Handsome.
Oh, they had their differences. And maybe that’s all they would ever have. But his very being had made her think of…getting all hot and bothered between the sheets. And though she wasn’t looking for an easy love like Betsy, Susan realized that sometime during the last few weeks she’d started thinking about living again.
Ever since she’d had Hank, she’d put everything about herself in a drawer. Keeping it shut away while she tried her best to do what was right for the two of them.
With force, she’d done her best to ignore feelings of desire. She’d looked away and coolly ignored flirtations with the few men she’d met. That wasn’t who she was.
Actually, that wasn’t who she was now.
But maybe one day she’d meet a man like Cal who would like her back. Then, she could become the woman she’d always dreamed of being but had never imagined was possible.
Chapter Seven
With a grunt, Cal lifted another bag of feed onto his shoulder and carried it to the empty stall at the end of the barn. Each bag was fifty pounds, and there were a dozen of them. After carrying four, he’d broken a sweat.
By the seventh, Cal had a pounding headache.
As he walked the feed to the stall and then laid it down neatly on the others, he turned around and stretched, wincing slightly as his head continued to pound.
Too much coffee and not enough sleep did that to a person, he supposed. That and the constant worrying about things he couldn’t control.
With another grunt, he bent down and hefted another sack onto his shoulder. Dust and particles of straw blew up into his face. Balancing the bag on one shoulder, he wiped his eyes with his bandanna, then started walking. When he passed Jet, the old palomino whinnied softly.
“I know,” he told the horse. “I’m getting a little old for this, aren’t I?”
Usually, he would’ve asked one of the hands to take care of the new feed they were adding to the horses’ diet. But he’d needed something to take the edge off this morning. Unfortunately, the physical labor didn’t seem to be doing the trick.
Back and forth he went, another two times. Thinking all the while about his conversation with Trent.
Last night, he’d spoken to his brother for almost half an hour, and it had been completely frustrating. Every time he’d asked Trent specifics about his injuries, his brother laughed him off.
Yet again.
So all Cal knew was that his little brother was going into surgery this morning. The doctors were worried that his fever had spiked, and some of his other tests weren’t positive.
Trent—being Trent—had acted as if it was no big deal, but there was an edge to his voice that worried Cal. “How about I come out and visit with you for a bit? I can be on a plane in three hours.”
But his brother had only laughed. “What are you going to do when you get here? Watch me sleep?”
“Maybe. You probably need somebody there to check up on your progress, don’t you think? To make sure you’re doing what you’re supposed to do.” But even to his ears, his words sounded awkward and stilted. His brother had been doing just fine on the rodeo circuit without an older brother’s meddling.
“Junior, I don’t need a keeper.”
“I know….”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m just trying to help, that’s all.”
“Oh, is that what it’s called? You’re acting like the only person who knows how to do things right is you. But that wasn’t the case back when I was walking in your shadow on the ranch, and it sure as hell ain’t the case now.”
Satisfied that his chore was done, Cal strode into the washroom, rinsed his face and hands, then finally retreated to his office in the barn.
And thought some more about that phone call.
After Trent had delivered that little zinger, he’d gripped the phone harder.
Why did Trent always bring up the past when he got pissed off? “I didn’t say I was right and you were wrong.” Truly, all he was doing was trying to make his brother’s life easier.
“You didn’t need to. I heard it in your voice, plain as day. I tell you, I’m fine. Listen to me, will you?”
“I’m listening.” Oh, but he was so tired of fighting with everyone. With his dad. With Ginny. With Susan Young. Because he could practically smell the smoke coming out of Trent’s ears, he’d swallowed his pride a bit more. “I’m sorry if I offended.”
Now that he’d gotten his way, Trent’s voice had turned smooth. “No, it’s okay. I know you mean well. And having a keeper probably wouldn’t be that bad of an idea, actually. But if I do need one, I can find my own.”
“How so?”
Trent’s voice had lifted. “Shoot, you know how. I’ll get on the phone and call for help. There’s plenty of ladies around here who’d love to hold my hand and whisper sweet things in my ear.”
Oh, that was what Trent needed, all right. “Wait a minute—”
“I’m not eight and I’m not eighty-eight, Cal. Don’t make me into you.”
“Me?”
“Ever since Christy went and broke your heart, you’ve been living like a monk.”
Christy hadn’t broken his heart. She’d just showed him that women changed their minds. Only taught him that forever didn’t necessarily mean forever with him.
No, sometimes it only meant forever, until something better came along.
But he didn’t need his little brother bringing it up. “Hey, now—”
But Trent had just kept talking. “Now, living all clean and sober might be fine for you, but it’s not for me. I’ll be fine. I can talk to doctors without your help, and I can get a nice lady to help me with anything else I need, too. We both know you’ve got Dad to worry about, and that’s enough for anyone.”
“I hear you. But you will call me if you need it?”
“Always. I always do.”
There was a surety in his brother’s voice that had calmed Cal, and made him not eager to push things. Though Trent was as different from Cal as night from day, there was still that pecking order from childhood that couldn’t be ignored.
