Call Me: sold live on CBS 48 Hours (Barnes Brothers Book 1)

by Alison Kent

  On this leg of the tour, as in the first, she had the opportunity to sneak nothing but a quick peek into Gardner’s room. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to see more.

  She wanted to see if he made his bed, if he hung up his clothes, if the room smelled of Gardner. She wanted to see where she wouldn’t be sleeping. But she walked on by because he waited at the end of the hall, his hand on the knob of the only door Jud had not opened earlier.

  She flattened her hand, shoulder high, on the glossy white wood. “What just happened downstairs?”

  “Supper. The traditional meal families eat together at the end of the day.”

  “I know what supper is.”

  “Funny. I didn’t get that impression from what you said.”

  “What I said is that I don’t sit down to many home-cooked meals.”

  “That’s right. You don’t cook. You don’t even eat. You graze.” Arms crossed over his chest, Gardner leaned back against the door. “Animals graze, Harley.”

  His statement said more than three words should. Uh-oh. Looked as if the after-sex euphoria was over. “C’mon, Gardner. I don’t mean that I stand in a field and eat hay.”

  “Then tell me exactly what it is you mean.”

  “I eat when I’m hungry, not when the hour of the day demands. If I get busy with book work or spend a long day on the phone tracking down a particular item, I may not eat for hours.”

  He didn’t look convinced, or satisfied, so she tried again.

  “I don’t rope dogies or wrestle steers or whatever ranchers do all day. I function best by eating light, not to mention that with my metabolism I can’t eat any differently without gaining weight.”

  She gave up then because Gardner’s frown told her she’d dug herself in deeper.

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing that you don’t have a family.” He opened the door and stepped through.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He stopped and turned to the side, his face no less handsome for the turmoil the shadowed attic stairway couldn’t hide. “Growing kids can’t do much with puffed wheat and popcorn.”

  With that and a punctuating shrug, he took the stairs two at a time. His heavy steps stomped out any hope Harley had at keeping this conversation light.

  So typical. Just like a man to walk away with the last word. And wrong word at that.

  “Wait a minute, Gardner.” Harley hitched up her skirt and trudged up the narrow staircase into the center of the huge, slant-ceilinged attic. Broad shafts of sunlight streamed in through the four dormer windows spaced along the front wall of the house.

  The light wasn’t bright enough to illuminate every corner. But it was enough. She was dying to explore. And she would. Later.

  Gardner stood gazing out the farthest window, his profile rigid, his expression harsh. She didn’t know how she’d disappointed him but she intended to find out.

  Because three hours ago, with both body and soul, she’d made a commitment. A commitment she was determined to see through.

  “I’m lost here, Gardner.” The floorboards creaked like old bones beneath her boots. She laid her hand on his wrist. “It happened somewhere between the mashed potatoes and the puffed wheat but I really don’t think it had anything to do with food.”

  His mouth quirked. It wasn’t a real smile but it gave her hope. “C’mon, cowboy. Spill the beans.”

  “Sounds like food to me,” he said, and this time she caught a glimpse of his dimple.

  “Ahh. He speaks. But does he talk?”

  “I know how to talk.” With his free hand, he covered her fingers where she still held his wrist. Slow and seeking, his gaze moved over her face. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten those phone calls.”

  He mesmerized her. Though the beams of light left his face slightly shadowed, the depth of emotion dark in his eyes threatened to throw her off track.

  She lifted his hand, kissed the tip of one finger, then closed her eyes and shuddered at the feel of his thumb shamelessly teasing her mouth. “You’re trying to change the subject.”

  “Is it working?” He breathed the question against her cheek then touched his tongue to her lips.

  Yes. “No.”

  “How ’bout if I try this?”

  He held both her wrists in one of his hands. The fingers of the other made for a persuasive argument but she would stay strong.

  She put only enough space between them to distract him, not dissuade him. “That’s enough.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” For now.

