By the Numbers Bride: Calhoun (A BBW Western) (Matchmaking A Marriage Book 2)

by Joann Baker

  “You’d be overpaying, for sure,” she mumbled, as hot color flooded her face. “I guess we do need to get started.” She moved her chair to the side. “You’ll need to move your chair over here.” She watched as he stood up and lifted the heavy oak chair as if it were nothing. Again, she admired the bunch and pull of his muscles as he maneuvered it next to hers. Now, they were both sitting behind the large desk with an easy view of the monitor.

  With trembling fingers, she used the keyboard to pull up the programs. “I know these tutorials are boring, but it really is the best way to learn.”

  “Whatever you say, teach.” He winked at her and her toes curled. It took her several tries, but she finally had the software up and running. He turned his attention to the program as it started and she took her first full breath since he’d walked into the room. He was big and broad and so full of raw masculine energy, she swore her biological clock started to tick. Something she’d never felt before with any man.

  Not even Roger, her ex-fiancé. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have never met the man. She would gladly die an old maid if she could wipe that mistake from her past. She’d cried enough tears over his sorry ass to fill a river. Tears that should never have been shed. He was so not worth the effort. As if being left at that alter wasn’t bad enough, she’d later learned that he’d only proposed because he thought her family still had money. Her father’s death had revealed the true state of her family’s financial state and their social status had quickly plummeted. Lacking money and prestige, he’d said, Kristen had lost her appeal.

  No, Roger was nothing like Calhoun. Even now, the cowboy’s scent was playing havoc with her ability to pay attention. One would think that after working on a ranch all day, a man would come in smelling of animal, sweat and other offensive orders. But not Calhoun. His heart-stopping scent was one of soap, aftershave, and tantalizing male. She had no other way to describe the deliciousness that had been teasing her nose for the last hour.

  “This is really good.” Cal turned from the screen, his smile fading as he caught the look on her face. His eyes darkened at the longing in her expression. Had she been thinking of him in those moments when she’d seemed so far away? She had certainly filled many of his thoughts—both waking and sleeping—over the last two weeks. That kiss that night at dinner had played a major role in many of his dreams.

  “Yes. I’d say you’ll be properly trained within a week.”

  His brow rose. “You make me sound like a horse.”

  “Well, just don’t make me use my whip.”

  Kristen blushed as soon as the words left her mouth. The tension in the room ramped up as she stared at him. She blinked as his face moved closer, his mouth hovering scant inches from hers.

  “You’d do better with your hands, honey.” He reached for her hand, lightly circling the center of her palm with his thumb. “A gentle touch would be sure to get a better…reaction.”

  Oh, dear God, let him close the scant distance between us and kiss me.

  “Hey, Cal, my truck won’t start. I need you to take me home. Oh, hey, Kristen.”

  “He...” She cleared her throat. “Hello, Ryder. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “You too.” His quick grin vanished as he scowled at his brother. “Come on, man. Georgia’s home alone.”

  “How is she?” As unobtrusively as possible, Kristen removed her hand from Cal’s. Tingles continued up her arm even as she grabbed the mouse to click off the computer.

  “Still having morning sickness all day but handling it like a trooper.”

  Kristen smiled at the pride in his voice as he talked about his wife. The love between the young couple was evident.

  “Give her my best, please.”

  “Will do.” He again shifted his focus to his brother. “I could have crawled there by now.”

  “I’m coming.” Cal rose, fighting the urge to slap his little brother upside the head. The problem with living as one big, happy family was the non-existent privacy. Immediately, a picture of the mesa—his go-to place for finding peace—flipped through is mind.

  “I’ll…see you both tomorrow.”

