07 It Had to Be You

by Jill Shalvis

  Eddie and Tucker stood there gaping. “Why are you kissing Cal?” Eddie demanded.

  Stone smiled at Callie. “Because she’s pretty damn cool.”

  “Oh.” Eddie blinked. “Well, I want to kiss her, too.”

  Tucker shoved him, then came closer. “What’s going on?”

  Stone looked at Callie, his heart in his eyes. He didn’t want them to know, and she wouldn’t be the one to tell them. “He was showing me cow resuscitation techniques,” she said primly. “And he’ll be happy to show either of you, as well. But hurry, because we’ve got to get these college studs out on the trail if we want to get there before dark.”

  Tucker stared at her for a long moment, then at Stone, but he didn’t say another word while they saddled up the horses. A little bit later, Jake met them outside, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. “You’re going?” he asked, reaching out to help her lift a saddle.

  “Don’t.” She shouldered him away. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  He pulled back with the irritated look of a man used to taking over, used to being in charge, a man who kept forgetting he no longer could do that. “The weather is going to turn bad.”

  She glanced at the admittedly cloudy sky and shrugged. “That’s part of the life out here.”

  “No, I mean really bad.”

  She strapped on the saddle. “How do you know?”

  “My ribs hurt.”

  Her fingers went still on the horse. “I didn’t know you’d hurt your ribs in your fall.”

  “Not that fall. I broke four of them in another fire, several years ago.”

  “Rescuing someone?”

  “A staircase gave way while I was trying to get to a woman on the floor beneath me.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I got her out.”

  “With four broken ribs?”

  “And a gash on my head.” He put his finger on the inch long scar above his left eye. “There’s a storm coming, and it’s going to be a wet one. Trust me.”

  “We can’t cancel, the guys are too excited. And anyway, a little rain never bothered me.”

  “Thought you’d say that.” He squinted at the sky, then sighed grimly. “I’m coming, too.”

  “Fond of getting rained on, are you?”

  “No. I’m fond of you.” And upon delivering that shocking statement, he walked away, calling out to Eddie to say they needed one more horse.

  Fine. Who was she to argue with the man? But she stepped close to Sierra and hugged her, needing the contact. “He’s fond of me, damn it.”

  Tucker had just finished packing up the horses when he saw Amy walking toward him with a bag in her arms. Her dark hair glinted in the sun. She wasn’t smiling, but he found himself wanting to at just the sight of her.

  He’d never had much of a problem in the female department, but this woman was different, and though extremely resistant, he couldn’t seem to help himself. He wanted to know her more.

  “Here’s the last bag. I added some popcorn for the bonfire tonight,” she said.

  “Thanks.” He took the bag, touching her fingers with his as he did. He took it as a good sign when she didn’t jerk away or slam him to the ground. “I’ve got all your directions.” He patted his pocket. “You didn’t ask me to make the carrots pretty or anything, right?”

  “Not this time. But you do have to be careful with the chili—”

  “I can handle it.” Probably. “Trust me.”

  She just looked at him, and it was the oddest thing, but just looking right back at her somehow broke his heart. There was just something about her, something about her eyes, her tough attitude and soft center. He really did want to know her, and he had to say, it was unusual not to have that feeling returned.

  She wore her black jeans and boots again. When she’d first come to the ranch, he’d figured they were all she owned, since she’d had only a small duffel bag. But she’d had a few paychecks now, and could have bought herself something else if she’d wanted. Maybe she was saving for a rainy day.

  She leaned in past him and inspected the way he’d packed everything. Her hair fell forward, revealing the sweet spot on the back of her neck. She had a small tattoo of the sun there, and he winced as he reached out and touched it.

  She jerked as if she’d been shot, and whipped around.

  “Sorry.” He lifted his hand in the air. “I was just thinking how that must have hurt on such a tender spot.”

  She put her hand to the back of her neck. “It was a long time ago.”

  “It’s pretty. It is,” he said when she arched a brow. “You are.”

