Reunited with the Bull Rider

by Christine Wenger

  “I beat you. I’ve had three serious relationships and they all left me.”

  Reed gave her the strangest look. “Uh...um, let’s order. What’s the special?”

  “Jason’s Favorite. It’s named for my youngest. He won’t eat anything else. It’s a mixed meat sub with lettuce, tomatoes, peppers and onions and my special dressing.”

  “I’m going to get that.” Callie turned to Reed. “It’s delicious.”

  “Make it two then, Britt,” Reed said.

  “You got it. For here or to go?”

  She felt the warmth of Reed’s hand on her back. “To go. We’re going to have a picnic outside.”

  Remembering her first and only other picnic with Reed, her face flamed and she hid it by looking into her purse. “It’s on me, Reed.”

  “Not a chance, Callie.”

  “No way.” Britt shook her head. “It’s on me for my old friends and schoolmates. Grab some sodas and napkins, too. I’ll throw in some paper plates.”

  “Oh, Britt...that reminds me. What do you think about a reunion for our year combined with the current graduating class?”

  She sliced two rolls and layered cold cuts in the middle of both. “Brilliant idea, Callie.”

  “Callie, I’ve been thinking. I’ve been meaning to discuss it with you.” Reed rapped the counter with his fingers. “But what do you think about a bigger event? We can have a Beaumont High reunion for all classes and hold it at the county fairgrounds and have local restaurants catering their specialties. Al can feature his Italian dishes, and you can have your subs. Then there’s the Beaumont Bakery and the ice cream shop. The sky’s the limit.”

  “What about entertainment?” Britt asked. “Everyone loves the annual bull riding at your arena, Reed. This year, it can be moved to the fairground.”

  “And we could have a talent contest for entertainment.” Callie was getting excited over the whole event. “A big reunion and graduation party. Oh, instead of graduation at the school gym, we could ask Principal McGraw if he’d have the ceremony at the fairgrounds this year, and we’ll try and keep the ticket prices as low as we can.”

  “I happen to know that the fairgrounds aren’t booked that weekend, but we need a committee to work with the administrators at the facility,” Britt said. “Who do we have so far?”

  Reed pushed his hat back with a thumb. “You’re looking at them.”

  “I’ll round up my sister, Betsey, and some of her friends. I can get some mothers and fathers from the current graduating class, and, Callie, we can ask some more from ours.”

  “You and Al Giacomo can always be in charge of the caterers,” Callie said, pulling out her notebook from her purse and jotting down some notes.

  This was going to be fun.

  After more discussion, Callie and Reed left with their subs and walked across the street to the park benches. A small band was playing in the gazebo and about three hundred people were listening.

  “There’s one over there,” Callie said, pointing to a free bench.

  As they walked to the bench, a crowd gathered around Reed. In between slaps on the back, he was autographing every item imaginable. Callie was glad to see that he still drew the line at signing body parts.

  She studied him, balancing himself on crutches, smiling and greeting everyone. He was really a nice guy, a hometown hero and not a snobby athlete at all.

  Above all, Callie loved how he singled out and gave the young children a lot of attention. He demonstrated how he rode bulls and had them all laughing.

  Callie pulled out her notebook and wrote two words: mutton busting. It was a way that the kids could “rodeo” by trying to stay on sheep.

  A young boy came to the front of the line. On crutches himself, the boy volunteered that he’d broken his leg by sliding into third base.

  “Want to race?” Reed joked. The boy laughed but they did manage to race to the gazebo. Reed let the boy win.

  Most of the crowd noticed, and they clapped their hands and cheered as Reed lifted the boy’s hand in victory.

  Callie’s heart melted. He was really an excellent role model for children, and she could tell that they really liked him.

  Reed would make an excellent father.

  Reed a father?

  That came from out of the blue!

  Reed waved goodbye to all of his fans and returned to the picnic bench. Face flaming, Callie handed him his soda, a plate, some napkins and his sub.

  He took a big bite. “This is good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  She nodded, glad that he hadn’t noticed her pink cheeks. “Me, too. Isn’t this nice? I have sustenance and music. What more could I want?”

  “Maybe a relationship that worked.”

  “It wasn’t to be. In thinking back, I’m glad now. I can’t see myself being married to the three guys who took off as fast as they could, especially the two who didn’t have the guts to break up with me to my face.”

  “You’d be hard to leave,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. He knew what she was thinking: you left and it wasn’t hard for you.

  “Sorry, Callie. It had to be rough on you.”

  “As you well know.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Callie was desperate to change the subject.

  “It was nice talking to Britt about the reunion,” she said. “I just love living in Beaumont. Your ancestors founded a great place with great people.”

  “Yeah. I know. I love coming back here. I just don’t do it enough.”

  “And I never leave,” Callie said. “Your roots go deep, Reed. Mine are as short as the last house we lived in.”

  “But you love your current house now. Right?”

  “I love it! It’s mine and as long as I keep up the payments, no one can take it away.”

  “Good for you. Maybe you’ll let me see it sometime.”

