by Jillian Neal
The disappointment that had resided in Ford’s gorgeous eyes, that seemed to be a code to his mind, morphed to understanding. "Trust me, if someone's damned and determined not to hear you, they're never going to. On top of that, expecting some kind of closure is like needing their permission to move on. It ain't worth the wait."
"That's what I think too. I'm not going back to LA, so he'll figure it out eventually. I need to be here for a little while but then I'm going to move...somewhere."
"When are you moving?"
"I don't know yet."
"Okay, where are you moving?"
"New York, I think. Maybe. I’m not entirely sure about that either. I sound stupid, right?" She wasn't certain why she cared what Ford Holder thought of her. She used to love living in the moment, but she was concerned that he'd rescued her from a bar the night before and then she was admitting how in flux her entire life was for their first real conversation. Echoes of her father's constant disapproval thundered in her mind.
He shook his head. "You're not stupid. Don't ever say that. There's nothing wrong with taking life as it comes. Seems to me that trying to plan everything out will fuck you over every time."
Callie took another sip of her coffee, but the warmth that was spreading through her veins wasn't coming from the food or from the coffee. "Hey Ford," she tried fruitlessly to keep the next words trapped in her throat, but she recognized that lost desperation she'd been feeling for so long in his eyes as well. She wanted him to know that she appreciated that he was a good guy in a world where she was fairly certain those were an endangered species.
"Yeah?"
"I'm pretty sure I like being friends with you."
And that earned her a full-fledged smile from him. Her heart applauded in her ribcage. "You don't really get to be a Holder without being born into a horde of friends, so I might not be all that good at it. Family doesn't get to not hang out with you. But I'm a decent listener if you ever want to talk."
She wondered if he'd intended to draw direct distinctions between himself and Derrick. Most of her prayed that he had, but she was sure feeling so close to him was only because of the current state of her life. That and the fact that he did seem like such a good listener even if what he'd said before that was wrong—family did get to decide not to be around. Her mother had decided that a decade ago. She hadn't seen her since. "You're lucky you have a big family." She didn't know much about the Holders, but her grandmother always said that they were the backbone of the entire county. Even just spending the summers there, Callie knew the Holder kids seemed to come by the dozens.
"Sometimes." He chuckled.
"I always wished I had a bunch of sisters and brothers. Most of the time it was just me and," her head fell, and she hated that it still affected her, "my mom. It was a little...lonely."
Suddenly, his substantial hand, roughened with rope-worn calluses, enclosed hers on the table. At his touch, the world that had been spinning so quickly lately seemed to settle. She swore a spark of electricity arced through her palm. "If you want to hang out on the ranch while you're here, I promise you won't be lonely." He gave her a gentle squeeze and then pulled his hand away. The absence stung, and the world picked up pace again. "Can I ask you something else?"
She lifted her head and nodded, still wondering what kind of magic he had in those hands.
"You told me last night you were Abe Monroe's daughter, but I've never seen you around here, and you said it was just you and your mom. I know it's none of my business..." he shrugged away the rest of whatever he was thinking.
Callie eyed the kitchen door and wondered where her car was. She really didn't want to get into her whole life story with Ford. Surely, some guy who had grown up a Holder would have no idea what it was like to grow up the way she did. Supposing she owed him some kind of explanation though, she bought herself another few seconds with another sip of coffee. Swallowing that down, she considered. "Yeah, Abe's my dad, but I grew up in Tulsa with my mom. I spent the summers out here with my grandparents. I love it out here despite Abe."
Ford gave her his last piece of bacon and a consolatory nod. "Forgive me for saying so, but I've never been much a fan of your daddy, but I'm glad he didn't spoil the whole place for you."
Chapter Six
Ford had taken a gamble on asking about her father. The curiosity was getting to him, and being in her presence seemed to erase most of his better sense. If she'd physically constructed a wall around herself, it wouldn't have been any more obvious that she was not willing to discuss her family anymore. He regretted every word of his question.
