One-Click Buy: March 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Alison Kent

  Brandy whinnied, then turned as if ready to run, wanting her head, which relieved Deck of further grilling. “She can’t stand still any more than you can.”

  Callie fought Brandy until she settled into an uneasy stand. “I can’t believe Dad bought this horse for someone like Dahlia.”

  “I think Cal bought her for himself.”

  “Why? He has his own horses.”

  “Maybe to feel younger.”

  “You mean Brandy’s his red Corvette?”

  “Possibly.”

  She pondered that. “Maybe he hopes Dahlia will get interested in the ranch.” She paused, biting her lip.

  “What?” he asked, knowing she had more to say.

  “It’s that I don’t like how she treats my dad as if he’s old and sick and she has to nurse him back to health.”

  It wasn’t his place to mention the heart scare, but he wished to hell Cal would tell Callie what had happened. “Maybe that’s how she shows her love,” he said lamely.

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said, then paused. “Have you been in love, Deck?”

  Not since you. A fool-ass thing to even think. “Not really.”

  “Come on. With all the ladies in town falling all over you?” She was teasing, but there was something deeper, too.

  “What about you? Were you in love with your partner?”

  “I thought so. He was the kind of person I wanted—smart and funny and cool. We had everything in common. Work and friends. We cared about each other, but it wasn’t love. We were more like social props for each other.” She seemed troubled by that admission.

  “He wasn’t the right guy, is all. You deserve someone you mean the world to.”

  She turned to him. “You’ll be a great husband, Deck. I hope you know that.” Then she had to lighten it up. “Assuming you tamp down your arrogant-asshole side.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “What are you looking for?” She tilted her head at him. “In a wife, I mean.”

  “I’m not exactly looking. And I don’t have a list of traits, if that’s what you mean.” He shrugged. “I’ll know her when I’m with her. She’ll enjoy simple pleasures. Horseback rides at sunset. Quiet nights listening to music, reading. Now and then a night out, the occasional naked swim in the river.”

  Stupidly, he pictured Callie naked in bed, reading him a funny part of her book while he coaxed her into making love with his fingers until she dropped her book with a sigh….

  “And ‘romance,’ of course.” She made quote marks.

  “Gotta have romance.” Then he decided to stop joking. “We’ll wish each other the best, no matter what.”

  “I hope you find her,” she said, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes, which looked lost and sad.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I wish I were as certain as you,” she said. “About finding someone, about having those feelings.” She shook her head, then laughed.

  “You will. Of course you will.” Maybe she was sick of guys like her ex. She’d sounded weary talking about the big-city lunacy of her life. Maybe she was ready to settle somewhere familiar and warm.

  Like his arms.

  “We should head back,” she said. “It’s getting dark.” She turned Brandy and set off. Running again.

  The way back took them toward the hot springs. As they approached the turnoff, she said, “Feel like a dip?” Her eyes shot to him, shining in the dusk, and she was holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

  Hell, yeah. But he knew better. “I don’t think that’s wise,” he said, sounding like a pompous ass.

  She stiffened, embarrassed she’d suggested it, he could tell. “You ever get tired of being so damn sensible?” She managed a wry smile, then kicked Brandy into a run.

  “Hang on,” he called to her, riding fast and cutting her off, stopping so they were inches apart, facing each other. “Don’t think for one second I didn’t want you naked in my arms.” He held her gaze, demanding she not look away. The breeze lifted a strand of her hair across her mouth. He smoothed it away. “I can’t just have sex with you, Callie. I’m not built that way.”

  “Oh.” She let that sink in.

  He hoped to hell she didn’t think he’d carried a torch of undying love all these years.

  Yeah, right, pal. Like you haven’t.

  He couldn’t let her feel humiliated. And if the truth kept her from suggesting they make love again, he’d endure the wound to his pride. More of that would only stir emotions best left alone. He did his own brand of running, too.

