by Nicola Marsh
‘Tell me.’
He placed a fingertip under her chin and gently tipped it up so she had no option but to look at him.
She wanted to fob him off, to lie, but the love blazing from his intent stare was her undoing.
‘You think I want you to be stuck with something like that? For you to give up your freedom for me?’ She shook her head, dislodging his touch. ‘If the disease didn’t kill me, the guilt would.’ A great sob tore from her chest. ‘I want more for you.’
‘You’re all I want—’
He broke off, and for one horrifying moment she thought he might cry.
‘Look, I’m new to this emotional stuff. I don’t know what to do or say to prove I love you.’
He dropped his head into his hands, his defeatist posture so far removed from the confident guy she knew it got through to her as nothing else could.
He loved her.
He wanted to be with her.
How many people got a second chance at their first love?
Tentative, she reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Genetic testing says I don’t carry the mutated gene, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get it. My chances are still elevated.’
He lifted his head, his bleak expression tearing at her inside. ‘Life’s full of risks, Cal. I take risks every day. Sharks. Rips. Getting on a plane. In a car. If we don’t take risks we’re half dead anyway. And that’s not you. The woman I remember in Capri was vivacious and bold and lived life to the max. I’ve seen glimpses of that woman the last week and she’s magnificent.’
She couldn’t speak if she wanted to. Her throat was constricted with emotion.
‘I won’t pre-empt your mum, but she’s going to tell you the same thing I just did. She wants you to make the most of your life, to embrace it, not run from it for fear of losing it one nebulous day that may never come.’
‘I don’t want you to give up who you are for me. I won’t be that selfish, like Dad—’
‘He’s a callous bastard and you’re nothing like him. You’re standing by your mum. You’re doing everything in your power to show her how much she means to you. As for your trust issues because of him, I can deal with them.’ He jabbed a hand through his blond spikes. ‘I can deal with anything as long as I have you by my side.’
When it came down to it, that was what convinced her to give their relationship a go.
Having Archer by her side, through good and bad, was a pretty potent attraction.
‘What about kids? I’m not sure I could take the risk. They may inherit—’
‘Enough. You’re reaching for excuses, probably terrified to commit like me.’
Damn straight she was.
He tapped his chest. ‘If you’re feeling half as vulnerable and open wide in here as I am, you’re grasping at whatever you can to avoid taking a risk.’
He was good. He’d homed in on exactly how she was feeling: raw and vulnerable and shell-shocked.
And downright petrified.
He was right. She was grabbing at any old excuse, hiding her fear behind it.
But in opening her heart to him a second time around hadn’t she already taken the biggest risk of all?
He snagged her hand, squeezed it. ‘You’re worrying about the future when we need to live in the present.’
When her mum had been diagnosed, and later when Callie had been given the all-clear following genetic testing, she’d made it her mission to make the most of every opportunity.
Archer had proved how much he loved her by his willingness to give up what he treasured most: his freedom.
He wanted to be with her for ever. It was the greatest opportunity of a lifetime.
What was she waiting for?
He enveloped her in his arms and she finally let go, her emotion spilling out in torrents of tears as she drenched his shirt.
‘Kids, marriage, the works, we’ll face it. Together,’ he murmured, smoothing her hair, stroking her back until her sobs subsided.
Stunned that this incredible man was willing to give up so much to be with her, she eased back and gazed into his eyes.
‘I love you. I always have.’
He kissed her, long and slow.
By the time they made it back to the restaurant their Christmas dinner was cold.
EPILOGUE
‘WE SHOULD HAVE eloped to Hawaii,’ Archer murmured in Callie’s ear after the umpteenth back-slap and congratulatory kiss.
Callie elbowed her new husband. ‘And miss out on sharing another Flett Christmas Eve wedding with our families? No way.’
‘You’re such a romantic sap,’ he said, sliding an arm around her waist and holding her close.
‘So sue me.’ She sighed and snuggled into him. ‘Thank you.’
‘For?’
‘This.’
She waved towards the festivities in full swing on the beach foreshore in front of the Winki Pop Surf School.
Artie, resplendent in tux and Santa hat, was mixing up another batch of his secret sangria.
Izzy, too cute in an eclectic Christmas elf-fairy costume, was racing around Tom in a demented version of Ring-a-Rosie. Travis and Shelly were canoodling, and Archer’s folks were sitting hand in hand alongside Nora, watching the fun with benign smiles.
Even the recalcitrant Bruno had made a rare appearance, resurfacing from the Middle East sans wife, and trying to make it up to Nora and his daughter.
Let him keep trying. Callie wasn’t buying it, even if she’d generously agreed to let him come to the wedding and to Christmas lunch tomorrow.
The wedding ceremony on the beach had been incredible, but it had been earlier, when Archer had carried Nora in his arms and gently deposited her in a front row seat, that Callie had lost it.
He’d wiped away her tears to a chorus of sniffles from their small crowd of guests and she’d managed to hold it together for the vows. Just.