There was still so much he wanted to know. Harold and Delphia Simpkin had owned that little farm out on County Road 2982 for at least fifty years, and Abe was not their kid. He'd lived there for all of Ford’s life as far as he knew. The Simpkins mostly kept to themselves. Ford didn't remember them having a daughter, of course he'd only known the parents of the kids he'd hung out with. He planned to ask his own daddy what he knew about it.
Another wallop of regret centered in his chest when he realized that even if he hadn't always been knee-deep in haying and working cattle every summer, he still wouldn't ever have met Callie. He was too busy banging every girl who looked his way to ever really have paid attention to any of them. Until Meritt had pulled her stunt, his wild side had run several country miles wide. After that, he'd remained faithful. He'd always thought that was how it was supposed to work.
"I really do need to go," Callie's urgency yanked him back from his regretful wonderings. "Nana worries about everything. Even if someone told her I was with a friend, I bet she didn't sleep at all. I feel terrible I did this."
Family obligation was certainly something Ford understood. Plus, he was probably miserable company. "Sure, just let me grab my keys. Don't be too hard on yourself. Everybody deserves a break now and again." He scooped up the stack of paperwork she'd had with her at the bar the night before and handed them her way without comment. He hadn't looked at them, but he recognized the Monroeville Savings and Loan letterhead sticking out of the folders. Was she having financial trouble? Clinging to some need to salvage whatever this was, he kept his mouth shut and grabbed his hat and keys.
She was quiet most of the drive off of Holder Ranch, but just before he turned on the road that would lead them to town, she offered him a sweet smile. "Thanks for taking care of me last night. Your ranch is beautiful. I used to hear people talk about your family and all of your land, but I never really thought I'd ever be out here."
Ford sighed at that. "Don't believe everything you hear, and you're welcome on the ranch anytime."
"I might take you up on those sunrise pictures."
The idea that he'd get to see her again awoke something deep inside of him, something he didn't recognize, something he wasn't certain he was supposed to feel. It yawned and stretched itself back to life. "Uh..." he'd made some utterance of noise before he fully realized what he was doing. What was appropriate at the end of...whatever this had been?
"What?" She stared at him again with those deep brown eyes that he swore felt like they could see through him.
"Nothing."
"What were you going to say?" Her question held no disdain, just curiosity, but since he had no idea how to ask a woman out on a date or even how to ask for her phone number, he chickened out. Besides, why would a woman like her want to have anything to do with him? He was a washed-up divorcé with more land than good sense.
"Just that I hope you enjoy being here for however long you're here."
She grinned at that. "I applied for a photography internship with Nina Morales in New York, which was stupid of me, but I did it. Have you ever heard of her? She's amazing."
He shook his head. "I don't know much about photography, but why is that stupid?"
Her gaze shifted to the endless prairie as it extended its arms before them. "It doesn't even pay anything. I can't afford it. I've just always admired her work so much. She's so..."
"What?" he urged. She gave him a quick shrug and sank her teeth into her bottom lip in some kind of effort to keep the answer from him. Suddenly, all that mattered to him was unearthing this clue to her that she was trying to keep concealed. "Hey, come on. We're friends, right?" He added lame to his lengthy list of things he currently didn't much like about himself.
"Fine," she chuckled, "Nina is so unapologetic, you know? Most of the time I feel like all I do is apologize for everything and do whatever other people want me to do."
He considered that for two beats but went on with the confession locked behind his lips. "I spent a lot of years apologizing for shit that wasn't my fault, so I get that."
"What were you apologizing for?" She sounded offended on his behalf.
He studied her for a few minutes as he made the right on the Main Street square. "If I asked you that, would you tell me?"
"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. I'm so bad about doing that." Her beautiful pink lips twisted in consideration, and he caught himself staring at her mouth for too long. Blinking away the foreign desire that played in the periphery of his mind, he pulled into the lot of Rusty’s. Finally, she shook her head. "But no, I wouldn’t. At least not today."