  8

  AGAINST HER BETTER JUDGMENT, Callie went to the hot springs after supper. She’d earned a quiet moment in hot water under the desert sky after working out a spa products order with Dahlia and enduring another of her teas, this one tasting like alfalfa and seaweed.

  Surely, he’ll come. Lying in the water, she noticed her scalp felt tight and her nerves tingled. Yes, she was nervous about being with Deck again, but that didn’t account for how her brain seemed to want to burst from her skull.

  Was it Dahlia’s tea? She’d had an odd reaction from the last cup when she raced out to confront Deck. Dahlia’s teas were herbal. How could a few shriveled blossoms make her heart race or her brain throb? It had to be her emotions.

  She looked up at the night sky and forced herself to relax. The night air cooled her face, the hot water warmed her body and the steam lifted around her like low, magical clouds. She was relaxed but listening hard for footsteps.

  They could pretend to be surprised to see each other, but neither would be. They wouldn’t talk. They would simply meld their bodies again. It would be amazing, healing, perfect.

  Minutes passed. Ten, fifteen, twenty, a half hour. Callie began to feel foolish. After forty-five minutes, shriveled and soggy, she had to conclude Deck wasn’t coming.

  He was a man of his word. She’d known that. She just couldn’t stop wanting him. Maybe it was the memories of being with him, the way he’d accepted her in all her moods, laughing, crying, silent or chatty. He could stand her pain. Taylor wanted the old Callie, always chipper, the life of any party.

  Deck let her be. What a blessing that had been.

  But that was a long time ago. Deck knew it. He’d sensibly concluded more sex would be a dead end and had taken the high road. He was so damned mature, so friggin’ wise.

  He was right. Hell, Deck’s perfect woman was the anti-Callie.

  Funnily enough, sitting on Brandy beside Deck at the creek, she’d actually pictured herself as Deck’s woman—content in his arms, lying under the stars or before a roaring fire, sharing a martini at sunset and, yeah, a naked swim in the river.

  But that had been a fleeting fantasy. No doubt it was because she was ready to make a move when she got back to New York but was trapped in limbo in the meantime.

  She hated limbo. Make a decision and take action. Because if you stood still, thoughts came—regrets, sorrows, feelings.

  The point was that she would never be a person whose big thrill would be going to Tucson for a movie or bingo night at the Trinity community hall.

  Don’t be mean, Callie. She understood the appeal of a small town, all right, but she didn’t see Deck there somehow. Why had he limited himself to Abrazo and the ranch? He was so smart, so good with people, so interesting. He belonged out in the world.

  In her world? Was that what she meant?

  In the meantime, she realized a water-logged sex act wouldn’t help her one bit. Relieved she’d dodged her own bullet, Callie dried off and trudged back to the ranch house, walking away from the letdown as if it had never happened at all.

  ON MONDAY, the machinery, trucks and men arrived as promised. Over the next few days the roar of dozers, the grind of the cement mixer and the calls of workers were tangible proof that Callie’s plan was in operation. She stayed close to the work as much as she could, and Deck helped her by keeping an eye on things when she was in town. He seemed to avoid her except when they
had ranch business to discuss. He was pleasant but distant, acting exactly as if nothing had happened.

  Stupidly, she felt hurt by how easily he’d set it aside. No lingering looks, no silent longing. Deck had never been demonstrative. Whatever he felt, he held back. Which made her an idiot to expect more.

  Things were clicking nicely along until the day before Finn Markham was to arrive. After a successful meeting with Caroline Bestway, who would do the interior design on the makeover at a great price and a quick turnaround, Callie returned with samples to test against the walls and found the work site abandoned, stacks of lumber waiting to be used for framing.

  Irritated, she walked to the site, surprised to notice Deck riding to her on Ranger. He climbed down and approached.

  “Where’s the crew?” she asked, pulling out her phone to call Garrett.

  “I let them go early.”

  “Why the hell did you do that?” she demanded.

  “I’ll show you.” He motioned for her to follow him to the stack of boards. “This is a poor grade of wood. See the knotholes, the inconsistency? Not framing quality.”

