by Jillian Neal
"How long's he been here, Sally?" The door swung open and Ford heard his brother, Jamie, ask the bartender as he took the other stool beside Ford's. Everyone else in the bar, save Cal, had given him his space. It was a merciful blessing if ever there was one.
"He was here when my shift started." Sally had known the entire Holder family for decades, and it rubbed Ford the wrong way that she was ratting him out. "I'm a touch worried."
"I'm fine," he growled.
"I'll take him home," Jamie explained.
Ford rolled his eyes. "Or you could stop fucking talking about me like I'm not sitting right here." He was no longer able to keep his family away from his vicious mood. All he wanted was to sit in his own miserable relief and drink. Why couldn't the world just give him one afternoon off? Or was it evening already? He glanced out the plate-glass windows of Rusty’s. Damn. It was already dark. How the hell long had he been in there?
He stared down at the beer bottle clutched in his hand, half-wishing he was drunk enough to need his brother to give him a ride. But he didn't even have the energy to get shit-faced. Plus, he was too damned old for that nonsense. He'd only had a few beers over the last several hours. By cowboy standards, he was stone-cold sober.
Jamie slapped his shoulder and gave him a consolatory smile, which Ford supposed he should've appreciated. His family had all tried to be supportive through this entire rodeo of pure horse shit, but he swore if he had to endure another round of advice from his daddy or one of his uncles, he was going to lose what was left of his mind.
Besides, he was the one who was supposed to be giving advice. His brothers and cousins had always come to him for that, and now, everyone knew his whole stupid life was a lie. Who'd want advice from a loser who'd swallowed Meritt's bait hook, line, and sinker?
Sally set a cold bottle of Budweiser in front of Jamie. Then she gave Ford another one of her pitying glances. "You know I've long thought that Meritt didn't know how good she had it. Throwing away a man like you," she tsked, "a Holder. And for what? Some crowbait pony with nothing but debt. I'll never understand it."
And suddenly, the entirety of the county that his ancestors had settled, fought, and died for just wasn't big enough. The low hum of bar patrons, scrapes of barstools, and drone of the ancient jukebox, that had managed to drown out a few of his more depressing thoughts, were no longer working. He had to get out of there. Get someplace where no one knew his name, knew his family, or knew about him and Meritt. He couldn't stand the pity and the reminder that he was a failure to everything the Holder name had come to mean.
But the blonde in the corner looked up just then, forced a broken smile that was somehow worse than if she'd been crying, and then went back to her whiskey and her papers. He swore that shattered attempt to keep whatever was worrying her locked behind the lie in her smile kept him rooted to the barstool.
Callie blinked several times trying to clear her blurry vision so she could really see the cowboy seated at the bar. She'd been listening to him talk, praying that he'd occasionally give people more than one-word answers when he was spoken to. Finally, that other rancher had come in, and he'd actually talked. His voice was rough and deep, precisely the way she imagined sleeping with him would be. Not that she had any business imagining things like that.
She stared unabashedly at his back as he slid his fingers up and down the beer bottle. Every slight flex of his muscles tested the seams of that button-down shirt he was wearing. She dug her fingers into the almost empty bucket of peanuts and ordered herself to get back to the problems at hand.
Definitely should not have ordered the fifth...whatever it was that she was drinking. She couldn't quite remember. Callie blinked several times, but the numbers on the bank statement continued to backstroke across the page. The endless texts from Derrick swam across the screen of her phone as well.
Hey, where do we keep the ketchup?
I think we're out.
Pick some up
Mom wants to know if we're doing that thing on Saturday night with them
Where did you put the Chinese take-out menu
The guys are gonna be over tomorrow for a Fortnite livestream. I need you to make the shoot a good one. Toby hooked up with some chick who knows this guy over at Twitch, so we're thinking we can get a feature. This could be it babe. No more having to live under Dad's crap
They went on and on. She'd stopped responding after she tried to explain to him where the lightbulbs were when he informed her that something was broken in the bathroom because the light wouldn't come on.
