Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch (Gold Valley #13)(9)

Men.

Or whatever she was into.

She was unreadable on that score. It wasn’t anything she ever talked about.

She could talk about horses and rodeo from sunup to sundown. Had tons of great stories about growing up on the circuit. Laughed at a dirty joke as hard and loud as anyone. She was...one of the guys. Except that she never talked about conquests or anything of the like. And except he thought she was beautiful.

Yeah, one of the guys.

Except for that.

And except for the fact that when she’d fallen off her horse he’d felt like his life might be ending.

“Come on this way,” he said.

He swung by the entry and grabbed hold of her duffel bag again, slinging it up over his shoulder and leading the way down the hall. He pushed open the door he’d prepared for her to use as the guest room. He hadn’t lived here long enough to have ever used it for that purpose.

He stood there for a second, and marinated in the ridiculous lie that he’d just told. As if he’d ever been planning on using it for anyone else.

He hadn’t really been planning on using it for her. But it wasn’t like he’d moved back to Gold Valley to suddenly start throwing dinner parties and having guests stay. Hell, no.

She turned a circle in the generous space. Looked at the large bed and leaned over, pressing on the mattress with both hands. She bounced.

Well, she bounced the mattress, but it bounced her body.

Dammit.

“Well, this is great. Thank you. I mean, a hell of a lot fancier than what we usually get when were out on the road.”

“But not as fancy as your house, I bet you. Given that you’re trust fund people. Turns out.”

“I told you. It doesn’t really matter to me. It’s not about money or getting nice things or anything like that. It’s about the rodeo. It’s in my blood. My bones. So if they break, it better be because of the rodeo. That’s all. That’s it. And if I’m breathing, it better be arena dirt and horse manure.”

“That’s real romantic.”

“I don’t know what else there is.”

“You’ve got a big family,” he pointed out. “Big family house.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive about your... About...”

She knew about his parents, about how he’d grown up. The bare bones of it, anyway. Less so the nitty-gritty details of the whole situation.

But no one else knew about that.

He waved a hand. His loss wasn’t anyone else’s problem. It wasn’t up to her to watch every word that came out of her mouth to avoid skating too close to his family stuff. “No worries. Do you have a Thanksgiving favorite?” he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. We never really get the same thing—my dad caters it every year. We go out on Christmas Eve.”

“Well, you’re in for traditional home cooking. My cousins are pretty spectacular in the kitchen, and my cousin’s wife is really something.”

“Sounds good.”

“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.