by Kim Law
Granted, Bonnie was somewhat unique. But everyone loved her.
Jill nibbled at her bottom lip as she continued watching the activity going on below, before eventually casting him a cautious look. “Have you ever seen the retreat we built for her?”
He shook his head. “Never been to her place.”
“It’s a vacation home for her dog.”
He blinked. “A vacation home?”
She wrinkled her nose and nodded. “For her dog. We thought we were building the typical ‘man cave’ for a woman. You know, a she-shed? Like we do. Overstuffed furniture, lots of natural light. Flowers and blinged-out accessories. That sort of thing. It’s as decked out as they come. The woman definitely had money to throw at it. And we knew she’d asked for several extras for her dog. We got that. People love their pets. There’s even one of those communication systems that she can connect to with her phone. In case she wants to speak to Winston when she’s not there,” she added. “Not that she ever goes anywhere without Winston. But at the café the morning the show started filming, she comes over and she shares with us—on camera, mind you—that what we really built was a doggie dream home. Where she’s the guest.”
Cal stared. “That’s an impression to make.”
“Right? See why I’d hoped they’d forget about her?”
“I’m sure Patrick will make sure the story paints you in a nice light.”
“Please. I’m sure Patrick will exploit either of us in any way that he can.”
Soft music started playing from the corner then, and Jill tossed a quick glance in that direction. She then turned a brilliant smile up to him. “Bonnie also predicted that whoever got this house would come out the winner because Winston barked at the house while they were on a walk. I suspect he was barking at Mrs. Wainwright.”
Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “That’s why you wanted this house.”
She shook her head. “I never wanted this house.”
“Yes, you did. I saw the way you looked at it.”
She put her back to the window, still looking up at him, and she graced him with a desperate oh-my-God-I-have-to-have-it look. The same one he’d seen several times the morning of their initial walk-through.
His expression fell. “That was all fake?”
“Every bit of it.”
She’d been acting? He couldn’t believe it.
He’d had so much trouble with this house. As expected, of course. The wiring. The plumbing. Mold. They’d even had to replace several joists under the flooring. At the same time, he’d heard very little of any similar issues coming from the Bono House. The house he’d intended to choose. And that had all been because she’d been playing him.
He took a half step back.
“Awww.” She pouted. She reached out and patted his chest. “Don’t feel bad, Calhoun. I just have skills that you don’t.”
“You’re . . .” He closed his mouth when he realized it was hanging open. Then he captured her hand beneath his, trapping it to his chest.
Damn. He had to admit to being impressed. He also never would have guessed.
And then he wondered what else he didn’t know about Jill. Or if he’d ever really known her at all.
He’d once thought he’d known her. He’d thought she was a bit of a dreamer—yet at the same time, grounded in reality. He’d thought she’d loved him. Would stand with him.
He’d thought she would fill the hole inside him.
But then she’d insisted on Hollywood. And he’d laughed in her face.
“If it makes you feel better . . .” She tugged at her hand, but he kept it tight in his. Then he retook that half step he’d given up, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
“If it makes me feel better . . . what?”
Jill stared at his lips. “Heather and Trenton did want this house,” she whispered. Her breaths grew heavier. “But I knew it was trouble from the minute I saw it.”
Cal nodded. He attempted to keep things light. “Are you calling Mrs. W trouble?”
“The woman’s as bad as you.”
But there was nothing light in either of their tones. Instead there was something happening in the room. And he hoped it was the reason Jill had sought him out.
“Tell me why you came over here today.” He took another step closer, bumping the front of his body against her, and as she opened her mouth to answer, he caught sight of a woman on the ground pointing up at them.
“I came because I wanted to see you.”
Cal nodded. That wasn’t enough. He shifted them so his back was to the window, so no one could see Jill. “And what else?”
Her eyes searched his, and he saw the plea inside. She didn’t want to have to say it.
“Tell me you want me to kiss you, Jilly.” He breathed in the same air as her. “That you miss me. That you need me.” He leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “I need to know it isn’t just me who’s this desperate.”
She turned her face slowly, and as she spoke, her lips grazed his. “It isn’t just you.”
Euphoria erupted. It shifted the low buzz that had been humming since she’d first shown up into heated excitement, and though everything inside him screamed for him to take the kiss—now—he paused.
He shouldn’t have, and he knew it. They’d been spotted. Their time was limited.
But he needed this moment.
He lifted both hands to the back of Jill’s head, sliding his fingers through the long, silky tresses. And instead of settling his lips on hers, he angled her chin slightly up, her head away. He wanted to look at her up close. Just like this. He wanted to see that what she’d said was echoed in her eyes. And he wanted to make sure she saw it in his, too.
This was crazy. They were competitors. In this current competition, and in their day-to-day lives. They were ancient history. And they were likely still explosive—and not only in the good way.
But Cal couldn’t back away from it.
“Jill.”
She nodded. It was a barely-there movement, but it was deliberate. “Kiss me, Cal. That’s why I came over here today. I need to know, too.”
