by Tina Leonard
Johnny glanced at the man on the bench. “Does he now?”
“He does,” Aberdeen said firmly.
Johnny nodded and left to get his truck. Aberdeen looked at the ill man, who watched her like a hawk. “Cowboy, I’m going to look at your license, and if you grab me again like you did a second ago, you’ll wish you hadn’t. I may be a minister, but when you live above a bar, you learn to take care of yourself. So either you give me your wallet, or I take it. Those are your choices.”
He stared at her, unmoving.
She reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, keeping her gaze on him, trying to ignore the expanse of wide chest and other parts of him she definitely shouldn’t notice. Flipping it open, she took out his driver’s license. “Creed Callahan. New Mexico.”
She put the license away, ignoring the fact that he had heaven-only-knew-how-many hundred-dollar bills stuffed into the calfskin wallet, and slid it back into his pocket.
He grabbed her, pulling her to him for a fast kiss. His lips molded to hers, and Aberdeen felt a spark—more than a spark, real heat—and then he released her.
She glared at him. He shrugged. “I figured you’d get around to slapping me eventually. Might as well pay hell is what I always say.”
“Is that what you always say? With every woman you force to kiss you?” Aberdeen asked, rattled, and even more irritated that she hadn’t been kissed like that in years. “You said stealing was wrong.”
“It is. I didn’t say I didn’t do it.” He grinned, highly pleased with himself, and if he hadn’t already rung his bell, she would have slapped him into the next county.
Then again, it was hard to stay mad when he was that cheerful about being bad. Aberdeen put her hands on her hips so he couldn’t grab her again. “All right, Mr. Callahan, do you remember why you’re in Wyoming?”
“Rodeo. I ride rodeo, ma’am.”
Johnny was back. “Truck’s out front.”
“Johnny,” Aberdeen said, “this is Creed Callahan. Mr. Callahan is very happy you’re going to take him for a ride. Aren’t you, Mr. Callahan?”
“Callahan?” Johnny repeated. “One of the six Callahans from New Mexico?”
“Have you heard of him?”
“Sure.” Johnny shrugged. “All of them ride rodeo, and not too shabbily. The older brother didn’t ride much, but he did a lot of rodeo doctoring after he got out of medical school. Some of them have been highly ranked. You don’t go to watch rodeo without knowing about the Callahans.” He looked at Creed with sympathy. “What are you doing here, friend?”
Creed sighed. “I think I’m getting away from something, but I can’t remember what.”
“A woman?” Johnny asked, and Aberdeen waited to hear the answer with sudden curiosity.
“A woman,” Creed mused. “That sounds very likely. Women are trouble, you know. They want to have—” He lowered his voice conspiratorially in an attempt to keep Aberdeen from hearing. “They want to have b-a-b-i-e-s.”
Aberdeen rolled her eyes. “Definitely out of his mind. Take him away, Johnny.”
Her brother laughed. “He may be right, you know.”
“I don’t care,” Aberdeen said, gathering her self-control. He might have stolen a kiss, but the conceited louse was never getting another one from her. “He’s crazy.”
“That’s what they say,” Creed said, perking up, obviously recognizing something he’d heard about himself before.
Aberdeen washed her hands of Mr. Loco. “Goodbye, cowboy,” she said, “hope you get yourself together again some day. I’ll be praying for you.”
“And I’ll be praying for you,” Creed said courteously, before rolling off the bench onto the floor.
“That’s it, old man,” Johnny said, lifting Creed up and over his shoulder. “Off we go, then. Aberdeen, I may not make your service today, love.”
“It’s okay, Johnny.” Aberdeen watched her brother carry Creed to the truck and place him inside as carefully as a baby. The man said he was running, but no one ran from their family, did they? Not someone who had five brothers who’d often traveled together, rodeoed together, competed against each other? And Johnny said one of the brothers was a doctor.
People needed family when they were hurting. He’d be better off with them instead of being in Wyoming among strangers.
