One-Click Buy: March 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Alison Kent

“Yeah. Sure.” So why did she feel so empty? From the moment she realized she’d be able to leave, she’d felt hollowed out.

  Was it her father? He was still in turmoil about Dahlia, but his health was stable and Callie would be out often.

  Was it Deck? Sure. She already missed him. But there was no point in that. Even if they weren’t miles apart in both geography and attitudes, she couldn’t love him enough. She didn’t have it in her. “I guess we should go,” she said finally. “The light’s fading.”

  Without a word they turned away from the sunset and made their way down the hill and toward their separate futures.

  16

  DECK PUT THE HORSES AWAY and waited until he was certain Callie would be upstairs before he went into the ranch house to get his painting.

  Once she left, he’d probably feel better. Seeing her every day had him in constant turmoil. He was lonely and miserable. He felt—shit—discontented. Which was stupid. The grass was always greener, didn’t he know that?

  He entered the ranch house, nodded at the guests in the great room, then went to the hall lined with his canvases. He’d shipped the other two when the checks came, too preoccupied with Callie and the ranch to notice how he felt about the sales.

  He took down the last sold piece, then surveyed the remaining canvases: parts of a horse, a cactus study, a sunset, a distant rider. Not badly rendered, either.

  He didn’t cringe anymore. At first, he’d hated his art on display. He’d felt exposed, like one of those dreams where you found yourself in public stark naked with everyone laughing.

  His paintings had always been his pain on canvas and he didn’t care for strangers staring at that. But that had passed. His pieces were merely his take on subjects that caught his eye, interested him or moved him. Nothing more.

  The buyer wasn’t due for a couple of hours, so he dropped the painting off at his studio and headed into town for some rhubarb pie and company.

  The diner was nearly empty. Ruby met him at the counter. “Well, bless me, the town hero has placed his regal behind on my humble stool.”

  “Cut it out, Ruby.”

  The few diners smiled. Someone laughed. There was applause.

  “People can’t stop talking about what you did,” she said more softly. Half a dozen people had privately thanked him for stopping Loft for one reason or another.

  “You really need to run for mayor, Deck.”

  He sighed. “Could I have my pie without politics?”

  “Whatever you say.” She turned for the pie rack, and the piece she brought him held a scoop of vanilla ice cream. “You’ve got that à la mode look on your face,” she explained. “Is it Callie?”

  He shot her a glance, then went at his pie.

  “Can’t you work things out?”

  “Nothing to work out. She’s going back to New York.” What the hell was wrong with this pie? It tasted like cardboard.

  “Not if she has a reason to stay. Did you give her one?”

  He put his fork down. “I’m not begging her, Ruby.” He’d done that once already. “I won’t humiliate myself.” He picked up his fork again and dug at the pie.

  “Since when is telling someone you want them in your life humiliating?”

  “When it’s done, it’s done. Besides, she’s the one leaving.”

  “So go to New York. Chase her down.”

  “I don’t belong there any more than she belongs here.”

  “For a smart man, you can be stone dumb, Declan O’Neill. You ever heard of compromise? Frequent flier miles? It doesn’t have to be either or. It can be both.”

  “It’s more than where we live,” he said. “We want different things.” She wanted too much and he wanted too little.

  “If you love each other, you work it out.” She paused. “Does she even know you love her?”

  He thought about that. He’d never said the words, but she had to know. Didn’t she?

  “What are you afraid of?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Losing her, of course. People left, they died, they went away. You protected yourself any way you could. Callie did it with forward motion. He stuck with things he could count on. “Could I just eat my pie, here?”

  “You already did.” She nodded at his empty plate.

  “Then I guess I need another piece,” he groused.

  She brought it to him. “Think it over, Deck. And the next time you come in here, you’d better ask me to be your campaign manager or we’ll be permanently out of raspberry rhubarb, I swear.” He half believed she was serious.

  CALLIE BROUGHT a glass of pomegranate iced tea to her father and sat on the rocking chair beside him on the porch.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  She rocked for a few seconds, her gaze sliding from the ranch yard up to the sky, where the stars were white specks in the velvety blackness.

  “Good tea,” her father said, licking his lips.

  “It’s store-bought. Don’t tell Dahlia.”

  “She’s not ready to joke about tea yet, I’m afraid.”

  “What’s happening with you two?” She wanted the best for her father, but she wasn’t sure Dahlia was the right woman.

  “We’re taking it slow. I guess I was so happy to find someone I could love, that I let her run me around a little too much. She knows she was too bossy, so we’re being careful with each other right now.”

  “It’s not my business, Dad, but maybe she’s just too sensitive for someone as kind and compassionate as you are.”

  “We love each other, Callie. We’ll work it out.”

  She could let that go, but she’d promised she’d be more honest. “Are you sure? Because while you were protecting her feelings, I almost lost you.”

  “I won’t let that happen again.”

  “You mean you won’t tell me if it happens.” She paused, then turned to him. “We have to stop tiptoeing around each other, pretending we’re not sick or scared or lonely or upset just to protect the other person. We end up strangers to each other.” She stopped, waiting for his response, her heart in her throat. Was he mad? Disappointed? Hurt?