  He’d reached her ear and his tongue… ahh.

  “How long until now is over?” he asked.

  “Until you tell me your secrets.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  If he didn’t know by now…“You think I’d reveal the intimate details of a man who still has my panties?”

  At that, Gardner chuckled and let her go. Harley wrapped herself in relief, and then in the crook of Gardner’s elbow. She snuggled close to his side, remembering his smell, how nice he felt, how incredibly warm and safe and comfortable he made her feel.

  He held her like nothing else mattered, then pulled her in front of him and snugged his arm around her waist. She tucked her head beneath his chin; her eyes followed the direction of his gaze. Together they stared out the window, across miles of prairie, acres of productive land, over a grazing herd of cattle, and an endless expanse of blue-white sky.

  This land would be easy to love. And equally demanding of anyone willing to give up so much of their time, their life. The sacrifice would take a special kind of man.

  The man holding her. The man whose sigh was not only a breath but a letting go of pent-up thoughts. Harley braced herself for his confrontation—a confrontation she’d asked for.

  “Downstairs,” Gardner began, “you told Tyler that you hadn’t been on the back of a bike since you were ten. Did you ride with your parents?”

  “Everly and I both did,” she replied. Though she wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to know, she hadn’t a doubt of his question’s importance. And Gardner Barnes was worth a bumpy trip down memory lane. “Once we were old enough, we both preferred not to go along. Buck and Trixie didn’t seem to mind.”

  “Buck and Trixie?”

  “Pretty bad, huh.”

  He let that sink in, then said, “So you were ten.”

  Harley thought a minute. “Actually, the first time they let us stay home I was about seven.”

  “Seven?” His arms around her waist tightened. “How old was Everly?”

  “Nine going on thirty.” Already, she knew what he was thinking. “We were both pretty old for being so young. Definitely not your typical kids.”

  He released her and Harley turned. Shaking his head, he walked to a far corner of the attic and propped his boot on the torn red vinyl of an old kitchen chair beside a brass-bound trunk.

  The business side of Harley’s mind immediately estimated the worth of the piece. And of the oak armoire standing behind. Impressive. But her emotional side saw nothing but Gardner’s unrest.

  His elbow braced on his knee, he leaned forward and wiped a smudge off one corner of the trunk. “What kind of parents would go off and leave a seven- and nine-year-old home alone?”

  “It wasn’t for long periods of time. Usually just a few hours on Sunday,” Harley answered, staying where she was. The sunlight warmed the space where Gardner had left her standing.

  “Usually?”

  “Once in a while they went on a weekend ride. But Everly and I did fine.” She began to pace, noting the lack of dust, the absence of a musty smell. Even the windows had the type of clean shine that hers at home rarely saw.

  This room was used for more than storage. Someone came up here often. She thought she knew who. “You’ve got to understand, Gardner. Our parents were kids themselves when Everly and I were born. I’m sure they thought of us as playthings instead of a responsib
ility. But we turned out okay.”

  “No thanks to them.”

  She made her way around the trunk and fingered the latch on the armoire. “I don’t know. They taught me a lot about parenting.”

  “Nice trick, considering they didn’t…” Gardner gave a sound of disgust.

  Her fist locked around the pull of the armoire’s door. She shook her head, dazed and frowning, thrown and out of sync. Her parents hadn’t loved her. Was that what he’d stopped himself from saying?

  Five simple words. Words she’d never wanted to believe.

  Her parents hadn’t loved her. Gardner believing those words gave truth to that ugly fact.

  Releasing the handle, she glanced down at the red crescent imprinted on her palm. “What I learned was that an innocent child needs parents who have the time and energy to handle that kind of responsibility. I don’t. So I’ve chosen not to have a family.”

  Gardner stiffened and brought his boot down hard on the floor. She’d hit a nerve. No. The chord she’d struck ran deeper, its source a belief as deeply ingrained as his love for the land.