Jarred was the most like their parents. Fun loving, easygoing.
Trent was the most like the family’s dreams—larger than life, shiny and new.
And Cal? Well, for some reason he was like his grandfather. The man who made do with little. He’d been responsible. A worrier. Nowadays, it was Cal Jr. who balanced the checkbook, worked on investments and made sure the millions of dollars the Riddells now had wouldn’t ever go away.
It was a lot of responsibility, and he took it seriously.
Someone had to do it.
But every once in a while, Cal couldn’t help but envy his little brother. Envy Trent’s celebrity status and his movie-star looks and his ease with the ladies.
And his ease with life. Trent Riddell didn’t worry about a thing he didn’t have to. Ever.
Cal wished he’d inherited even a smidge of that gumption. Somehow, he’d inherited too much responsibility. Too much caution. Duty seemed to be what he was all about. Duty and promises.
Which was why he couldn’t sleep at night. It was why he carried feed bags at five in the morning and checked on all their financial holdings by six-thirty.
AND IT WAS ALSO WHY HE was walking into the Electra Lodge bright and early at 8:00 a.m. with a head that was threatening to self-destruct in seconds, not minutes. Even though he was wishing he was somewhere else, someone had to sit in the rehab center and deal with their cantankerous father.
Even if that someone always seemed to be him.
Mrs. Lawson, the administrator, greeted him at the door. “Good morning, Mr. Riddell.”
From the moment they met, Cal had respected the woman. She was competent and polite and seemed to care for all the residents.
But though she was striking, and not much older than Susan, he knew he wasn’t attracted to her in the slightest. “Please just call me Cal. Or Junior. Mr. Riddell is
my dad.”
“I’ll be happy to do that.” Her eyes sparkled. “Especially since I don’t think I could ever confuse the two of you. I mean this in the best way when I say that you’re nothing like your father.”
“Uh-oh. Has he been behaving himself?”
“He’s nothing we can’t handle,” Mrs. Lawson said evasively.
Looking over to the receptionist, she said, “Paula, would you mind walking Cal down to see his father?”
“Sure thing, Kay.” After standing up and walking around her desk, Paula gave him a friendly smile. “How you doing, Junior?”
“I’m good.”
“How’s Trent doing?” Paula, all permed hair and blushing cheeks, had been hanging on to Trent’s arm at Bob’s last summer like a hooked catfish. No matter how hard Trent had tried to shake her, she hadn’t seemed willing to be let go.
Though, maybe, Trent hadn’t tried all that hard.
Anyway, Cal had been sure he was going to wake up and find Paula in their kitchen. Luckily, he hadn’t. He never knew if Trent had gotten together with Paula, and he liked it that way.
“He’s all right.”
“That’s not what I heard. I heard from Betsy he was injured.”
“He was. A bull got the best of him in New Mexico.”
Her eyes widened. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Yes. Well, he will when he gets out of surgery.”
“Maybe I should call him. You know, to see if he needs anything.”
“I don’t think so, Paula. He’s really not up for phone calls.”
Paula stopped, obviously waiting for more information, but he was in no mood to give her anything. His worries about his brother were personal, and he was in no hurry to discuss Trent with Paula in the middle of the hall. Clearing his throat, he said, “I stopped by to visit my dad. Ms. Lawson said he’s settling in okay?”
“More or less.” With a slow smile, she said, “Some days are better than others.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Some things with your daddy never change. I remember before y’all struck oil. Your father was as scrappy as they came.”
“He still is.” He paused, wondering what else he could say. He wasn’t real fond of talking about his father’s faults with Paula.
“Cal?”
He turned so fast, he almost got whiplash. “Susan.”
Paula stilled. “Hey, Susan. I was just going to take Junior here to see his father.”
“Ah.” Humor lit her eyes.
Cal narrowed his. Wordlessly, he sent out a plaintive SOS.
A second passed. Then Susan turned all calm, cool and professional. “Cal, would you mind if I walked the rest of the way with you? I had something I wanted to discuss.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all.” Stepping to her side, he breathed a sigh of relief. After saying goodbye to Paula, they walked in silence until they turned the corner.
Then, when it was obvious no one else was around, he stopped for a moment and leaned against the cool tiles that covered the wall. “She was driving me crazy.”
“I could tell.” To his pleasure, Susan took a place next to him on the wall. The muscles in her neck visibly relaxed when she smiled his way. “You were looking like a cornered dog by her side.”
“She—like half the female population—has a crush on my brother. I get tired of fielding Trent questions.”
To his surprise, and pleasure, she giggled.
He almost smiled. “Is my pain amusing you, Ms. Young?”
“Definitely.” Turning her head so their eyes met, she smiled again. “I’m going to have to do this more often.”
“Do what?”
“Just lean against the wall and laugh. Relax for a second.”
“You should.” Letting his gaze settle on her, he drawled, “I’m beginning to get the impression that you work too hard.”
“Oh, no harder than most everyone else. But leaning against the wall, out of everyone’s sight, kind of feels good.” She shimmied a bit against the cool tiles for emphasis.
He made the mistake of watching those hips.