  “Of course.”

  They ate in relative silence, making small talk and listening to the band. Reed’s fans continue to walk over to talk to him or to get something signed.

  He continued to give each one his full attention, and thanked them.

  And Callie continued to give Reed her full attention.

  * * *

  REED SIGNED WHAT he thought was his last autograph. The band had finished for the evening and he was finally able to finish his sub.

  Callie was looking up at the sky. It was a perfect night in Beaumont. The stars were brilliant against the black sky, he was able to reacquaint himself with his neighbors and their kids, and he enjoyed Callie’s company immensely.

  Life was good.

  He had to leave in two months—at the end of August—and for once he didn’t want to go.

  He’d certainly miss Callie and the rest of the town. He’d forgotten how close-knit residents of Beaumont were.

  In the PBR, he had his bull-riding friends. They were fairly recent acquaintances. But in Beaumont, he’d grown up with half the town.

  Callie was right. His roots did run deep. Did he want to cut those roots and stay with the PBR or put his boots down in Beaumont?

  Maybe after he won the World and Finals championships he would quit. He was probably the underdog against Luke. His brother was in good health, not injured and able to get on practice bulls.

  Yes. After the five days of the Finals in Vegas, Reed wanted to win everything, and finally get out from Luke’s shadow.

  But where did that leave him and Callie?

  Actually, there was no him and Callie. Maybe he ought to step up his game, ask her out on a special date, like now.

  “Reed, we should hit the road. I need to drop you off and get back home. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”

  “Let me take you out for
breakfast. We’ll go to Tootie McGill’s place on the golf course,” he said.

  “Tootie retired. You’ll never guess who runs it now.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. O’Brien. Remember he taught us social studies in freshman and junior year? He retired from teaching and now runs Tootie McGill’s. He kept the name.

  “But we can’t go. You have an appointment tomorrow at the doctor’s, and it’s going to be a long drive.”

  “When will you be picking me up?” he asked.

  “Bright and early. How about six thirty?” she asked. “Maybe you won’t have to use crutches anymore.”

  “I forgot I had an appointment tomorrow. Where’s it at? Clear Springs?”

  “It’s my job to keep track of your appointments. And, yes. It’s in Clear Springs.”

  “Boy howdy! It would be great to get rid of these crutches.”

  “I hate to rain on your parade, but don’t get your hopes up, Reed. You only had to use them for a couple of weeks.”

  “Still, I can’t wait to get rid of them.”

  Chapter Eight

  Callie sat next to Reed in the doctor’s waiting room. He stretched out his leg in front of him. It was now going on an hour that they’d been sitting there, and his butt was numb.

  There were only so many old magazines that he could read.

  “Reed Beaumont,” said a nurse in a colorfully printed top and pants. He got his crutches and hobbled to the door. “Right this way.”

  “Can I bring my friend?” he asked, not wanting Callie to sit any longer. He also wanted her to hear his good news.

  “Sure.”

  He motioned to Callie to join him. She hesitated, but followed him to an examination room.

  “Okay, Mr. Beaumont,” said the nurse with the name tag Penny. “Take your jeans off and get up on the table. I’ll be right back to take your vitals.”

  Reed stole a glance at Callie and her eyes were opened wide. He chuckled as he gripped his big belt buckle and gave it a tug.

  Callie grinned. “As much as I’d like to take your vitals, Reed, I’m going to go to the waiting room.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. He really liked it when Callie joked with him.

  “You don’t have to leave,” he said.

  “Uh...yes, I do. This is a private matter between you and your doctor, and perhaps Nurse Penny.”

  “I’ll meet you back in the waiting room.”

  “Okay, but just answer one question for me,” Callie said.

  “Shoot.”

  “Briefs or boxers?”

  “You don’t remember?” he asked. “Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit.” He chuckled. “Boxers, the tight-fitting, knitted kind.”

  Oh, she remembered all right. She just wanted to know if he’d switched.

  “I’m still wearing them—not the same pair—but I’m still wearing boxers.”

  It was Callie’s turn to laugh.

  * * *

  SITTING IN THE waiting room, she pulled another dog-eared magazine from one of the stacks. The Fit and Healthy magazine cover caught her eye: it was a picture of Reed riding a bull. The headline read The Most Physically Fit Man in America, Bull Rider Reed Beaumont.

  The magazine was a year old. If only they could see him now, on crutches, or how, when he ate, he ate like the meal was his last before the electric chair.

  She found the page where the article started and looked at the pictures first. There was a shirtless Reed in a pair of black bike shorts doing pushups, a shirtless Reed in a pair of black bike shorts doing sit-ups, a shirtless Reed in black bike shorts running on the beach. He was hot, hunky and solid—a banquet for the eyes.

  The last picture was the same as the cover, but this time it was a centerfold. He was in full PBR dress with his number, two, on his back. His left arm was up, his right hand tied to the handle of his rope. The bull was in a full jump with all hooves in the air.