  Oh, yes, she’d seen the way he’d looked when they’d flown over Camelot. It was a look he should have worn for a woman. A look she wanted him to wear when he thought of her. It went beyond that first rush of love into contentment and security for life.

  She remembered then that he’d told her he wanted a family. Children to whom he’d leave this inheritance. Is that why he’d invited her here? Was this an interview? A satisfaction-guaranteed-or-your-money-back-no-risk-trial-period?

  She turned around and, arms crossed, lifted her chin. The trunk stood between them like a line in the sand. “Okay, Gardner. Ask me anything you want.”

  He frowned. “I don’t have anything to ask you.”

  “Yes, you do. That’s why you brought me here. To see if I’d meet your qualifications for motherhood.” She arched one brow, daring him to deny the charge.

  His eyes glittered but he didn’t look away. “I meant it as a compliment, not an insult.”

  “A compliment?” Harley shoved tense hands through her hair, then fluffed the locks with an exasperated shake of her head. “The way the three of you were looking at me downstairs I felt like a prospective broodmare.”

  “You’re a beautiful, passionate woman.” His gaze lingered intimately, then lingered still. “A man would be lucky to have you bear his children”

  Harley closed her eyes. He found her beautiful, he found her passionate, but he said not a word about love.

  Well, this was the make-or-break point with her. Looking up slowly, she said, “Children or not, a man would be lucky to have me. Period.”

  Gardner met her obstinate gaze head-on. “I didn’t say he wouldn’t.”

  “No, but it wasn’t the first thought that crossed your mind.” She waited a minute, gathering her thoughts, searching for the words to make him understand.

  “I’ve been through one marriage where my husband expected me to understand that because of career demands he had only two evenings a week to spend with me.” Her mouth twisted into a wry grimace. “Of course, I didn’t know until it was too late how he spent the other five.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

  “No, I shouldn’t have. But it happened. And I won’t plead selfish for demanding any future relationship be on my own terms.”

  Gardner settled his hands on his hips. “Which means no children.”

  “It’s not the contradiction it sounds like, Gardner. A child deserves more time and attention than my lifestyle affords. A child needs a better start in life than having a parent who’s too busy to be there for flying kites and long division.”

  How could she make him understand? How could she tell him what it had been like? She and Gardner didn’t have a future unless she could get him to see things her way.

  FIFTEEN

  UNLESS HE COULD GET HER to see things his way, he and Harley didn’t have a future.

  She didn’t plan to have children. Not that she never would but she had no plans. The distinction left room for discussion. And Gardner hadn’t made it this far without learning the art of persuasion. “What if you changed your lifestyle?”

  “What would that solve? I’m happy doing what I do. I’m good at what I do.” Gesturing with her hands, she began to pace the four feet of floor running lengthwise between the trunk and the armoire. “If I make a change and I’m unhappy, I don’t think I would be the best mother I could be. And that wouldn’t be fair to my children.”

  Gardner spun the chair around and straddled it backward, placing himself at one end of Harley’s path. “What if you didn’t have to work at all?”

  Stopping mid-step, Harley slowly turned around. “If I had a husband to keep me in the manner to which I deserve to become accustomed?”

  He didn’t even try to stop the smile tilting the corner of his mouth. “Something like that.”

  “I don’t know, Gardner.”

  “Being a mother wouldn’t make you happy?”

  “You mean, would I be content to be a wife and mother? You mean, do I have to have a career?” She resumed her restless movements, walking out into the center of the room.

  Gardner shifted forward in the chair. This looked as if it might take a while.

  “No, I don’t have to have a career. I could turn antiquing into a hobby. Or a second income.” She fingered the gold inlay on a hat-and-umbrella stand. “But I’d only do that under one condition. And it’s a condition I’ve set for any relationship, whether I’m a working woman or a stay-at-home mom.”

  She looked up, snagging and holding his gaze. “I want a man who will love me more than anything else. More than his job, our children, or even the land.”