And pow! Just like that, his breath caught. She was really a pretty thing. And the way she was leaning up there against the wall, well, it brought to mind a whole wealth of ideas. None of which was appropriate.
But still, he couldn’t stop looking. And wondering. Until Susan, he’d never had a thing for redheads. Now he was starting to think he’d completely underestimated the allure of long auburn hair. And those green eyes of hers never failed to show every single emotion she was feeling.
She glanced at him and caught him staring. “What?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking that I’m glad our paths crossed again.”
She smiled as she stepped away from the wall and straightened her skirt. “I am, too. The more we talk to each other, the more I’m glad we’ve met. Especially when we’re not snapping at each other.”
He winced. “That’s been my fault. I’ve been in a snappy mood. Everything with my dad—it’s gotten under my skin. I hope I wasn’t too hard on your son. I get used to correcting Ginny.”
Something in her eyes flickered. “He was fine. Hank’s heard worse.” She stepped closer as they started walking again. “Ginny is just six, right?”
“Uh-huh.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “She’s six going on sixteen.”
To his pleasure, Susan chuckled at that. “She’s a handful?”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
Her eyes softened. Almost hesitantly, she touched his elbow. “Don’t worry. All little girls ache to be six going on sixteen at one time or another. Before you know it she’ll be her regular self.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of!”
She shared a smile with him as they continued toward his father’s room. A little farther down, they passed two open doorways. One was a bedroom; a nurse or someone looked to be visiting. Another was a storage closet.
Two elderly women were inside, staring at the top shelf. When Susan and Cal approached, one of the women tagged Susan. “Just who we needed to see.”
“Yes?”
“Can you help us get this Monopoly game down?”
Before she could comply, Cal stepped in and easily pulled the board game off the top shelf. “Here you are, ladies. Where may I take it for you?”
“Junior! Look at you.” The women looked at him, and then at Susan. “You can just hand it to me,” the shorter of the two said. “We aren’t so far gone that we can’t carry games.”
“You two going to play Monopoly today, Mrs. Carriage?”
“Not by ourselves, dear. A few seventh graders are stopping by.” With a wink to Cal, she added, “They come here thinking they’re doing good with community service. We take turns beating them at board games.”
“I’m impressed,” Cal said.
“We try,” Mrs. Carriage said lightly. “Have to show those kids we haven’t lost our minds.” Stepping closer, she gave Cal a friendly perusal. “So…Junior…are you and Susan keeping company now?”
As he was figuring how to answer that one, Susan jumped in. “Oh, no. Cal’s just here to see his father. His father’s here for a bit. I’m sorry. Did y’all know each other?”
Mrs. Carriage looked him over as if he were prime real estate. “I’ve known Calvin for quite a while. And of course I know you by sight, Junior. But I don’t believe the two of us have ever conversed.” One eyebrow arched. “Or have I forgotten that pleasure?”
“No, ma’am.”
“How’s Trent doing? Still riding bulls?”
Sometimes it took him by surprise, the way everyone knew his family’s business. “He is. Doing real well, too. Well, until this past week. A cussed bull named Diablo got the best of him.”
He felt Susan’s gaze settle on him. But didn’t have a chance to explain because Mrs. Cousins had sidled up in between them. “Oh, dear. I hope he’s okay.”
“He’s mending. I’l
l let him know you asked after him.”
“Aren’t you a sweetheart? You know, you sure are a lot more polite than your daddy.”
“I’ve been told that a time or two.”
Turning to Susan, who’d been watching the interplay with a curious expression on her face, he said, “Ready?”
“Oh. Of course. Your dad’s just down here.” Ten steps later, they were outside his father’s room. In the silence of the hall, he was even more aware of her.
She seemed just as affected. Her eyes rested briefly on his lips. Then she swallowed. “Uh, Cal, please let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”
Though the words were suggestive, he fought to not read anything into what she was saying. “Thank you. I will.”
“Okay, then. I better let you go so you can have your visit.”
He held out his hand, intending to give her a friendly handshake. “I appreciate you walking me down here.” Her hand was slim and cool.
She looked him over almost shyly but kept her hand in his. Almost as if she didn’t want to leave his side. Then she looked away again. “Okay. Well, uh, if I don’t see you later, have a good evening.”
“You, too.” Before he thought better of it, he tugged at her slightly, bringing her a little closer. Close enough to brush his lips against her cheek.
In a sweet way. Almost platonic.
Except he couldn’t remember the last time he’d brushed his lips against any woman’s cheek.
“Oh!” she said.
He let go of her hand. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.” She turned away. He had only a moment to admire the way her slacks curved around her bottom in just the right way, when she faced him again. “You know what? You can actually be nice.”
“That’s true. Matter of fact, I’ve even heard some say that I’m nicer than most,” he added to tease her a bit. She grinned at that, then, obviously tongue-tied, spun and walked away. Suddenly he wished he’d thought to give her a compliment right back.
Because there was a whole lot he could have complimented her on. Her gorgeous hair falling in thick waves halfway down her back. Her figure, which was something out of a 1950s pinup calendar.
My True Cowboy Page 7
