“Wait till I tell them about the marriage.”
“You can’t do that,” she said.
“And why not?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“I can’t tell my family that we’re getting married for real. I can’t do it.”
“Well, tell them about it when I’m not there. And not Thanksgiving. Or at least wait until the pie so that I can split. But I need to be able to get some pie.”
“Sure. Whatever you need.”
He’d been saying that a lot. Whatever she needed.
What she really needed was to get the hell away from him, and he didn’t have the strength to say it. Didn’t have the strength to send her off on her own, and let her do this without his intervention.
Because God knew she needed his intervention.
Yet another moment when Callie was throwing all his bold proclamations about being blasé regarding fate into the wind.
“Bathroom is down the hall. Anything in the house that you need...it’s yours. And we report for work bright and early.”
She grinned. “The only morning I know is an early morning.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, spoken like a girl who doesn’t go out after buckle bunnies.” He frowned. “What do they call the male equivalent?”
“I think they call them cowboys,” Callie said. “But they’re too busy with the buckle bunnies. And anyway, not man enough to take on a real cowgirl.”
“Harsh.”
She shrugged. “Call it like I see it.”
And as he turned to leave Callie alone to do her thing, he figured it was best to let her have that illusion. He was more than man enough to handle her. It was just that it would only ever be a roll in the hay. And Callie wasn’t someone he could ever do that with.
She was everything bright and earnest and passionate in the world.
And his soul was a dried-out dust bowl with nothing left to give.
You can give her this.
Yeah. Well. It would have to be good enough.
And he would have to keep his hands to himself.
CHAPTER THREE
“WERE YOU TRYING to sneak out without me?”
It was dusky outside, the sun not yet risen over the mountains that Callie hadn’t entirely gotten a glimpse of last night. It had been dark when she’d arrived, but from what she knew about this part of the state, there had to be mountains all around.
Jake snorted. “I’m not sneaking anywhere. It’s my house.”
“You said you needed help.”
Jake was ready for a day out on the ranch. He had on a tan cowboy hat, a denim jacket and blue jeans. He was wearing work boots, rather than the cowboy boots that she was used to seeing him in during rodeo events and nights out at the honky-tonk bars they frequented after the rodeo.
“Well, I didn’t figure it was polite to roust my guest from bed on the first day of her arrival. Anyway. You’re here for Thanksgiving.”
“A ruse,” she said.
He chuckled, shook his head and opened the door for her. She didn’t like any of those things. Because the chuckle felt paternal, and the opening of the door felt like he was emphasizing the fact that she was a lady and he was a man.
She didn’t care for either, since she was chasing both issues at the moment. She stepped past him, and stomped across the porch and down the steps.
“Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”
She turned around, huffing.
“No. But I didn’t come here so you could treat me like I was fragile. I came here because I thought you were about the only person on earth who really respected me, Jake. And now you’re being as weird about me riding saddle bronc as my dad.”
He paused, and he looked at her, his eyes going sharp like they’d done yesterday when he’d approached her suddenly. When he’d tried to throw her off balance by pretending he’d intended to kiss her.
“I saw you fall,” he said. “I saw you fall, and I can’t forget that. I heard the sound of your bones breaking on the ground.”
The intensity in his tone stopped her short. It made her feel strange. Like her boots had been tacked down to the dirt with a couple of horseshoe nails.
Then he did something totally unexpected. He reached out and touched her face, cupped her chin and held her steady. “If something would have happened to you, more serious than it did, I would have never forgiven myself.”
Something jittered through her body, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit. She pulled back, shaking off his hand.
But the impression of his touch wouldn’t go away.
“You’re being a drama queen. It was a fracture. And I’m fine.”
“But I remember it. And I don’t like it.”
“Well, as much as I’m sure it pains you to hear this, I am not in existence for the sole purpose of you liking or not liking what it is I want to do, Jake Daniels. It doesn’t much matter to me if you like it. But if you’re my friend, you’ll help me.”
“I agreed to help you, Cal, so quit being prickly. I signed up to spend time with my friend, not a cactus.” And then he walked past her, jerking open the passenger door of his pickup, another misplaced show of chivalry.
“You know women are more than capable of opening doors.” She held her hands up and wiggled her thumbs. “Damn if we don’t also have opposable thumbs.”
“And as a gentleman, I opt to use my thumbs to open doors for women, regardless of the state of their ability, just because it’s what I was taught to do.”
“Doing what your daddy taught you like a good boy?” The words landed flat, and it took her a moment, just a moment that came abreast too late, to realize what she had said. “I’m sorry.”
That was stupid. She knew about Jake’s family. She hadn’t meant it that way, and it had still hit that way. He’d trusted her with his ghosts.
She felt a slight bit of guilt she hadn’t returned the favor.
And now she was being a jerk about it.
“Jake...”
“Okay,” he said, backing away from her and making his way to his side of the truck.
When they were both inside and headed down a dirt access road on the ranch, Callie’s eyes blurred, and she finally spoke again. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m really sorry that I said that.”
“You were just giving me a hard time—you didn’t mean anything by it.”