It Had to Be You (38 page)

He had a tight-knit group of friends in town, including some young women, one of whom was Macy, the ranch’s on-call massage therapist. Callie knew them all, and this woman on the phone was one she’d never met. “I’m sorry, but he’s gone into town for the evening.”

“Oh, damn.” The European accent took a dive, straight into an annoyed American one.

“Can I take a message?”

“How about Jakey?”

“Excuse me?”

“Jake Rawlins. My other boy. I know he’s there; I saw his face plastered across every single newspaper in San Diego, so I called his station. They told me where to find him.”

“Uh…”

“Tell him it’s his momma. And hurry up, honey, I don’t have all night. This is a long distance call.”

J
ake had done his physical therapy every day. It was time-consuming and not a little painful, but he wanted to get back to work—God, did he want to get back to work—so he’d been diligent.

But he hated the weight room. No doubt that was due to the humiliation of Callie’s rescue there, but he’d been doing his exercises in the barn and been happier for it.

Tonight he walked between the stalls lining either side, watched by a curious Sierra. He stopped to pet her and check on her sides, which were healing. While he stood there Moe stuck his head over his stall, and before Jake could figure out what that meant, the horse opened his mouth and clamped his teeth on the back pocket of Jake’s jeans, which held his cell phone. “Hey!”

Without letting go, Moe eyed him.

Jake broke free and clamped his hand over the spot. “What the hell is your problem?”

Moe snorted and turned away.

Jake rubbed his butt. “I could send you off to the glue factory. You know that, right?” He stared at an unrepentant Moe, then had to shake his head at himself for even caring that the horse hated him. Still muttering, he began his pull-ups on a hanging wood beam. He got to three before the muscles in his shoulder and bicep started trembling like a baby’s.

He forced himself to five, then hung, panting. His physical therapist had demanded ten, building up to three sets of ten. He could no more do that than hop to the moon, and yet once upon a time he’d have been able to do them forever. Now, as he hung there, he tried to consider what life would be like without firefighting, but his heart took a slow roll in his chest.

No. He wasn’t going there. Arms quaking wildly, he forced his sixth and seventh pull-up, then dropped to the floor.

Moe stuck his head out again, and snickered.

“Yeah,” Jake said, flat on his back, his shoulder on fire. “Get a good look.”

The door of the barn opened. Moonlight spilled in, as well as the silhouette of a woman holding a flashlight. “Jake?” She rushed forward. “What happened?”

“Nothing. You just go about your life, maybe even on another date with Michael, and I’ll go about mine.”

She stared down at him. “What is your problem?”

“No problem.” Jake got to his feet even though he wanted to curl into a little whimpering ball.

“I wasn’t on a date with Michael. Not a
date
date, anyway. Not that I need to explain myself to you.”

“Whatever.” Christ, listen to him. He was an ass.

“I thought you were painting,” she said.

“Was. It got dark.”

“We have a weight room.”

“I remember.” He looked around at all the horses watching them and let out a mirthless laugh. “This felt more private than the weight room.”

“You have a phone call.”

“All right.” He followed her to the door, suddenly remembering another night—the night of his father’s funeral service. He’d found her out here, staring around her with a lost, haunted expression on her face. They’d shared a bottle of whiskey because he’d wanted to see that expression erased, and in the process had ended up sharing far more of himself than he’d ever intended. “Remember the last time we stood in this very spot?” he asked her.

“No.”

“You were crying.”

“Was not.”

“I hugged you, told you it would be okay.”

“You were trying to get laid. You got me drunk.”

He laughed. “Is that your story?”

She crossed her arms. “It works for me.”

“You’re the one who got that bottle going,” he reminded her. “And you kissed me first.”

“A gentleman wouldn’t say so.”

Looking down at her, with those luminescent eyes and those full naked lips that he wanted open and willing beneath his own again, not to mention her gloriously lush body and what he wanted to do to it, he didn’t feel like much of a gentleman. “I’m sorry you had to grieve. I’m sorry you miss him.”