  Now she let out one bark of a laugh and turned to leave.

  He moved in front of her. “So how long ago could it have been? You’re only…what, eighteen?”

  “Six years.”

  “Jesus.” He whistled softly. “What kind of a mother let her daughter get a tattoo at twelve?”

  “The dead kind.”

  Ah, man. He was an idiot. An idiot with a big old boot in his mouth.

  She started adjusting the pack on the horse, even though they both knew he’d done a fine job. “Don’t say you’re sorry,” she said when he opened his mouth. “I was just a baby when she died. I never knew her.”

  “Who raised you?”

  “My dad.” She shrugged and shifted some of the food around. “Sort of.”

  He put a hand over hers. “Sort of?”

  “He wasn’t around all that much.”

  “And now?”

  “And now…he’s still not around that much.” She pulled her hand from his and put the horse between them. “He’s a trucker.”

  An angry one, Tucker guessed, and very carefully he stepped around the horse and closer to Amy. “It must have been rough for you without a mom.”

  “Stop it.” She moved back a step, her breathing coming out a little too quick. “I don’t want your pity.”

  “It’s not pity I’m feeling.”

  She searched his expression with a scowl, and he purposely put an easy smile on his face when what he really wanted to do was touch her. Hug her. But she was on the edge of panic over revealing too much, over his nearness, pick one. “Going to miss me while I’m gone?”

  She gaped at him as if he were crazy.

  He offered her a hopeful smile.

  She shook her head, but if he wasn’t mistaken, suddenly there was a small little sparkle of good humor lurking in her dark eyes.

  “I’m not that bad of a guy, Amy. Maybe you could even give me a try sometime.”

  She looked at him for a long, long moment. “Maybe.” And with that shocking word, she turned and walked away, leaving him staring after her.

  “See you when I get back!” he called out.

  Without looking back, she lifted a hand as if to say yeah, yeah, whatever, but still, a hopeful grin split his face.

  They rode all day. The Dragoons were a maze of yawning crevices, abrupt precipices, and granite spires. Boulders the size of the ranch’s barn were balanced with smaller rocks, sprinkled across steep hillsides from which deer, raptors, snakes, and coyotes made their home. On the valley floor lay wheaten grasslands, dotted with bush and huge oaks wide enough to conceal whole packs of coyotes.

  Above them the skies churned and burned, going from blue to slate, and then nearly black, but not a drop fell. If it had started to rain, Callie might have been able to turn them back, but the guys were into it, and she had to admit, it felt good to ride.

  By noon, seven of the eight Washington State students had hit on her.

  She took each come-on in the same manner, that is, with great amusement. Smithy was the most aggressive one, the twenty-one-year-old basketball star and all-around God’s gift to women—just ask him. He didn’t like being turned down, and afterward, when Callie had said no to him—twice—he made a point of riding the fastest and being the most outrageous. He pretty much toed the line on everything they did, leaving her with the urge to t
hrottle him.

  “There’s one in every group,” Eddie said in disgust after lunch, when Smithy had tried jumping his horse, Tongue, over a small creek. Tongue—named for his love of licking everything—ran along with Smithy as asked, until his hooves got wet. Then he stopped so short that Smithy sailed over the top of him, landing in the water.

  He’d been furious, made all the madder when his buddies howled with laughter. But his fury hadn’t matched Callie’s. With steam coming out her ears, she’d started forward but Eddie and Tucker had each put a hand on either of her shoulders, holding her back until she calmed down. When she’d swallowed most of her anger, she had a long talk with Smithy, and only after threatening to send him back with Eddie, did he apologize and promise to be good.

  “You always have this problem?” Jake asked after they’d continued on the trail.

  “Which? Leading idiots, or dealing with the ridiculous come-ons?”

  “The come-ons, mostly.”

  “No,” she admitted. “Never.”

  “Please.”

  “Seriously, I don’t. It’s not that often we get a group of single males like this.” She shot him a wry glance. “They usually bring their own women.”

  He frowned. “Funny.”

  “I thought so.”