Aberdeen went to her room to look up Callahans in New Mexico, thinking about her own desire for a family. A real one. Her sister, Diane, had tried to make a family, but it hadn’t worked. Though she had three small adorable daughters, Diane wasn’t cut out to be a mother. Then Aberdeen had married Shawn “Re-ride” Parker right out of high school. That hadn’t lasted long, and there had been no children. And Johnny, a confirmed bachelor, said he had enough on his hands with his two sisters. They had their own definition of family, Aberdeen supposed, which worked for them. If a woman was looking to be have a baby, though, Creed Callahan probably ranked as perfect donor material—if a woman liked crazy, which she didn’t. “I don’t do crazy anymore,” she reminded herself, dialing the listing she got from the operator.
The sooner crazy left town, the better for all of them.
Chapter Two
Creed was astonished to see his brother Judah when he awakened. He was even more surprised to realize he was in a hospital room. He glanced around, frowning at his snoozing brother—Judah looked uncomfortable and ragged in the hospital chair—and wondered why he was here. Creed tried to remember how he’d gotten to the hospital and couldn’t. Except for a ferocious headache, he felt fine.
“Judah,” he said, and his brother started awake.
“Hey!” Judah grinned at him. “What the hell, man? You scared me to death.”
“Why?” Creed combed his memory and found it lacking. “What’s going on? Where am I?”
“We’re in Lance, Wyoming. A bar owner brought you in.”
“Was I in a fight?” Creed rubbed at his aching head, confused by his lost memory. He didn’t remember drinking all that much, but if a bar owner had brought him in, maybe he’d gotten a little riled up. “If I was, I hope I won.”
Judah smirked. “The fight you were in was apparently with a bull. And you lost. At least this round.”
Creed perked up. “Which bull was it? I hope it was a bounty bull. At least a rank bull, right?”
His brother smiled. “Can I get you something? Are you hungry?”
Creed blinked. Judah didn’t want to tell him which bull had thrown him, which wasn’t good. Cowboys loved to brag, even on the bad rides. He told himself he was just a little out of practice, nothing more riding couldn’t cure. “I feel like my head isn’t part of my body.”
“You’ve got a slight concussion. The doctor thinks you’re going to be fine, but he’s keeping you a few hours for observation.”
“I’ve had concussions before and not gone to the hospital.”
“This time you had a high fever. Could have been the concussion, could have been a bug. The doctors just want to keep an eye on you. They mapped your brain, by the way, and said you don’t have too much rattling around inside your skull. The brain cavity is strangely lacking in material.”
Creed grunted at Judah’s ribbing. “Sorry you had to make the trip.”
“No problem. I wasn’t doing anything.”
Creed grunted again at the lie. Callahans always had plenty to do around Rancho Diablo. Five thousand acres of prime land and several hundred head of livestock meant that they stayed plenty busy. They kept the ranch running through sheer hard work and commitment to the family business.
“Anyway, it’s been a while since anyone’s seen you. Didn’t know where you were keeping yourself.” Judah scrutinized him. “We really didn’t understand why you left in the first place.” Now that Creed could dig out of his cranium. “I was next on Fiona’s list, Judah. I could feel it.” He shuddered. “You don’t understand until you’ve had Fiona’s eye trained on you. Once she’s thinking about getting you to the altar, you
’re halfway there.”
“She’s thinking about all of us,” Judah pointed out. “Remember, that’s her plan.”
“But it was supposed to be over when Pete got married. He was the sacrifice.” Creed took a deep breath. “And then I realized Fiona was running through her catalog of eligible females for me. I could hear her mind whirring. I’ve known every woman Fiona could possibly think of all my life. And there’s not a one of them I’d care to marry.”
Judah nodded. “I feel the same way.”
Creed brightened. “You do?”
“Sure. Occasionally I think about a certain gal, but then I think, no, she’d never have me. And then I get over it pretty fast.” Judah grinned. “The sacrifice wasn’t ever going to be me. I’m not good at commitment for the sake of just having a girl around. Heck, I was never even good at picking a girl to take to prom.”
“That was an exercise in futility.” Creed remembered his brother’s agony. “I had to fix you up with some of my friends.”
