She carefully took the envelope, being careful not to touch his hand. Had she been as shaken by his touch as he’d been by hers?
He hoped so, but he had to figure out why he felt that way. Some other time. He’d already exceeded his boyish awkwardness. Get it together. He turned back to the coffee shop, where the group of people with their noses pressed to the glass disappeared in a wave.
Caleb had been in town long enough to know that they were still watching, even if he couldn’t see them, so he raised a hand to acknowledge them as he turned away from Winter and slid into the truck, pleased with the morning’s progress.
He’d found a haven in Smoky Joe’s. Convincing Winter to show him her highlights from the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve would go a long way to remind him of the importance and beauty of the land he’d barely set foot on in years. Was any of that his thing? A little, but it motivated the Kingfishers. Understanding Winter Kingfisher was a powerful incentive.
The only piece of the reserve he knew well was the lodge’s site in the shadow of The Aerie. Day and night he’d been there working, and he was now beginning to catch up.
If he had one talent, it was the ability to track different pieces in different stages in his mind.
“Not exactly worthy of a cape, hero.” Caleb took a bite of his bread and consoled himself that he’d still managed the right thing, even if he wasn’t sure why.
One last check of the sidewalk where he’d left Winter showed she was standing in the same place, tapping the envelope against her hand and watching him. That made him more reluctant to leave, for some reason, but daylight was burning so he eased his foot on the gas.
Since he’d been in Sweetwater, he’d gotten up with the sunrise, thanks to the skylight in the master bedroom, and rushed to the job site to beat his crews there. Driving the curving road up toward The Aerie that morning was different. Nice. Some of the peace he’d only found at the end of the day as the sunlight was dying on Otter Lake filtered in. Many more moments like this and he’d understand why people like Winter Kingfisher battled to save it.
The banana-nut bread was gone by the time he bumped down the gravel road to the old weather station. Under normal circumstances, the road was clear all the way up to the site, where the men and women working on the project parked their cars and trucks in a scattered fashion. His first clue that something was different was the sight of a news van blocking half the road near the gate.
The second was the fact that every person on both of his crews was standing in a circle around a news reporter as she... What exactly was she doing? Taping a story of some kind.
And grinding work to a halt.
He’d hoped that the Callaway Construction foreman that Senior had sent along could eventually be proven capable of completing the lodge, leaving Caleb free to return to life in Nashville and the Yarborough development.
Today’s work stoppage indicated that was a foolish dream. Ken Lowell was front and center, the confused furrow of his brow proof that he had no clue what to do. He worked hard, followed procedure to the letter, but couldn’t solve a problem to save his life.
Carlos Lopez was shifting back and forth near the rear of the group, clearly antsy to get back to the job. He understood the reason they were working as hard as they were and he had a seven-year-old outside Nashville waiting for her daddy to come home for the weekend.
Frustrated that this very important project hadn’t rated an A-team crew, Caleb made up his mind to let Senior know exactly what he thought of Callaway Construction’s junior varsity.
Even better, this little break has been caught on tape, to be broadcast right into Callaway Central. Senior will blow a gasket. Blaming his stepfather for the crews he’d provided would be Caleb’s only defense. His very weak defense was more like it. He hoped Lowell’s consternation made it into the broadcast.
Caleb slammed to a stop in front of the group and watched the cameraman turn toward him.
Everybody’s watching. Play this right. Caleb paused to grab his hard hat and buy a minute to calm his nerves, then slid out of the truck. Charm was the name of the game with the press. He’d learned that early on. He used to be good at it, but never had he felt this amount of anger. “Morning, folks. What’s going on?” Friendly. Casual. Completely unconcerned about the daylight and money they were burning.
“Bailey Garcia, Channel Six News from Knoxville.” The reporter marched forward, her hand extended. “I’ve been unable to get a phone call through to you, Mr. Callaway, and Winter Kingfisher suggested we stop in to check the progress of the lodge ourselves. Viewers in east Tennessee are concerned that the reserve’s management keep its promises, you see.”
Hearing Bailey use Winter’s name hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d tried to build a bridge, daydreaming about being friends with Winter or whatever, but she’d been laying dynamite right behind him. Still, there wasn’t a thing he could do to address that now.
Bailey Garcia moved back in front of the camera and motioned for the guy to pan slowly. Since there was a large group of construction workers blocking her view, Caleb wasn’t sure what that would accomplish. Nothing. It would do nothing but delay his progress.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s been speculation about Callaway business practices. The original plan to build this would have required expensive site preparation that would have destroyed important habitats and the cost could only be offset by...mediocre materials. Has this new plan changed that? Care to give us a tour?”
Speculation about Callaway business practices. Mediocre. Senior would lose his cool for sure.
And he had Winter to thank for all of it.
Caleb smiled slowly, a trick he’d learned to buy precious seconds.
“We aren’t prepared for television crews today. I’ll have to ask you to return to your van. This is a hard-hat area.” He motioned around the group at all the people there wearing the required protection. “It’s for your safety. You can get your footage from there, but we’ve got to get to work. We’re on a tight schedule.”
