The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands?

by Janis Reams Hudson

  Leaving his hand on her hip, Caleb tossed the bag of corn onto the table and rose from the chair to stand before her. Close before her. “One of the things I’ve always admired about you was that you’ve always known, and admitted, that you’re a lousy liar.”

  Heat stung her cheeks. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her they were as red as a Hereford’s hind end. “Yeah, well, it was worth a try.”

  With his fingers he smoothed a strand of hair from her face. It was all she could do to keep from leaning into his touch. What was the matter with her?

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Talk about how I got drunk and embarrassed myself last night?”

  “Why did you get drunk? It’s not like you.”

  Melanie shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was just more stupid than usual.”

  He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up toward his. “You are not, nor have you ever been, stupid.”

  She forced a wry grin. “I was last night.”

  “I hope you mean because you drank too much, not because you kissed me.”

  “Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Maybe I want to remind you.”

  Melanie knew, from the look in his eyes and the tone in his voice, that he was not talking about reminding her of drinking too much. She swallowed. “Why?”

  “Aren’t you even a little curious to see where this might lead us?”

  “No.” She shook her head hard. “We don’t need to be led anywhere. We do great without kissing.”

  “Yeah.” He pulled her close and rested his cheek against the top of her head. His arms slipped around her and held her loosely. “You’re right. We’ve always done great, you and me.”

  They had stood this way so many times before, Melanie thought. A hundred, a thousand times or more, but never quite like this. There was comfort, as there always had been. Whenever she needed holding to ease an ache inside, Caleb was always there with his broad chest and steady heart. And there was strength, as always, in his muscled arms.

  But today there was more. There was a tension, a new anticipation that hummed between them because now they knew what could happen if their lips met. Melanie both feared and reveled in the warring emotions. Both feared and reveled in the feel of his bare chest beneath her splayed fingers. Without any conscious command or permission from her brain, her fingers flexed. Caressed. Beneath them Caleb’s muscles jerked.

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  Maybe he should be, too, Caleb thought, but he wasn’t. He wanted her to do it again. He liked feeling her hands on his flesh. It seemed impossible. She was his friend. They had touched each other, casually, a zillion times over the years. Not once, in his memory, had her touch made his pulse spike this way.

  Yes, he wanted her to touch him again.

  He raised his head and looked down into her emer-ald-green eyes. If they moved their feet they’d be dancing.

  “What are we doing, Caleb?”

  “Are we supposed to know?”

  “Shouldn’t we?”

  “Maybe.” He brushed his nose along the length of hers. “Or maybe we should just…” He brushed his lips across hers.

  Her lips parted on a quick intake of breath. Caleb dived in, and it happened again, that sharp tingling along his spine. That zap of lightning, the clichéd fireworks exploding in his head.

  Melanie felt it, too, that startling awareness, the sheer intensity of which stole her breath and pulled a moan from her throat. Her nerves danced, her blood heated. She pressed herself closer to Caleb’s lean, hard body, craving a closer, more intimate connection.

  He obliged her, his hands sliding down to cup her hips and pull her flush against him, giving her proof that her blood wasn’t all that was heated between them.

  Another moan tore from her throat. She arched against him, reveling in the feel of his erection and of her nipples hardening in response. She dragged her hands down his chest, around his waist, across his back. His skin was hot and smooth and sleek, with firm muscles beneath that spoke of steely strength.

  The need for breath broke them apart. The need for sanity pushed them each back a step, made them look away from each other, he over her head, she at his shoulder.

  Melanie struggled for something to say, some way to explain away what had just happened. Barring that, something to distract them both. Then it came, like a gift, wafting across the room.

  “Coffee,” she blurted. “I need coffee.”

  When she spun away toward the coffeemaker, Caleb took in a deep breath and let it out. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it. And really, he thought, what was there to say? The whole situation was crazy. Best friends weren’t supposed to set off fireworks when they kissed. Hell, they weren’t supposed to be kissing, not like that, in the first place.

  But damned if he didn’t want to do it again, and again, and see where it led them. For now, however, it might be wiser to change the subject.

  “So where is everybody?” He’d been wondering that since before he’d crawled off the sofa earlier. If she wouldn’t talk about the two of them and whatever this kissing thing was that was going on with them, maybe he could get her to talk about something else. “I didn’t see your men when I was out earlier.”

  She shrugged. “Day off.”

  Caleb eyed her skeptically. “Tuesday is their day off?”

  She poured two mugs of coffee and handed him one without speaking.

  “How about your dad? Is it his day off, too?”

  “Lord only knows where he is, because I sure don’t.”

  The sharp bitterness in her voice surprised him. “How long’s he been gone?”

  “What, are you writing a book? You’re sure nosy all of a sudden. Maybe you think a couple of kisses gives you the right to give me the third degree, but if that’s what you’re thinking, buster, you can just think again.”

  Caleb stared, astounded. “Whoa, there. What brought that on?”

  She whirled away so fast that coffee sloshed from her mug to splatter on the floor.

