07 It Had to Be You

by Jill Shalvis

  “Stuff for s’mores?” Amy asked.

  “Of course. Here—” Callie started flipping through her purse while Amy scribbled on the list. “I’ll give you some cash.” She looked into her empty wallet. She’d taken sixty bucks out of the bank machine the night she’d gone out to dinner with Michael, and hadn’t spent a penny of it, but it was gone.

  “What’s the matter?” Amy had stopped writing and was staring at her.

  Callie stared back. Not a single sign of guilt, and then Callie felt her own guilt for even looking for it.

  Amy went stiff, then backed up a step. “You’re missing money.”

  “I’m not sure.” She shook her head. “No, I can’t be.” She forced a smile. “I’m just going senile. I misplaced it or something.” Before Amy could question that, Callie made up an excuse about needing to get outside, and made her escape.

  Eddie was coaxing a few of the cheerleaders into getting eggs from the hens. They were laughing and having a great time by the looks of it. Tucker had talked a few others into milking their two milk cows, which was also causing great amusement.

  Stone and Jake were painting the shed, Jake using his left hand, the two of them egged on by yet another set of cheerleaders. She was glad to see Stone smiling. She knew he’d stayed out all night, staggering in at dawn that morning looking quite hungover. He looked fine now, thankfully.

  So did Jake, in his jeans and T-shirt stretched taut across the muscles of his back as he worked. Callie had figured she’d come out here and tell him about the money missing from her wallet, but something held her back. A tall blonde something named Cici. She hated herself for the weakness of caring, for the stupid jealousy, but that didn’t change a thing.

  Callie didn’t have any hold on him, and she didn’t want one—or so she’d told herself a million times. They hadn’t spoken directly to each other in days, and she decided to keep it that way, especially since as of right now, men were the bane of her existence.

  By nightfall, they had a bonfire going despite a steady wind, and were all working on making their guests’ last night a smash hit. It was an organized chaos, with the cheerleaders wandering around, drinks in hand, flirting with the guys, and the guys each handling their responsibilities and enjoying themselves as well.

  Vicki finally realized she was beating a dead horse when it came to chasing Jake, and adjusted her mission to Eddie. She had her hands all over him, laughing in apology when she accidentally dumped the contents of his denim jacket pocket to the ground. Lighter, keys, and three folded twenties scattered at their feet.

  Three twenties, like the three twenties Callie was missing. Callie stared at him, but he laughed and scooped everything back up without one sign of distress or nerves, and she forced herself to relax. Eddie would never steal from her. None of them would. She hated that she’d even thought it.

  The wind cut through her and she moved closer to the fire for the warmth. She tried to enjoy herself, but she was tired and her heart felt heavy. She looked around the fire to make sure everyone was having a good time, and realized one thing they’d forgotten—the long fire pokers they used to toast the marshmallows for the s’mores. “I’ll be right back,” she told Stone, and headed in the dark toward the newly painted shed, where they kept the bonfire supplies.

  Pulling her pen-sized flashlight from her pocket, she turned it on and put it between her teeth, freeing her hands to open the door.

  She stepped inside and was immediately hit by the fumes. Her boot connected with a can and she looked down. Paint cans, paint brushes sitting in trays, rags, all the supplies they’d used had been hastily stored here. She remembered rushing Stone through his cleanup a couple of hours ago and sighed. “Damn it, Stone.”

  Suddenly the shed door shut behind her, and she jerked in surprise, dropping her flashlight. The wind. In the pitch black, she whirled around to open the door again, but it wouldn’t budge. “No!” Paint vapors invading her lungs, she bent to feel around for the flashlight, grateful when her fingers closed over it and the thing clicked on again. Standing up, she reached for the overhead light. As it clicked on, she weaved, dizzy now. The fumes were bad. She put her fist to the door, pounding as hard as she could. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

  It was useless and she knew it. She was a good hundred yards away from the bonfire, and with the wind kicking up, the sounds of the crackling fire and all the talking, no one could possibly hear her. She moved around the small space, looking for something to hit the door with, something to make a loud noise. She tried a broom, then the handle of a paintbrush. Nothing worked, and feeling sick, she sank to her knees. The wind whistled through a few cracks, but she also thought she heard something else. Footsteps? What if it hadn’t been the wind to shut her in here? Her heart kicked it up a notch. Was that someone outside right this minute, listening to her scream?

