “House rules. Whoever dirties a dish cleans it up. Max taught us that.” He looked her up and down.
Barely restraining the impulse to bean him with the aforementioned pot, Callie slammed it back into the sink. “Too bad Max didn’t teach you how to be a gentleman,” she shot back.
“Oh, he tried, in his own unconventional way.”
“But it didn’t take.”
Cody flashed her a devastating smile. “You’d be the expert on that. You being my now-considerably-more-than-in-name-only wife and all.”
“Don’t remind me,” Callie drawled back sarcastically as she flung a wet dishrag at his chest. “Well, I hope you enjoyed having me in your bed, Cody McKendrick, because that is all the ‘wedding night’ you are ever going to get from me.”
Looking suddenly as dangerous as a mountain lion on the prowl, Cody shoved away from the counter. He peeled the sudsy cloth off his shirt with two fingers. Callie could see he was spoiling for a fight, too. Anything to diffuse the charged atmosphere between them. “Is that so?” he taunted with the soul-deep recklessness she had always loved.
“You bet your bottom dollar it is!” Callie shot right back.
He slanted her a knowing half smile that indicated he had half a mind to seduce her again just to prove her wrong.
A long silence passed. Callie drew a shaky breath, wondering if they would ever be able to get back to where they’d been when they first met—to a consistent level of friendship and fun. “You really have changed,” she said finally.
“And not for the better, right?” he goaded.
She thrust her hands through her hair. She felt as if she were going to explode. And the way he kept studying her only made it worse. “Would you just get out of here?”
Cody shook his head and stubbornly held his ground in the face of her recalcitrance. “Uncle Max wanted us to stay together,” he reminded.
Callie drew a tranquilizing breath and passionately replied, “He gave us three thirty-minute breaks. I vote we use one now.” Before we say or do even more things we’ll regret.
Abruptly, Cody seemed to have second thoughts about staying with her, too. “Maybe you’re right,” he allowed as he reached for his hat and slapped it on his head. “Maybe time apart is what we need.”
Looking suddenly as if he hadn’t a care in the world, he swaggered out the kitchen door.
25:30
CALLIE WENT BACK UPSTAIRS to restore some order to her hair and makeup. Wanting no reminders of their tryst, she also remade the bed. Still feeling a little guilty about the mess she’d made with the boiled-over soup, she went back down to the kitchen. At the sink, she stared at the pan.
She and Cody hadn’t even been together twenty-four hours yet, and though there had been moments of real closeness, they had also spent much of that time at each other’s throats. What was Max thinking, putting them together this way? Sure, she and Cody had had some nice moments, some sexy and romantic moments, Callie reflected wistfully. But the way things were going now, they’d never survive to make it to the wedding, never mind actually be able to stay married once their vows were said again before family and friends, as Max wished.
The back door opened and shut. Thinking Cody was feeling the same way she was and had come back, if not to apologize, to sort of make some amends, she rushed toward the sound. “Cody?”
“Wrong again, gal.”
Callie sucked in a startled breath. She felt her face turn white and red simultaneously. “Pa.”
“I see you still remember me. Not that you’ve bothered to call.” Al Sheridan walked toward her. At age fifty, he looked much as he had when Callie had last seen him seven years ago. Tall like her brother Buck, and solidly built, his face prematurely weathered by overexposure to the sun. In muted plaid shirt, worn dusty jeans and hand-tooled boots, a cowboy hat drawn low over his brow, he looked like any of the hands that worked the cattle operation on the Silver Spur Ranch. Except for his hands, Callie thought. His hands had never done an honest day’s labor, and it showed.
Callie gulped. “What are you doing here?” she choked out, even as guilt flooded her anew. She knew she ought to feel something other than dread for the man. He was her father, after all. But deep down all she wanted was for him to go away and never darken her door again.
Pa’s gray eyes grew dark as pewter, his smile unforgiving. “Why, I came to see you, of course.”
Panic set in as Callie noted the deliberate undertone of intimidation in his voice. Pa wanted something. He was here to make her pay for deserting him and her brother.
He walked over to the coffee machine and paused with an expectant look.
She would give him a cup of coffee, because it was the least her mother would have expected her to do for her own flesh and blood, but then she was sending Pa on his way. Not that it would be easy doing so.
Callie headed for the coffeepot, which was still half-full. Wordlessly, she poured her father a cup of the strong brew. “You can’t stay,” she said as she handed it over. With effort, she mustered her courage and met Pa’s eyes.
“Cody—”
“Hightailed it over to the bunkhouse in his pickup, from the looks of things.”
Silence fell between them. Callie watched as Pa took a sip of the too strong brew. He swore, spat and poured it in the sink. “This’ll never do, gal. Make me some fresh. Now.”
