Will looks around and murmurs, "I still can't get over the amount of animals hanging in here."
My eyes do a brief sweep of the room, taking in the various mounted heads. Typical western flare, the big, bad hunters showing off their skills. Elk and moose heads dot the walls with a large bearskin rug in front of the fireplace, all mementos of animals killed through the years by my mom and dad. There's not one stuffed mount up there killed by me, because even though I'm a Wyoming girl to the core and a meat eater to boot, I just can't harm an animal. I can't even kill the trout I catch and have to turn my head from my father as he breaks their necks after he takes them off the hook. My father thinks it's adorable, my mother just shakes her head, I think slightly disappointed I've apparently not inherited that caveman strand of DNA that makes our people bring home sustenance.
Will takes a seat on the matching blue, leather couch which is overstuffed and cushy. It's my favorite place to lay and watch TV, which is something I should be doing right this very minute.
He's nervous. His gaze fluttering all around, until he finally gets the nerve up to look at me. Will swallows hard and says, "I'm so sorry, Callie. And I'm embarrassed and humiliated. I don't even know quite what to say to explain what you saw."
"I think I understood what I saw," I tell him, not unkindly, but to speed this up. I don't need a play by play.
"I don't think you did," he says urgently. "That was only the second time I'd done that and I was just--"
"Did you wear protection?"
"Yes," he says quickly. "Of course I did. I would never put you at risk like that."
I'm not surprised by this answer. I had assumed as much and I did, in fact, go see my former OB/GYN yesterday to get tested. The office called me just this morning that the results were all negative, and I almost broke down and cried. I don't know what I would have done if I had put Woolf at risk. Probably murdered Will, but that's moot now.
Woolf and I were both so stupid the other night. Thinking with those anatomical parts below our waist and not with our heads.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
But oh, so damn good.
"Callie, I swear that will never happen again. I was doing it out of curiosity, and Judge Lane... she came on to me. You have to believe me, I didn't initiate that. She came after me."
"Will," I say carefully... making sure he hears the sincerity in my voice. "I don't think--"
"Please," he wails and surges off the couch to drop to his knees before me. He takes my hands in his and squeezes them desperately. "I'll do anything to get you back. I love you so fucking much and I made the biggest mistake of my life, but I swear I'll make it up to you."
"Will, I can't--"
"Callie," he almost barks at me hysterically. "I'll do anything. I'll even move here to Wyoming if you want. I know you hated Connecticut--"
"What?" I ask in astonishment.
"Yeah... I'll move here. We can make it work."
"Wait. You knew I hated it in Connecticut but weren't willing to make me happy before, but you are now."
"Well," he says hesitantly, realizing just how moronic that sounds. "I mean... I'm sure I would have offered to do that before--"
I stand up from the couch, pulling my hands from his. "Will, I'm sorry. But I just can't go back. I can't unsee that and the trust is broken. I just don't think I could ever let that go."
Will rises up from the floor and steps up to me. His brown eyes are swimming in misery, and I feel a tiny spear of hurt punch into me. The first time, really, that I've felt the loss of what we had. While I may have had all kinds of doubts, clearly, there was some part of me that loved him. And I think I'm feeling the weight of that now.
"Can we please just talk about this?" he asks softly.
With a sigh, I nod my head. I've got years invested with this man. I love him even as I detest what he did. I owe it to him to at least listen to what he has to say. The Old Callie... the one who could easily slip back into a molded lifestyle, is making the decision to hear him out.
Or maybe that's the New Callie who is going to hear him out only because she knows she has the strength to turn him down when it's all said and done.
Chapter 11
Woolf
I drain the last of the bourbon from my glass and set it down on the top of the bar, sliding it toward Stephanie. "Hit me again."
Stephanie arches a lovely eyebrow upward but pours my second shot. "Something must be going on to cause the cool, calm, and collected Woolf Jennings to be sitting at The Wicked Horse and drinking a late lunch."
She pushes the glass toward me and I reach out to take it, but on a whim, I circle my hand around her wrist instead. She gives a soft intake of breath and her eyes sparkle with anticipation. Stephanie likes having her wrists pinned.
"You're due for a break," I tell her, which I'm sure she's not since we haven't even opened yet, but I'm the boss, so whatever. I stroke my thumb over her pulse, feeling it beat hard against my skin. This is what I need. A few shots of liquid encouragement and a quick fuck in the office. That will get me back on track. Purge out the insanely obsessive thoughts of Callie that are holding me hostage.
The front door to the club opens, and I recognize Bridger's frame entering against the haze of bright sunlight. The door closes, and he comes into focus. His eyes cut to the bar--maybe to the glass of bourbon or the way I'm holding Stephanie, who knows--but he scowls when he tips his gaze back to me.
"Hey man," I say in welcome as he approaches us. "Stephanie and I were just about to hit the office for a little fuckfest. Come join us."
Bridger doesn't even stop his stride but looks over at Stephanie and says, "Sorry, darlin'. Not interested right now."
He doesn't look back at me as he walks past, but he does say, "I need to talk to you."