“No tour. Fine, although I have to wonder what you’re hiding. A quick on-camera interview, then. I have only a few questions. Has Ranger Kingfisher been cooperative with your project, Mr. Callaway?” She shoved the microphone under his nose and Caleb calmly held a hand out as if he was ushering her back toward the van. “What about Winter Kingfisher? Anything you can tell us about her efforts to prevent your brother from landing in the capital? I asked her for a quote about Whit Callaway’s—”
“I have no comment. The Smoky Valley Nature Reserve staff will field all your calls. Please contact the ranger station for progress reports. I have my job to do here. For your safety, all visits will stop at the gate.” He tried his charming smile. It had always worked, and this time, Bailey Garcia’s progress slowed. While she was confused, he turned on his heel and hurried back to his crews.
Then she called, “Do you have something to hide, Caleb? It looks like you have something to hide.” Ignoring that challenge was difficult. Then she added, “We’ll come back tomorrow or the day after. While Whit Callaway is running for governor, our viewers will be interested in the lodge’s progress. Don’t you want to put any suspicion to rest?”
He did. He honestly did, but nothing he would say today or even the next would accomplish that. Proving himself—that would support the Callaway family and reputation. Only getting the lodge up, on time and on budget, with the proper materials and minimal impact would answer all the reporter’s questions. That couldn’t happen while his crews were busy being background extras instead of hammering and plastering. “We don’t get paid to stand still. Everyone, move. Double time. Daylight’s burning. If we want a weekend off, it’s time to get to work.”
Caleb watched his crews scatter, shook his head at Ken Lowell, who held out both hands helplessly, slapped on his hard hat and picked up a hammer. Banging in a f
ew nails might make it possible to hold a normal conversation by lunchtime.
Then he remembered that unless he did something, Bailey Garcia would be back. His team might be less like statues on her second visit, but there was no way they’d work at full speed with the distraction of a camera around.
And when Bailey Garcia made her report, there was a good chance other stations or newspapers might decide they needed to come mess up his plans, too.
Caleb shoved the hammer through the loop in his tool belt and dug his phone out of his pocket. A quick search turned up the Otter Lake ranger station phone number.
Was Ash Kingfisher any more reasonable than his sister? It was time to find out.
“Thank you for calling the Otter Lake ranger station. How may I direct your call?” a young woman asked after the first ring. She sounded efficient. Kingfisher had struck him as a guy who ran a tight ship.
“I need to speak to the head ranger. This is Caleb Callaway.” Throwing around his last name was a last resort, but he had to get to Kingfisher quick. Bailey Garcia didn’t seem to be the type to give up. He checked over his shoulder. She was still down near the gate, and the camera was rolling. As soon as she wrapped that up, Caleb would bet all the money in his wallet she’d shoot down the hill and back up to the ranger station.
When he heard the beep for an incoming call, Caleb pulled the phone back to check the display. Melissa Yarborough. Of course. Two nights ago when they’d talked on the phone, she’d been impatient for his answer on whether he’d be coming to Nashville that weekend to sign the contract with her father. Missy didn’t like to wait. Normally, she didn’t wait for anything.
“Ash Kingfisher.” The gruff voice matched the stoic facade Caleb remembered from his last meeting with the head ranger. “What can I do for you, Callaway?”
Call off your sister. Make her back down. Neither Kingfisher would appreciate the sentiment, but Winter would make him sorry he ever said it. Ash wouldn’t have to move a muscle. His younger sister fought her own battles.
“I’m giving you a heads-up. Bailey Garcia, the news reporter, is here at the job site, getting in the way, slowing down work.” From his perch on the second-floor framing, he could watch the news team loading up in the van. “When she comes to you for a quote, make it clear she’s trespassing on private property and she has to stay out of the construction zone. I’ll put up a sign.” Note to self: have a sign made.
“Why?” Ash asked.
Few words. Normally, Caleb appreciated that. Today, he was tired of being stonewalled by Kingfishers.
“Because I can’t afford to lose another half day escorting nosy reporters out of harm’s way,” Caleb said, ignoring the slight exaggeration. “This project is important to you, too.” Caleb stared out over the site from his bird’s-eye view and tried to ignore the silently ticking clock. He had to get back to Melissa Yarborough.
“Dealing with the media gives me the nervous sweats. A reserve public information officer... It’s too bad we don’t have one of those right now,” Ash drawled.
You owe me your job. Caleb bit back his angry response and rolled his head on his shoulders slowly. Ash believed Caleb had been the one responsible for the political frenzy surrounding him and the lodge in the first place. Winter had sent her brother out of Caleb’s office when she’d made her passionate plea to Caleb to take the heat. The pinch of the promise he’d made to keep her secret helped him focus.
“Because the sooner this lodge is open, the sooner Otter Lake has a state-of-the-art showpiece to attract visitors. Considering the sluggish drip of tourists I’ve seen in town lately, you and Sweetwater could both use the new attraction.” Caleb cleared his throat, aware that his tone was rising. “It’s good publicity for the reserve. Helping me control access to the site and the story being told about it helps the reserve.”