Callie saw the cruelness in his eyes, the complete disregard for others, and recalled full well why she had run. Pa had only backhanded her once. It had been enough. “Where’s Buck?”
“Taking care of some important things.” Pa watched as she set about making a fresh pot of coffee. His lower lip curled into a sneer. “I’ll tell him you asked about him. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that.”
Callie switched on the machine and waited impatiently for the coffee to brew. “Cody can’t find you here,” she said shortly.
Pa studied her contemptuously. “Why do you care? It’s not as if you wanted to marry him anyway, did you?”
Callie was silent, staring at the man whose blood she carried in h
er veins. She might as well have been delivered from aliens. She just knew she felt no kinship with Pa or Buck. She’d never felt she belonged with them.
“And it’s not as if I have any affection for the young stud,” Pa continued gregariously. “After all, it’s because of him that you ran away from me and your brother in the first place. Interstate kidnapping, I believe they call it in this country, since you were under age.”
Callie swallowed at the implicit threat in Pa’s low voice. It hadn’t been kidnapping; they both knew that. But if Pa saw to it that Cody was charged or even simply accused, she and Cody both would be in a helluva mess while they were proving otherwise. They would be in the midst of a public scandal. Neither she nor Cody would appreciate that. It would be just one more reason he’d have to hate her.
She folded her arms in front of her, mustered her courage and stood her ground. “What do you want?”
Pa smiled and helped himself to some of the fresh brewed coffee. “Control of the Silver Spur cattle operation, of course.”
Callie released a quavering breath. “Cody’ll never give that up.”
“Maybe not voluntarily,” Pa allowed.
Callie narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re planning something, aren’t you? Another con?”
Pa smiled evilly and quaffed the rest of his coffee in a single gulp. “Now you’re catching on.”
Callie swept her hands through her hair. Her mother could have talked Buck and Pa out of this. Put them back on the path to redemption. Out of respect for her mother’s memory, Callie knew she had to try to do the same. “Pa, please. Cody’s never done anything to you—”
“The hell he hasn’t.” Pa’s face turned dark as a thundercloud. “The one time I asked him for a handout, he told me to go to hell.”
“When was this?”
“After he paid the ransom and came back to the States. He was in one foul mood, that boy was, ’cause you hadn’t been found.”
“Did he know you and Buck conned him?”
“He was beginning to figure it out, which is why he said no. Not to worry, though.” Pa angled a thumb at his chest. “Now that you’re back, Callie, so is our gravy train. Me and Buck have worked out a way to pay him back for all the misery he cost us, Callie.”
Callie didn’t like the sound of that, either. “How will you do that?” she asked warily.
Pa’s eyes gleamed with the need for revenge. “By robbing him of his inheritance, of course,” he said in a low, oily voice.
Callie knew that to be a party to anything less than honest would eat her up inside. “You can’t do that,” she told her pa firmly. “Max McKendrick left the cattle operation to Cody.”
“Cody only inherits if he marries you at four o’clock Saturday.”
“Right. And he’s planning to do that.”
Pa gave Callie an evil smile as he handed her his empty coffee cup. “Maybe he is now,” he allowed. “But Buck and I feel he’s going to change his mind about going through with the ceremony.”
Callie did, too, though for totally different reasons than what Pa was thinking, she was sure. “How do you figure that?” she asked uncomfortably.
“Because we all know how he feels about dishonest women.”
Callie’s back went rigid with dislike, even as her antennae for danger went up. “Everything I did, I did for him.”
Pa smirked, and Callie found his confidence sickening. “It doesn’t matter if you have or haven’t,” he advised. “All that matters is what he thinks you did.”
Callie drew in a jerky breath. “What are you planning?” she demanded, and was met only by silence. “Damn it, Pa.” Tears of frustration burned in her eyes. She’d thought she was through having to feel ashamed—as though a piece of her were sullied—just by being related to her father and brother. But here it was, happening all over again. She faced her pa angrily. “If you implicate me in another one of your schemes, I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Pa interrupted smoothly, his look warning her not to cross him again. “Tell Cody you’re not a con artist?” When she would have turned away from him, he grabbed her by the arm and twisted. “Think he’s going to believe that, knowing that the talent for a good con runs in the family?” Pa demanded until Callie’s eyes smarted from the painfulness of his grip on her.
“He’ll never marry a thief, you know,” he continued viciously, making his point before pushing her away abruptly. “Never mind a thief who duped him years before, even if it means giving up his claim to the Silver Spur cattle operation,” he finished spitefully. “After all, he can always say to hell with Max’s plans and start anew somewhere else. Getting his reputation back, on the other hand, would be a lot harder to manage.”
