The Calamity Falls Box Set

by Erika Kelly

  She studied his features, like she wanted something from him. No, that’s not it. She wanted to know if she could trust him. Fuck. It was like a punch to his chest. This kid. So alone in the world, and yet so damn brave.

  She’s not alone anymore. She has us. “I’ve got you. We’re here for you.” He patted her back.

  “Like I said, it’s just a few commercials, a few photo shoots. And then your reputation’s clean.”

  Her warm body shifted in his arms, like she was looking for a comfortable position, a place where her body fit with his. “I can’t compromise her security to fix my reputation.”

  “Look, I get it.” His manager tipped his head toward Ruby. "It’s a tough situation, but you’ve got to hear me. The integrity of the sport’s been called into question. With all the scandals in football and cycling, baseball…” He shook his head. “This sport’s too young to risk losing its audience. They have to do something. It’s a small price to pay if you wind up on that podium next February.”

  “It seems to me Will’s in a strong negotiating position,” Delilah said. “He’s just come off a huge win. There’s got to be another big-name sponsor who’d love to do a campaign with him. No offense to anyone here, but it’s unconscionable to force him to use his sister—a toddler—into doing a national media campaign with him.”

  Through all the anger and frustration, something else spilled in. Respect. Affection. He had no words for the fact that this stranger was speaking up for him.

  Helping him.

  “If we had time,” Alex said. “I could pitch the idea to other sponsors. But this one’s been after Will for years, and they see an opportunity. I’ve got a few hours to seal this deal before the League has to announce a suspension. So…it’s People Fuel or nothing. And they want the family values thing, which includes the kid. It’s either that deal or…” He shrugged.

  “Well, for goodness’ sake,” Delilah said. “They can use an actor. They can’t make him use his sister. Especially if they know her story.”

  “People Fuel won’t use actors,” Alex said. “They want Will and his little sister. They love the story, love that you guys took her in.”

  Delilah turned towards him, in a way that unconsciously edged out the other two. “What do you think?” She placed a hand on his forearm, and he found the warmth and gentleness of the gesture momentarily distracting.

  He shook it off. “I don’t like having my arm twisted. It’s a shit product—” He looked down at Ruby. Dammit, he’d have to do better with his language. “And I don’t want to expose her to a media campaign.”

  “If they’re all about family values, then explain the situation, and maybe give them what they’ve wanted all along—you. Only, make it so you’re not actually telling anyone to use the product. You’ve got nothing to lose by negotiating.”

  “He does,” his manager said. “I’ve got maybe an hour or two before the League holds its press conference. I don’t have much time to negotiate. And it’s going to have to include Ruby.” Alex faced him. “What’s it going to be, Will?”

  A tiny hand landed on his jaw. The slight pressure Ruby exerted had him turning toward a pair of deep blue eyes. “You sad, Wheel?”

  His heart swelled painfully at her compassion. “No, kid. I’m good.”

  “I not kid.” Her sweet, little-girl voice slayed him. “I Wooby.” Her hands cupped Will’s cheeks, forcing him to acknowledge her. “Say Wooby.”

  “Okay, Ruby.” He smiled. “You got it.”

  “And you Wheel. My Wheel.” She clapped a hand over her mouth to cover a giggle, but nothing could hide those sparkling eyes.

  A strange sensation tripped down his spine. It made his heart stutter and his skin prickle.

  And it jerked everything into perspective. Not a chance would he put a target on this little girl’s back. “Forget it. I’m not endorsing a product I don’t believe in, and I’m sure as hell not using Ruby to make my problems go away.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Holy shit.” Delilah’s heart jumped into her throat at the sight of the bison blocking the trail. “Are you trying to make me wet my pants?”

  It ignored her, munching grass.

  Until it swung its head up and gave her a threatening look that said, You wanna start something?

  Fuck my life. But, seriously, where the hell was she? When had the sage meadow ended and the tall grasses and scrubby brush mixed with pine trees begun?

