Ross: Riding Hard, Book 5

by Ashley Jennifer

  “I’m really busy,” she said quickly to Trina. “I’m at a thing. Talking to people about funding the rehab ranch.”

  “You and that damned ranch,” Trina said. “This is your marriage. Priorities, Callie? I’m handing him the phone.”

  Before Callie could throw her cell into the grass, Devon’s tones floated to her. “Callie? I need to see you.”

  “What for?” Callie stood rigidly, her fingers locked in place. “You had two and a half months to see me.”

  “I know, but I—” Devon cleared his throat. He had a deep voice, but with harsh notes she’d never noticed before. “I had to go on a business trip. That’s one reason I was so mad at you for being late. I would have had to push everything around because we wouldn’t have been finished in time. But that’s done. We need to talk.”

  “Wait, you’re saying you left me at the church because you needed to take a business trip? What about our honeymoon? Was that the same trip?”

  “Killing two birds with one stone,” Devon said. “You know it’s my way. If I can book a private beach house on the Gulf Coast and get some meetings in, why not?”

  He hadn’t mentioned a thing about their getaway being part of a business deal.

  “So you went down to Padre Island anyway?” Callie demanded.

  “Why wouldn’t I? I stood to bring a million-dollar investment into the firm.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad. You dumped me at the altar but you got a million dollars. I can see that’s a fair trade.”

  “I didn’t get the deal,” Devon snapped. “And I didn’t get married.”

  “Two birds with one stone, sounds like.”

  “Damn it.” Devon drew a deep breath. “I didn’t call you to fight. I want to try again.”

  “Marrying or getting your million-dollar deal?”

  “Both.”

  The answer, perfectly honest, made Callie stop breathing. She couldn’t even yell, What?

  “Callie? You there, honey?”

  “Yes.” She managed through her clenched teeth.

  “The investors had been looking forward to meeting you, heard so much about you. Your dad is well known down there. Caleb Jones, the multi-millionaire rancher, an old-fashioned, good old boy Texan, with three beautiful daughters. They wanted to see you, not me.” Devon huffed a condescending laugh.

  “Let me get this straight,” Callie said, her words forced. “You want to get back with me and have us get married, and then head down to South Padre so I can sweet-talk a potential client into handing you his business?”

  “What I want is you,” Devon said. “But, yeah, I need you to help me land this deal. If I don’t, I might lose my job. So, let’s do this, Callie. You owe me.”

  For a fraction of a second, just one, Callie felt sorry for him. Devon’s impatience and bad judgment had lost him a deal that his firm of stockbrokers had obviously truly wanted. And now his job might be in peril because of it.

  The fraction of a second passed. “I owe you?” Callie shouted. “I was ready to give up my whole life for you, without much left over for myself. And you say I owe you?”

  She jabbed her thumb to the red button to disconnect the call. The screen went black, but she needed a more satisfying ending.

  Her family home had an old-fashioned dial landline telephone left over from the sixties. Her mom kept it for the nostalgia, and it still worked. Slamming that heavy plastic receiver down in anger helped a lot with closure. Cellphones just weren’t the same.

  Callie screamed and hurled her phone away as hard as she could.

  It pinged off Ross’s chest. His blue eyes widened as the phone thumped into him and dropped to the grass. “That happy to see me, are you?”

  Callie stared at him for one mortifying moment before she hurled herself across the two feet separating them, flung her arms around him, and kissed him on the mouth.

  * * *

  Ross caught Callie as she crashed against him. He let her smooth lips part his, and then came a jolt of pure pleasure when her tongue swept into his mouth.

  He tasted fire and strength, rage and need. Her hair was warm from the sunshine, falling from her ponytail to spill over his hand. Her body beneath her thin pink shirt and jeans was supple as it swayed into him.

  Ross cupped Callie’s chin, fully engaging with the kiss. Her breath touched his cheek and her hand went to his shoulder, fingers biting down.

  She fit against him nicely, Ross holding her with one arm behind her back. Her hips moved against his thighs, and he knew she’d feel the ridge behind his jeans, the one that made him pull her closer.