  A weighty silence settled between them. The beams of sunlight seemed to dim. Gardner watched the shadows fall. “You don’t want much, do you?”

  “I want everything.” Her words were crisp, clean, and cutting.

  He felt the blade go deep. “I want to show you something.”

  Unlatching the trunk, Gardner leaned forward and lifted the lid. He was determined to make Harley understand the importance of his family.

  “My great-grandfather was a rural doctor. The only one in this area for miles. He and my great-grandmother married back East. He’d gone to the same school his father attended and was expected to follow in the family footsteps.

  “Both my great-grandparents came from well-to-do families and both wanted to start family traditions of their own. Their parents weren’t thrilled. But they came here, anyway. With virtually nothing to their names. The only things of value they owned were the French lace on my great-grandmother’s wedding gown and my great-grandfather’s medical kit.

  “I keep them both in here.” Gardner removed a faded patchwork quilt from the top of the trunk and draped it over the upraised lid. He motioned Harley to step around.

  “My grandfather wanted to be a doctor, too. His father taught him a lot but couldn’t afford to send him to school. So my grandfather started the ranch and from stories my father used to tell, I gather the only medicine he practiced was on his own animals.”

  “Maybe that’s where Tyler gets his interest.”

  “Maybe. Ranching and doctoring run in Barnes blood. But it is blood, Harley. Family. Camelot is more than tradition. It’s a legacy with a history that ties it back through generations.”

  Harley ran her fingertips along the surface of the quilt. “It’s a history to be proud of.”

  “Proud is only a part of it. It’s also a tradition I will carry on.” He stood then, holding his ground, reinforcing the stand he’d taken when his father had chosen death over his sons. “The land is always there, Harley. It doesn’t make cheap promises. It doesn’t lie.”

  Harley raised her chin. “And it doesn’t love you.”

  “I don’t believe in love.” He refolded the quilt and slammed the lid of the trunk.

  Her eyes glinted and
, as Gardner watched, awareness replaced puzzlement. She shoved a lock of hair behind her ear. “Then what happened this afternoon?”

  Gardner felt like a ton of bull had just kicked his insides out. He knew how uncertain she’d been today when they’d spent those hours making lo… in bed.

  “Gardner,” Tyler called from the bottom of the stairs. “The foreman out at Acre 52’s on the phone. Something about a drill bit.”

  Gardner didn’t move.

  Arms crossed defiantly over her chest, Harley took a deep breath, lifted her chin and met his gaze. “You’d better go.”

  He still didn’t move. He needed to explain. To tell her about his parents, his father, and why he didn’t believe in love.

  “Gardner!” Tyler yelled.

  “Go,” Harley urged, tilting her head toward the stairs.

  Hands braced low on his hips, he said, “We’re not through here.”

  “I think you’ve said enough.”

  Frustration ground through him. “Don’t jump to conclusions about this afternoon, Harley.”

  “What about this afternoon?” she asked, her eyebrows lifted in innocence.

  “Gardner!”

  “I’m coming,” he yelled down at Tyler. “Look, Harley—”

  “Go take your phone call, Gardner. Camelot comes first, remember?” The twist of her lips wasn’t a smile at all. “I know the lay of the land.”

  The fact that he had to go didn’t ease the struggle between his head and heart. He turned for the stairs, leaving Harley behind.

  And each descending step felt like one headed in the wrong direction.

  Harley lay downstairs in the king-size guest bed listening to the house settle in for the night. The curtains hanging on the window above the bed remained open.

  Moonlight spilled across the rough-beamed ceiling, casting a warped tic-tac-toe shadow on the white stucco wall. The floorboard above the ceiling creaked. That should be Tyler, she thought, mentally retracing the steps of her tour.

  The ping and clang of expanding water pipes was farther down the hall. More an echo than straight overhead. She guessed the source of the sound to be Gardner’s bath.