“And that was embarrassing because of you being a year older than me.”
“I didn’t exactly mind,” Creed hedged. “And I didn’t hear you complaining about going out with an older woman.”
Judah shook his head. “My dates didn’t complain because I’m a good kisser. When you’re a year younger than the girls you take out, you learn to make it up to them.” He grinned. “You know, it’s not that I don’t like women, I just like all women.”
“Amen, bro,” Creed said happily, back on terra firma. “Women are a box of candy, you never know what you’re going to get.”
“All right, Forrest Gump. Go back to sleep.” Judah smiled at the nurse who came in to take his brother’s temperature. “I had no idea the ladies in Wyoming are so lovely,” Judah said. “Why wasn’t I living here all my life?”
Creed grinned at his brother’s flirting. Now he remembered who he was. He was Creed Callahan, hotshot rider and serious serial lover of females. Wild at heart. It was good to be a Callahan. He was love-them-and-leave-them-happy, that’s who he was.
And women adored him.
Creed never noticed the nurse taking his pulse and his temperature. Somewhere in his memory a vision of a brunette with expressive eyebrows nagged at him. A female who hadn’t quite adored him. In fact, she might even have thought he was annoying.
It wasn’t likely such a woman existed, but then again, he couldn’t remember ever getting concussed by anything other than a rank bull, either. Creed closed his eyes, wishing his headache would go away, but there was greater pain inside him: His last several rides had been bombs. Not even close to eights. On par with unfortunate.
I need a break, and the only thing I manage to break is my head.
He’d just lie here and think about it a little while longer, and maybe the fog would lift. He heard Judah and the nurse giggling quietly about something, which didn’t help. Judah could score any time he liked. The ladies loved all that haunted-existentialist crap that his younger brother exuded. But I’m not existential. Rafe, he’s an existential thinker. Me, I’m just wild. And that’s all I’ll ever be.
He felt really tired just connecting those pieces of information. When he got out of here, he was going to remember that a fallen rider needed to get right back up on his reindeer.
Or something like that.
But then Creed thought about dark-blue annoyed eyes staring at him, and wondered if he was running out of good luck.
ABERDEEN SAT RELUCTANTLY at the cowboy’s bedside, waiting for him to waken, and not really wanting him to. There was something about him that nagged at her, and it wasn’t just that he’d kissed her. Cowboys were typically a good group, but she wasn’t sure about this one, though she was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. She worked to spread faith and good cheer amongst her beat-up flock, and beat-up they were on Sunday mornings. Her congregation consisted of maybe twenty-five people on a busy Sunday, often less. Banged-up gentlemen dragged in for an hour of prayer and sympathy and the potluck spaghetti lunch she and her friends served in the bar afterward. She preached in Johnny’s big barn, which had a covered pavilion for indoor riding. The cowboys and cowgirls, wearing jeans and sleepy expressions of gratitude, gratefully headed to the risers.
This man was beat-up, all right, but he didn’t seem like he cared to find spiritual recovery in any form. She pondered her transient congregation. Sunday mornings were her favorite part of the week, and she rarely ever missed giving a sermon, though if she did, Johnny was an excellent stand-in, as well as some of their friends. Neither of them had grown up thinking they wanted to be preachers, but missionarying had taken hold of Aberdeen in high school, growing stronger during college. She’d majored in theology, minored in business, and Johnny had done the opposite. The two of them were a good working team. Over the years, Johnny’s Bar and Grill had become known as the place to hang out six days a week, crash when necessary, and hear words of worship on Sunday. Aberdeen knew many of the cowboys that pulled through Lance. She couldn’t understand why she’d never heard of the Callahans, if they were the prolific, daring riders that Johnny claimed they were.
But she’d gotten busy in the past five years, so busy she barely paid attention to anything more than what the top riders were scoring, and sometimes not even that. Her knowledge had ebbed when she started helping Johnny at the bar and writing more of her sermons. She was twenty-nine, and at some point, rodeo had left her consciousness. She’d focused more on her job and less on fun—although sometimes she missed that. A lot.