Sighing, I let go of Stephanie's wrist and take the glass of bourbon, shooting it straight down the back of my throat. Hissing out, I slap the glass on the bar. I give her a wink and a devilish grin. "Give me a few minutes and then come on back. It won't take me that long to get him to change his mind."
She laughs and picks up the glass. "Can't wait."
I turn from the bar and saunter back to our office.
Feeling good.
Going to tap some sweet pussy and then I'm going to be back in the saddle so to speak.
As soon as I enter the office, I can feel the anger vibrating off Bridger. He looks at me with dark eyes and says, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Huh?
"Well, I was getting ready to fuck Stephanie for a little afternoon quickie. Something I've done often and with you in attendance. What the hell is wrong with that?"
And even as I say it, my stomach cramps at the thought of fucking her, because that's not who I really want. Not who I want at all.
"I want to know why you're interested in that when you've got Callie Hayes." His voice is hard with a measure of disdain.
"Callie Hayes?" I ask, playing dumb. Playing dumb because I'm not about to even give credence to his idea.
"Yeah," he says with a frustrated grunt. "The beautiful girl who you fucked the other night and told me the next morning it was the best sex you've ever had in your life. Remember that?"
"Well, yeah... sure I said that," I admit shamefully. "But that was just post-sex haze talking."
"It was a full twelve hours after you blew a nut, asshole."
I wince, because I know Bridger well and I know without a doubt I'm not going to win this argument. This man knows everything about me. Hell, he knows more about me than I do because the man is the most sentient person I've ever met. It also doesn't help that I tell him practically everything. He knows everything that I do because I never hesitate to divulge. He's one of those people that I know holds my confidence tightly and has uncanny wisdom which I respect. I tell him everything because I want him to impart that precious wisdom on me.
Hell... the minute I saw Bridger walk in the bar, I knew I wanted him to save
me from the offer I had just made to Stephanie. I knew that he knew she wasn't the right course for me to take, and that he would bail me out.
Now I need him to give me a push.
"I have nothing to offer her," I tell Bridger with frustration as I sit down heavily on the couch.
He leans his ass on our desk, propping his hands by his hips. "You have everything to offer her."
"Great sex?" I say with a colorless laugh.
"That's a damn good start," Bridger says seriously. "From there, it will develop."
"What will develop?" I demand sarcastically of the all-knowing, all-seeing Bridger Payne. "A relationship? Love? Marriage and kids?"
"Possibly," he says with a careless shrug of his shoulders. "Maybe nothing but great sex, but as I said, it's a fucking awesome place to start."
Shaking my head in denial, I argue, "That's not me. I don't want the responsibility of commitment. I want to do as I please when I want."
Bridger says nothing. Just stares at me patiently, waits for me to make an attempt to work this out on my own. It pisses me off, but gives me the steam to keep talking it through.
"She and I are too different," I point out. "She's all sunshine and sweet lemonade. I'm like a thunderstorm and will roll right over her, ruining everything she is."
"You're a fucking poet," Bridger says drily. "And yeah... that's a damn good description of the two of you."
"So why would I even attempt to snuff out that sunshine?" I ask in exasperation. "Why would I ever want to do that to her?"
Bridger gives a laugh as he pushes off from the desk. He walks over to the door and places his hand on the knob. "Dude... my money is on Callie. I think her sunshine is going to banish your thunderstorm in like a nanosecond."
"What?" I ask in astonishment.
"You heard me. It doesn't need repeating."
Leaning forward on the couch, I scrub my hands over my face and then gaze in contemplation at the tips of my boots. Do I want to be influenced by Callie? I wouldn't be lying when I say I'm drawn to her light. Everything about her makes me feel good.
Always has.
"Woolf," Bridger says softly and I look up at him. "We're tight, you and me."
I nod.
"But I choose this lifestyle because it's innately who I am. You followed me here, and I love every fucking minute of our journey together. But man, hear me when I say... you cannot stand beside me in my loneliness forever. It balances me, but partner... it will destroy you one day."
Even as he says those words, I know they're true. Otherwise, the sharp bite of pain in the middle of my chest wouldn't feel so exquisitely honest. Maybe I've always known there was something more for me, but I was too afraid to ever give it credence. Or maybe I didn't want to leave Bridger behind because I think he needs me.
Now Bridger is making me reconsider.
There's a soft knock on the door, and Bridger turns the knob to open it. He doesn't even look at Stephanie standing there. He knew it was her. Expected her. Knew that I told her to come back, because he knows me.
"Come on in, sugar," he says while staring at me. "Woolf has something important he needs to do, but I decided I want to play a little."
Callie's got me on a nice chase this afternoon.
After I left The Wicked Horse, where I'm sure Stephanie and Bridger had a very nice time together, I drove out to The Double J. I assumed Callie would be there working, but her truck wasn't there and it was locked up tight. I went in regardless to see if she had left a note, but nothing.
This concerned me because it wasn't like Callie. She was too responsible, and it fired dread up within me. Perhaps I'd already run her off for good.
I quickly called Bridger, who told me that he'd seen Callie there earlier but that she looked like she was getting ready to leave. Asshole couldn't have told me that when he was shooing me out the door an hour ago?
Now I'm making the forty-five minute drive back to Jackson, hoping she's at her parents' house.