And then there were the texts from Derrick's mother, Tori.
I've taken the liberty of letting the Mitchfields know that you and Derrick will be at the exhibit Saturday.
Oh and I meant to tell you before you left, we'll need you back home by Wednesday. I told Vivian you'd be happy to photograph Bentley that afternoon. Should I have Camelle book you a flight for Tuesday?
Every ridiculous text resulted in three things—Callie drank more, hated herself more for ever falling for the pretty man-child she thought she could save, and her loathing for Derrick and his family grew exponentially.
She refused to photograph any more of his mother's friends’ dogs. Most of the time the animals were more miserable than she was, and that was saying something. Dogs did not want to be in tuxedo ties nor did they want to wear family crests and be posed for photos. Ballet tutus and Ivy League school sweaters were another favorite of the Beverly Hills elite. Good god. Dogs wanted to run free, and bark, and eat, and be loved. For a moment, Callie wouldn't have minded a few of those things as well.
Downing the last of the tumbler, she nodded to the waitress who offered to bring her another. Continuing to numb her own stupidity and confusion over the sheer amount of debt it appeared her grandparents were in was the only thing that made any sense at all. If she were smarter, she would never have fallen for Derrick. If she were smarter, she could figure out where the money had gone. Her father had been right all along—she was just a nosy, useless brat.
Her thumb hovered over the send button. She'd typed out the words - I'm not coming back ever. Free Bentley! Or at least she thought she had. She couldn't quite read her own words anymore. They were lost in the swamp of desolate thoughts drowning her brain.
Chapter Three
Jamie downed a sip of beer and thumbed at the label before he spoke again. "I heard Mama use the other fish in the sea line on ya this morning. I'm betting that's why you didn't go home after signing them papers."
Lifting his Stetson and dragging his hand through his dirty-blond hair, a shade or two lighter than all of his brothers, Ford grunted his agreement.
"She didn't mean any harm. And I know none of us knows the right thing to say about this shitcreek you're having to paddle, but we know it sucks. 'Course Meritt sucked her way all the way around town so..." he shrugged away whatever else he'd wanted to say.
Ford studied Jamie's features, thankful that at least his brother didn't look at him like he was flat out on his deathbed waiting on the reaper to finish him off. They were the oldest of all the Holder cousins, only a few years apart in age. By god, you could tell they were Holders through and through.
Their Uncle Gentry always said all of the cousins looked like a set of cowboy nesting dolls. Most days Ford didn't mind being one of the set. Lonely wasn't something he'd ever be. Hell, when they were all kids, they had their own school bus. But just then he wanted to be left alone.
He wanted to go back to figuring out what that beautiful girl in the corner was doing studying paperwork in a bar, and maybe more importantly who she was. Everybody in Holder County knew everyone else. He could've sworn he'd seen her before, but he couldn't place her family. He supposed that's what happens when you don't leave the ranch for months at a time because you're trying to salvage a marriage that couldn't be saved. Or maybe it was his reputation he was trying to salvage. The marriage had been doomed from the start.
He formed his feat
ures into something akin to a smile, though he was certain his was every bit as broken as the blonde's. He hated that he didn't know her name. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him. The growing curiosity prompted the words from his mouth. "Look, Jamie, I'll be fine. I'm just not in the mood for more of Mama's cooking or for Dad to tell me his stories about the ones that got away before he found the right woman. Okay?"
"That your way of asking me to leave you be?"
"If you don't mind."
"Can I finish this first?" He held up his beer.
"Of course."
"How many of those stories has Dad been telling you?" he asked a moment later.
"Too many. But he met Mama when he was twenty-one, and I'm twice that so none of them apply to me. Doesn't mean he'll shut up about it."
