Texas Thunder (29 page)

Just the steady whine of Willie's voice and his pappy's frantic footsteps.

“I have to remember,” Pappy went on. “I promised her I knew how to dance.”

“Then let's do this.” Brett stepped forward, slid his arms around his frail pappy, and pulled him close. “I'll teach you.”

And then he started to sway.

 

CHAPTER 31

It was the biggest cupcake Callie had ever seen.

“I know you said you were giving them up, but I thought you might be okay with one last goodie. It's a celebration, after all, and a party's not a party without cake.”

Callie smiled at Brandy and tried to imagine not seeing her sister tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next.

It was a crazy thought, but one she'd been having all too often over the past few weeks since she'd given Les her notice, paid off the taxes, and accepted the Austin job.

It was her last Saturday night in Rebel. Come Monday she would be long gone, headed to Austin to start the next chapter of her life. To send her off, her sisters had surprised her with a going-away party at Brandy's bakery.

She stared at the banner overhead before turning back to the monstrous cupcake sitting center stage amid a zebra-striped tablecloth. Her mouth watered and her stomach hollowed out and she thought of Brett for the countless time.

That's why she'd given up cupcakes.

Because the sweetness, the decadence, the rush of
ahh
reminded her of him, and how they were a poor substitute for the pleasure he'd given her.

She'd gone cold turkey as she'd packed up her room and searched for an apartment and turned in her last volunteer assignment to the local paper.

“That was a great little story you did on the annual spaghetti dinner,” Delilah Wickline, the editor-in-chief of the newspaper, had told her just yesterday. “And the pics were great. Why, I should have offered you a job before that Austin paper trumped me.”

But you don't know what you've got until it's gone,
or so the saying went and Delilah had been proof of that.

Callie had been volunteering for the past few years and the woman hadn't ever thought of hiring her until she'd heard that someone else wanted Callie enough to pay her.

Delilah had made her an offer then, but it had come too late. Callie had given Austin her word, and she wasn't going to break it. How could she pass up a real journalist position to stay here in Rebel and do write-ups on the senior ladies' monthly bake sale or the seventh grade car wash or the yearly chili cook-off?

Rationally, she couldn't and so she was leaving.

Even if she wasn't all that happy about it.

The past few weeks had given her some much needed perspective—namely that she hadn't stalled all these years because she'd been afraid of her own shortcomings. Rather, she'd stalled because Rebel was her home and however silly and nostalgic, she was going to miss it.

She was going to miss her sisters.

She wanted to stay not because they
needed
her to help them succeed, but because she
wanted
to be there to see them do just that all on their own.

That, and she'd gotten attached to Jenna's strays. Just that morning Jezebel had jumped onto her bed and nuzzled her as if the dog knew their time together was about to come to an end.

That small gesture had made Callie weepy for the rest of the day.

Add a surprise party and a giant cupcake and, well, it was no wonder she was wiping at a stray tear when a strange awareness skittered up her spine.

She glanced up to see Brett Sawyer standing near the counter. He wore a pair of jeans, a plain black T-shirt that read
Hooey
in white script, and a straw Resistol that she remembered from their high school days. He'd worn the hat everywhere until trading it in for the fancy hats supplied by his sponsors on the rodeo circuit.

Her heart stalled at the implication of that hat. Or maybe it stalled because he made a beeline straight for her despite the eyes of everyone in the room.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Your sister invited me.”

Callie glanced at Brandy, who held up her hands. “I thought he might want to say good-bye,” the woman added. Her attention shifted to Brett and she grinned. “Or maybe hello. Listen, if the two of you will excuse me, I need to grab some plates.”

Brandy left them to disappear into the back room. The awkward silence that surrounded them soon faded into the sound of music as Jenna switched on the CD player and Jason Aldean started singing about parties and tailgates and dirt roads.

“So what do you want?” She noted the tight lines around his mouth and the shadows beneath his eyes. As if Brett hadn't slept in days. Weeks, even.

As if he'd been as miserable as she had.

“I doubt you came to say good-bye considering we already did that,” she added.

“Did we?” He eyed her. “I seem to recall you walking away and not saying much at all.”

“There wasn't anything left to say. It was over. You knew it. I knew it. No sense dragging it out.”

“You see, that's where you're wrong. It's not over.” He stiffened, his shoulders squaring as he stood his ground. “I still want you, Callie, and I'm not letting you go.”

“You can't force me to stay.”

“I wouldn't try.” He shook his dark head. “I just think you need to make a fully informed decision before you pack up and leave.”

“I am, you know,” she said, more for her own good than his. Because her heart was pounding too fast and her hope was soaring and she was thinking that maybe she wouldn't have to say good-bye to Jezebel, after all. “I already have an apartment.”

“I heard.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “From who?”

“Hazards of a small town, sugar.” His gaze caught and held hers. “I know you're ready to roll out of here, and I want you to go. If”—he emphasized the word—“that's what you really want to do. I would never try to stop you from doing something you really want, Callie. I don't want to be another sacrifice.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you.” His eyes darkened with emotion and the air caught in her chest. “I love you. I always have and I always will. And if leaving here is what you want, then that's fine. You go. I'll just have to get used to Austin.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That if you're going to follow your dream, I'm going to follow mine.” His gaze caught and held hers. “You're my dream, Callie. If you want to move, let's move. I've got a suitcase in the truck.”

“What about your pappy?”

“Karen can look out for him. She's not going back to school, but I did get her to agree to take some classes locally. She wants to be here and I get it now, so I'm going to wait her out. When the time comes, she'll go back to A&M. Or maybe she won't. Either way, it'll be her decision, not mine. It's her life. Just like this life is mine.”

“What about the ranch?”