Plus she had Diane to think about. Diane was in trouble, real trouble, and nothing she or Johnny did seemed to help her. Their older sister couldn’t keep a job, couldn’t keep a husband—she was on her third—and had three young children, had had one a year for the past three years. Now she was going through a bitter divorce from a man who’d walked out and was never coming back. It had always been hard for Aberdeen and Johnny to understand why Diane made the choices she did.
Recently, Diane had asked Aberdeen to adopt her daughters, Ashley, Suzanne and Lincoln Rose. Diane said she could no longer handle the responsibility of being a parent. Aberdeen was seriously considering taking the girls in. If Diane didn’t want to be a mother, then Aberdeen didn’t want to see Child Protective Services picking up her nieces. She loved them, with all her heart.
Diane lived in Spring, Montana, and wanted to move to Paris to chase after a new boyfriend she’d met traveling through the state. Aberdeen lived in fear that their elderly parents would call and say that Diane had already skipped.
“Howdy,” the cowboy said, and Aberdeen’s gaze snapped up to meet his.
“Hi. Feeling better?” she asked, conscious once again of how those dark denim eyes unsettled her.
“I think so.” He brightened after feeling his head. “Yes, I definitely am. Headache is gone.” He gave her a confiding grin. “I dreamed about you.”
Her mouth went dry. “Why?”
“I remembered your eyes. I didn’t remember a lot else, but I did remember your eyes.”
She’d remembered his, too, though she’d tried not to. “Good dream or a bad dream?”
He grinned. “Now, sugar, wouldn’t you like to know?”
She pursed her lips, wishing she hadn’t asked.
“Ah, now that’s the expression I recall with clarity,” Creed said. “Annoyance. Mainly because it’s not what I usually see in a woman’s eyes.”
“No? What do you usually see?” Aberdeen was annoyed, and the second she fell into his trap, she was even more irritated. Mainly with herself.
“Lust, preacher lady. I see lust.”
She leaned away from him. “Ladies do not lust.”
He raised jet-black brows. “I swear they do.”
“They desire,” she told him. “They have longings.”
He shook his head. “You’ve been meeting the wrong kind of fellows, sugar cake.”
She got up and grabbed her purse. “It’s good to
see you on the mend, Mr. Callahan. Happy trails.”
He laughed, a low, sensual sound that followed Aberdeen to the door. “Thank you, miss.”
He hadn’t placed an emphasis on miss, but it teed her off just the same. Made her feel naked. She wasn’t an old-maid kind of miss; she was a conscientious abstainer from another marriage. That’s right, cowboy. I’m single and okay with it. Almost okay with it, anyway.
As she rounded the corner, she plowed into a tall cowboy who looked a lot like the one she’d left in his hospital room.
“Whoa, little lady,” he said, setting her back on her feet. “Where’s the fire?”
She frowned. “You’re not one of the Callahans, are you?”
“I am.” He nodded, smiling at her. “You must be the nice lady who let us know Creed was down on his luck.”
“Yes, I did. He’s made a great recovery.”
He tipped his hat, dark-blue eyes—just like Creed’s—sparkling at her. “My name is Judah Callahan.”
She reached out to shake his hand. “Aberdeen Donovan.”
“We can’t thank you enough, Miss Aberdeen.”
He had kind eyes—unlike the flirt back in the hospital bed. “No thanks necessary. My brother Johnny would help anyone in trouble.” She smiled at him. “I’ve got to run, but it was nice meeting you, Judah.”
“Thank you, Aberdeen. Again, thanks for rescuing Bubba.”
She shook her head and walked away. Bubba. There was nothing little-brother Bubba about Creed. He was all full-grown man and devil-may-care lifestyle. She’d be a fool to fall for a man like him. Fortunately, forewarned was forearmed.
Chapter Three
Judah strolled into Creed’s room. By the sneaky smile on his brother’s face, Creed deduced that his visit wasn’t all about rousing the patient to better health. “What?” Creed had a funny feeling he knew what was coming.
“You’ve got all the luck,” Judah said, throwing himself into a chair. “Finding a little angel like that to rescue you.”