"Then maybe we can delve into all of that the next time I let you sleep in my bed." He chuckled at his own joke, but a decent portion of him wished he wasn't teasing her. Some strange breath of warmth filled him. Was he flirting with her? God, it had been so long he'd forgotten how or what it felt like when he managed to do it.
Her quiet laughter sent a flood of heat throughout his body. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying desperately to get a grip on whatever this girl was doing to him.
"I'm really going to try to never, ever drink so much that I need some stranger to take me home with him ever again. I'm really sorry you had to sleep on your couch, but I appreciate you not taking advantage."
Still lacking any semblance of self-control, he shrugged. "Hey, you don't have to apologize to me about anything." He didn't want to be one of the people in her life that made her feel like everything was her fault.
Surprise lit in those eyes of hers. "Thank you."
"Trust me, it wasn't the first time I've slept on that couch."
He'd never admitted that out loud to anyone. Bracing for the pity he was sure would knot in his throat choking him, she surprised him with a thoughtful smile instead. "I slept on the futon for a while before I left to come out here. I decided that it's better to sleep alone than with someone who'd rather be sleeping with someone else."
Shock reverberated through Ford's worn muscles. "He cheated on you?" His question was perforated with fury. The icy shards of anger fractured some of the numbness he'd existed in for months. He had no idea what kind of idiot would cheat on a girl like Callie, but if he ever met the guy he'd beat his opinion of that into his face.
"Depends on who you ask. Thanks again, for everything."
"She'd been cheating on me for years," spilled from his lips. He wished he could suck the words back into his mouth. Why did he tell her that? God, wasn't it bad enough that the entire county knew what a joke his life was? Why did he have to warn her as well?
But again she didn't flinch or offer him pity, which he loathed. Her face didn't do that thing everyone else’s did, where their mouths were speaking apologies while their eyes were strained with thankfulness that it wasn't them. Or worse, the guilt that broadcast from the people who'd known all along and allowed him to go on believing her endless lies.
"It just sucks, doesn't it?" She sighed. "You've been there all this time trying to do the right things and make it work, and you're not even worth the truth."
"Yeah...that's it exactly."
"Whoever she was, I feel sorry for her for not seeing what she had when she had it. I'll see you around." With that, she opened his truck door and slid to the ground. That skirt she was wearing scooted up her long, shapely legs. A hungry grunt lodged in Ford's throat half-terrifying him, half-intriguing him. He tried to cough it away when she spun back to wave at him, making the lengthy skirt fly outwards from her body, like the wings of a butterfly taking flight. "Thanks again."
"Anytime."
Chapter Seven
It took Callie the entire drive from that bar to her grandparents’ farm to remember that she'd left a file folder of their bank statements inside Ford Holder's truck. Her body was now in a permanent state of cringe, and her brain was so obviously sluggish she felt like she'd been drowned in sludge. God, he must think I'm an idiot. At the moment, she agreed with the assessment. But a wicked notion, buried deep under the rubble of the woman she'd forced herself to become for Derrick, fought its way to the forefront of her mind. He still had her paperwork, which meant she'd need to see him again soon.
But reality quickly jerked her back to what she'd done. What was she going to tell Nana? She'd be apologizing for this stunt for the next decade at least. The summer she'd turned fifteen she'd met up with some local kids at the street party when the Stockade Rodeo had come to Holder County. On a stupid dare, she'd climbed up the water tower with them and had her first sip of white lightning. It had tasted the way she imagined paint stripper would. One sip had been enough for her that night, but she'd stayed out way past the time her grandmother had told her to be back on the farm. The worry and disappointment in Nana's eyes had been enough to keep her on the straight and narrow for the next three summers.