  Cal glanced back at Kristen. She looked damned desirable, and it took everything he had to walk out without kissing her. “Remember to leave your whip at home, honey.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WAS AFTER six the next evening when Kristen pulled into the driveway of her rental house. The last week had taken a toll on her mentally and emotionally. The books kept at the Ace in the Hole were detailed and the methodology was haphazard at best. To sort, organize, and input the information had been a painstaking process. Although it had seemed after her first week that she would finish sooner, Cal’s unwillingness to learn the system—until yesterday—had put a kink in her plan to make a quicker job of it. On the one hand, she was particularly glad about that—it meant she would have a job to go to for another two weeks. On the other, she didn’t know if her poor nerves could take another two weeks of working so closely with Cal. The steely-eyed cowboy affected her as no other man ever had, stealing her usual unflappable, no-nonsense control simply by walking into the room.

  She’d never been so aware of a man. All it took was one look at his broad shoulders and those long, long legs encased in white-washed denim and her concentration was shot to hell. She didn’t like the easy way Calhoun breached her defenses and turned her mind to mush. She really needed this weekend to regroup. After all, she’d survived the scandal of her father’s poor choices and the humiliation of being left at the altar. Learning to cope with her physical reaction to the serious looking cowboy should be a snap. She just had to remember that when he leaned in for a quick kiss or he snuggled her body against his, he was putting on a show for Gabe. Since he was doing it to protect her from his brother’s oftentimes laughable and less than subtle advances, she couldn’t really complain. But she could shore up her defenses and get the starch back in her backbone.

  So caught up was she in her silent pep talk that she didn’t recognize the car parked at the curb in front of her small house until she was on the porch, key in hand. Her stomach dropped with sickening dread. Even without the Florida plates, she recognized the silver luxury car. She’d been making payments on the luxury vehicle for the past four years while she herself drove a less than reliable used compact. A high-pitched trill sounded through the door, followed by the low drone of a man’s voice. Her anxiety turned to horror as she gripped the doorknob and let herself in.

  Surely her mother hadn’t…

  Damn it, but she had. Her mother had brought her ex-fiancé—the man who had left her literally standing at the altar—to Devil’s Spur. And into her home. For the first time in her life, she was going to do something totally irresponsible—run like hell. She’d already turned on her heel, her keys clutched tightly in her hand, the door shutting quietly behind her when her name was called.

  “Kristen!”

  She allowed herself the satisfaction of the click of the door, and the two involuntary paces she took down the steps. Then she stopped. She had never run away from her problems before. Drawing a deep breath, she turned back around as the door flew open.

  “Darling, where on earth are you going?”

  “Nowhere, Mother. I thought I forgot something in the car.”

  “Well, it’s not like you couldn’t get it later if you had.” There was a slight huff in her mother’s voice. And not for the first time she wondered how this woman and her uncle were even related. Otis was the most conscious and caring man she had ever seen. Oh, he didn’t show the caring openly, but who else would have taken her in on such short notice. Maybe that’s where she’d gotten her work ethic—from him or her grandparents. Because she certainly hadn’t gotten it from her mother. Her mother hadn’t worked a day in her married life. Her father, bless his heart, had been a hard worker despite being a trust fund baby. It was the poor choices he’d made that had lead to his misfortune. She could understand poor choices.
She’d made a few of her own.

  Her mother stood at the top of the stairs, holding the door wide open. “Come in, don’t just stand there.”

  Kristen couldn’t even work up an ironic smile at the fact that her mother was inviting her into her own home. She stepped gingerly across the threshold, not wanting to see the other occupant of the room.

  Roger Dalton. The man who left her high and dry, dressed in an expensive satin gown he’d insisted that she buy, in front of a church full of people, half of whom she hadn’t even known. Not only had he left her at the altar, he’d left her at the last possible moment—the minute he had to say ‘I do’.

  Left her there without explanation, left her there with a look of astonishment on her face as he turned and walked away.

  “Kristen, you’re looking…good.”

  She inwardly laughed at the look on Roger’s face. She knew she looked anything but good. Wanting to conserve fuel, she’d made the trip home from the ranch with her windows down. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail before she’d left, but several of the heavy curls had managed to work their way free with the force of the wind. Her pleated pants and tailored shirt were left over from the days when money had been abundant in the Thomas household. Unfortunately, that had been several pounds ago, and now both pieces strained at the seams. To Roger, she would look untidy.

