CHAPTER 2
T he next day was Christmas Eve and even though Cal knew Hannah probably had everything totally under control, he liked her and wanted to see her again. Asher also texted and asked Cal to check in on her again.
Cal thought Asher was being a little excessive, but he was also a soldier and did what was asked of him.
Besides, it gave him a legitimate excuse to see Hannah again.
Though she was not happy to see him.
“I have it under control,” she growled, work gloves on her hands, black gumboots on her feet and the smell of fresh hay and manure surrounding her as she stood in Macklin’s stall and mucked it. Macklin was outside with a few of the other horses, so that Hannah could clean out their stalls.
“I can see that,” Cal said, standing at the open door of the stall, his hands on his hips as he appreciated the way her dark-wash jeans hugged her ass just right. The woman had curves in all the right places. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have to take help when it’s offered.”
“I don’t need help.” She tossed a pile of horseshit into the wheelbarrow, huffed, stood up straight, and used the back of her wrist to swipe a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes. The glare she gave him had his dick twitching. “Least of all from the babysitter my uncles hired.”
“They didn’t hire me. I’m just a friend and neighbor.”
“Who apparently has nowhere else to be on Christmas Eve than bugging me?”
That was true.
Cal had nowhere else to be.
He was an only child, both his parents were dead and all his cousins were in Europe, Australia or New Zealand and he barely knew them, anyway. His family had been a found one made up of his brothers in arms. Nate “Blaze” Harris, Asher “Ash” Harris, Barnes “Wark”, Roberto “Rob” Cahill, Ryker “Ryke” McKnight, Decker “Deck” McKnight, Aaron “Steele”, and Colton “Colt” Hastings. There had been ten of them all together, but Brendan “Joker” O’Shea took his own life several years ago.
It was something they were all still trying to come to terms with. To understand.
They were a team. Brothers. Why didn’t Brendan reach out for help if he’d been hurting? Why suffer in silence? And the worst part about it was that he left behind a wife and new baby girl.
Cal and his brothers all sent money to Molly for Sasha’s college fund every year. That little girl would never go without. Neither would her mother.
Besides Ryke, Deck and Cal, the rest were all married or had a good woman and were having kids. They were also all spread out around the globe, so it wasn’t too often they were all together. Hell, Cal had been the only one who couldn’t attend Asher’s wedding last year because he was on a flying mission. He’d missed out on their reunion. It was partly what prompted him to move to Colorado for a bit. Just him and his bird. His Bell 204B helicopter. He didn’t have a dog, or children, or a woman, but his Bell—or Bella —as he called her, was his partner.
“Move, please.”
Cal blinked and realized he’d been lost in thought. Hannah was trying to get past him with the wheelbarrow and shovel. Her glare was deep, and her mouth pinched into a cute frown.
“Sorry,” he said, stepping out of the way. He followed her to the next stall. “You know, I’ve done this before, too. Many hands make light work. We could have it done in half the time if we did it together.”
“No, thanks. Like the exercise. Keeps me busy.”
And it kept her from thinking too hard about something else.
She didn’t have to say it, for him to see it in her eyes. She was hurting about something and she projected that pain and that anger, not only onto him because he was an easy target, but also into her work. If she worked herself bone-tired, then she couldn’t think about whatever was bothering her.
Cal knew that avoidance technique well.
He lived it.
Ignoring her, he located another shovel and wheelbarrow, then moved to the next stall and started to muck it out.
“Do you have wax in your ears or something?”
“Probably. Why?”
“Because I said no thanks. ”
“Heard you. But I’d still like to help.”
“Go home. Be with your family on Christmas. Leave me alone. Which is clearly how I’m meant to be,” that last bit was mumbled. But Cal had impeccable hearing and heard it crystal clear.
“No family,” he said as he took a big scoop of horseshit with the shovel and heaved it into the wheelbarrow. “Just me and Bella.”
“Then go home to Bella .”