  Screw it. Hitching her purse higher on her shoulder, she turned around. “Trail’s all yours, buddy.”

  Hot, tired, and with a monster headache, she wanted to pull out her wand and magically plant herself back in her bedroom. Uh, the Calamity one. Not the one back home.

  Ha, definitely not that one.

  Whatever. The only way to it is through it. She just had to find her way back. The mid-day sun burned her skin—she hadn’t even thought to wear a hat or sunscreen. She figured she’d hop on a train and get off in town. Kind of like in New York City.

  Crunching leaves caught her attention. Shit. Where was it coming from? She didn’t see anyone on the trail—ahead or behind. Was it another freaking animal?

  “Delilah?”

  That familiar voice—deep, confident—filled her with relief. “Oh, thank God.” She watched the big, brawny athlete emerge out of the forest. His T-shirt clung to his sweaty body, and his powerful thighs flexed beneath the athletic shorts.

  Will Bowie. Damn. Well over six feet of hard muscle, smooth, tan skin, short brown hair, and startling blue eyes.

  He’s gorgeous.

  “What’re you doing out here?” He sounded like ranch security detail coming upon a trespasser.

  But, given the way he was around Ruby, she suspected that was how he handled being concerned about someone. “Excellent question. One I probably should’ve asked myself about an hour ago.”

  “You got lost?”

  “So completely lost that, if a polar bear came out of the bushes, I wouldn’t be even a little surprised.” Her natural impulse was to reach out and touch him—she was just a touchy-feely kind of person—but she stopped herself from doing it with him. “You heading back home?”

  He nodded with a look that said, Where else would I be going?

  “Well, I don’t know. Maybe you’re looking to take down a bison for dinner. Use its pelt for booties and its horns for kitchenware.”

  He suppressed a smile. “I’m coming back from the gym. Session with my trainer.”

  She didn’t know why he fought his grins so hard. He had these adorable dimples bracketing his mouth, just dying to pop out. “Can I tag along?”

  “Sure. Where were you headed?”

  “If I tell you, you’ll think I’m a bubblehead.”

  “Try me.”

  “The train station.”

  Now, he cracks a smile. “Yeah, you’re not anywhere in the vicinity.”

  “Well, if there hadn’t been a Mack truck blocking the trail, I probably would’ve kept going until I got to Idaho. You know the kind of lost-in-thought where you don’t even see your surroundings anymore? You look up and go, Wait, I’m in Harlem?”

  “Sure. Happens when I run. Work out all my problems that way.”

  “Yeah, but in Harlem, I can hop on the subway and get right back downtown. In Calamity, I wind up the love slave of Grizzly Adams. Unbelievable.”

  “You okay?”

  She did sound pretty agitated. “Honestly?” She took a deep, calming breath. “I’m so far from okay, if I didn’t think a bison would sit on me I’d just want to curl up in the fetal position right here on this trail.”

  Their shoes crunched on the dirt path, and a hot, dry breeze rustled the leaves. In the quiet, she noted he didn’t ask her what was going on. Which meant she should keep her mouth shut. Leave the poor man alone.

  But she’d been alone with her thoughts for hours, and she couldn’t keep them inside a minute longer. “My life changed”—she snapped her finge
rs—"like that. And I spent the first hour of my walk thinking about taking my brothers and sisters to court. Can you imagine? My family. The same people who wanted to make sure, since I’m the youngest, that I didn’t miss out on any of the traditions after my parents died. They all had their own places, but they kept the house, so I’d have a home to come back to during college. We have all our family parties in that house, and they do all the same things my parents did for Thanksgiving and Christmas and birthdays and graduations. The people I love most in the world? I’m thinking about suing them.”

  She realized she was probably scaring the crap out of him, so she shut her mouth. But he didn’t look scared. He looked contemplative.

  “Maybe turn back a few pages? Fill in some of the blanks?”