  To Calhoun… her body reacted again as she thought about the long looks he’d given her all week. Long, sultry looks—if an iron cowboy could look that way. His eyes had dropped more than once to the straining buttons of her top as if he’d like to flick them open and…

  “Kristen?”

  “What?” She realized her mother had been saying something as she’d drifted off to sin city.

  “I said, this house just won’t do. It’s not big enough for all of us.”

  Kristen stepped fully into the room, throwing her purse on the end of the couch. “It’s perfectly fine for me.” And all she could afford she wanted to add but didn’t. She knew it would do no good to discuss their financial situation with her mother. It never had before. “You and Roger are not staying here, mother.”

  “But—”

  “No, buts. I didn’t invite either of you to come here. You need to go back home.”

  “Kristen that is no way to talk to your mother.” Roger’s tone was one a parent would take with a recalcitrant child.

  She whirled around to confront her ex-fiancée, once again wondering what she had ever seen in the man. Oh, right, she reminded herself, she hadn’t been in love with him. She’d simply done what had been expected of her.

  “She’s my mother, Roger.” For better or worse. “Not yours.”

  “Really, Kristen, there’s no need for you to speak to us in this manner. Not after we’ve traveled all this way to see you.”

  “Again, Mother, I didn’t invite you here.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You can stay here tonight, but tomorrow you go back to Florida.”

  Fine lines appeared on her mother’s upper lip as she pinched her mouth into a moue of displeasure. “Fine,” she nodded, looking around disdainfully, “but where will we sleep?”

  “At a hotel.” Kristen didn’t add that the nearest hotel was thirty miles away at the next town over.

  There was silence in the room for several seconds before Roger turned beady, light blue eyes her way. He reminded her of a lizard. Cold blooded and unapproachable.

  “Is there even a suitable restaurant in this town where we can get dinner?”

  Kristen wanted to tell them, no, but then she realized they’d have to travel the thirty miles. There was no way she was going to spend a minute longer with them than she had to. “Yes, there’s a pretty decent steakhouse near the interstate.” She hadn’t been there yet. It was too expensive, even in this small town. She didn’t want to think about how much her mother’s little excursion was going to cost her. Probably every dime of the trifling amount she’d managed to save in the last two weeks.

  “That’ll have to do, I guess. I’m starving.”

  Roger’s voice was just as whiny as she remembered and the sound of it was like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Fine,” Kristen sighed. “Let me change, and we’ll go.” Silently, she counted the number of bills stashed in the coffee can in her closet and added the ones in her wallet. She was damn sure she couldn’t count on Roger to help foot the bill. He never had before. She was equally sure he and her mother would, undoubtedly, order the most expensive items on the menu. She hoped she had enough to cover it; otherwise, they’d have to wait while she did dishes in the kitchen to pay for their high-priced tastes.

  The Broken Spoke, a long, log building with lots of windows and a wide front porch sitting full of comfortable rocking chairs, sat on a flat piece of prime real estate next to a gas station and drug store. The parking lot was crowded with pickups and compact cars and even a motorcycle or two. Kristen pulled her nondescript car into a spot near the back of the lot, grimacing as it sputtered several times before finally quieting as she turned off the motor.

  “I can’t believe you actually drive around in this piece of crap where people can see you.”

  Holding on to every shred of patience she possessed, Kristen ignored the hammering in her head as she opened the door and got out of the car. “You could have driven, Roger.” Gas and other charges for the trip would no doubt appear on her credit card bill next month.

  “I told you, dear, I was tired and asked Roger not to stop for gas. There’s hardly fumes left in the tank.”

  Oh, Lord, Kristen thought to herself, another thing she couldn’t afford. A horrible thought struck her. She wouldn’t be surprised if Roger’s plane ticket didn’t show up on the credit card as well.