  Which begged the next question. How long she could stand here before her crew realized she was missing? Or before she suffocated? “They’ll come,” she told herself, and leaned back against the door. Any second now. She closed her eyes to wait…

  Only to gasp in surprise when the door jerked opened behind her, spilling her outside and into a pair of strong, warm arms. Jake’s. “Callie!”

  Other voices crowded close, too. “Let me see her—”

  “What’s the matter with her?”

  “—My God, the fumes—Is she breathing?”

  Callie’s head swam with both the fumes and the voices of all the people in her life. Tucker, Stone, Eddie, Lou and Marge. Michael, too. When had he come?

  “Let me take her.” That was him, full of fear.

  “I’ve got her.” This was Jake again, and his arms tightened on her. “Callie?”

  She opened her eyes, and found herself on the ground in his lap, cradled to his chest, the faces of the rest of her crew so close that she had to blink to put them in focus.

  “You rescued me again,” she whispered to Jake. Her throat hurt. “Damn it.”

  “What the hell were you doing in there?”

  “I think the wind slammed the door shut on me. I couldn’t breathe.”

  “Of course not,” Jake said fiercely. “Some idiot put all the paint supplies in there.”

  Everyone turned to look at Stone. He seemed horrified. “We were in a hurry, I didn’t think—”

  “Didn’t think? Or couldn’t?” Michael snapped. “Were you drinking?”

  “No.”

  “I saw you,” Tucker said quietly.

  “Yes, but that was after,” Stone said faintly. “We all had a beer…” He looked around at each of them. “I wasn’t drinking this afternoon when I put the stuff in there, I swear!”

  “We’re just lucky the shed didn’t burst into flames,” Jake said. “Callie, why didn’t you yell for us?”

  “I did! I was screaming my head off for all of you.”

  Jake’s hands tightened on her, his eyes never left her face. “We didn’t hear you, everything was so noisy.”

  She tried to get up but he was holding her with a gentle grip of steel and he wouldn’t let her go, even when she knew she had to be hurting him. “Jake—”

  “Another minute,” he murmured, hugging her. “Give yourself another minute.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Then give me another minute.”

  “Give us all one.” Eddie sat back on his heels, swiping at his forehead with his arm as he eyed his brother in concern. “My God.”

  Tucker touched Callie’s face. “She’s okay.”

  “We’re calling the sheriff,” Michael said. “No one touch that latch, we’re fingerprinting it.”

  “All of us have touched that latch,” Callie said. “And I don’t want to scare the guests.”

  “Stone and Eddie, maybe you should go check on the fire,” Jake said. “Tucker—”

  “Yeah.” Tucker surged to his feet, not arguing with him for once. “I’ll check the guests.” He touched Callie’s face again and th
en was gone.

  Michael didn’t budge. “Callie—”

  “I’m fine.” She had no idea why she was still cuddled on Jake’s lap, secure within his arms, as if she was hurt. She wasn’t. With the fresh night air, her head had cleared. “I’m fine,” she repeated, and to prove it, she stood up. She smiled at Michael, who didn’t smile back.

  He was still upset over what had happened earlier, and hurt, and yet everything he felt for her was in his eyes. God help her, she couldn’t deal with that now. She turned and held a hand to Jake.

  He struggled up, his face a mask of pain.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “I jarred it a little.”

  “That was from playing he-man with the jammed shed door,” Michael said. He didn’t add how stupid it’d been, though the implication was there in his tone.