Jamie scowled at him. "Who knew Dad was a player back in the day?" Both of the men chuckled at the thought. "But you aren’t too old to find someone else. Plus, you oughta mess around a little. Head into Odell and find you a last-call stranger...or hell, two of 'em. That'd make you feel better."
The words last-call stranger had Ford's eyes roving back to the blonde without his permission. Jamie followed his line of sight and gave him a knowing grin. "She's pretty."
Ford grunted to avoid having to agree with his brother outright. "The ink ain't even fresh on those fucking papers I signed this morning. Would you stop trying to get me laid?"
"Now, what kinda brother would I be if I weren't trying to get you laid?" He laughed at his own joke. "Who is that chick anyway? I've never seen her before."
"No idea. She's been in here for a while. Looks upset."
The smirk faded from Jamie's face. "And you want to make her smile. Jaysus, did you not learn your lesson with Meritt? It ain't your job to save select members of womankind just because they're bad off. You can't fix everything, for fucksake."
"Piss off," Ford ordered. "I'll get myself home."
Jamie glanced around the bar and then centered his gaze back on Ford. "Look, I’m not opposed to you busting one with that chick. She's pretty. But you don't want to do this here. Everyone in the whole damn county will be talking by tomorrow morning."
Ford stood, directed his brother to the exit door, and headed towards the blonde's table.
"I'm Ford Holder. You mind?" He gestured to the seat across from hers. A bubble of laughter escaped her mouth. Shit. He should've come over sooner. She was too far gone.
She blinked a few dozen times trying to bring him into focus before she giggled again. "You're...really hot."
He tried not to be flattered. It had been way too long since he'd heard something like that for him not to wonder if she'd still have that assessment come morning when she was sober. "Okay." He settled at her booth. "You have a name, sweetheart?"
"Calico Anna Monroe," hiccup, "the first!" She doubled over laughing.
Ford made a valiant effort to keep from scooping her into his arms, taking her back to the ranch, making sure she had something to eat, and then putting her to bed alone.
"The first, huh?" God, she was a mess, but she was the most beautiful mess he'd ever laid eyes on. Damn him to hell and back if he didn't want to scour the earth of whatever it was that had made her need to drink it away.
"Yeah, but mostly I'm just Callie," she sighed, "but also 'cause there's not another one of me obviously."
"Oh, honey, you are definitely one of a kind. Hey, listen for a minute. You any relation to Abe Monroe?"
She nodded for entirely too long. "But I don't like him," she slurred out.
"That makes two of us, but I think maybe I should call him to take you home. Are you staying out on the farm?" He discreetly slid the tumbler out of her reach and signaled to the waitress.
"She need another?"
"God no. Bring her some water, a Dr. Pepper, and get her a cheeseburger and some fries. Put it on my tab."
"Who are you even? How do I know if you have a tab?"
Shock zinged through Ford's mind. He couldn't recall another time when anyone inside the county lines hadn't practically rolled out the red carpet for him. Before he could assure her that he'd cover the charge, Sally bustled to the table. "Put it on the Holder tab, Zoe." She spoke through her teeth. "He just ain't been in, in a while."
"Oh right." Zoe headed towards the kitchen.
"Sorry, Ford," Sally offered.
"Nothing to apologize over. She new out here or something?"
"My niece. Her mama sent her down to live with me when she failed out of ASU."
"Hey, did you know like this whole town thing is Holder, too?" Callie interrupted and seemed to be impressed with her own announcement.
Ford and Sally shared a concerned glance.
"You know, I had heard that," Ford offered with a slight grin. "After we get some food in you, how 'bout you let me take you back to the farm? Let you sleep this off."
Sally shook her head. "You can't take her back to Delphia like that. She'd be devastated, and I'm scared to think what Abe might say to her if you took her over to his house."
"Well, I'm not leaving her here."
"Maybe she'll sober up after she eats."
Ford scolded himself again for not coming to check on her sooner. The damage was too extensive to be fixed with a burger and some water, but at least they would help. "What's going on here anyway?" He spoke under his breath while Zoe delivered the food.