The fact that she’d married her first love, her only love, was so surreal she kept smoothing her strapless calf-length ivory silk wedding dress to ensure it was real.
Lucky for her, Archer rarely released her hand, and his solid presence was all the reassurance she needed.
His gaze followed hers. ‘You sure your mum’s going to be okay while we honeymoon in Capri? Because I’m happy to stay here—’
‘She’ll be fine.’
Callie had had a long talk with her mum when she’d almost lost Archer twelve months ago, resulting in her letting go of her residual fears and starting to live life in the moment.
Sure, watching her mum deteriorate a little every day sliced her in two, but Nora was making the most of the time she had left. The least Callie could do was the same.
It was what Nora had wanted—to see Callie happy—and they’d brought the wedding forward for that very reason.
Not that she or Archer minded. They’d been living together anyway, spending Monday to Friday in Melbourne and the weekends in Torquay.
He didn’t mind the commute, and she didn’t mind a sexy surfer crowding her space. They hadn’t decided on permanent living arrangements yet. Time enough when they returned from Capri.
She couldn’t believe they were returning to the beautiful town where they’d met, where this amazing guy had wooed her with wine and moonlight and sea.
‘What are you thinking?’
She glanced into her husband’s deep blue eyes and smiled. ‘I’m thinking about old memories of Capri.’
‘Well, I’m thinking about creating new ones.’
His exaggerated eyebrow-wiggle made her laugh.
‘You know we’re going to have an amazing life together, right?’ He cradled her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.
‘You bet.’
For whatever they faced in the future she’d do it with her incredible husband by her side.
Life didn’t get any better than this.
He lowered his head and kissed her, a soft, tender melding of lips that quickly escalated into he
at and passion and need.
Maybe it did...
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of The Cowboy Comes Home by Patricia Thayer!
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CHAPTER ONE
WILLIE NELSON’S “On the Road Again” poured out of the open windows of Johnny Jameson’s truck as he drove along the country road. It was January in Texas, but he was energized by the cold air, knowing the temperature would rise to triple digits soon enough come spring. No matter what the weather, he’d much rather be outside than cooped up indoors.
He always liked to keep on the move. Never felt the need to stay at any one place too long. More times than he could count, he had lived out of his vehicle.
He’d been lucky lately. The jobs came to him, and he could pick and choose what he wanted to take on. That was the reason he was coming to Larkville. He’d been intrigued when he’d heard the job description. Also because Clay Calhoun and his prize quarter horses were legendary in Texas. But before he got too excited, he wanted to assess the situation before he made any promises to the man, or to the job. If there still was a job, since the offer had been made months ago.
He’d been delayed by a stubborn colt, but after he’d finished training it, the thoroughbred was worth what the owner had paid. When he’d called Calhoun to let him know he’d be delayed with previous commitments, he’d ended up talking to Clay’s son Holt, who’d explained that his father was ill, but assured him that the job would be there whenever he arrived at the ranch. Johnny had said to expect him around the first of the year.
As it turned out it was the first of the year, and he was finally headed for the Double Bar C Ranch. He glanced in the rearview mirror at his trailer, and his precious cargo, Risky Business, his three-year-old roan stallion.
His attention focused back ahead and on the southeast Texas landscape of rolling hills and pastures that had the yellow hue of winter. He looked toward a group of bare trees and a cattle water trough nestled at the base. There was also a visitor, one beautiful black stallion. The animal reared up, fighting to get loose from his lead rope that seemed to be caught on something.
He glanced around to see if anyone was nearby. Not a soul. He pulled his truck to the side of the road and got out. After walking back to check his own horse, he headed toward the open pasture to hopefully save another.
* * *
Jess knew she was going to be blamed for this.
Since her brother Holt was away on personal business, her sister, Megan, was away at school and her brother Nate was in the army, she was the one family member around to handle Double Bar C emergencies. Even though she really wasn’t involved in the day-to-day running of the ranch—Holt was in charge of that—she knew finding Night Storm had to take top priority.
The bigger problem was, how do you find, much less bring back, a rogue stallion? No one but Clay Calhoun had ever been able to handle the valuable quarter horse. Now that Dad was gone, the question was what to do with Storm.
The ranch foreman, Wes Brogan, had decided to let the animal out to the fenced pasture, but before Wes was able to transport Storm there, the horse broke away.
When she’d gotten the call early this morning, she immediately went to the barn, saddled up Goldie and rode out to find Storm. She’d been on a horse since she was a baby, so there wasn’t any problem keeping up with the ranch hands. To cover more ground, the crew took off in different directions of the vast Calhoun land and so Jess set off on her own.
The Double Bar C had been in the family for generations, and her father had worked hard so it would remain with the Calhouns for many more. Big Clay had loved his horses, especially this stallion, but there had been trouble since Storm had arrived at the ranch. The valuable horse had been mistreated in the past. Eventually Storm began to trust her father somewhat, but since Clay’s death a few months back, the horse’s behavior had gotten worse and no one had been able to handle him.