I use the long drive to sift through my thoughts and try to organize them. I reflect on what Bridger told me today, and I focus on his confidence that Callie is good for me. That I wouldn't destroy her. His money was on the girl.
This time.
I'm still not sure what I hope to accomplish by going to her house. She's a woman, so I'm sure it will involve talking. I guess we have stuff to talk about, but personally, I hope it involves fucking.
Lots and lots and lots of fucking. While I'm recharging, we can talk.
And that is the dilemma. While I'm confident I can master and captivate her body, I'm not quite sure what to do with her heart. She has a big one. As big as the state of Wyoming, and it's vulnerable. I've hurt it before, I know, and it's something that's always weighed on me from time to time.
But mostly I'm worried that I'm not truly cut out for a relationship. I don't know why I think that, but I do. It's possible because I've never had one, I'm afraid of the unknown. What terrifies me even more is that I love my lifestyle so much--an incredible nonstop orgy since college--that I won't want anything different.
That Callie would not be enough to satisfy my appetites for the long term.
It shames me to feel this way, and yet I can't help it. It's the only thing I know. It's my comfort.
It's true that I followed Bridger into the lifestyle. Early on in our college years, he found solace in the depravity of meaningless sex and the thrill of pushing the kinkiest of boundaries. I just liked the meaningless sex, but Bridger truly needed it. It's true... he's happiest in his loneliness, and I've stood there right with him the entire way. Maybe that's what makes me happy too?
But maybe something else will make me happier.
A sudden image bursts into my head, filled with bright, dazzling color. Callie and me... with children... walking along the Snake River with fishing poles in our hand.
I shake my head to dispel it, but a lingering warmth remains in my blood.
Fucking weird.
When I pull into Callie's driveway, I see her truck sitting outside of the garage and a dark green sedan beside it. It could be any number of people stopping by to visit, so I don't give it a second thought. As soon as I turn off the ignition, the front door opens and Callie steps out onto the front porch with a man.
Instantly, blistering rage rises within me at the thought of her being with someone else.
Callie... another man... walking out of her house.
But then I recognize the dude. Perfectly styled brown hair, sleek dress pants, and a crisp white dress shirt. Her dull fiance, Will, who apparently has a kinky side under all that starch.
My rage is instantly replaced by fear and jealousy. He's clearly back here to make amends and get Callie back. This only two days after I fucked her and left her once again, without a fucking peep out of me since. She's a prime target right now, feeling all used and discarded.
I push the door of my truck open and hop out, walking up toward the porch. Neither of them see me as they stand close together talking.
As soon as my boot hits the bottom porch step, both of them turn to look at me. I spare a brief glance at Callie, whose eyes flare wide with surprise to see me there. Will doesn't recognize me, and why should he? We met briefly at a Christmas party last year, and he was three sheets to the wind at the time. He gives me an uncertain smile, and I stalk right up to him.
When I'm two feet away, he must take stock of the murderous look on my face and he starts backing up. I keep pounding toward him, backing him all the way up into door. I don't touch him, my hands hanging loosely by my sides, but then again, I don't need to. The fact I tower over him by a good five inches and have a solid forty pounds on him, coupled with the menace I'm projecting, has him thoroughly cowed.
"Woolf," Callie barks at me, but I ignore her.
I lean forward and get in his face. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Will cuts a nervous glance at Callie, his eyes silently begging her to save him.
Fucking pussy. How in the world she ever could have been attracted to this pecker is beyond me?
"Woolf," Callie says in exasperation as she grabs ahold of my arm and attempts to pull me away. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Will actually gasps when Callie drops the "F" bomb, and my opinion of him sinks even lower.
"Callie," Will says in disapproval as he attempts to straighten his body.
Only because I'd get no satisfaction out of pounding this twit into the ground, and also because I'm finding it wholly unsatisfying that he's so scared of me, I back up a step.
"Oh, for crying out loud," Callie says as she lets me go and reaches around me to take Will by the arm. She pulls him away from me, and he looks immensely grateful. "Will... just go get a hotel room and we'll meet up for breakfast tomorrow like we planned."
He makes an attempt to be a man. Looks at me, and then back at Callie. "Um... do you need me to stay?"
She rolls her eyes at Will, shoots me a disgusted glare, and then looks back to him. "No, I'm fine. This is Woolf Jennings. You met him last year at Dad's Christmas party. Normally, he's not this much of a jackass."
"That's right," I say pleasantly enough. "I'm normally a pretty nice dude except when someone fucks around on one of my friends."
"Jesus, Callie," Will snarls at her with a pained look. "Did you have to tell other people?"
I take another menacing step toward Will and Callie steps in between us, placing a soft hand on my chest to halt my progress. With her other hand, she pinches the bridge of her nose and rubs at what I'm thinking is a monster headache.
Created by Will, no doubt.
In a tired voice, Callie says, "Will... just go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Will gives a curt nod of his head and walks down the porch steps. When he clears the last one, her hand falls away from my chest and she watches him get in his car. When he pulls out of the driveway, she gives me a short glare before turning and walking into her house without a word to me.
Wicked Fall Page 10