  “So tell me why I feel like smashing some heads.”

  She studied the darkening sky. Jake had been right, they were in for a doozy of a storm. “They’re just stupid kids.”

  “They’re not much younger than you, and I can’t see you ever acting like this.”

  “You know me well enough to make a statement like that?”

  “Yes,” he said boldly. “Just like you know me. Whether we like it or not.”

  They rode in silence for a while along the valley floor, surrounded on either side by towering canyon walls and wild, spinning clouds. They began to hear thunder in the distance, but still no rain. “I didn’t want to know you,” she finally said. “That way, when you left, I wouldn’t care.”

  “Every day I think about leaving.”

  “You can’t wait to go.”

  He looked at her. “Most of the time. But once in a while like now…I don’t want to ever go.”

  She didn’t know what to make of that, so she said nothing. They descended down to the valley floor, moving along on the dry riverbed.

  Ahead of her now, Jake handled his horse well. He’d gotten quite proficient for a man who’d rather be moving of his own accord. He held his reins with authority, his body at ease in the saddle. He was definitely a chameleon, whatever he thought of himself, fitting into any different arena, no matter how foreign.

  Eventually the last of the eight students, the only one who hadn’t yet hit on her, fell in line beside her.

  “Problem?” she asked him.

  “Oh no.” Wes grinned the grin of the wild and crazy youth. “This is great.”

  “Uh-huh.” She lifted a brow. “Want to just cut to the chase?”

  “Which is?”

  “You have to come on to me. The others expect it. I know it, and you know it. You also know there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell you’re getting anything the others didn’t. So whatever line you’ve come up with, how about you just save it for another woman?”

  “But now see, that’s the problem. There are no other women out here.”

  “But you had to know there wouldn’t be. You guys came out here for fun, then you saw me and thought I’d be an easy mark, so—”

  “None of us thought that,” he rushed to assure her. “We just had to try.”

  “And it’s out of your system now, right? Good,” she said when he nodded. “Then go have the fun you came for.” She sighed in relief when he rode off, but the relief was short-lived when a resounding crack of thunder split the air above them, accompanied only a few seconds later by a blinding flash of lightning.

  One big fat rain drop landed on Callie’s nose. It was only the very beginning, she thought, and glanced back at Eddie who was looking straight up into the sky.

  “Uh-oh,” he said as the clouds slammed into each other violently, covering every inch of visible sky.

  Even as she watched, they tumbled and churned, lowering until she felt as if she could reach up and touch them. “Okay, listen up, everyone! We’ve had a great time today—”

  “Ah, man, you’re going to make us head back,” one of the guys groaned.

  “Up to you. But the rain is coming. Either way, we have to get back off the valley floor to the canyons above in case of flash flooding. But if we leave now, we could gallop a good part of the way and make it to the ranch in two hours tops. Plenty of time to get a roaring fire going inside and sleep in warm beds.”

  “So we make the choice between warm”—Wes looked around them even as the sky opened up, as another resonating shuddering boom of thunder vibrated the ground beneath their feet, followed immediately by a blinding flash of lightning—“or wet and wild. Hmm…” Eyes lit with adventure, he looked at his friends.

  “Wet and wild,” voted all the other guys, with whooping and cheers.

  Eddie looked at Jake, who shook his head. Smithy pointed northeast to a rock formation not too far off, beyond the dry riverbed they stood in. “Looks like a naked chick. We need a picture of us beneath it.”

  “All right,” Callie said. “But after we get there and take the picture, we go up.”

  They rode on toward the rock formation, Callie holding her breath, knowing they had to still go down the valley a half mile or so before catching the trail to the higher elevation, where they’d be safe from a flood.

  Halfway to the rocks, a series of lightning strikes hit close and the world went bright white. The rain turned to buckets of water, and within seconds, they were all drenched. This was more rain than even she’d counted on. In fact, it was more than she’d seen come down in years. They’d had a dry spring until now, and the parched, cracked earth couldn’t absorb it fast enough.