“She’s pretty quiet. And there’s no need to start her up right now, so …”
The sound of a spade being plunged into a pile of shit filled his ears, followed by the huff of an angry woman. He glanced beside him between the wooden slats that separated the upper portion of the two stalls. It was so the horses could see each other but not nip each other. She had her hands on her hips and glowered at him.
“Who or what the fuck is Bella?”
“My helicopter.” He flashed her a smile.
Her glower faded, then she rolled her eyes, grabbed her shovel again and started mucking. “Well, then go home and be with your helicopter.” She paused again and turned to him. “Wait, you’re not one of those fetish freaks who has actually married an inanimate object, are you? Because I’ve read about men marrying their cars or their blow-up dolls and other things they’ve become obsessed with.”
Cal snorted and got back to shoveling manure. “No. I’m not married to my helicopter. We have a very healthy relationship. No funny business. She keeps me safe in the air, and in return, I keep her in tiptop flying shape. That’s it.”
“Kind of hoped you’d say you were married to her, and that she was expecting helicopter-kittens in the spring.”
Cal barked out a laugh. “Helicopter kittens ?”
“Well, what the fuck else do you call baby helicopters? Copties?”
“I don’t know, but helicopter kittens implies that I’m a cat, does it not?”
She growled. “Whatever. Still think you should go home to your pregnant helicopter and leave me be. I’m fine by myself.”
“I can see that, but I’m also happy to help.”
She huffed some more, but stopped arguing with him.
Like he figured, they were finished with all the stalls in probably half the time it would have taken her if she’d done it just herself.
They had to pause to bring other horses back in and take new horses out, then once the horse stalls were done, they went to the goat barn and mucked those stalls.
Mostly, she was quiet. She didn’t start any conversations with him, but she also seemed resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere until the work was done.
Truth be told, even though he usually enjoyed being by himself, Cal was lonely.
He didn’t want children—was probably too old anyway, at forty-three—and he hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since his first year of flight school. After that, his life got too chaotic. He joined the Navy, then he was recruited to the SEALs and special forces. He didn’t have time for a relationship. And he also didn’t think it would be fair to force a woman to be in a relationship with him when he was rarely home for more than a week every few months. And when he wasn’t home, he was off doing dangerous things.
Sure, he hooked up and had the odd weekend or week-long fling, but nothing that lasted. Nothing with anymore depth than a highway puddle.
But now that he wasn’t working those dangerous jobs anymore, just flying Bella when someone needed him, he had time. He had the time to devote to someone and a relationship.
And he wanted one.
“So how long are you in Colorado?” he asked as they filled up the water troughs for the goats.
“Until my uncles are back,” she said, scratching behind one of the goat’s ears when it stuck its head between the slats of the pen and rubbed its face against Hannah’s thigh.
“Then where do you go?”
“Back home.”
Oh man, it was like pulling teeth to get this woman to open up.
And normally, he wouldn’t really give a shit. He was a closed book with glued pages and an elephant sitting on top of the book for good measure, but something about Hannah made him want to get deeper than just a puddle on the highway. Maybe it was that comment earlier about how she thought she was meant to be alone? Or her stubbornness and determination to take care of the entire ranch herself, but whatever it was, he was drawn to her. He wanted to know more.
“And home is?” Asher and Nate hadn’t told him much about Hannah, just that she was their niece, from their father’s first marriage, and she was Triss’s (Asher’s wife) best friend.
“Manhattan,” she said. “I live and work there.”
“Oh wow! From the big city to the country.”
Her brows lifted like he was telling her a joke she’d heard six million times before.
He’d never had to work this hard to get a woman’s attention in his life.
And for some strange reason, he liked it.
“So you’re like what they call a day-walker, huh?” she asked, her eyes roaming his body from the front of his jeans up to the tip of his red hair he kept slightly longer than he probably should. It was his one form of rebellion against all his years of service. He grew his hair out as soon as he retired from active duty. It curled slightly around his ears, and when he let it get too long, a curl fell over his forehead. And right now, it was too long.