She sighed and put her hand on his. “And I’m sorry that he never got to know you. You should have had him in your life.”

They started back toward the house. There was such a stillness to the air now that darkness had fallen, and a starkness to the lines and shadows of the hills.
Mars.

“She said to hurry,” Callie said as they walked up the back steps of the big house.

“Who’s calling for me on the house phone instead of my cell?”

Callie opened the back door and turned to face him, bumping into him on the threshold of yet another door. “Your momma.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea.” She pointed to the phone in the kitchen. “You can take it right there, or in my office if you’d like some privacy.”

“Office,” he muttered, then brushed in past her, shutting the door behind him.

Callie stood for a moment, then shrugged and turned away. Unlike the others here—Tucker, Amy, Stone, Eddie, Marge, and Lou—Jake wasn’t one of hers. Not really. And yet he just kept reeling her in with that way he had, making her care.

Not smart. She turned to walk out the door but came to a startled halt at the thundering crash of glass from within her office. Without thinking twice, she whirled back down the hall and hauled open the door.

Jake stood behind her desk, wearing a mask of pain and holding his shoulder.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He jerked his chin toward the glass shards on the floor against the wall. “Your glass isn’t. I threw it,” he said to her unspoken question. Clearly in agony, he turned away, but she rounded the desk and put her hands on his arms.

“Sit.
Sit,
” she repeated in a firm demand when he tried to pull free. “Throwing the glass was stupid. I bet it hurt pretty good.”

“Like a red hot poker through my shoulder,” he said through his teeth.

She began to massage the area with her fingers, lightly at first, feeling the knots of tightened, abused muscles, then a little harder to try to loosen them up and get him some relief. He was holding his breath. “Breathe,” she commanded, and kept at it.

The only sound in the room was his labored breathing and the ticking of the clock on her desk. After a long time she felt the knots give a little, and his slight relaxation. “Better?”

He rolled his shoulder carefully. “Yeah.”

Taking her hands off him, she moved to the door. “Next time maybe you could stomp your feet, or just scream your head off.”

“That’s all?” He let out a low laugh. “I figured you’d have a longer lecture than that.”

“I’m too busy resisting your sexy charms.”

That caused a ghost of a smile to cross his lips. “You think I have sexy charms?”

“You know I do.”

“Actually…” He pushed to his feet, and made his way close. Too close. The light from her lamp danced in the gray of his eyes. “I don’t know any such thing.” He lifted his hand, then winced and let it drop again.

“Stop using it, Jake.”

“I was just trying to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with whatever my mother said to you. For giving me a moment of laughter with my brother earlier. Or how about for letting me intrude on your life out here.…Hell, I don’t know, pick one.”

“Your mother didn’t bother me.” She put her hand over his. “But she bothered you.”

He turned away. “She’s worried I’m going to be a bad influence on Tucker.”

She tugged him around, not thrilled with the protective feeling that rose inside her. “As if Tucker would let anyone be a bad influence on him.”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t she worried about you? About your shoulder?” She ran her fingers over the spot.

His laugh was harsh. “We’re not…close. She had me when she was just a kid.” He mirrored her action, running a finger over her shoulder, too. “She never really forgave me for that.”

“Right, because her getting prepared was all your fault.”

He looked surprised for a moment, then laughed. “I’m sure it doesn’t help that I remind her of my father, a man she hated by the time I came around.”

“Again, totally your fault.”

His smile slowly slipped away but he didn’t take his eyes off her. His hand came up, cupping her face. “The way you barged in here, eyes hot, hair wild…what were you going to save me from, Callie?”

“I…” She laughed. “I have no idea.”

“You’re something.”

“Something annoying, I’m betting.”

“No. Sweet. Hot.” He frowned. “Confusing as hell—”

“Jake.”

“I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Callie.”

“You don’t?”

He let out a slow shake of his head. “No.”

Her breath caught. “What is it you want to do?”

“I think you know.”