  “Did you check it all? Isn’t some of it usable?”

  “You want the building to collapse?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Call Templeton. I left him a message already.”

  “That’s what I was doing,” she said, not appreciating his tone. She got Garrett’s voice mail. “No answer.”

  “Keep calling.”

  “I will,” she said through gritted teeth. “We’ll lose days getting replacement lumber.”

  “Talk to Templeton. For that matter, he needs to manage the workers better. Most are inexperienced kids. The older Hispanic guys are pros, but they want to work hard and keep their heads down. They’re not interested in supervising the kids or correcting their mistakes.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying this crew needs a boss. Get Templeton or a site manager here every day.”

  She dialed Garrett again and got voice mail. Damn. She clicked off her phone. “I don’t need this.”

  “Delays are inevitable,” Deck said.

  “I thought you agreed to stop sounding smug.”

  “You asked me to keep an eye out for you.” He shrugged.

  Resisting a snotty comeback, Callie headed into the ranch house to keep working. While she tested the fabric samples, she half listened for Garrett’s call.

  Nothing. No call. Unable to sit still, Callie went back to Caroline’s shop with her selections to finalize her order.

  It was six when she walked out of Caroline’s shop. Just as she reached her car, Taylor pulled to the curb, parked and got out. Damn, damn, damn. One of the hazards of small towns was how hard it was to avoid anyone. Taylor had been out to the ranch every couple of days, supposedly to see how it was going, but managed to tie her up for a while each time.

  “So how’s it going out there?” he asked her, leaning on his car as if expecting a leisurely chat. “Haven’t seen you for days.”

  Exactly four, but who was counting? “Not so good at the moment,” she said, too frustrated to hide it. “We’ve got low-grade lumber and I can’t get Garrett on the phone.”

  “That’s completely unacceptable,” Taylor said, reaching for his Blackberry. “And surprising. Let me try him.”

  “You don’t need to. It’s after six. He’ll call tomorrow.”

  “I have his private number, Callie. Not to worry.” He moved to sit on the Harriet Taylor Loft memorial bench outside town hall and motioned her to join him.

  Within seconds, Taylor handed her the phone to talk to Garrett. He was out of town on a family emergency, but promised replacement wood in two days or he’d deliver it himself. He also agreed to be on-site every day.

  Callie handed Taylor back his phone. “You saved me again.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” He beamed like a kid.

  Warmed by Taylor’s kindness, she said, “How about that dinner I promised you? A steak at Ruby’s on me? To thank you?” It was the right thing to do and she was happy to do it.

  Taylor hesitated and she remembered he’d wanted to go to Tucson, drink wine and reminisce. This was much better. A well-lit, unromantic place was perfect for Callie’s purpose. Plus, Taylor wouldn’t be driving her home, so there would be no quiet moments for an experimental kiss.

  “Everybody’s got to eat, right?” she coaxed.

  “Sure. Okay.” Clearly disappointed, Taylor managed a smile.

  The diner was reasonably busy and Taylor guided her with a hand at her back to an open booth at the rear. She felt diners’ eyes on them and caught several knowing smiles. Small towns. Gossip that she and Taylor were an item was about to fly, she realized, but there was nothing she could do now.

  Once they were seated, the waitress arrived and they each ordered a beer. “Anything else?” she asked.

  “How about the nachos?” Taylor asked her. “You used to love them with…what was it? Cherry cola, right?”

  “You were the nachos fan, Taylor,” she said, smiling. “Just the beer tonight.”

  “Same for me,” he said, smiling across the table at her.

  “So, how’s policing these days?” she said to steer the conversation away from wistful memories. “I heard you busted a meth lab. Or rather one of your officers did.”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Deck and I ran into the guy who made the bust. Tad Renner?”

  “Yeah. Tad’s a good cop. He works hard. He’s loyal.”

  “And you promoted him for his actions.”