  She laughed, though it was more out of relief that she hadn’t freaked him out than embarrassment. “Sorry about that. I’ll come back later and clean up the word-vomit I left all over the trail. Okay, so you know my family owns Da Nonna’s, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Yeah, so, we all get our own franchise when we turn twenty-six. Except me. My brothers and sisters decided I shouldn’t get one because I keep messing with the signature dishes. And, while I hold my hand up and admit I shouldn’t have taken liberties in the flagship kitchen, I should be able to do whatever I want in my own restaurant.”

  “Except it’s a franchise. And isn’t the nature of a franchise for them all to have the same décor and menu?”

  “Yes.” She said it snappily because he was right, but she didn’t want him to be. “And that’s why I quit ranting about suing them and switched to streaming solutions. Like, what if I start out doing things the way they want, but gradually transition into my own signature style?”

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to just start your own restaurant?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath and took in the tufts of white clouds dotting the deep blue sky. “But then I wouldn’t be part of my family’s business. I’m not changing it to a French Bistro, for God’s sake. I’m adding a different cheese to the minestrone. I’m playing with the tiramisu. It’s not like I’m serving sushi.” The toe of her Dr. Martin’s kicked a stone that clacked into another, the sound surprisingly loud. And, in the quiet space he gave her, the truth crept in. “At the very top level”—she raised a hand over her head—“I’m angry that they told me at my birthday party instead of giving me a heads-up. It made me feel like an outsider. Like they’ve been scheming against me. And that hurts. But deep down”—she lowered her hand to her hip—“I’m really angry at myself for ignoring my brother.”

  Suddenly, she was so tired. While she was only carrying a tan leather tote, it felt like she wore a backpack filled with a week’s worth of supplies. “He gave me a million chances. He’s constantly telling me not to mess with the recipes, but I guess…I thought I knew better. What does he know, right? He got a degree in business. He doesn’t know food.”

  “Is there anything you can do to fix it?”

  “There has to be. It’s what my parents wanted. I just have to prove to them that my food’s good enough to bring in customers. That my restaurant won’t fail, and then they’ll have the confidence to invest in it.”

  “So, coming out here…were you trying to punish them?”

  Was I? Because she’d been checking her phone constantly, expecting them to beg her to come home, so she guessed, on some level, she’d wanted them to feel bad enough to relent and give her the franchise. “I thought I was coming out here to get away from the only life I’ve ever known.” She thought about that bison, the wooly tufts around its head. “And, boy, did I get it.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  “I’m not here for vacation. I’d like to meet the chefs—not just the ones in the competition, but the ones in town. I’d like to check out the farms and Farmers Markets, and I’d like to take over the cooking for your family. That is, if you don’t mind me experimenting.”

  “The kitchen’s all yours. Cook to your heart’s content.”

  “Okay. Just give me a list of what you can and can’t eat.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “No, I want to feed you. Feeding people’s my happy place. I can experiment and make the things you like.” Wait, had she made it sound like she needed to be chauffered around the entire county? Better clear that up. “I actually only need two things from you. A ride into town so I can hit the Chamber of Commerce. They’ll have all the information I’ll need. And a list of the foods you eat. I’ll take it from there.”

  “Sounds good. Anything else?”

  Energy started rolling in and, for the first time in days, she felt stronger, more in control. Damn, it felt good. “Yes. Two more things, actually. Point me in the direction of the train station so I can get to Owl Hoot and meet the chefs. And, just so you know, I’ve got about five dozen nieces and nephews, so if you need a hand with Ruby, I’d be more than happy to babysit. Okay?”

  “After training tomorrow, I’ll take you into town. As for food, it’s pretty simple. I eat meat, vegetables, nuts, and fruits. Mostly, the first three.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep. No bread, rice, potatoes, sugar, or alcohol.”

  “Um, okay. I can work with that. This’ll be fun, actually. I’ll work on some interesting dishes.”