“Yeah.” And damn, but it made her yearn and burn. Her arms helped themselves, getting comfy around his neck. Her fingers sank into his hair.

“Callie,” he said hoarsely.

“You shouldn’t say my name like that.”

“Callie,” he said again, and then one more time, even softer.

“Oh, damn.” She slammed her eyes closed. “Just kiss me.”

His mouth closed over hers so fast her head spun, while the feel of his lips, warm and soft and firm on hers, simply electrified.

“I was going to leave,” he murmured, dragging hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. “A hundred times in the past week I’ve wanted to leave.”

“Why didn’t you?”

His tongue traced the pulse leaping at the hollow of her throat, and her eyes crossed with lust. She grabbed his hand and made him look at her. “Why, Jake?”

“Well, if you think things are complicated between us, you should see how it is at home.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t really want to know.”

“Yes. I do.”

“That fire, where I fell through the roof…I was rescuing a kid. He’s suspected of starting the fire.”

“Oh my God, a kid?”

“A teen. And now he’s suing me and the department and the city and the state and probably God, too.”

“You saved his life and he’s suing?”

“Yeah. And when I got out of the hospital, the press was having a field day on me, my shoulder was killing me, I was getting broker and broker, and…”

“And you needed out.”

“I needed out.” He sighed. “And now here I stay until I can go back to work.”

She looked at his shoulder. “You’re not ready.”

“Not yet.”

In his eyes, she saw what he didn’t say, that he feared he might never be ready again, and her heart broke for him.

“Maybe you should take better care of me,” he said softly.

“Back to that pampering thing, are we?”

A slow grin tugged at his mouth as he crowded into her space again, leaning in, lips parted, eyes dark and sexy, but a knock at the door, just behind her back, made them both jump.

Michael poked his head in, bumping the door into them. Callie dropped her arm from Jake, but Jake was much slower to pull free. His shirt was askew from her hands, her hair messed from his, and guilt flashed through her for reasons that made no sense.

“Did I interrupt something?” Michael asked, his welcoming smile gone.

“I’m just surprised to see you.” Callie glanced at Jake, who’d turned his back now, jamming his hands in his pockets, looking out the window. “What brings you out here this late?”

“You seemed down on the phone earlier. I brought you dessert.” He eyed Jake, then Callie again, and held up a gallon of Rocky Road ice cream. “Thought I’d cheer you up.”

It was so awkward, Callie couldn’t stand it, but she forced a smile. “Thanks. Ice cream is always appreciated. Jake? Do you want—”

“No. Thanks.” He moved to the door. “ ’Night.”

When the door shut behind him, Callie stared at it for a minute trying to get her bearings in a spinning world.

Michael handed her a spoon. “Interesting night, huh?”

“Yeah. Michael—”

“Hey, it’s none of my business.” He jabbed his spoon into the ice cream with much more force than necessary, then sagged a little bit. “Ah, Cal. Tell me I’m seeing things. Tell me you’re not doing this.”

“I thought you said it was
my
business.”

“I lied. You are my business. I know you hate it when I say this, but honest to God, you’re scaring me. This whole thing is scaring me. Things missing and horses hurt.
You
hurt. And now you’re…I don’t know what exactly, with Jake Rawlins. Your mortal enemy.”

“
One
horse got hurt. And I don’t think I was meant to. And as for Jake…” When she trailed off helplessly, not sure what to say, he just stared at her.

“I really don’t like you all the way out here in the middle of nowhere with him.”

“I’m home, Michael. And I’m not
with
Jake.”

“You’re not home. Not with him planning on selling this place from right beneath your feet.”

She dug into the ice cream and tried not to think about that, or the confusion in her heart. “I’m going to be okay.” She always was.

T
he ranch had one full day before its next guests arrived—a group of professional cheerleaders looking for an exciting retreat atmosphere for a team-building experience.