  “He deserved it. Small towns don’t have a lot of crime. Drunk and disorderlies, parking fines, a domestic here or there. Once in a while a burglary. It can make you think hard about what was so almighty special about being a cop in the first place.”

  The beers arrived and Taylor took a giant drink from his bottle, as if to wash away his bitter thoughts. They placed their orders—steak for Taylor, a burger for Callie—and she leaned forward. “Still, it’s important work, Taylor. People appreciate what you do even if they don’t say so.”

  “Sure. I guess.” He seemed to brush that away. “So, I did want to thank you for writing those letters when I was in the army. I was pretty lonely, I won’t deny it. I read them until they fell apart.” He laughed at himself.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t keep it up,” she said. She’d managed three letters, then feared he would read more into them than she intended.

  “You got busy. You had school.” She could tell he’d been hurt. He ran a finger through the condensation ring on the table, frowned, then looked up at her. He seemed to force away the bad mood. “Enough of that sad crap. You moved on. I moved on. Life moved on.”

  Their food arrived and Taylor ordered a second beer. Callie had barely started on hers. “Sure you don’t want one more? Glass of wine maybe?”

  “I’m fine, Taylor.”

  “I know it’s ancient history, but don’t you miss high school? It was so simple. You knew what to do. School, practice, go out with your girl, hang with your crew, have some laughs. No mortgages or meaning-of-life crap to hassle with.”

  “I had fun,” she said. “Until senior year, of course.”

  “Right. Your mom got killed.” He jerked his gaze to hers. He’d obviously forgotten. “I guess I wasn’t too understanding back then. When I bought those tickets…I thought they’d get you back on track.”

  He’d spent a fortune on concert tickets the week her mother died. When she’d turned him down, he’d gotten a cold-dead look in his eye and punched the door near her head. She’d never seen him lose his temper before and she’d been a little scared. They’d broken up and Deck became her refuge.

  “I was too sad to go anywhere,” she said.

  “I was a kid. I missed you. What can I say?”

  She’d figured that out eventually. He’d apologized, heartbroken, and it was easy to slip into the old pattern, especial
ly after Deck had sent her away.

  “You were good to me, Callie. You kept me going. You made me want to do good, to give you everything. Remember that dress I bought you? You looked so hot in it.”

  “I remember.” She pictured the hooker halter dress dangling forlornly in her closet. “Anyway, Taylor, is it tough to juggle police work with real estate?”

  “Yeah, right. Enough of the old days. You won’t want to go out with me if I don’t cut that out, right?” He frowned. “I guess I’m more interested in development right now. It might be time for a change. When it’s time to move on, you move on.”

  “That’s my philosophy, too.”

  “You’re a smart lady.” He tapped his beer against hers. “And your guy in New York…that’s serious?”

  “Looks that way,” she said, crossing her fingers under the table. What else could she do with Taylor looking moony at her?

  “Things change, right?” He winked. “Whenever you get lonely, you call me. Dinner, drinks, whatever. No more old-times talk.” He crossed his heart. “Hope to die?” He leaned closer, grinning.

  “Stick a needle in my eye,” she finished. They’d used that ghoulish childhood vow over ridiculous issues back then. Despite his promise, Taylor couldn’t seem to help calling up old memories.

  Callie glanced at the clock over the door to see how soon she could pay the check and leave. The door opened and Deck entered. This time he was the last person she wanted to see.

  She looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice them in the far corner. He walked straight to the counter to talk to Ruby, thank God. She wasn’t up for more of these two pissing in corners around her.

  “WHAT’S COOKIN’, handsome?” Ruby leaned across the bar while Deck tried not to stare at Taylor, who kept saluting Callie with his beer. What a creep. How the hell had she gotten stuck eating with that loser again?

  “Better suck your eyes back in your head, Deck.”

  “What?” He jerked his gaze to Ruby.

  “You still into her?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on. You never took your eyes off her at the funeral. And I was the one who packed up your take-out fritters.”