  The flood she worried about became an all too real possibility, and they still were in the narrow valley between nothing but sharp, rocky cliffs. She had to yell to be heard. “We’re sitting ducks in this dry riverbed!” Which was already beginning to fill. “We make a run for the trail to the top, then head back, taking the high route this time. It’ll take longer, but we’ll be safer.”

  The guys started to moan and groan but Jake moved forward on his horse, until he was at Callie’s side. “She said we go back. We go back.”

  “Fine!” Smithy yelled. “Just as soon as I get my picture.” He pointed to the rocks still to their north, barely visible now in the driving rain. Without waiting for anyone else, he kicked Tongue, who leapt into a canter.

  “Goddammit.” Callie turned her horse around. Shielding her eyes so she could see through the pouring rain, she sought out Eddie, Tucker, and Jake. “Take the guys and head to the trail. I’ll go after Smithy. We’ll be right behind you.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Jake said grimly.

  “It’s going to flash flood,” she said urgently. “Just get the guys back—”

  “Eddie and I can take these guys back.” Tucker nodded to the suddenly humble group of guys, all looking wet, bedraggled, and extremely young. “Capturing Smithy might take both of you.” He exchanged a long look with Jake, who nodded. “Go!”

  Callie nodded curtly and urged Sierra ahead into a gallop, knowing Eddie and Tucker would get the guys up the canyon walls, then head back to the ranch. Jake was right at her side as they rode after Smithy. They could just see him up ahead. There, at the next bolt of thunder, Tongue reared up.

  Callie gasped, fear becoming one big ball in her belly, but Smithy managed to hang on to the now terrified horse and keep going. “Smithy!” she yelled, her voice lost in the drumming rain. Seconds later, she lost sight of him entirely. “Jake! Do you see him?”

  “We’re catching up to him.”

  Jake wasn’t wearing a hat, so she had no idea how he could see anyt
hing. His hair was plastered to his head and water streamed down his face. But believing in him, she kept riding in the same direction.

  Sierra jerked at the next crack of thunder, and the immediate flash of lightning, but stayed in control. Thankfully Molly did the same for Jake. Callie had seen some spring storms before but never one as fast and violent as this one. She hoped to God no one got struck by lightning, and even as she hoped it, the sky lit up again, a series of bolts that seemed to go on forever. She thought she saw Smithy and Tongue again, only several hundred feet away now. He’d nearly made it to the other side of the valley floor, where he’d be safe enough if he held still. She nearly sagged in relief but then it backed up in her throat.

  Because from the dry riverbed, the path they’d just ridden the past few hours, came a huge, thundering roar, and Callie knew what that meant. Water, tons of it, falling from the sky, from the sharp precipices, onto the dry riverbed, rushing at them.

  And when it hit, they’d be carried downriver with it.

  17

  Don’t look!” Jake yelled at her as the wall of water rushed at them. “Just keep going straight across, not toward Smithy! Hurry, Callie!”

  “But Smithy—”

  “Go, goddammit!”

  The rain blinded her, and the ground rumbled, not from the thunder now, but the rushing, tumbling flash flood coming their way.

  Ahead of her Smithy stopped Tongue and turned around, squinting into the pouring rain. Seeing her, he waved.

  “No!” she shouted. “Keep going, keep going!” She waved at him, tried to warn him to get completely across the riverbed.

  He craned his neck, saw the rushing flood. He opened his mouth in surprise, and then leapt off his horse.

  “No!” Jake yelled just as Tongue, freed now, took off, instinctively galloping north toward the rocks on the far side.

  Jake slid down off his horse, too, and thrust the reins up to Callie. “Go to Tongue. Go!” Then he started running toward Smithy.

  Callie gripped both horses’ reins and urged them to move. She kept glancing back, but the rain blocked her vision. When she reached the rocks safely, she jumped off Sierra, grabbed Tongue’s reins as well, and whipped around, just as the riverbed flooded. Suddenly there was three or four feet of dirty, tumbling river running past her.