Everyone used the day to catch up on chores. Eddie worked on the inside of the barn. He tried to move the soft, sweet, mewling puppies again, just so he could clean their area, but Tiger wouldn’t allow them to be moved. Shep sided with her, and with resignation, Eddie worked around them all, giving the protective, possessive momma wide berth. Only when he accepted the situation did Tiger come close to him, tail wagging, butt wriggling, as she nosed up for some of the attention he’d been giving her every day. “She’s aptly named,” he told Callie.

Stone painted with Jake, talking nonstop in his usual cheerful manner. Tucker worked with the horses, once again quiet and brooding, making Callie figure he and Jake had already forgotten the paint-Callie incident.

All in all though, things were calm. At least until late in the afternoon, when Marge managed to run her finger beneath the sewing machine needle while repairing curtains in the big house. Callie was good with injured animals, but at the sight of Marge’s finger and the blood spurting out of it, she felt faint. Amy was no help, either. She just stood there, mouth covered with her hands, eyes wide.

They were all just beginning to panic when Marge herself leaned out the window of the laundry room and yelled,
“Problem!”

In two seconds flat, Jake was there with the others behind him. He pushed Marge to a chair, elevating her arm and applying pressure to the wound, calmly giving directions to everyone around him. “Amy, grab some towels. Eddie, get Lou to pull out the truck. Stone, the floor—”

“On it,” Stone said and began to clean up.

Callie just sat and held Marge’s other hand while Jake dressed the wound with supplies from the first-aid kit Tucker had gotten from the kitchen. She was careful not to look at the wound while reluctantly admiring Jake’s cool composure under pressure.

Lou drove Marge into town for a doctor, leaving Callie and Amy hustling to get all the bed linens and towels changed and the house cleaned up. They stood over the dryer, folding the linens as they came out. Hot, tired, and sweaty, Callie rubbed her arm over her forehead. “I appreciate the help in here.”

As usual, Amy’s face was a study in seriousness. “Did you thank Stone and Eddie? And Tucker?”

“For what?”

Amy kept folding. “For doing their job.”

“But this isn’t your job.”

Amy snapped a sheet in the air, then proceeded to fold it like an army drill sergeant. “It just so happens you needed a cook and I’m good at it. But I can do other stuff, too.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a thank you thrown back in my face.” Callie smiled.

Amy didn’t.

Callie sighed, and they continued to work in silence until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “You’ve been here over a week now, right?”

Snap.
Amy began to fold another sheet. “Yes.”

“Do you like it?”

Amy didn’t answer for so long that Callie stopped folding to look at her.

“I like it,” Amy finally said.

“And everything is okay?”

Amy looked suspicious. “Why?”

Callie remembered coming to the ranch at about the same age, scared and alone, terrified she’d make a mistake and get kicked out. She’d have done just about anything to avoid that. “Look, I’m not trying to pry but you don’t smile very much, and you’re so quiet. Marge said she walked by your cabin the other morning when you were coming out and it looked like you hadn’t unpacked your bag. I just want to make sure—”

“I’m good.” And while she didn’t exactly smile, she did look a little less rigid. “Really.”

Callie smiled. “Okay, then.” She set another folded set of sheets in the basket. “You don’t have any reason to know this, but you could talk to me about anything. If you needed to.”

“Like what?”

Like who put that haunted look in her eyes.
“Anything.”

Amy just kept folding.

Ten years ago Callie would have done the same thing, and no one could have convinced her to talk. So they finished folding in silence, and she released Amy from housekeeping duties to start dinner.

Jake showed up while Callie was making the beds. He helped as best as he could with one hand, which is to say he wasn’t much help at all.

An hour later, in the last bedroom, he watched her from the other side of the mattress with heavy-lidded eyes as she smoothed out the spread. “We’ve looked at each other over a lot of beds today.” He leaned over the bed, resting his weight on one arm, giving her a secret little smile. “You wanna…?”

“No,” she said quickly.

“How do you know what I was going to say?”

“Okay.” She folded her arms. “What were you going to say?”

He grinned. “You wanna lock the door and have your merry way with me?”

Her body tingled. Yes. “No.
Double
no.”