  He sipped his tea, taking his time before he answered. “The truth can be painful,” he said. “When you told me you didn’t want the ranch, that hurt me.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I just—”

  “You were upset. We both were. But I needed to know. I can see that now. You’re right, Callie.”

  “I want us to be more honest with each other.”

  He studied her. “It’s a habit, you know—telling the people I love what I think they want to hear. That’s what happened with Dahlia and it almost killed me. You’d think that would be enough of a lesson, wouldn’t you?”

  She laughed. “I’m a grown-up, Dad. I can handle the truth.”

  “I’m not sure I can.” He gave a sheepish smile.

  “So we’ll ease into it, how’s that? I’ll try not to shock you right off the bat.”

  “Sounds fair enough,” he said, then sipped his tea, looking out over the yard, lost in thought. He turned to her. “Okay, in the spirit of honesty, I have some news you might not like. I’m going to see a doctor who specializes in alternative medicine. It’s Dahlia’s physician. She’s been trained traditionally, too. I read up on her, and she’s well respected. If I like her and trust her, I’m going to do what she says. That might mean herbs instead of pills, Callie.”

  Callie swallowed hard. Her dad was doing what she’d asked him to do, being honest. She had to show him it was okay. “I can’t say that doesn’t worry me, but it’s your decision to make and I respect that.” She paused. “And I’m glad you told me.”

  “Okay. Glad to hear it.” He grinned out at the yard.

  “That didn’t hurt so bad, did it? Discussing that?”

  Her father laughed. “I’ll need practice, I can tell.”

  “We both will.”

  He turned to her. “Here’s one for you. Tell me what’s going on between you and Deck.” />
  “Okay.” She took a breath. “We were seeing each other, but we broke up. We’re on good terms and I’m fine.”

  “I’m a grown-up. I can take the truth.”

  She smiled. “That is the truth. We couldn’t work it out. We’re just too different from each other.”

  “But that’s what makes life interesting.”

  “It’s too hard.” She shook her head.

  “You have to compromise, Callie. You know that, right?”

  “Compromise, sure. But you don’t stop being who you are or going after what you want.”

  “Is that what Deck’s asking of you? Or you of him?”

  “In a way. I don’t know. It just won’t work.”

  “I never wanted you to be afraid,” her father said softly.

  “What do you mean? I’m not afraid.”

  “Losing your mom was scary. If she could disappear just like that—” he snapped his fingers “—what in the world was safe anyway? I felt the same way, you know.”

  “I grew out of that,” she said, but his words plowed into her. He’d never been so frank with her before.

  “What I did was tuck into the ranch and work hard. Year after year. It took your dating club and Dahlia phoning me day after day to get me to start living again.”

  “Yeah, and that almost got you killed.”

  “You have a point.” He smiled, but then got serious. “You have to take a chance on people, Callie. On love. Yeah, it’s risky. You can get hurt. But don’t let love go because you’re scared. What’s that saying? A ship at harbor’s safe, but that’s not what ships are for.”

  “I don’t know, Dad.” Sweat sprang out all over her body. His words made sense, but she wanted to stiff-arm them away. “It’s not that simple. I can’t give up my life.”

  “Don’t give it up, Callie. Share it.” Her father wouldn’t let her look away. “I’ll say one more thing and then I’ll leave you be. When you’re with Deck, you light up like Christmas morning. Around him, you seem…I don’t know…settled in your skin. Content. Easy. Maybe that sounds nutty to you.”

  “A little.” She tried to laugh it off.

  “I mean you stop acting like you’re about to fly off any second after God knows what all.”

  “My charging, New-York style?”

  “Don’t let geography be your excuse to give up on love.”

  She didn’t speak. Her throat had closed off.

  “Wow,” her father said with a deep breath, “all this honesty is exhausting. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings. I don’t mean to tell you what to do. I just want you to be happy.”

  “I know you do, Dad.”

  He stood and leaned down to give her a hug. “I’m off to bed. Think about what I said.”

  “I will. And you take your time with Dahlia.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Her father left and she looked out into the dark. She could hear crickets, river toads and just plain quiet. Through the mesquites, she saw that Deck’s trailer was dark. Had he gone into town? She wished she could wander over with a bottle of wine and sort this out with him. Laugh and talk and be easy together, like they’d been for those weeks of limbo.

  Her dad was right. Deck did make her feel settled. Her life in New York was jam-packed. She’d always loved it, thrived on it. Lately…maybe not so much.

  What did she want now? Truly? The ranch and Deck? New York and Deck? Or just plain Deck, however she could have him? Maybe she was using geography as an excuse. Why couldn’t they share their lives?

  She needed to think about this. And the best place to think was the hot springs. She donned her robe, grabbed a towel and headed out. Turning on the path to look back at the ranch house, she saw how pretty the pool looked in the moonlight. A couple was enjoying the hot tub. Through the window she could see two guests working out in the gym. Music from the bar was soft and pleasant. Bookings were already up, she knew.

  She’d accomplished a lot so far and there was so much more to do. Of course she’d be out to track the progress, but that wasn’t the same as being here every day, enjoying the moment-to-moment pleasures of managing a place you’ve built.