  “And don’t nag Roger, Kristen. It’s uncouth. No wonder he left you at the altar.”

  Kristen clenched her jaw. At this rate, she’d have TMJ by tomorrow. Unfortunately, she’d have to live with the condition since she couldn’t afford a dentist, much less an oral surgeon.

  Several more trucks pulled into the lot. “Let’s get inside before we have to wait forever for a table.” Quickening her stride, Kristen tried to outrun a headache pounding at her temples.

  A cacophony of sound had her blinking as they entered. Above the jumbled voices and clanking silverware, she could hear the strains of a popular country-western song blaring from the speakers. A perky young hostess dressed in tight jeans, boots and a white shirt bearing the logo I heart my job grabbed a basket of rolls and led them to a table where she introduced herself before disappearing to get their drink order.

  Even though her nerves were strung tighter than a violin string, Kristen’s stomach rumbled at the smell of grilled steak and freshly baked rolls. She reached for one of the menus. Since she had to pay anyway, she might as well order herself something good. After deciding on a steak with all the fixings, she reached for one of the rolls, liberally slathering butter inside the hot middle. Taking a bite, she moaned as the yeasty taste of the warm roll and cinnamon butter hit her tongue.

  “Remember dear, a second on the lips, an eternity on the hips.”

  “I don’t think those jeans could handle much more stress,” Roger snorted.

  And just like that, the wonderful flavor turned to sawdust. Although she’d never really been in love with Roger, he’d nevertheless humiliated her when he’d left her standing at the altar in front of a church full of people who were already whispering, none too quietly, about the loss of her family’s fortune. Her mother had blamed her for, in her words, letting him get away, even though she’d plainly heard him say that without her father’s money to make the deal sweeter, he wasn’t saddling himself with a fat wife.

  She pushed the half eaten roll aside, wishing that she could just go home—alone. The last few months without the constant negativity she’d always gotten from her mother and from Roger the two years that they were together had almost been forgotten. Just a few hours in their presence had brought it a
ll back.

  “Hello, gorgeous.”

  Kristen looked up to see Cal standing over her, his brothers, Gabe and Ryder standing behind him. Just the sight of him pushed the black thoughts away. He was doing his caring boyfriend impression because of Gabe, she knew, but at this moment, she’d never been happier to be the pretend object of a man’s affection in her life.

  And what a man!

  Smiling widely, she offered him her hand as she rose from her seat and kept it tucked in his as she stood by his side. The feel of his calloused palm and strong fingers returned the vigor she’d let her mother and Roger take from her. With just his touch, Cal had reminded her that she was no longer the lonely young girl seeking acceptance from a mother who would never see her as anything but an imperfect child or the overweight, dumped fiancé.

  “What are you all doing here?”

  “Pops decided he didn’t want to cook tonight, so he sent us for takeout.”

  “Where’s Georgia?” Kristen peered around the three men, hoping to see Ryder’s pint-sized wife.

  “She’s shopping for blue paint over at Pops.”

  Kristen gasped, her smile a reflection of the grin splitting Ryder’s face. “You found out the baby’s sex.”

  “Yep.” His chest puffed out. “It’s a boy.”

  “Oh, Ryder, I’m so happy for you both. Please tell Georgia—”

  “Kristen, who are these…. people?”

  Kristen blanched, feeling the heat of embarrassment burn her cheeks at her mother’s rude question. “Cal, Gabe, Ry, this is my mother. She… surprised me with a visit. Mom, this is my…”

  Before she could finish, Gabe stepped forward edging himself between Kristen and Cal, forcing them to drop hands. He slapped Cal on the back and crushed Kristen to him with a one-armed hug. “This is her boyfriend, Cal. Don’t they make a cute couple?” Gabe’s voice was loud and booming and more than a couple of heads turned their way.

  Gabe dropped his arm from around Cal and stepped forward, grabbing her mother’s hand and giving it a good, hard pump. “I’m Gabe and this is Ryder. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”