  Her mouth was hot, filling him with heat, her body swaying gently with the kiss.

  She’d kissed him because she was pissed off at whomever had made her throw the phone—he could guess what, or who, the call was about. He’d only seen that look on her face once, and that was when she’d found out her fiancé had taken off and left her.

  But so what? Whatever reason Callie had for kissing him, Ross wasn’t about to argue. The kiss didn’t care. It was sweet, hot, beautiful.

  Callie made a little noise in her throat. Ross answered it by deepening the kiss, tasting her mouth, pressing his hand into the small of her back. Her hips rocked into him, her knee bending to let her foot slide along his leg.

  A breeze touched them, trying and failing to cool the Texas heat. It stirred Callie’s hair, satin on his hand. Her chest was tight against his, her breasts soft. Ross remembered how her bridal gown had cupped her, showing him a nice amount of cleavage, tantalizing him with what was below the silk. Breasts were beautiful things.

  “Whoo-eee!”

  The call split the air, and Callie jerked her head up, eyes wide.

  Manny, on his way to the barbecues, waved his arm, his grin huge. Ross, without embarrassment, waved back. Manny leapt and punched the air, then he landed and continued toward the smoke, his seventeen-year-old stomach focused on only one thing.

  “Damn it,” Callie whispered.

  Ross kept his arms around her. She rested her hands on his chest as though wanting to push him away, but she remained in place.

  “Don’t apologize,” Ross said, voice hard. “Don’t tell me you didn’t mean it. It was a kiss. A great one. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Callie stared at him, her blue eyes full of anger and worry, but also desire. She drew a long breath, which pressed her breasts more firmly against him.

  “All right,” she said softly.

  Ross eased his hold, and Callie stepped back. But she waited, not moving, as he bent to retrieve her phone and purse. She tucked away the phone, then looked nonplussed when he stuck out his arm.

  “Hungry?” he asked. “Grant’s really good with the grill.”

  Callie’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “Sure.” She slid her hand under his arm and let him lead her onward.

  The desire he’d seen gave him hope. Ross would have to work at getting rid of her anger and worry, and fan the desire into something special.

  * * *

  Manny Judd looked into the keen blue eyes of Grant Campbell and held his plate a little higher. “I’ll have mine medium well.”

  Grant moved his tongs to a thick piece of meat and turned it over. “Didn’t you just grab a steak like five minutes ago?”

  Manny contrived an innocent look. “I’m really hungry.”

  Grant frowned, not believing him, but he lifted another steak and slapped it onto Manny’s plate. “Don’t eat so fast this time.”

  “Thanks!” Manny zipped away, grabbed fork and knife and napkin from their bins, and forced his way onto the end of a picnic table just beyond the line of barbecue pits.

  The first steak had been put into a Styrofoam to-go box Manny had procured the last time he’d been to the diner. Mrs. Ward hadn’t said a word when he’d taken it from the stack behind her counter.

  The steak waited for him in a cooler he’d stashed under a tree, securely sealed against bugs and critters. He’d have steak fo
r dinner tomorrow. He’d find a way to get some big slices of pie in there too.

  A shadow fell over him as he stuffed the sirloin into his mouth. The meat was meltingly tender, and he rolled it around on his tongue.

  “This is really good,” Manny said to the shadow—Grant—around the mouthful. “Doesn’t even need steak sauce.”

  Manny was joking—the best way to piss off a Texas cook was to reach for the steak sauce.

  “Good to know.” Grant slid into the seat opposite Manny, which someone had vacated. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  Manny chewed another bite. “Don’t you have meat to grill?”

  Grant shrugged. “Adam took over. You know, my mom lets anyone in the county come, but only if they buy a ticket. The money goes to charity.”

  “So? How do you know I didn’t buy a ticket?”

  “Because they’re two hundred dollars,” Grant said patiently.

  Manny stared at him, mouth open. “Two hundred bucks for a steak? Man. Rich people are crazy.”

  “So what are you doing here?” Grant prodded.

  “Ross said I could come.” Manny spoke quickly. Sounded more plausible that way.