“You’re going to try to make him refuse to marry me, is that it?” Callie felt sick inside at the possibility of Pa interfering with her relationship with Cody again. It was bad enough, what Buck and Pa had already done.
Pa shrugged uncaringly. “Nothing dishonest about that. The possibility for said occurrence was even in Max’s will.”
“How do you know about that?” Callie’s voice cracked nervously.
“News of the terms of Max McKendrick’s will went out with the quickie wedding invitations. Most of which were hand-carried, by the way. And those that didn’t hear about it that way heard it from Susannah and Trace’s kids. Seems they can’t stop talking about it, either. There’s even talk that Patience’s photo is about to show up in a tabloid, her being a syndicated newspaper columnist, semicelebrity and all.”
Callie sighed. With Pa and Buck both on the scene, this had all the makings of a real disaster!
Pa’s voice turned low and soothing as he tried to talk her into cooperating. “Not to worry, gal. All you have to do is want to marry Cody. If he refuses to marry you, you inherit the ranch, he gets the bull’s-eye. And then you, Buck and I can live off the ranch profits for the rest of our lives. Think of it, Callie,” Pa dreamed aloud, an avaricious gleam in his gray eyes. “None of us will ever have to do another lick of work.”
I like to work, Callie thought. I like earning an honest living. She shook her head, said flatly, “I’m not going to be a part of this.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Half of Pa’s mouth turned up in a knowing smile. “But I think you’ll change your mind when you see what happens when you don’t help us out.”
“What are you talking about?” Callie demanded uneasily. “What have you done now?”
Pa merely smiled and refused to tell. Wordlessly, he grabbed his hat and planted it back on his head. “I better get out of here before Cody gets back. Oh, and, Callie, when he does, you might want to ask him to take you to see where he grows his winter feed.”
Pa moved through the house and slipped out the front door.
Callie stared at the ruined pot she had yet to scrub.
The back door slammed. She jumped a mile as Cody came striding in. She went even whiter as she realized Cody and Pa had just missed each other. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.
In a way, she had, Callie thought wearily. “Where’ve you been?”
“Checking on Zeus, and talking to Shorty over at the bunkhouse. Why?”
Callie swallowed as she thought about what Pa had said. “Would you mind showing me where you grow the winter feed for the cattle?”
Cody narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “What brought this on?”
Callie shrugged and went back to scrubbing the pot. Deciding it was ruined beyond repair, she dumped the excess water out of it and tossed it into the trash. “It’s just something I should know.”
“Max didn’t leave you any cropland, Callie.”
“I know, but—” Callie bit her lip, not sure she should say anything else for fear she’d let on more than she intended.
“But what?” Cody demanded when she didn’t finish.
“I just want to see it,” she continued stubbornly as the air between them crackled with electric
ity.
“Fine,” Cody said, his determination not to make anything the least bit easy on her apparent. “We’ll go later.”
“No,” Callie said sharply. That would not do. It would not do at all. “Now, Cody.”
He studied her a moment more. She knew he knew something was up. He just didn’t know what. And that scared him, too. His sensual lips flattened into a tense white line. He gave her another long, hard look. Then said simply, a muscle working convulsively in his cheek, “Let’s go.”
They rode out in silence, each in their own corner of the pickup. The tension between them was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. “How far is it?” Callie asked finally, unable to completely hide her impatience or her anxiety.
“Four miles from the original ranch house.” Cody slanted her an interested glance. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Callie muttered without inflection, unwilling and unable to meet his probing gaze.
But when they got in view of the fields, to her dismay, he knew why. They both did.
Chapter Eight
Cody turned his glance from the smoke billowing from the field to her. Accusation hung in the air between them. Callie knew he was not going to rest until he knew precisely what part she had played in this. And when he found out, he was not going to forgive her. But all that would have to wait until they dealt with the emergency at hand.
“Get on the truck’s shortwave radio now and and call for help,” Cody ordered briskly. Mouth thinning, he turned away.
“What are you going to do?” Callie said, aware they were on the brink of disaster here, and her pa and brother Buck were responsible. Damn them!
“My best to put the fire out!” Cody vowed grimly as he circled around to the back of the truck. He grabbed a small fire extinguisher out of the metal toolbox in the bed of the pickup, located just behind the passenger compartment, and sprinted purposefully for the smoldering wheat.
So far only a half acre was burning, but who knew bow long that would be the case if the wind picked up, Callie thought. Ten to one, Cody didn’t have nearly enough fire-fighting foam to put the entire fire out. Callie turned on the radio, all the while eyeing what was left in the pickup’s toolbox. She got the bunkhouse. In a voice that shook, she quickly related what was happening, then, signing off, grabbed anything else she thought might help—a shovel, pickax and small wool blanket—and rushed off to help Cody.
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