  “I don’t need fun or interesting. I have an almond butter and banana protein shake when I get back from training in the morning. Either a chicken or salmon salad for lunch—loaded with vegetables. Steak or pork chop for dinner. And lots of sweet potatoes.”

  “That’s…” Boring. “Basic. No variety?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, then.” She didn’t think she’d ever met anyone so regimented in her life.

  Which was a good thing. He might fascinate her—all that dark, brooding energy, and the way he deftly handled everything being thrown at him—but he was way too uptight for her.

  And that meant she wouldn’t be crushing on her hot athlete host.

  Swiping the perspiration from his forehead, Will yanked open the back door and stomped into the mud room. He’d promised Delilah he’d take her into town this morning, so he’d make his protein shake and then hit the shower.

  “Wun, Wheel, wun.” Ruby rocked her little body in the backpack.

  “Nah, Rubes. We’re done.” He kicked off his running shoe so hard it slammed into the washing machine. Normally, a ten-mile run would drain all the frustration out of his system.

  Not today.

  Because one thought kept cycling through his head: the League didn’t have to suspend him. They could—should—defend him. He suspected they were sticking it to him because he was an outsider. While most competitors trained at the League’s facility in Utah, Will had always had a private coach who’d lived on the ranch.

  After Brodie’s accident, his dad had hired Coach Peterson to teach his sons how to use their bodies—to develop their musculature, flexibility, and strength for their extreme sports adventures in the Tetons.

  That’s what his dad had said, but Will suspected he’d understood the brothers hadn’t wanted to be separated again.

  Did he party with his teammates? Not usually, no. So, yeah, he could see how he might be perceived as an outsider. But he supported the team in other, more meaningful, ways.

  So, for them to turn against him…it shook his very foundation.

  I win because I score higher. Period. It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t favoritism. And it certainly wasn’t money. It was about focus and discipline. Commitment. It was about never giving up.

  And, frankly, winning a gold medal was motivation enough. You never wanted to lose again.

  Little legs kicked his ribcage. “Gee-yup!”

  A smile cracked through his internal rant. “We’re done riding. It’s time for breakfast.”

  Time to see Delilah. Just the thought of seeing her bright smile pushed out all the dark thoughts. He
unclipped the buckle at his waist and gently loosened the straps from his shoulders, sliding the backpack to the floor. Reaching under her arms, he lifted her out.

  “Let’s get this hat off you.” He untied the ribbon under her chin and peeled the floppy hat off her sweaty head.

  A deep, raspy voice came from the kitchen. Lachlan. “Want to go see your uncle?”

  “No, fanks.” She nestled into that spot they’d discovered yesterday, where she molded to him perfectly. “I hongry.”

  “Then let’s fill that little belly.”

  At the stove, Marcella stirred a big pot, and his uncle poured himself a mug of coffee. The kitchen table sat empty, the pantry door was closed, and he heard no other sound.

  Disappointment plucked his nerves. “Where’s Delilah?”

  “Not up yet.” Marcella glanced over her shoulder and gave Ruby a warm, loving smile.

  His uncle just stared. With his shock of white hair naturally styled like a pompadour and a full white beard and moustache, he looked at Ruby with an intense and conflicted expression.

  Since getting the paternity results, Lachlan hadn’t interacted with her much. He and Will’s dad had been extremely close. No one had gotten over Mack Bowie’s death—and he doubted they ever would—but it seemed hardest on Uncle Lachlan. Mack had been his person.

  Seeing his brother’s face in Ruby had to be tough. It was for Will, too, but in a sweet way. He had a piece of his dad, alive and warm, in this house again.

  “So, how’s this gonna work?” Lachlan asked.

  “Come here, my darling.” Marcella reached for Ruby, but she clung to Will.

  I got her, he mouthed, bringing her to the table and settling her on top of the booster seat. Marcella handed him a melamine bowl of oatmeal, and he plopped it down in front her. “Gobble up.”

  “Gobbo, gobbo.” Ruby plunged the spoon into the bowl.