  It was the kind of thing Deck loved. To him the land, the animals he worked with, the desert he lived in, offered plenty of satisfaction. She understood that, but had never considered it for herself, just as Deck had never let moving to New York enter his mind. Maybe they’d both been unfair.

  She rounded the bend to the hot springs. No guests were in the open pools, but Callie went to the private spring anyway. It was her favorite. She removed her robe and slipped naked into the dark water, which was lovely as always.

  She thought about making love. Here and everywhere else they’d been together. She’d been able to let herself go with him. She’d trusted him. Wasn’t that what she wanted in the end?

  But she loved her career, her friends, the pace and the city. Leaving the ranch wasn’t running away, as Deck had said. It was running to something good and rewarding.

  Not exactly the whole truth. She was always running—to the next task, conversation, client, job, challenge. Because if she stopped…what?

  She’d be stuck with herself and her own thoughts and feelings. And that was to be avoided because for a long time all she felt were pain and sadness and guilt and regret. She’d learned to protect herself by staying busy.

  Nearly losing her father had reminded her that she could lose someone she loved in one terrible moment. Had she given Deck up out of that same fear? Was she running away from him?

  And what about her capacity for deep love? Was her heart really crippled? Or just guarded? Could she change?

  Maybe she already had. A little, anyway. Thanks to Deck.

  Deck had helped her take back her past, replace painful memories with happy ones. Even thinking of her mother hurt less. She no longer clung to that terrible mental picture of party favors floating to the tarmac of the highway near her mother’s crushed car.

  Deck had given her back her mother. Even her birthday. His sweet celebration had healed the old hurt. Deck had been there for her however she needed him to be.

  He would keep being there. He was that kind of guy. If anyone could help Callie heal her damaged heart, it was Deck.

  If he wanted to try.

  They’d both been afraid, backing away at the first bit of trouble like they’d touched a hot stove.

  Why couldn’t they share their lives? Geography was a challenge, but Callie loved challenges. If they loved each other, if they wanted to be together, they could work it out.

  It was worth a try, Deck had said.

  And this time Callie wasn’t going to run.

  DECK HEARD THE CAR pull up and stepped out of his studio to meet his buyer. A pretty woman, midtwenties, bounded toward him, grinning. “I’m so excited,” she said, introducing herself and violently shaking his hand.

  He led her into the studio where he’d leaned her painting—it was a sunset over the river—against the packing case he’d prepared.

  “Oh, thank God, I love it just as much!” She beamed at him. “You know how you have something in your mind and you think it can’t possibly be as good as you remembered, but it is?” She studied it with shining eyes. “Looking at this gives me this feeling. Peace and joy. Does that sound goofy? You hear that all the time, I bet. Such a cliché. I don’t care.”

  He didn’t get a chance to reply.

  “This is my first original art, you know. I’ve been saving for the right one. And this is it. I can’t wait to show my friends. They’ll probably want to know where you’re showing. Did you say you’re in a gallery?”

  “No,” he said. “Not yet.” Not yet?

  “There’s a place in Scottsdale where you’d be great.” She pulled out a business card and wrote down the name. “Call them. Really. You should. So my friends won’t have to drive all the way down here.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Let me get this ready.” He boxed up the painting
, while she kept talking about the place in her house she’d hang the work, her job in PR, how much she loved the current show at the Phoenix Art Museum and on and on.

  Finally he put the box in her back seat, then turned to say goodbye.

  “I feel like I know you from your painting, so I want to give you a hug or something…”

  “Sure,” he said, hugging her lightly.

  She grinned at him afterward.

  “So, great. Drive safe,” he said, motioning at her open door, uncomfortable with her adoration.

  She drove off still waving.

  He realized he was still grinning. His art had made her happy. He liked that. A lot. He felt…proud. Callie was right. Selling his work could be rewarding.

  Why had he held back? Like Callie with her birthday, he’d never questioned his old beliefs. When she’d dragged his art out of his studio, she’d exposed his excuses to the light.

  He would call that gallery, dammit. The idea felt good, freeing. A little scary, but right.

  He’d held back with Callie, too. Ruby was right. He hadn’t even told he loved her. What the hell was he afraid of?

  The pain, of course. The agony of losing too much. His father’s death had been harder on him than he’d ever acknowledged. He’d clung to the old pain, just as Callie had done.

  They’d been protecting themselves in their separate ways—him by closing himself in, her by running off. Why couldn’t they stop that, trust each other, take the chance?

  He’d said it was worth a try, but he hadn’t tried. How could he let her go so easily? Hell, he should chase her to Manhattan. Ruby was right about that, too.

  He had to talk to Callie. Galvanized, he started toward the ranch house. Then he spotted her on the path to the hot springs wearing that black robe and those silly flip-flops.

  The perfect place to talk to her. He got what he needed, then he set off to chase down the woman he loved.

  CALLIE WAS FLOATING, staring up at the stars, planning her speech to Deck when she heard him say her name. She sat up, not sure she hadn’t imagined it.

  There he stood in a terrycloth robe, holding a bottle of champagne with two mason jar glasses.