“And the Callaways.” Ash said nothing else, but Caleb could hear the rustle of paper. “Fine. I’ll try to manage the news exposure for now. Put up your sign. We can work this out together. For the reserve.”
Before Caleb could come up with a response, the call ended.
The attitude communicated with that gesture surprised him, but Caleb had to laugh. These Kingfishers made their opinions known.
He hit redial on his missed call and raised a hand at the foreman waving to get his attention. He pointed at the trucks lumbering down the gravel road. The first was loaded with plywood for the roof sheathing. Once the roof was on, interior work would go full force. The second was more lumber. Caleb made the signing motion so that his foreman would go on and receive the truck deliveries.
If he wasn’t here, the man would step up without being told to.
Wouldn’t he?
“Caleb, I was hoping you would call me back quickly,” Melissa Yarborough said smoothly. “The time to make a decision is drawing near. What should I tell Daddy about your commitment?” She sighed. “I mean, to the project, not to me. No man committed to me would stay away for so long. I’m certain you’ve already moved on, as have I.”
Even seated on a roof truss in the middle of nowhere, in east Tennessee, it was easy to picture Melissa’s trendy office in the middle of downtown Nashville. Ice was forming on his phone even as they spoke. All that remained between them was saying the goodbye words.
And she was right. It had come time to make a hard decision.
He’d hoped once he got this project to a certain point, a Callaway Construction foreman could complete it.
Today had proven him wrong.
“Missy, I’m sorry. This project is going to take longer than I expected. Tell your father I appreciate him approaching Summit Builders for Rivercrest, but I won’t be free in time. I have to finish this project for my family, and I’m too early in the process to guarantee a start date on anything new.” There. That was a plausible reason to bow out of the project that didn’t make him sound like the dabbling son of a rich man or someone who’d forgotten the size of the opportunity Yarborough offered. Maybe he could make it out of this with his reputation intact.
The delicate pause spoke volumes.
“I might convince him to wait another month,” Melissa said slowly, “for someone who was about to join our family, Caleb.”
It was tempting to tell her what she wanted to hear. He wanted to build Yarborough’s project and the next one and the one after that.
But not enough to string along Melissa. Her, he was prepared to say goodbye to. They’d been about nights out on the town, not the difficulty of long-distance dating. He’d been confused by the suggestion that what Winter and Whit had had been about convenience and power, but here was the same kind of offer. He could have everything he wanted. All he had to do was give up on the idea of marrying for love.
Joining two wealthy families to make more wealth was an accepted practice. It made sense on paper. In a flash, he realized Senior would happily bankroll an investment if it led to powerful connections in Nashville, Whit’s future home.
Why had it seemed so disappointing when he thought of Whit and Winter making such an alliance themselves?
Before that second, he’d have said he was capable of doing that, the rational thing, to grow his business. Now he knew better.
“Imagine the possibilities, Caleb,” Missy said softly. “Come to Nashville. We can discuss our expectations for the project and a match. You’ll see the benefits.”
The weird reaction he’d had to Winter was proof enough that he needed to cut the ties to the Yarboroughs. Now that he’d faced off against fiery Winter, it was harder to remember what he’d enjoyed about conversations with Missy. Was he angry at Winter Kingfisher? Oh, yeah, now that she’d sicced the media on him directly, they’d need to talk. Again. But he was more excited about that coming argument than he was by anything Melissa offered.
Besides, Caleb already had one wealthy, demanding family to deal wit
h. No intelligent man would choose to add another. “No, the Yarboroughs should move on without me. Find a replacement.” Was that clear enough?
“Fine. Goodbye, Caleb.” The absence of static on the line was clear-cut proof that Missy was done with the call. The frost in her tone confirmed she was also done with him.
And for some reason, when he ended the call, instead of being weighed down by losing the project he’d been daydreaming about for months and the woman he’d been halfheartedly dating, Caleb was relieved.
Letting go of that was the right thing to do.
As if the universe was waiting for him to wise up, his phone dinged with a text.
From Winter.
Ash called to tell me about Bailey Garcia’s visit to the site.
Caleb stared hard at the phone. Surely she had something else to say.
Yeah. I decided to go with the reasonable Kingfisher this time.
Her instant response convinced him she was waiting anxiously for his reply.
I had nothing to do with that.
Caleb shrugged his shoulders to try to get rid of some of the tension.
Really?
Could she convince them both of that?
The pause this time was much longer, but eventually she answered.
Okay, I suggested this visit as a way to end a call with her, but it wasn’t a premeditated move. I was having a bad day and needed a way out. Solid PR move.
That he did believe. She’d explained. Would she apologize?
Lost a half day of work. If that happens often, this is going to turn into a bigger problem for all of us.
Why would she care? That played into her plans.
It was an accident. I’m sorry. Let me work on this. There’s a way to make sure this doesn’t happen again.
Caleb waited to see if the dots appeared to say she was still typing. After a minute, he texted Thank you?
This time, he’d bet on an eye roll.
Ash will also start fielding progress calls and will visit the site enough to know how to answer them. It should be something the head ranger can do.
Her Unexpected Hero--A Clean Romance Page 9