  Caleb set his mug, along with his bag of frozen corn, on the table. At the counter next to the sink he tore a paper towel from the roll mounted beneath the upper cabinet and wiped up the spill on the floor. He threw the wadded towel into the trash, then turned to face Melanie.

  “We’ve already established that you’re a lousy liar, so why don’t you just tell me what’s going on around here? How long has your dad been gone? Has something happened to him? Where are your men? And why is this place starting to look like nobody’s been here for weeks?”

  Her cheeks turned bright red. She moved to step around him.

  “Melanie, I’m not trying to embarrass you or stick my nose into your business. I’m trying to find out what kind of trouble my best friend and neighbor is in so I can figure out how to help. The more you refuse to answer, the worse I’m going to think it is. Now just tell me, dammit. Where’s your dad?”

  What did it matter, Melanie thought, if she told him the truth? If she couldn’t tell somebody soon, the whole ugly mess was liable to explode in her from the inside out. All her life, whenever she had trouble, Caleb was the one she had always taken it to. He had never made her feel small or stupid, had never betrayed a confidence. He had always listened, and, if asked, offered sound advice.

  But, oh, how she did not want to have this discussion. It was embarrassing. Humiliating.

  “I don’t know,” she blurted. “I don’t know where Daddy is, and right now I don’t much care.”

  “That’s a hell of a thing to say. What do you mean you don’t know where he is? He didn’t come home last night.”

  “I know that. He’s off gambling somewhere. Again.”

  “Ah, hell, Melanie, I’m sorry. What happened?” he asked quietly. “I thought he was doing good, going to those Gamblers Anonymous meetings up in the city.”

  She shook her head a
nd plunked her mug down on the counter next to the sink. “He was. He was doing fine until he decided he didn’t need the meetings anymore and stopped going. Within a week he started draining cash out of the ranch.”

  “Ah, damn, Melanie, I’m sorry. How bad is it? Do you need help?”

  She gave a short, harsh laugh. “Help? I had to let the men go three weeks ago. Daddy thinks I’m blowing things out of proportion, but he hasn’t seen anything yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When he needs cash he uses his ATM card. Yesterday I canceled it. I also canceled the credit card Mama’s been playing with.”

  “Did you do that yesterday, too?”

  She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “Yeah. And I think Mama’s sick but I can’t reach her to find out.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “There was a big charge on the credit card from a clinic.”

  All of that to handle, and then, he thought, she’d gone out and gotten drunk.

  “I’m hungry,” she said suddenly. “How about breakfast?”

  “You cooking?”

  She laughed. “As if you would. As if you could.”

  “Hey, do you think Grandmother raised the three of us to be helpless? I can scramble eggs with the best of them.”

  “Well, well. Imagine learning something new about you after all these years. You’re in charge of the eggs.”

  Breakfast turned into the most awkward affair either of them could remember experiencing. The kitchen was not small, yet it seemed every time one of them turned around, the other was there, too close. By the time the meal was on the table they were practically tiptoeing around each other.

  The meal itself wasn’t much better, except they didn’t have to worry about bumping into each other. Except with their gazes, which were quickly averted.

  They used to enjoy each other’s company. They used to be able to laugh and talk about anything or nothing. Now it seemed they couldn’t even look at each other.

  Melanie couldn’t stand it. She wanted her friend back. She laid down her fork with a definite clatter and glared across the table at Caleb.

  “Is this how it’s going to be between us?” she asked. “Have we ruined our friendship?”

  “Come on, don’t say that.”

  “Well, look at us,” she cried. “This is—this is the pits is what it is.”

  “If you think I’m sorry, I’m not. I’m sorry you feel awkward, but what happened between us was something special, and you know it. I won’t apologize for it, and if you say you regret it you’re a liar, and we’ve already established you’re no good at that. You’ve never been a liar before. Don’t start now. Besides,” he added with a narrowing of his eyes and a quirk of his lips. “You started it.”

  “Oh, well.” She threw a hand in the air. “That helps. You started it,” she mimicked. “How intelligent. How mature. Am I supposed to come back with Did not so you can tack on a did too for good measure? Then we can stick our tongues out at each other like two adults.”

  “Now there’s a picture,” Caleb said. “But if you’re going to stick your tongue out, you should come over

  here and do it up close.”

  “Don’t be a jerk, Caleb.”

  “Then don’t be an idiot,” he countered. “We kissed. It was terrific. We did it again, twice, and it was just as terrific. Why should that ruin our friendship?”

  Melanie groaned in frustration. “If I wasn’t so hungover I’m sure I’d have a coherent answer to that. Meanwhile I’ll be your friend and tell you to put that ice back on your shoulder.”

  He grimaced and reached for the bag of corn. “If you were my friend you wouldn’t have clobbered me in the first place. Care to explain that, pal?”

  She scrunched up her face. “I did say I was sorry, didn’t I?”

  “You did. So do you always swing a shovel when you find a man in your barn?”

  “Damn right I do. I thought you were another one of those creeps coming to collect on one of Daddy’s debts.”

  Caleb’s heart gave a hard thump. “What? Are you saying you’ve got thumb breakers coming around here hitting you up because of your dad?”