  Callie’s heart starting beating wildly and she thought it was fortunate she was in a doctor’s office.

  She read the article, which listed his winning riding percentages for the year and related how the Beaumont Big Guns had the first three slots tied up out of fifty riders.

  Then the article turned personal. They’d asked Reed why he rode bulls. “I like the life, being on the road. I like the adrenaline rush of going against a bull and being in the company of great riders. There’s more, but you get the idea.”

  They’d saved the best for last when they’d asked him if there was someone in his life. “I haven’t had a special lady in my life for a long time.”

  Callie wondered who he was referring to. Was it someone from Beaumont or a woman he’d met on the road? Maybe it was someone who worked for the PBR.

  She’d have to remember to ask him about his “special lady.”

  Her cell phone rang. It was Reed’s agent. “Hi, Rick. Reed is being examined by the doctor now...I don’t know if he’s going to be off his crutches yet...An autographing at the Shoe and Boot Warehouse tomorrow. Where is it?...In Barton Mills? That’s a two-hour drive from Beaumont...Of course I’ll get him there...Two o’clock...Hold on, here he is now. And, yes. He still has crutches. Okay. Bye.”

  “I’m sorry, Reed. More time with the crutches?”

  He nodded. “But the good news is the doc says that I’m healing nicely.”

  “Great. You still have to take it easy and keep your leg up?”

  “As much as I can,” he said.

  “Rick just called. You have an autographing session tomorrow at the Shoe and Boot Warehouse that’s over at Barton Mills. Do you feel up to it?”

  “Sure. I don’t want my fans to forget me. Besides, I’m sure it’s already advertised that I’ll be there. I need to go. Are you able to drive me?”

  “Yes. I’ll take my laptop and do my work while you’re signing. No sense wasting time,” Callie said.

  “You could do with a little wasted time. Time for yourself.”

  Callie pointed to the reception window. “Do you need to make another appointment?”

  “Two weeks.”

  The receptionist was very happy to wait on Reed. Callie put the date and time of Reed’s appointment in her engagement book and looked up at the woman.

  “Do you mind if I take this magazine? It has an article about Reed.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.”

  Callie opened the door for Reed. As they left the office, she looked back and saw the receptionist ogling Reed’s butt. She gave a thumbs-up to Callie.

  “Absolutely.” Callie nodded.

  Outside, Reed was walking double-time with his crutches.

  “Where’s the fire?” she asked.

  “Dammit. I thought I could shake these things.”

  “But you have to be in good shape in two months when you go back to ride. Calm down and do the autographing sessions that your agent sends you to, and just relax.”

  “I need to ride practice bulls. I think I’ll get some of the hands to cull some easy ones out of the herd so I can get a little training in. I’ll wear a brace on my knee.”

  She tossed the magazine onto the front seat. “Have you lost your mind? You have a torn meniscus from a bull, and you think you can ride? Where are your brains, Reed? You might make it worse.”

  Again, she was glad she was near a doctor’s office because she was sure that her blood pressure was sky high.

  They both got into her SUV.

  “Aw...hell.” He shrugged. “I know you’re right, Callie. I’ve only been using the crutches for a couple of weeks, and the doctor is hoping to avoid surgery, but I wish he’d just do it so I can get back to normal.”

  She started the SUV. “Normal? Beaumont is named after you. You have a historic house and a her
itage that is hard to beat. You ride bulls for a living, and so do your two brothers. More than three-quarters of the town was built by a Beaumont. Tell me, what about you is normal?”

  “All right. All right. I get your point.”

  “No practice bulls?” she asked.

  “None.”

  Callie turned onto the highway that led back to Beaumont. “Hey, what’s this?” Reed asked, picking up the magazine.

  “I found it in the waiting room. There’s a great article about you, and you’re even the centerfold.”

  Reed leafed through the magazine. “Hey, I remember this.”

  “It’s a good article.” She gave Reed a little time to read it, and then he finally closed the magazine and put it back on the seat.

  “So, who’s the special lady in your past? Do I know her?”

  He looked out the window. “Nah. You don’t know her.”

  “What happened that you’re not with her?”

  “It’s a long story, but she didn’t want life on the road. Roots are important to her.”

  “I can understand how she felt.”

  “I thought you would,” he said. “Um, Callie...I have some builders coming tomorrow morning. I’d love for you to sit in.”

  “Me? I don’t know much about builders or building.”

  “I value your opinion.”

  “Okay. Sure. Do you want me to take notes?”

  He shook his head. “No way. Like I said, I just want your opinion.”

  That was really a compliment and Callie was touched that her judgment was appreciated.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Reed. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  * * *

  CALLIE HAD A quick mind and proved to be the asset he’d thought she’d be. As a result of comparing estimates, time tables, materials and the like, the next afternoon, they settled on three builders, all from Beaumont.

  Three projects, three builders.

  She opened her briefcase and got out three separate file folders, named them and placed the estimate in the appropriate one. She added his notes and placed everything in a cherry file cabinet.

  “They’re right in the front of the top drawer in case you need them.”