  Jake’s jaw tightened, whether from more pain or annoyance, Callie had no idea, but she slipped her arm around his good side. “You need ice.”

  “Cal, you need taking care of, too,” Michael said.

  “I can take care of myself,” she reminded him gently, but she gave him a hard hug, and found her heart softening when he hugged her hard right back. “Don’t worry about me,” she whispered. “Please?”

  “It’s a habit,” Michael said, and when she took Jake inside, he sighed. “My heart’s habit.”

  14

  Callie took Jake inside the big house, and into the weight room.

  “You want me to try to strangle myself again?” he asked, glancing at the bench.

  “Another time.” She opened the small room they used for massages. Twice a week Macy came in from Three Rocks to give massage therapy, and in fact was there that night. Callie had caught a glimpse of her outside partying with the guests. She already had her massage table all set up, along with some scented candles and oils. “Hot or cold pack, do you think?”

  “Callie.” Jake looked a little stunned. “You’re the one who got locked in that shed with no air. I should be taking care of you—”

  She pushed him down to the table.

  He sat up. “You’re still upset with me because of Cici, but I swear, I didn’t invite her here.”

  She pushed him flat again. “Your life is your own. Now do you want a massage or not?”

  “Are you kidding?” He blinked. “A massage would be…fantastic.”

  “Great. Macy’ll be here any minute. You can go before the cheerleaders get their turn. Consider it an owner bonus.”

  He stopped in the act of pulling off his shirt. “Macy?”

  “Well you didn’t think I—” She broke off because she could tell from the look on his face that that’s exactly what he’d thought. Cost of the candles, $10. Cost of the soft rock CD, $18. Cost of the look on his face, priceless. “That’s a good one, Jake. You propose a wild spring fling with me, then sleep with another woman, and then you actually believe I’d touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

  “There are so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t know where to start,” he said softly. He got off the table and came toward her.

  She backed away, holding up a hand to ward him off. “I have guests to see to.”

  “This is more important.”

  “Nothing’s more important than the guests, and the money they bring in.” Whipping open the door, she slipped out. She hurried through the weight room and down the hall.

  Back out into the night, she took in the bonfire scene, and all the guests and her ranch hands sitting around, laughing, talking, singing, having a grand old time. So normal. It seemed like ages since she’d set out to get the fire pokers for the s’mores. Now someone else had clearly located them, and the s’mores were a huge success as always.

  Macy stood among them, smiling and taking a bite of Stone’s dessert. When she saw Callie, she waved and came over. “Hey. Bunch of perky cheerleaders, huh? Only three signed up for a massage.” She shrugged. “Maybe they’ll tip good. It’d have been nice if there’d been a few guys though. Guys can be cheerleaders, can’t they?”

  “I don’t know, but I have a guy for you. He’s one hundred and ninety pounds of solid hurting muscle.”

  “Ooh, goodie.”

  “He’s not a cheerleader.”

  “Honey, you had me at the solid, hurting muscle.”

  Callie watched Macy let herself inside the big house, and forcing a smile on her face, joined the crowd at the fire.

  Michael came up to her immediately, but then just looked at her.

  “What?”

  “I’m fighting the urge to grab you and hold on.” He let out a low laugh and spread out his hands in front of him. “I don’t want to be overbearing or pushy.”

  “Well, you’re in luck.” She leaned on him. “I could use a little TLC.”

  His arms came around her and he held on, resting his chin on her head. “You gave me gray hair today.”

  “The shed incident?”

  “Yeah, the shed incident. Holy shit. But also because you’re pulling away from me. I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to choose between me and the ranch. I’m sorry I overstepped the boundaries and kissed you like that.”