“Things are stable now thanks to the land sale. Pepper can handle things while I'm gone.”

“But what about your career? You're the reigning champ?”

“I've done what I set out to do—I won a buckle. I won more than one, as a matter of fact. It's enough. Tyler McCall's been waiting for a chance to step up, so let him.” His gaze brightened. “Bull riding was great. It kept me busy. Too busy to think about everything I was missing, but I'm not missing out any more. I don't want to.”

“You can't leave your pappy.”

“I can”—he touched her chin then, holding her gaze steady with his—“if I have to. But not because I'm running away. I'll leave because I want to, not because I have to. You were right about me. I
was
running from the ranch, from the idea of turning into my father. But I'm not him. I'll never be him. Even if I stay right here and settle at Bootleg Bayou. Or even if I don't. I'm not running from anything anymore. I'm running to it. I'm running to you.” His hands cradled her face, his thumbs smoothing the sudden trembling of her bottom lip. “Wherever you are, that's where I'll be. That is, if you feel the same. You do love me, don't you?”

She nodded and he grinned as if he'd just won that first PBR buckle all over again. “But I don't want you to follow me to Austin. I want to stay here. With my family. With you.” Before she could blink, he hauled her against his chest and touched her mouth with his. His tongue slid past her lips to stroke and tease. Strong hands pressed the small of her back, holding her close as if he never meant to let her go.

Not now.

Not ever again.

Pure joy rushed through her, making her heart pound in her ears for a long moment before she became keenly aware of the awkward silence surrounding them, the eager eyes drinking in the scene, the desperate ears hanging on every word.

And she didn't care.

She never had where he was concerned and she wasn't going to start now.

He was a Sawyer and she was a Tucker, and they loved each other. And that was all that mattered.

“Since we're both on the same page,” he murmured when he finally pulled away. He dropped to his knee in front of her and stared up through long dark lashes as he pulled an antique ring out of his pocket. “I found this going through the attic. It was my grandmother's ring.” He held up the gold band with a heart-shaped diamond. “My pappy bought it for their first anniversary.” He seemed to think. “But if you don't like it, I can buy something—”

“I love it,” she said, touching a hand to his lips. She smiled through a blurry haze of tears. “I love you and yes, I'll marry you.”

He was on his feet in that next instant, pulling her close. “I'm going to make you a very happy woman, Miss Tucker.”

“I'm counting on that, Mr. Sawyer.” And then she kissed him, sealing the deal and surrendering herself to whatever the future held for the two of them.

“Well, well.” She heard Brandy's voice in the background. “It looks like this going-away party just turned into an engagement party.”

“Thank God,” Jenna added. “I was afraid that hypnosis had actually worked and I was going to have to let Arnie try it on me.”

“Would you stop worrying about yourself and help me out?” came Brandy's irritated voice. “This isn't about you and your fear of commitment. It's Callie's moment.”

It was.

Her moment.

Her life.

Her future.

Brett was all three and Callie was going to spend the rest of her life loving him.

“Now stop staring, people,” Brandy quipped, “and grab a plate. It's time to eat some cake!”

 

EPILOGUE

TWO MONTHS LATER

“All done, Mr. Brett.”

Brett glanced up from the ledger sheets documenting the latest calf arrivals to see Earl McCauley standing in the doorway of the study. The gray-headed man had been a friend of the family for years and owned McCauley's Seed and Sow—the one and only landscaping service in town. He'd been working for the past few days, weeding and tilling and turning the overgrown patch where Brett's Pappy spent so much time into the viable tomato garden that it had once been.

“The rows are all done, the spikes in place.” The man sat a small cardboard box at his feet before pulling a red handkerchief from his pocket and mopping his brow. “We put in the state-of-the-art watering system that you wanted, as well as the six-foot fence to make sure the deer don't get at the seedlings.”

“Thanks so much, Mr. McCauley. I know Pappy will be very happy.”

The older man nodded. “My pleasure. Your pappy's a good man.” He shook his head. “It ain't fair what's happened to him.”

It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

At the same time, Brett had stopped regretting the past. Instead, he was focused on making each day forward the best that it could be for his grandfather. Sometimes that meant confusion and chaos. But once in a while, on those rare occasions, it meant a calm peace that stole through the house and reminded Brett of how truly blessed he was to still have the old man in his life.

Like today.

A chair squeaked as the old man rocked on the back porch. Willie Nelson's “On the Road Again” drifted through the screen door.

Life wasn't perfect all the time, but it had its moments.

Brett's gaze shifted to the screensaver on his nearby laptop. It was a selfie that Callie had taken of the two of them down by the creek that night after he'd proposed to her. They held each other close and smiled as she held up the ring he'd slipped on her finger just before asking her to marry him.

After all this time, they were finally together the way they should have been in the first place.

A smile touched his lips as he lifted his attention back to the landscaper. “Just give me a few minutes and I'll write you a check for the invoice.”

Brett had sold his touring bus just last month and had made enough to get the ranch back on track for the next few months. In the meantime, he'd followed through on his plan to offer up two of Bootleg's prized bulls for breeding to the highest bidders. The projected income would be just enough to give the ranch an actual profit for the coming year.

His pappy had been right. Brett was every bit the rancher his father had been and then some.

A fact he was no longer ashamed to admit. He was Berle Sawyer's son, and while he had no desire to turn into his old man, he had inherited a few of his better qualities. And that was okay.

Family was family.

Good and bad.

Callie had helped him see that, just as he'd helped her. She was every bit as stubborn as her own grandfather had been—a Tucker through and through—and he loved her for it. He loved the way she stared him down when she thought he was too big for his britches, just as much as he loved the way her eyes darkened when he was deep, deep inside of her.