“A what?” he asked, cocking a smile.
“Like a ginger that can tan. A day-walker. You won’t burn like the pasty gingers.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “I guess that’s true. Though, I’ve never heard the term day-walker.”
“Do you live under a rock?’
“No. In a cabin.”
“Does it have Wi-Fi?”
“Sometimes.”
She made a noise in her throat. “I’m going to go check on the chickens.”
Even though she didn’t invite him, he followed her.
He liked Hannah, and he could tell she was warming up to him, too.
Sort of.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
Cal confused her.
And she was already confused, so his presence just compounded that confusion.
She was sad because she had nowhere to be for Christmas and was alone. And yet, this sexy redheaded SEAL with the scars all over his freckled hands, and green eyes the color of spinach, wouldn’t leave her alone.
Maybe it was because his presence was at the behest of her uncles, not because he wanted to be there. Because he wanted to be with her. It was because he was friends with her uncles and doing them a favor by babysitting her, so she didn’t blow up the ranch and kill all the animals.
If he had a choice, he probably wouldn’t be there, either.
Probably wouldn’t want to be around her for Christmas, just like everyone else.
Her mother and step-father were down in Florida at their timeshare, and did not invite Hannah. Her father and step-mother lived in Utah, and were having all her step-mother’s family over for the holidays. So there was no room for Hannah. There never was.
And her brothers—Will and Sam—were in Hawaii with their wives and kids. Hannah wasn’t invited to join them, either. Will said that because Hannah didn’t have a partner or kids, they all thought she would be bored and feel like a ninth wheel or whatever.
So much assuming.
Just because she was on the fence about having children of her own, didn’t mean she didn’t love the crap out of her nieces and nephews. She spoiled them rotten and was one-hundred percent hands on and present with them when she was around. There was a reason they called her their “favorite” aunt. Because she’d earned that title.
And she would have gladly tagged along to Hawaii and babysat while the couples went on dates.
But they didn’t even consider her.
Didn’t even offer. And when she brought that up to Will on the phone, he just said that he and Sam figured she’d be bored, so they didn’t want to make her feel like she had to come.
That just proved how little anyone in her family really knew her.
So, there she was, alone on the ranch in Colorado, because nobody wanted her around for Christmas. And her uncles didn’t even trust her to feed the goats, so now she had a broad-shouldered SEAL as her babysitter.
There was a reason she cried herself to sleep last night.
It was because this Christmas was going to suck even more than the Christmas two years ago when she broke her hip slipping on ice. At least when that happened, she was in the hospital with nurses and doctors and didn’t feel so lonely.
Yes, she was feeling sorry for herself. Was throwing a one-person pity party complete with streamers of despair and balloons of melancholy.
But whatever. Nobody was around to see it. Nobody was around to care.
And the one man that was there was only there out of obligation and probably didn’t give two horseshoes about why she was alone for Christmas.
They reached the chicken coop where the hens all hummed and clucked around outside, pecking and scratching among the clumps of dirty snow, and hard ground to find food. She’d opened up the coop and fed them earlier that morning, while also collecting the eggs. But some hens hadn’t laid yet, so she was checking for late lays. Her omelet that morning for breakfast had been rich and delicious with two bright orange yolks, a sprinkle of nutritional yeast, dried parsley and Old Bay seasoning.
“This one is my favorite,” Cal said, pointing to a rusty-feathered hen that approached the fence when he crouched down. “Hennifer.”
Hennifer did a weird chicken purr noise and Cal reached two of his long fingers through the wire and petted the top of her head. She did her purr sound again and closed her eyes.
“A sucker for affection, like Macklin,” he said with a chuckle. “Aren’t you, girl?”
Hennifer settled down on the ground until her feet were no longer visible, but not before she inched closer to the fence, causing some of her feathers to push through. She continued to make that purring chicken sound.