That was what he wanted.
He closed his eyes, kept his hands cupping her in front of him, and he angled his mouth over hers.
“There they are.”
They froze at the sound of Len’s voice.
“Fuck,” Cal whispered. His lips brushed hers. He’d waited too long.
He opened his eyes, expecting to see horror in Jill’s. Knowing she would pull back. Or shove him away. But she stayed in his hands instead, her eyes giving nothing away, and together they turned to find Patrick standing inside the bedroom door. Len and a sound guy stood just behind him.
“That’s what we’ve been waiting for,” Patrick exclaimed. He spread his arms wide. “Perfect.”
It was anything but perfect.
But still . . . Jill didn’t move.
The music from the corner had ceased, and Cal looked down at Jill again, to find that she was looking at Len.
“Your mics,” Len told them. “They’re still hot. We knew you were together.”
“Not to mention the crowd outside,” Patrick added. “They went crazy when they saw you in the window.”
Jill finally put a step of distance between them, and Cal let his arms drop.
“Someone saw us?” Jill asked. She looked over at the window.
“They thought it was the ghost and her lover.”
Cal’s brow arched at the producer’s words. He’d been unsure if Patrick knew the story. No one had brought it up throughout the last four weeks.
“No ghost,” Cal told him. He felt protective of the woman who lived in this room.
“No lover,” Jill added, bringing Cal’s gaze back to hers. He hoped she wasn’t implying . . .
But when their eyes connected, it wasn’t pushing him away that he saw . . . but laughter.
“I give up,” she declared. Her eyes glowed
with humor, and she raised her hands in the air. Laughter poured out of her. “I absolutely give up. All this time, I’ve avoided being caught with you. And I’ve done a darned good job of it, too. But when he finally does catch me . . .” She let out a laughing sigh and turned to the other man. “Fine, Patrick. Sit us down together, if that’s what you want. I’ll do it. But then, will you please leave us alone?” She speared Cal with one last look. “Because I might just want to finish what I started here.”
She marched out of the room, and when Patrick swung a shocked expression Cal’s way, Cal motioned to the door. “Go. Do what she says before she changes her mind.”
And he did not want her to change her mind. He didn’t give a crap about the interview. The producers could piece together whatever they wanted after the fact, even if they never got Cal and Jill on screen together. But that last part. About finishing what she’d started.
He nodded as he followed the crew from the room. He wanted that a lot.
Chapter Fourteen
“Being a man is easy. Being the man takes courage.”
—Papaw Reynolds
Jill sat in the hot seat, hair freshly combed and makeup retouched. She knew Cal remained shocked that she’d simply given in, but when Patrick had found them a millisecond away from a lip-lock, avoiding anything to do with this situation had suddenly seemed silly. She didn’t exactly know what was going on between her and Cal, and who knew what would happen with Bluebonnet after the show ran, but for the first time in her life, she felt as if she were heading in the right direction. More importantly, she was driving in a straight line to get there.
So why fight it? She’d decided to try a new approach and embrace the moment, and so far, it seemed to be working.
“We’re going to talk about the competition first,” Patrick told them. “Compare and contrast the houses, discuss techniques and designs. We want to really make it about you two being rivals so the viewers can get into it and pick a side. We’ll pepper sound bites throughout the episodes, beefing it up as we move toward the end. But we also want to cover you two today. Your past, and where you are now.” Patrick nodded as if asking her to do the same. “Is that okay?”
Cal looked to her for the answer.
“It’s why you chose us for the show, isn’t it?”
“Also because you’re both excellent at what you do,” the producer assured her. “But yes, layering in your history was always our intent. It’ll make for great TV. So let’s get started.”
They went through a list of discussion points, doing several retakes when the heat of the competition hadn’t been captured right, and through it all, Jill never waned. She was on her game. She was having a blast.
But in the back of her mind, she also knew the hard part was yet to come. She’d been trying to figure out how best to handle it, and in the end, she decided to go with whatever would make the greatest impact. That was the point of the interview, after all.
“Now, Jill and Cal. Let’s get into your marriage.”
Cal reached over and took her hand.
“You met when you were both teens?”
They discussed meeting at Bluebonnet Farms and becoming friends, all the way up to their first official date at the Rusted Rooster. That had been on her seventeenth birthday. They’d gotten married on her eighteenth.
“And the anniversary of that is coming up soon, is it not?”
“It is,” Jill said.
“June second,” Cal added.
“And that marriage lasted for . . . one day?”
“That’s right.” They answered at the same time.
“Something big must have happened to end it so quickly.”
“We were basically kids,” Cal explained. “I was twenty, but if you’ve ever been around many twenty-year-old males, you know they aren’t the sharpest in the bunch.”
“And we both were, shall we say”—Jill glanced at Cal—“prone to quick bouts of anger?”
Several people chuckled, and Jill realized that a group had formed in a half circle to watch. Heather, Trenton, and Aunt Blu were in the group, and all three looked on with concern.