He leaned in even closer, lightly tugging on the wayward strand of her hair that was forever escaping its band. “Did you know your pupils dilate when you lie?”

She threw a pillow at him, and he laughed. But he backed off, and when she was done she thought about that.

He walks away.

She thought about that the rest of the evening, through dinner, through visiting Marge in her cabin with her new six stitches, through talking to Stone and Eddie while they fed the animals. By that night she’d have thought she’d fall into bed exhausted, but instead she found herself uncomfortably wide awake and unable to sleep.

She kicked off her covers, pulled her jeans and T-shirt back on, and headed outside. A few cabins down, Lou sat on his front porch, nursing on a long neck. She sat next to him, tipped her head back, and eyed the stars. “You okay?”

“I went to Roger’s for my final paycheck. When I got back here, Roger called. More tools are missing. They think I stole them while I was there.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah. But customers have been asking for me, wanting only me to work on their car. My guess is that Tony feels threatened. He wants to make sure I can’t come back.”

“Oh, Lou. What can I do to help?”

“Know a cheap attorney?”

She shook her head, and he shook his. “The truth’ll come out,” he said with a sigh.

“It will,” she said fiercely, and hugged him, aching for both him and Marge.

Lou went back inside his cabin and Callie moved across the yard toward the big house and her office. Goose came running. “I don’t have a snack,” she said in apology, but patted the goose’s head before moving on. Eddie sat on the back porch of the big house, smoking. Seemed it was a restless night for a lot of them. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

He exhaled smoke and didn’t look at her. “Don’t ask unless you’re up for more bad news.”

“You get one of those girls you date pregnant?”

He laughed but shook his head.

“You going to jail?”

Another shake of his head but no laugh, and she sat down next to him. “I hate guessing games, Eddie. Just spit it out.”

“I’m worried about Stone.”

She absorbed that and tried to hide her alarm. “What’s happening?”

“You’ve seen him. He’s drinking like our dad. But he says he doesn’t have a problem.”

“And you think he does.”

“I know it. I’ve lived through it before. I see the signs.”

She rubbed her temples. “Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“No.” He stood and tossed his cigarette, grounding it out beneath his heel. “It’ll just make things worse. It’s going to have to go all bad before things change. Trust me, I know.”

“You’re talking about your dad.”

He nodded and looked miserable, which was so unlike the usually upbeat Eddie that she wanted to hug him like she’d hugged Lou, but before she could, he walked off into the night.

With a bigger sigh now, she went to her office and pulled out her own problems, her personal files. She spread out the loan papers she’d been working on, and looked at the numbers that represented what she was worth. Not bad for a single woman. But for a single woman who wanted to buy a guest ranch, the situation couldn’t be less promising.

With a disconsolate sigh, she switched to Blue Flame’s books to catch up on some accounting. It was tedious, but she welcomed that, as it kept her mind busy.

Thirty minutes later, she frowned and stared into the petty cash box. Something was wrong. Two hundred and fifty dollars wrong. “Damn it.” She readded, and yet still came up short. A little overwhelmed by the implications, she sat back, a terrible feeling deep in her belly. Someone had stolen two hundred and fifty dollars in cash, possibly someone she knew well and cared about deeply.

It was two in the morning before she finally slipped back into bed, and though she tossed and turned, she could come up with no answers. There hadn’t been any guests around, at least not consistently. Their neighboring ranches weren’t that close, nor did they have easy access. Granted, Shep wasn’t that effective, but he did have
some
watch guard tendencies.

So who? Not quiet, brooding Amy. Not sweet Eddie. Not Stone, even with his drinking problems. Not Marge or Lou, with his ex-boss and his accusations. Not Tucker, who considered this place home. Despite his crazy youth, she’d trust him with her life. Definitely not Michael who, granted, had been around a lot, partly because he loved being out here with his friends, and mostly because he had the bad fortune to care about her too much. Not a crime in either case.

God. She was so damn tired her eyes were gritty. She needed sleep to think clearly. In a few hours, she thought wearily, turning over, punching her pillow. It would come to her in a few hours.