A spiral of rebellion twisted in Callie's gut. She loved her grandmother more than life itself, but sometimes a girl just wanted to have some fun, do something completely unexpected. Something like getting plastered and spending the night with the most beautiful cowboy she'd ever seen. It sounded a little better than the reality of it had been. If she were going to sleep with Ford Holder—not that he'd offered or would even be remotely interested—she would definitely want to remember it. The night before still existed in hazy shadows.
Nana was already pacing on the front porch. The eggs and bacon Callie had eaten solidified into a block of dread in the pit of her stomach. The sharp edges tore through her. How could she have done this?
Every instinct she possessed wanted to back down the driveway and head anywhere else, but she would never hurt her family like that. She would never be her mother. Swallowing down raw regret, she forced herself from her car. Shame flooded her cheeks, probably turning her normally pale face the shade of a tempestuous apple.
Nana clutched her chest. "Thank heavens you're all right."
"I'm really sorry. I...uh...well I..."
"Spent the night with Ford Holder." Her grandmother's words were laced with heavy threads of disapproval.
"Wait." Callie rubbed her head in an effort to make her brain work again. "How did you know that?"
"When Sally phoned last night to say you'd gone home with a friend, I got worried. I tried to call your phone several times."
Callie fought not to whimper. She'd turned the phone off last night to keep from seeing all of Derrick's endless texts, and she still hadn't turned it back on. "I'm so sorry, Nana. I didn't mean to worry you."
Her grandmother gave her a weary nod. "This morning I tried to call some of your friends that you used to play with in the summers, but most of them have moved away. I finally got ahold of Karen Alexander. Kimberly told her mother that you'd gone home with Ford. She heard it this morning at The Bumpkin." Clearly, Callie had been in LA so long she'd forgotten just how quickly word spread from one boundary line of Holder County to the other. The central life source of gossip in town was The Bumpkin, an admittedly adorable breakfast joint on the square where residents frequently went for coffee, biscuits, and gravy.
Her responses continued to confuse even her. "Kimberly still lives here?"
Nana studied Callie like she might've received some kind of brain trauma. "Yes, she married Tad Bishop three summers ago. Her daddy gave them half of his ranch."
The sudden desire to call Kim and find out a little more about Ford
Holder planted itself firmly in her head, but she needed to apologize at least a dozen more times and then figure out how to get those bank statements back without cementing herself as an example of every single offensive blonde joke. "Absolutely nothing is going on between me and Ford. I promise. We're...just..." Shaking off that lack of explanation she asked the question she was sure she didn't actually want the answer to. "Wait, what did Mrs. Alexander tell you happened last night?"
"Well...she only knew what Kimberly told her, which wasn’t much. But the Holder boys have quite a reputation, and Ford and Meritt's," she lowered her voice to a whisper before continuing on with the word, "divorce just went through yesterday according to Sally. Her sister works for the county clerk's office, so I imagine she'd know."
Trying to wade through all of that information, Callie's responses continued to make no logical sense, and yet the disdain spilled from her mouth anyway. "Ford's wife's name was Meritt?" That came before she considered the kind of damage the local bartender being related to the secretary of the county clerk could do to someone's reputation. Ford probably hated that everyone was discussing his divorce. She didn't know him that well, but he seemed like the kind of man who didn't want his private matters discussed publicly. She recalled that he'd scowled at everyone who'd tried to discuss it with him the night before.
The terse pinch of her grandmother's lips did nothing to ease Callie's guilt.
"Yes. Her name is Meritt, and you know I don't like to gossip, but I did hear that she's moved in with the son of that couple who owns the cleaners out in Odell. They're the ones who ruined Virginia Tilson's good bedspread. We've been praying for Meritt at Bible study for years. I always hate to see a family torn apart, but she did seem determined to be unhappy."
That was true. Her grandmother did not like to gossip. She loved it. Callie fought not to roll her eyes. She wondered how gossip had ranked lower than divorce in her grandmother's list of sins.