She met their eyes, letting them know she was fine, and she swore all of them were suddenly threatening tears. Jill supposed it had to do with seeing her and Cal in the same space again, and not fighting. The two of them had once been unquestionably close.
And she had to agree. It was nice to be around him without hating him.
“And this anger,” Patrick said. “It was . . . prevalent three weeks ago. Would you say that’s accurate?”
Jill and Cal looked at each other.
“I’d say that’s an accurate statement,” Jill agreed.
Cal nodded solemnly. “Me, too.”
She tilted her head as she looked at him. She hadn’t realized he’d still been angry.
“And where are the two of you now?”
Jill turned back to Patrick. She ignored the fact that they’d practically been caught kissing, and hoped Patrick would do the same. At least for now. “I’d call us friends,” she answered. She hoped Cal felt the same way.
“Friends.” Cal nodded. “Definitely.”
“No more lingering anger?” Patrick asked.
Jill paused at the question. She could go either way. In the end, she chose the route she felt would play best on television. “No more anger,” she said. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Cal. He had to be thinking of their no-sex-when-angry rule. “Of course, that’s not to say that I’m not still hurt. He’s the one who left, after all. I’m not sure if you know that, and I’m not saying I didn’t play a part in it. But Cal filed for divorce. He left me. After one day,” she repeated softly, letting her façade slip and her true hurt show through. “So while the anger may be gone—and it’s about time, wouldn’t you say?” She let out a humorless laugh. “It does still sting.”
The set had gone quiet, and Patrick shifted to Cal. “And what about you? Any lingering issues with the past?”
“None that I’m willing to talk about on TV.”
“And do you want to share why you left your wife after only one day of marriage?”
Cal shook his head.
She would have liked to have heard his reasoning.
“Okay,” Patrick continued. “Then let’s go down another path. We didn’t ask earlier, but can you tell us, Cal, how Jill first captured your attention?”
Cal studied the other man before asking, “Ever seen her swing a sledgehammer?”
Jill felt her cheeks heat when every man involved with the show nodded mutely.
“Me, too,” Cal added. “She was like that from the moment I met her. She’s never changed”—Cal turned to her—“and I wouldn’t want her to.”
Jill swallowed, aware that the cameras were still on them, then forced a light laugh. “And he’s the one who first handed me that sledgehammer. Showed me how to use it.”
She feared the mics would pick up her heavier breathing, not to mention the cameras zooming in on the sexual tension popping between them. It was just like Heather and Trenton had said. Get them together in one space and they’d be combustible.
She pictured Trenton standing a floor above her that day, showing with her hands what she meant by “poof,” and Jill decided she could use a poof or two about now.
“Are we about finished?” she asked. She needed to put some space between her and Cal.
“Just a couple more questions.”
They wrapped up with a benign discussion on their respective companies, and finally the interview came to an end. Patrick stepped over to Jill and shook her hand. “Terrific job.”
She appreciated the sentiment.
As they walked away, Blu was ushered forward, and Jill reached out and gave the other woman a quick hug. “Good luck,” she whispered in Blu’s ear.
Something caught Cal’s attention as they waited for Blu’s interview to begin, and Jill followed his gaze to see Rodney’s truck coming down the road.
And it wasn’t being driven in a straight line.
Cal brought his gaze back to hers, a sense of urgency now coming from within, and she nodded before he had to say anything. “Go. I’ll let you know how she does.”
Cal headed off, calling out to Pete that he’d be gone for a while, and he slid into the driver’s seat of Rodney’s truck almost before it stopped rolling. Jill watched until the truck backed out and Cal pulled away, Rodney now sitting in the middle of the seat, then realized that Heather and Trenton had been watching her as she watched Cal. And in their eyes she saw the same questions she’d been asking herself for days. But she had no answers to give.
Cal wheeled the truck into his grandmother’s driveway and pocketed the keys. He didn’t bother speaking to his uncle—nor had he the entire drive home—and he didn’t wait to see if the man could get himself out of the truck. He simply unlocked the door to the house and went in.
He headed straight for the fridge, and by the time Rodney stumbled into the room, Cal was on beers seven and eight, pouring them down the sink.
“What are you doing?” Rodney shouted. He raced to the sink.
“What I should have done years ago.”
After sitting with Jill and thinking about how they’d hurt each other in the past, as well as how others had hurt them, Cal had suddenly started seeing the world differently. Almost as if the glass had finally been cleaned. Then Rodney had weaved up the street, and that clear glass had shown him something he’d never thought about before. He’d been doing his uncle no favors for the last fourteen years.
All this time Cal had believed he’d been taking care of Rodney. He’d been “there” for him.
But he’d only been enabling him by so often looking the other way.
He should have helped his uncle quit drinking years ago.
Rodney snatched at the bottles in Cal’s hands as Cal continued dumping out the contents, and when that didn’t work, he attempted to scoop the foaming liquid from the sink. He slurped at his palms, then he bypassed his hands altogether and leaned directly into the sink.