Once again Jake woke up to Tucker’s foot cracking him in the back of the head.

“Oops,” Tucker said, glancing back on his way to the bathroom. “Sorry.”

“You’re so full of shit your eyes are brown.”

Tucker stopped short, then burst out laughing. He shut the bathroom door, the sounds of his laughter still ringing in the predawn air.

Jake rolled to his back and eyed the door, surprised. That was the first time since he’d gotten here that his brother hadn’t slammed the bathroom door hard enough to rattle both the windows and Jake’s bones.

That had to be a good sign, didn’t it? And he’d laughed. He’d laughed a lot in the old days, when Jake had tickled him, or given him piggyback rides, or taken him for an ice cream cone with money they’d stolen from their mother’s purse.

Did Tucker remember those times? Jake hadn’t, not until he’d come here and seen how these people were a family, in the way he’d never been with anyone other than Tucker.

On that thought he fell back asleep, dreaming about his mother’s call the other night, when she’d had the nerve to warn Jake not to drag Tucker into the gutter, as if he’d been the one to do so in the first place. He dreamed about running from Moe and Goose, both of whom leered at him in the dark, their faces turning into his father’s.…Then he was holding Callie again, sinking into her heat. She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes, smiling, as she slowly faded away into nothing, leaving him all alone.

He woke up, still alone, with the sun fully risen and the sounds of excited voices ringing through the yard.

Their next guests had arrived, which meant he’d need good luck to find someone to help him paint today. He showered and dressed, and picked up his cell phone. There he found Joe’s latest text message.

You find yourself a sexy cowgirl yet?

“Yeah, I found one,” he muttered to himself. Only he hadn’t kept her, had he? Outside there were two large airport vans and a bunch of young, perky women milling around the yard, with enough bags and suitcases to boggle the mind.

Callie stood in the middle of it all with a welcoming smile and a clipboard, checking names. She wore jeans—big surprise—and a bright green tank top with her cowboy hat hanging down her back. Her fiery hair flew around her face in the light morning breeze as she directed her show.

She belonged here.

Tucker came out the front door of the big house. He dove right into the organized chaos and grabbed two armfuls of suitcases, nodding to Callie when she pointed out who they belonged to, and led a group of the women inside.

He belonged here, too.

Jake didn’t. He didn’t know where the hell he belonged.

“Hello.”

He turned to the feminine laughing voice. One of the guests had meandered over to where he stood on his front step, watching the proceedings.

“I’m Vicki,” she said. In her mid-twenties, she looked to be a replica of Camping Barbie—tall, blond, and stacked. She wore dark blue ironed jeans with a designer label that had never been meant for camping or ranching. Her blouse was silk, fitted, and also freshly ironed. He had no idea how she was going to feed pigs or milk cows in that blouse. Adjusting her designer cowboy hat on her pretty head, she smiled with her carefully glossed lips. “Are you one of the cowboys who’ll be taking us out in the wilderness?”

“Uh…”

“I hear there are wolves out there.” She let out a full-bodied shiver. “Sounds dangerous?” She grinned. “I love it, especially if there’s a bunch of big, strong cowboys around. Do you think we’ll hear them howl at night?”

Jake laughed. “The cowboys, or the wolves?”

She laughed, too. “Either. All of us are hoping for adventure. All sorts of adventure.”

She was cute, and sidling up to Jake in a way that felt familiar. “All of you?”

“We’re professional cheerleaders, looking for a good time.” She looked him over from head to toe, and then back again. “What’s your name, cowboy?”

“Jake.”

“Well, Jake, you’re the cutest Arizona cowboy I’ve ever seen.”

“Why do I have the feeling I’m the
first
Arizona cowboy you’ve seen?”

She grinned broadly.

“Vicki?
Vicki Henderson?
” Callie was consulting her clipboard and looking around.

“Right here.” Vicki waved. “Just taking in the sights. The
excellent
sights,” she added in a breathy murmur to Jake.