The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(78)

“Yeah.” The volunteer umpires might not keep score, but Cal did.

Dad stood and folded up our chairs, stuffing them in their cases.

Cal finished with the team and walked over to join us with a smug grin. “Twenty-five to zero.”

“Congratulations, Coach.”

“Uh . . . good game,” Dad muttered.

“Thanks, Darius.” Cal nodded. “I know I get a little into the game.”

“Just a smidge,” I teased.

He brushed his lips to mine. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry. I’m ready for lunch.”

“Where’s Tripp?”

I pointed to the playground where Mom was pushing him on a swing. “I’ll go get them and meet you at the car.”

“I’ll come with you,” Dad said, giving Cal a hesitant glance.

“How about you guys load up the chairs?” I handed mine over before he could argue, then gave my husband a reassuring smile.

He nodded and set off for the car, matching his strides to Dad’s.

Cal was trying. God, how he was trying. But Mom and Dad didn’t know him well enough. They hadn’t spent enough time in Calamity to see Cal fully let down his guard. Their three weekend trips a year hadn’t been enough. And whenever we’d gone to Arizona, the visits had been too quick.

Mom and Dad had accepted my choice, but they were still cautious, especially Dad. He was still protecting me. He just didn’t realize that it wasn’t his job anymore.

It was Cal’s.

I set off across the park toward the swing set and collected my son and mother. Then we all piled into our Escalade and headed home. Even with every window rolled down, the air in the SUV was sticky and thick. I sat behind Cal, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

He looked miserable, and my parents’ vacation was only beginning.

Mom and Dad had agreed to stay in our guesthouse instead of the motel. It meant they could be closer for Tripp, but it also meant they couldn’t escape Cal like they had in their past visits. There’d be no space, no downtime to regroup.

I was grateful that we’d invited a bunch of people over tonight. Hopefully a crowd would diffuse some tension.

Mom and Dad thought this casual party was so they could meet our friends. Really, it was to give Cal a break from their scrutiny.

By the time we turned onto our property at the ranch, Tripp was as hangry as his mother, so we all congregated in the kitchen and scarfed sandwiches. Then Mom and Dad excused themselves and disappeared to the guesthouse.

“They still hate me,” Cal said as the door closed behind them.

“Hate is a strong word. They don’t hate you.” I walked to his side, wrapping my arms around his waist. “But yeah, it’s awkward.”

He frowned. “Gee. Thanks.”

“They’ll come around.”

“You’ve been saying that for three years, sugar.”

“And I still believe it’s true. Look how long it took you to win me over?”

“So by the time Tripp graduates from high school, they might like me?”

“Give or take a few years.”

“It’s not fair.” He sighed. “My mother loves you.”

Regina did love me. Whatever standoffishness she’d had initially hadn’t lasted long. The day Cal had called to tell her we were getting married, she’d sent me two dozen roses. And as soon as we’d made it back from Vegas, she’d flown to Calamity to spend a week in Montana, mostly to get to know her new daughter-in-law. She adored her son and loved mine entirely.

“This will be a good week,” I told him. “I have a good feeling.”

He shrugged, already putting up the wall so no one but me would see how deep my parents’ aloof attitude cut.

If they didn’t start lightening up by tomorrow, we were going to have a very long, very overdue chat about their feelings toward my husband.

“I’m going to put Tripp down for his nap.” Cal kissed the top of my hair. “Maybe lie down with him.”

“Okay. I’m going to get a few things ready for tonight.”

His hand splayed across my stomach. “You’d better rest too.”

“I will.” I leaned my temple against his heart, taking a long inhale of his scent, then let him go so he could snuggle with Tripp.

They both fell asleep on our bed, the two of them curled together while I walked around the house, picking up toys before settling on the couch to read for an hour. When the guys finally woke up, both of them with mussed hair in that same shade of chocolate brown, the caterer buzzed in from the gate at the driveway.

Our home at the ranch was a dream. The land itself was beautiful, nestled against the mountain foothills with sweeping meadows and a view worth millions. Cal had insisted on a state-of-the-art security system to keep out the crazies.

At eight thousand square feet, the house was larger and fancier than any home I’d ever had. And though I loved living here, it screamed wealth. And that scream was yet another thing driving a wedge between Cal and my parents.

They’d probably balk at the fact that we’d hired a caterer for the party instead of cooking ourselves, but Cal had insisted. He didn’t want tonight to be stressful for anyone, especially his wife.

So as the caterer assumed control of my kitchen, my parents returned from the guesthouse, settling in the living room with their attention fixed on Tripp. They barely looked at Cal, so he turned on ESPN for some background noise.