  She shrugged and looked away, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

  Damn, Caleb thought. Things were worse, much worse at the PR than he could have imagined. With their hired hands gone, Ralph off God knew where, Melanie was left alone to deal not only with the work of running the ranch, but the fallout from Ralph’s gambling.

  The situation, as far as Caleb was concerned, was intolerable. “When’s your dad due back?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Caleb thought a minute, then nodded. “All right, then.” He got up and went to the wall phone beside the back door and called home. Sloan’s wife, Emily, answered.

  “Hey, it’s me. I need a favor.”

  “Caleb, where are you? We’ve been worried to death.”

  “Sorry,” he said, realizing he should have called home last night. “I gave Melanie a ride home last night. She didn’t feel good—”

  Behind him Melanie snorted, sounding like a disgruntled hog.

  “—and her dad wasn’t home, so I stayed.”

  “Is she all right? What do you need me to do?”

  “She’s fine. It looks like Ralph’s going to be gone for a few days, so I’m going to stay over here and give Melanie a hand.”

  “Caleb, no,” Melanie protested.

  Caleb ignored her and spoke to Emily. “Can you gather up enough clean clothes to last me two or three days and have Hector run them over here when he gets a chance?”

  Emily readily agreed, promising the clean clothes within the hour.

  “Caleb,” Melanie said after he hung up. “You can’t be serious about staying here.”

  “Sure I can. That’s what friends do, Mel.”

  “But it’s not necessary. You think I can’t do my own chores?”

  “I think you can do your own chores just fine. But there’s no reason you should have to do all of your work, your father’s, the work of two hired men, and fight off thumb breakers, all by yourself. And that has nothing,” he added to forestall the argument he could see forming in her eyes, “to do with your being a woman.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  He knew better. Knew her better. “What is it with you today?” he demanded. “That’s at least the third time you’ve lied to me.”

  “That wasn’t a lie,” she protested. “It was a denial.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes.

  “In any case, you’re not staying here.”

  “Yes,” he said emphatically, “I am.” He had to. There was a need. If the need was his more than hers, that didn’t scare him. Not too much.

  The hell it didn’t, he thought. He’d known her all his life, but suddenly he felt drawn to her, had a need to be near her that had nothing to do with friendship.

  But all that aside, he couldn’t leave her here alone to fend for herself, especially if there was the chance of some goon showing up to make mischief.

  He’d like to punch Ralph Pruitt square in the nose.

  “Caleb, I appreciate the offer, but I neither want nor need your pity.”

  “That’s a stupid thing to say, and it’s mean. Since when have I ever pitied you?”

  Melanie snapped her teeth together. The truth was, he had pitied her plenty of times over the years, whenever she had cried on his shoulder because Sloan wouldn’t pay her any attention. She had deserved Caleb’s pity then because she had been pretty damn pitiful.

  “I’m not staying because I feel sorry for you,” he claimed, and she believed him. “I’m staying because I’d do the same for any neighbor, so I can’t really see myself doing any less for a neighbor who happens to be my closest damn friend, all right? I don’t care if you need me here or not. I need to be here. Get over it.”

  Melanie threw her hands in the air. “I’m going to take a shower. T
oss that bag of corn back in the freezer before it thaws and trade it for the peas.”

  Caleb couldn’t help smirking. “Yes, ma’am.”

  With a snarl of irritation, she spun on her heel and stomped from the room in bare legs and cowboy boots.

  For his sake, Caleb hoped that when she came back she’d have on some damn pants. Platonic friends weren’t supposed to have legs that long and shapely.

  When Melanie returned to the kitchen thirty minutes later she did indeed have on some damn pants. Jeans, faded, worn and soft-looking. Her dark hair was still wet and slicked back from a face scrubbed clean. Her eyes, while still a shade on the bloodshot side, were nonetheless alert, even as they avoided his gaze.

  She stood in the middle of the room and blinked. “You cleaned the kitchen?”

  He frowned. “Yeah, so?”

  “So? You guys over at the Cherokee Rose have a housekeeper who I happen to know cleans up after all of you and keeps your house spotless so you don’t have to lift a finger in that area.”

  “That she does.” He gave the counter a final swipe with the dishrag in his hand. “But Earline’s only been with us a few years. If you think Grandmother didn’t make the three of us clean up after ourselves—”

  “Got it. And you’re right. I know she raised the three of you, and she wouldn’t have waited on you hand and foot or cleaned that big house all by herself. Not Rose.”

  “You got that right.”

  “That’s what makes her one of my heroes.”

  Outside, a pickup pulled up. Melanie folded her arms and watched out the window as Caleb went out and took a duffel bag from the young Mexican man behind the wheel.

  It was so like Caleb, to see a friend in need and refuse to do anything other than help. This particular friend, however—namely, herself—would breathe a little easier if Caleb went home, but it didn’t look as if that was going to happen anytime soon.

  A gleam came into her eyes. Maybe she couldn’t convince him to go home. So, if he was going to stay, she was going to take full advantage of it and see that some long-postponed work got done around this place. If he thought he was going to get to sit around the house and watch ESPN all day while sipping iced tea, he had another think coming.