Hannah rolled her eyes and wandered behind the coop, where she opened the hatch to check the nesting boxes. There were eight more eggs from late layers, so she put them in one of the wire baskets, made sure the chickens had enough feed and that their water trough was clean and full, then closed the hatch and wandered back around to where Cal was petting Hennifer. Only now, more hens had joined his harem.
“I only have two hands, ladies.” His raspy chuckle made Hannah’s lower belly do a little flutter.
He was now petting two hens while the another tried to inch her way into the queue.
“You might need to join in,” he said, glancing up at her. “They’re pretty persistent.”
She rolled her eyes again, but set down the egg basket and crouched beside him, reaching her hands through the wire fence. Another chicken approached, so now they were each petting two.
“You’re making Yolko Ono and Feather Locklear very happy.” He turned to face her, which caused his knee to bump into hers.
Another flutter in her belly.
She gave him a look. “You know them all by name?”
“Don’t you?”
“No.”
“Chickens are as individual as horses and humans. You just need to get to know them. Like Feather Locklear is a bit of a bitch. She can be really bossy and act like she owns the coop. Hennifer here is a pushover and lets any chicken take her feed or shove her out of the way. She needs to learn how to stand up for herself.”
“And yet, she’s your favorite?”
“I like an underdog. What can I say? She’s also the sweetest of the bunch. Very affectionate.”
“Okaay.” All of a sudden, Hannah wasn’t so keen on petting a farmyard bully and glared at Feather Locklear, as she redirected the majority of her attention to Yolko Ono. “And what about the other one you’re petting? What’s she like?”
“Who? Gwyneth Poultry?”
Hannah snorted. “If that’s the one whose head you’re scratching with your left hand, then yes.”
“Well, Gwyneth can be a little impatient. She bulldozed right into Hennifer and tried to push Hennifer out of the way, which Hennifer was going to allow. But I put my other hand in and Gwyneth calmed down.”
“It’s like a soap opera with all the conflicting personalities in here.”
“Oh, it’s worse than a soap opera. At least with a soap opera, they all go home to their mansions to get away from their enemy—after slapping them, of course.”
“Of course.”
Wait, did that mean he watched soap operas?
“Here, though,” he went on, “they have to listen to their enemy snore, and break bread with them. All while resisting the urge to peck them to death.” He stood up and grunted like a man who’d seen shit, done shit, and was in his forties, would. “What are you making for Christmas dinner tomorrow night?”
“Why? You inviting yourself over?” She stood up, as well, and grabbed the wire handle for the egg basket, shivering when a gust of icy wind swept across the back of her neck. She pulled the hood of her jacket up over her ponytail. The chickens made sounds of frustration from no longer getting attention, but eventually they realized the petting was over, so they dispersed among the yard.
Truth-be-told, she had no plans for a fancy Christmas dinner. She had chicken Cesar salad last night and planned to do it again tonight and tomorrow.
“No. I was going to see if you wanted to come over. I bought a small, organic, free-range turkey from Ed’s farm and was going to cook it up. Complete with all the sides. And my gran’s famous mushroom gravy. And every sane person knows you can’t have turkey without stuffing, mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. That’d be like having Tom without Jerry, or Fred without Barney. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Do what?” He scrunched his brows, which also caused his slightly crooked nose to crinkle upward. She’d never been super-attracted to men with freckles, but Cal really pulled them off. Which was a good thing, because his face and hands were covered in them. She assumed his arms were, too.
“Take pity on me. Babysit me. I know you’re only doing it because Asher and Nate asked you to. Or because you feel bad that I’m alone. But you don’t have to. I’m completely capable and fine here by myself. I haven’t let anyone starve, or burned the place down. I am an adult. Just because I live in an apartment in the city doesn’t mean I’m not capable on a ranch in the country.”
“Never said any of those things.”
“You don’t have to. I can see it in your eyes. Just like I could see it in my uncles’ eyes. Nobody thinks I can do this. Just like nobody wants me around for Christmas. So why don’t you just take your pity and your weird nostalgic television show choices and leave?”