  “Michael, I can’t stand it that I’m hurting you, but—”

  “But this is how it is. I know. And this is all you have to give me. I know that, too.” After another moment, he pulled away, offering her a small smile designed to hide his feelings. As he headed back to the fire, a pang went through her, because she knew that after today things might never be the same. It scared her because she didn’t have that many people in her life, and the ones she did have were all important to her, so very important. And yet she couldn’t give what she didn’t have, she just couldn’t.

  She moved around the fire, making small talk with the guests, checking to see that everyone was happy and having a good time. Lou and Marge stopped her, with Marge clucking over her like a mother hen. After assuring them that she was fine, Callie kept moving. Eddie squeezed her hand. Tucker did the same, adding a long, searching look as if to make sure she was really okay.

  She was on the far side of the large fire now. She wanted to be alone, wanted to check on Sierra, and then maybe hit the sack. It was early but she felt the weight of the day like a lead ball.

  “Callie.” Stone appeared at her side. His usual happy smile was nowhere in sight. “God, Callie, I’m so sorry. It’s just that we were rushing to clean up, and I knew I had to hurry if I wanted to get all the chores done, so I just shoved everything in the shed. I meant to get back to it, clean it all out, I swear.” His eyes were tortured. “If I’d known you’d get shut in there—”

  “I know.”

  “I should have just let the animals wait for once, I never should have just walked away from paint, especially the rags. I know better, I do. And I wasn’t drinking until later—”

  “It’s okay,” she said quietly, reaching for his hand. “It was a mistake any of us could have made.”

  “I wasn’t drinking,” he said again.

  “I know.” She took his other hand and looked into his eyes. “But you are drinking at night. A lot. It’s never been any of my business,” she said when he would have spoken. “It’s never affected your work here.”

  “It doesn’t. It won’t.”

  “Stone…” She squeezed his hands. “I don’t want to worry about you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “But I do. And so does Eddie.”

  He was quiet a moment, and then he grimaced. “Yeah.” He lowered his voice. “I guess, to tell you the truth, sometimes I worry, too.”

  “Oh, Stone.”

  He tried smiling but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can fix this. I can stop. I will stop.”

  “You could get help.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be fine,” he repeated, and let her hug him. And when he’d gone back to the fire, she continued walking the grounds, checking on the animals. She made
sure Sierra was okay, petted the puppies, and then found herself, an hour after she’d left it, going back into the big house. Macy came down the hall. “You were right. One solid aching muscle, the poor guy. I put him right to sleep. You didn’t tell me about his injuries. I’m going to go out and sit by the fire to give him a few minutes.”

  Callie waited until she was gone, then peeked into the weight room. Like a moth to a flame, she thought. The candles were still lit, the portable CD player still on so that the sounds of the ocean spilled softly into the air.

  She had no business intruding, and she faltered a moment while her mind argued with her hormones, but it all backed up in her throat at the sight of Jake’s big, beautiful body sprawled face down on the massage table, fast asleep.

  Macy had pulled the sheet up to the small of his bare back. His left arm was up, cradling his head, his right arm straight along his side. She could see his scar as it curved over his shoulder. His back was sleek with the oil Macy had used, except—

  Except for beneath his right shoulder blade, where a healing burn marked the span of her two hands. She’d not seen him without his shirt from behind before, and he’d never said…But the implications of his accident, of saving a kid, then falling three stories through burning floors, finally sank in.

  Looking at him, she felt such an ache, such an inexplicable longing she couldn’t explain it, even to herself. What was she doing? They had such different lives, and such different dreams…and still she stood there watching over him, guarding his sleep, wondering and wishing.

  Jake woke up the next morning to the scent of coffee. Since Tucker didn’t give a shit about improving the quality of Jake’s morning, he knew he had to be dreaming.

  “Get your ass up, I’m not going to serve it to you in bed.”

  Jake cracked an eye and took in the sight of his brother scowling at the foot of the cot, which meant that Jake had somehow managed to stumble back to the cabin last night on his own. Vaguely he remembered doing so, and being chased across the grass by Goose.