  “Yeah?” The word rang with skepticism.

  “Don’t you believe me?”

  Grant shot him a sudden grin. “I don’t have to. I’ll ask him myself. Ross!”

  Ross and Callie were strolling toward the table. Callie had her hand on Ross’s arm. Progress. Definite progress, as had been that kiss in the parking lot.

  Grant rose. Manny hopped up too—that was the polite thing to do when a lady was present, and Callie was seriously a lady.

  “Manny.” Callie sent him her warm smile. “Great to see you.”

  How could Ross not already be running away to Vegas with her? If the girls at school were more like Callie, instead of—Eww, it’s that Judd kid. Get him away from me—he’d be more motivated to attend.

  “Callie.” Manny played it casual. “Ross.”

  “So, he’s your guest?” Grant asked, giving Ross a cue.

  Grant was cool. He didn’t just come out and haul Manny away. He was giving Ross a chance be cool too.

  Ross, the asshole, scowled and opened his mouth to have Manny kicked out.

  Callie spoke before he could. “He’s with me. I’ll cover his ticket.”

  Ross’s scowl deepened, but Grant laughed. “You’re one lucky shit, Manny.”

  “You shouldn’t do that,” Ross told her.

  “What, be nice to someone?” Callie released his arm. “Can’t help it. Smells good. I’m ready to eat.” She sauntered toward the end of the line, lifting a plate as she went.

  Manny hid his glee as Ross watched her go, his gaze traveling down her body. He had it bad.

  “That’s not how you win a lady,” Manny told him. “Let her be an angel.”

  “She’s fine.” Ross fixed his steely gaze on Manny. “What I don’t want is you taking advantage of her. She’s too nice for her own good.”

  Manny’s quick anger rose. “I’m not taking advantage!” Was he? Manny wasn’t sure. He’d have to think about it.

  Grant cut in. “You and Callie?” he asked Ross. “I heard a rumor you took her out to the diner, but I didn’t believe it.”

  “There is no me and Callie,” Ross began.

  “She calls, he comes running,” Manny said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And he was kissing her in the parking lot just now.”

  “Yeah?” Grant looked impressed. “A Jones girl. Way to go, little brother.”

  “Don’t call her a Jones girl,” Ross growled. “Show some respect.”

  Grant gave Manny a conspiratorial look. “Respect. Kissing. She calls and he rushes to her. He brings her to Mom’s barbecue … I think we have some serious seriousness going on. What’d you think?”

  “Yep.” Manny nodded. “Serious seriousness.”

  “Give it a rest, Grant,” Ross said wearily.

  “Why? My baby brother is getting some action.”

  Manny didn’t think Ross’s face could get any darker. “There is no action,” Ross said firmly. “Grow the hell up, Grant.”

  Grant wasn’t cowed. “Well, if you took her somewhere fancier than Mrs. Ward’s, maybe there’d be more action involved. A lady likes to be wined and dined.”

  “I keep trying to tell him,” Manny said.

  “Shit, the pair of you.” Ross took a step closer to Manny. “I do not want any of this dumbass talk getting back to Callie.” He glanced to her as she leaned toward Adam at the grill, charming him as easily she charmed everyone else. “Manny, you finish up your lunch and take a hike. Got it?”

  Manny’s disappointment hit him hard, but he’d learned long ago to hide his feelings. “I can’t go yet. I haven’t had any pie.”

  The tables were just being set up—Mrs. Ward, her daughter, and Carter’s wife, Grace, started to carry out the pies.

  “Fine. Have your pie, and then go.”

  Sweet. Manny would make sure at least one slice of each kind made it into his cooler.

  Callie was heading their way, her plate loaded. “It all looked so good, I had to try a little of everything. Manny, mind if I sit with you?”

  Grant sent Ross a significant look as Callie took the seat Grant had vacated, the only empty place at the long table. Callie gave Manny a big smile.

  Manny knew then that Ross so needed this woman. She’d take Ross to bed and make him happy, and he’d calm down and leave Manny the hell alone.

  Because if he didn’t leave Manny alone, things could get dangerous—for Ross. Ross was a diligent cop, which made him the enemy of a lot of really bad people.