Then, before she cried in front of a complete stranger, she stomped off toward the farmhouse. Bruno had abandoned them after she’d mucked the third stall and was just snoozing on the front porch. But when he saw her, and her state of unravelling, he got to his feet and whimpered, then rose onto his hind legs and put his front paws on her lap.
“I’m fine,” she said to him with a sniff, opening the screen door to the house, then pushing open the wooden one.
She didn’t bother to look behind her before the door closed.
But as she was wiping her eyes with her thumbs, having put the eggs into the fridge, she heard the telltale rumble of Cal’s truck, followed by the crunch of gravel beneath the tires.
She knew he wouldn’t be any different from everyone else.
Nobody wanted to be with her.
It was why she couldn’t hang onto a boyfriend and why her parents and siblings had nothing to do with her. She was too much.
She knew she could be a tough pill to swallow sometimes. She’d always been someone who spoke her mind, paid little attention to filtering herself, and dealt with problems head-on. She didn’t shy away from confrontation. But because she didn’t shy away from it, her family thought she liked it.
That wasn’t the case at all.
She simply knew when it was necessary and how to handle herself.
Maybe she was a tad aggressive sometimes with her approach, but she’d always been a blunt person.
But a person who got shit done.
In her opinion, anybody who liked confrontation was weird and wrong and needed medical help.
There was a significant difference between knowing when confrontation was needed so you could use it to move forward, but still dislike it. Opposed to avoiding it all together so nothing was ever accomplished and everyone just remained silently seething and miserable.
That was how her parents had been. They hated each since as far back as Hannah could remember.
A big part of her thought it was because Hannah had been an oopsie third child and neither parent wanted her. She believed—and still did—that she was the reason for her parents’ unhappiness. For her family’s unhappiness. They only wanted two children, had a third, essentially ruining their lives.
Her parents’ constant bickering, back-biting and passive aggressive behavior made Hannah and her brothers’ lives just abysmal.
Instead of dealing with their issues and either going to counseling or getting a divorce, they remained miserable and non-confrontational.
It wasn’t until one day, Hannah, at age fourteen, stood up at the dinner table and told them to get a divorce because their misery was making everyone else miserable.
She was sent to her room for the night because of that outburst, but it was worth it for the discussion it elicited between her parents. Within a month of her speaking up, her parents filed for divorce and her father moved out. Both her parents were much happier now, even if Hannah wasn’t particularly fond of her step-parents.
Neither of her parents ever thanked her for speaking up. Her brothers, either. Though, both of her brothers ended up marrying strong-willed women who were a lot like Hannah. And her step-mother was also very opinionated and didn’t shy away from confrontation.
Funny how that happened.
Her phone in her back pocket warbled, and she reached for it, sniffling again and grabbing a piece of paper towel off the roll to dab at her eyes. It was a text message from Triss. How goes ranch life? Hopefully, it’s not too boring. Don’t forget that Macklin is a GREAT listener and secret keeper if you need to pour out your heart. Or you can always call me.
Hannah smiled at her friend’s message. She didn’t want to burden Triss with her problems. Triss’s life was full and busy. She was expecting a baby soon, was currently at her sister’s wedding, and navigating her own terrible parents.
So she just sent back a message that wouldn’t prompt an emergency phone call from Triss. All quiet on the Western Front. Hard to be bored when there is so much to do. Bruno is keeping me company and is also a skilled listener and secret keeper. How’s my cousin?
Triss sent an emoji of a pregnant woman. Using my bladder as a trampoline.
They texted back innocuous messages for another fifteen minutes, then Triss said she had to go do something and signed off.
Bruno had found his bed in front of the wood-stove and was curled up snoring.
She was exhausted from working non-stop since waking up early, and could have easily fallen onto the couch and passed out, but she knew that wouldn’t do her any good.
She needed to keep busy. There was still plenty to do around the ranch. There always was.
If she kept busy, then she didn’t have time to let her loneliness fester. Besides, how lonely could someone really be on a ranch with over a hundred animals on it?
The answer was: pretty freaking lonely.