"No idea. I didn't even know she was back in town. Delphia and Harold used to look after her every summer after her mama left town with her. Last I'd heard, she went off to California when she graduated. Delphia was devastated when she left. Maybe she's in town visiting."
Ford searched the recesses of his mind but couldn't come up with a specific time he'd ever seen her before. He studied her soft features and the pain in her eyes she was trying to bandage with liquor and laughter. She was younger than he'd originally estimated. Some part of her looked out of place there in the preferred sanctuary of cattle ranchers, kind of like the moon when it showed during the day. "Have some food," he encouraged.
She did as she was told and dug in.
"Oh my gosh!" she examined much too loudly, "this is so good...and good."
Pain centered in Ford's chest, and he was oddly thankful for it. He was sick of feeling sorry for himself over the divorce. Helping Callie, with whatever it was she wanted him to do that night, at least gave him some purpose. He couldn't fix his own stupid life, but he could get her home safely.
When she finished the burger and fries, she'd offered him more than a dozen times, she laid her head down on her arms on the table. Her long blonde hair spilled into the empty plate, and all of the pain existing in Ford's chest expanded to close his throat. Poor baby. He would've bet profits on ten thousand head of cattle that whatever had happened her daddy had something to do with it. "Hey, let me take you home." Her grandmother was gonna have to get over it.
"Home?" she repeated as if the word confused her.
Ford stood, determined to help her up, but she tried it on her own. The effort went about as well as he'd assumed it would. He caught her before she fell back into the booth. Panic seized every ranch-earned muscle he possessed when she pulled her keys from her pocket. "Thanks for...burger," she managed.
"You're not driving anywhere," he informed her. "Give me your keys. I'll get you to your grandparents."
"Oh god," Callie suddenly sounded appalled. "Nana will be so sad." Her chin wobbled, and Ford swore his whole world shook.
Sally nodded at him from a few tables over. "She might not know much right now, but she's right about that. If I call Delphia and tell her Callie's staying with a friend, do you think she could stay out in one of your bunkhouses or something?"
If he took her back to the ranch, he sure as hell wasn't leaving her alone in a bunkhouse. Every eye in the bar turned to study him. Half of the county was in Rusty’s that night. Most of them were smirking. Fuck him. Jamie had been right. As soon as he got her out to his truck, every t
ongue in the county would be wagging. It'd probably be in the papers by morning right beside the finalized divorce news. Jesus. He could hear it now—brokenhearted Ford Holder went to drink away his misery and left with a girl who couldn't walk on her own. Great. He'd been a star in this stupid town since birth. He swore he couldn't even be late to church services without people talking. They'd eat this up with a fork and spoon.
"Don't...feel good," Callie whimpered. The devastated look in her massive brown eyes, fogged with confusion, combined with her long blonde hair tipped with ketchup remnants shoved every concern over being fodder for the gossip hens right out of his head.
"Yeah, I know. Let's get out of here, okay?" He sank his teeth into his tongue to keep from assuring her that he'd take care of her. He held her steady on her feet with one hand and scooped up all of the papers she had scattered on the table with the other. Propping them under his arm, he guided her towards the door.
Chet Mathis, who Ford hadn't been able to stand for most of his life due to the fact that the only thing under his hat was hair, laughed as he stepped in front of them. "You dirty dog. That'll show Meritt," he gestured to Callie.
It was good Ford's hands were more than full because if they hadn't been, he swore he would've knocked that smirk off of Chet's face with his fist. "Get the hell out of my way," he demanded.
Chet's hands went up in surrender. "I'm just saying she's a real piece of meat. Grade A prime rib. I wanna hear all about this tomorrow."
Then again Ford was nothing if not resourceful. He managed to turn and cradle Callie closer so she could lean against his shoulder and chest, which freed his right hand. Taking Chet by the collar of his shirt, he snarled, "Believe I told you to haul your ass."