  As much as Ross gave Manny hell, Manny kind of liked him. Ross could’ve had Manny locked up so tight he wouldn’t get out until he was eighty, but he hadn’t. He’d given Manny a break. More than one.

  He was like the big brother Manny never had, and in spite of the way Ross bossed him around, a damn sight more reasonable than Manny’s dad.

  Ross needed to keep calm and let things go. Then the bad guys would cross Ross off their hit list and leave him alone.

  Manny would fix up Ross and Callie, Ross would be safe, and everything would be all right. Manny gulped his food as worry hit him. Right?

  * * *

  Watching Callie was the best part of the barbecue, Ross decided. In past years, he’d come for the food and to hang out with his brothers, mom, and friends, but today, it was all about Callie.

  He knew she felt awkward about facing the whole town after her ignominious wedding. She had nothing to be ashamed of, but he understood. Having everyone she’d ever known watch her be humiliated, and then either pity her or spitefully say she got what she deserved, couldn’t be fun.

  Ross had gone through something similar when he’d announced he wouldn’t be joining his brothers in their stunt-riding shows. While trick riding had been fun as a kid, the thought of galloping around showing off, when he wasn’t recovering from broken bones, wasn’t his idea of a productive life.

  Being sheriff’s deputy in a small town would never be exactly safe—small towns and surrounding countryside attracted their share of criminals—but he preferred driving his SUV along beautiful back roads to trying to coax Buster the shithead wonder horse to do his tricks. He wanted to help people and keep them safe, not ride around arenas while spectators held their breaths, half-hoping he’d fall on his ass.

  However, stunt riding had become an established Campbell tradition by the time Ross had been old enough to join his brothers in their shows. The fact that Ross had taken a low-paying, relatively thankless job handing out traffic tickets instead of basking in fame like the rest of his brothers had made the town talk. Rumors were that Ross and his brothers had had a big fight. Total bullshit circulated that he’d been caught with a brother’s girlfriend, though rumor couldn’t decide if the girlfriend had been Grant’s, Tyler’s, or Carter’s.

  The crap he’d gotten from the town had
stung. Ross had dealt with their disapprobation by ignoring everyone the best he could until they got used to him in his uniform. Carter had taken Ross’s side as well, and few people wanted to argue with Carter.

  Callie was handling her reemergence with aplomb. She turned to greet people with a ready smile, a gentle handshake, hugs for women she knew. She spoke animatedly but wasn’t over-eager, didn’t push herself on anyone.

  When Ross introduced her to his mother—they already knew each other, of course, but it was polite— Mom, you remember Callie—Olivia had immediately folded Callie into her arms. “Honey, I’m so sorry what happened to you. No one blames you, dear.”

  That was the closest Ross had seen Callie come to breaking down. She blinked away tears and then started talking about her friend’s horse rehab ranch. Olivia’s face lit with interest, and Ross had left them to it.

  As the barbecue began to wind down, Ross met Callie on the porch of the ranch house. The day had turned unmercifully hot, and remaining guests sought shade and cool drinks under open-air tents. The band had finished and now lounged offstage, drinking beer.

  “You look happy,” Ross observed as Callie smiled up at him from the porch swing, glass of iced tea in hand.

  “Your mom gave me some great ideas,” Callie said. “I’m all set to talk to Karen Marvin, who runs your family’s nonprofit. I don’t know her well—what’s she like?”

  “She was at your wedding,” Ross pointed out.

  “Because my mother invited the entire town. I met her briefly, once, but I don’t know her.”

  Ross thought about Karen, the hard-as-nails businesswoman who had a surprising soft side, but also a yen for cowboys. She’d had a new one on her arm today, a brash young man from the rodeo circuit. “She’s good at what she does. Don’t expect warm, but she is efficient.”

  “Fine with me. My friend Nicole needs solutions, not hand-holding. I’m getting excited about it again. That feels nice, you know? After a couple months of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I’m glad to have something to do.”

  It looked good on her too. Callie’s face was flushed, her eyes shining.