She sighed, feeling the bite of the January cold against her cheeks. She slowed her horse as they came to the rise and suddenly caught a spot of black. Taking out her binoculars, she saw the welcome sight.
“Hallelujah!” she cried out, seeing Storm. Then she looked again and saw a man holding on to his lead rope. She didn’t recognize him as one of the hands, then she spotted a truck and trailer alongside the road.
“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not going to steal Double Bar C property.” She kicked her heels into the mare and they shot off.
* * *
Johnny had worked with the horse for close to thirty minutes and had made some headway. The animal was still in distress, but at least Johnny had gotten close enough to loop a rope around his neck so he could calm the animal.
And what a beauty he was. His glistening black coat looked well cared for, he thought as he kept the spirited stallion moving in a circle. He pulled the rope taut, knowing he would need an arena to truly work him.
The horse got more agitated when he heard a rider approach, but Johnny couldn’t take his attention from his task.
“What do you think you’re doing on Calhoun land?”
He was surprised to hear the female voice.
“Trying to help this valuable horse.” He managed to maneuver around to see her.
“He’s not your valuable horse—he belongs to my father.”
He noticed the pretty buckskin mare, then he lifted his gaze to the tall blond beauty who sat straight in the saddle. Her long slender legs hugged the animal’s flanks and she controlled her horse as if she were born to ride.
“Then maybe I should be having this conversation with Mr. Calhoun.”
He heard her gasp, followed by, “That’s a little difficult since his death.”
Thrown by the news, Johnny slowed the stallion but when the animal acted up, he turned his attention back to him.
“Please accept my condolences, Ms.…”
“Jess Calhoun.” She took her lariat off her saddle. “What do you need me to do?”
Back to the problem at hand. “If you can manage it, throw another rope over the stallion’s head?” he asked.
“Storm. The horse’s name is Night Storm.”
She swung the rope overhead and it took a few tries, but she finally hit her target.
Johnny watched as Ms. Calhoun walked her mare backward, pulling the rope tight. That helped to get the animal under control. Somewhat.
“Keep it taut.”
She did.
But she also needed questions answered. “Not that I don’t appreciate your help, but I have no idea who you are.”
“Johnny Jameson. I was on my way to see Clay Calhoun. I had no idea about his death.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. “I spoke with your father last September in Dallas at a horse auction. He’d asked me to come to the ranch then, but I had a job to finish first and it went on a lot longer than planned.” He tugged on the rope. Would this horse ever tire out? “I called Clay right away, but I talked with your brother Holt. He assured me that I’d be welcome whenever I arrived.”
He caught the sad emotion that played across her face. “When did Clay pass away?”
“Late October. Pneumonia,” she finally said. “He waited too long to see a doctor.” She nodded toward the agitated animal. “Storm is Dad’s horse. No one else has been able to handle him.”
The stal
lion pawed at the ground and breathed heavily through his nostrils. Johnny tugged on the rope.
Jess watched in amazement. This tall dark stranger sure knew his way around horses. Was Jameson a horse breeder? “Wouldn’t want to buy a stallion real cheap, would you?”
He grinned. “Don’t be so anxious to get rid of him. Like you said, he’s a valuable animal. I think he’s also the horse your father wanted me to work with.”
Johnny Jameson was dressed in the standard cowboy uniform—jeans and Western-yoked shirt. His wide-brim Stetson shadowed his face, but she could see the chiseled cheekbones and deep-set eyes. When he tipped his head back she caught a glimpse of the gray color of his eyes and felt a tingle of awareness.
No. She wouldn’t fall for another cowboy. She took out her cell phone and called Wes. She gave him her location. “More help will be here soon.”
They stayed busy with the horse until finally the group of riders came over the hill.
The foreman climbed down from his horse. “Damn, Jess. Your daddy would be proud.”
“I didn’t do this,” she said as one of the men, Will Hinkle, took the rope, relieving her of her job. “Mr. Jameson here caught him.”
Wes turned to the man. “I’d shake your hand, but I see you’re busy.” He paused. “Did you say Jameson? Johnny Jameson?”
“That’s me.”
The forty-five-year-old Wes grinned. “Well, I’ll be damned. You finally made it to our part of Texas.”
Jess didn’t like being left out. “Finally made it?”
Wes smiled. “Mr. Jameson is one of the top horse trainers around. I remember when Clay got back from Dallas. He was so excited and hopeful about Johnny coming to work with us.”
Jameson turned those amazing gray eyes toward her. “Your father and I talked at length. As I said, he’s the one who hired me. Thing is, do I still have a job?”
* * *
One of the Double Bar C hands drove Johnny’s truck to the ranch and gave Johnny the loan of his horse so that he could escort the stallion back personally. It took nearly an hour before Night Storm was back in his stall in the state-of-the-art horse barn at the ranch.