Chapter 10 A Reason to Try
A Reason to Try
? New For Me - Peytan Porter
Callie
My heavy eyelids blink open as I adjust to the early morning light streaming in through the gossamer curtains in an unfamiliar place.
In the absence of a blaring car alarm or traffic whooshing by, it takes me a moment to get my bearings.
I can't see my breath in the chilly morning breeze, nor is my back stiff from a partially deflated air mattress.
Instead of shivering in my meager sleeping bag, I'm perfectly warm under a plush duvet that smells faintly like leather and amber. There’s a rooster crowing somewhere off in the distance, and the room is bathed in the warm glow of the rising sun.
Memories of the night before come rushing back in waves.
Jaxon finding me in my car.
The way he swept me into his arms and whisked me off to the ranch.
The almost kiss.
My hand wanders to my untouched lips. A cascade of warmth skitters across my skin at the thought of what it would be like to kiss Jaxon Hayes. Would it be slow and deliberate, the way he held me in his arms and led me around the dance floor the night we met?
I slip out of bed and pad to the window, marveling at the way the sun crests over the hills, casting an enchanting glow over the pasture beyond the fence. Two horses gallop through the field, their manes blowing on the breeze as their thundering hooves fade into the distance.
If this is a dream, let me never wake up.
My stomach growls, interrupting the quiet contemplation.
I dress quickly in a pair of leggings and an oversized knit sweater, and finger-comb my hair.
Last night, after a long debate, I settled for a hot shower before bed instead of the long soak in the glorious clawfoot tub I really wanted.
I passed out before I had time to dry my hair, so I’ll be rocking the messy look today.
Nobody needs to know it wasn’t intentional.
When I make it to the kitchen, Jaxon’s leaning against the island, looking freshly showered. The way this man wears a pair of bootcut jeans should be criminal.
“Morning,” he says in a deep, gravelly voice. “Sleep well?”
“Better than I have in a long time,” I admit.
He pushes away from the counter and hands me a Whispering Oaks Ranch-branded coffee mug. “One cream and two sugars, right?”
My head snaps up as he correctly guesses my coffee preference. “How did you—”
“I have a degree in accounting. I know how to put two and two together.”
“Bullshit. Are you some kind of stalker?”
He laughs with his own coffee halfway to his mouth. Black, by the looks of it. “I read the label on your cup the last time I was at the library.”
“Oh. That makes way more sense.”
He pushes away from the counter, heading straight for the fridge. “Hungry? I was just about to make breakfast.”
“You cook?”
“Learned from the best.” He pulls a carton of eggs and a pound of bacon from the fridge and sets them on the island beside a loaf of sourdough from Catalano’s. “That reminds me. Mama wanted me to invite you to our family dinner next Sunday.”
“Family dinner? Like… with your whole family?”
He places a frying pan on the stove and turns on the element. “That’s usually what family dinner means.”
“I wouldn’t know.” The words slip out before I can stop them. I glance down at the floor, gaze unfocused, clutching the coffee cup like it might stop me from spiraling.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Callie.”
“No. It’s fine. You didn’t know.”
He reaches me in two strides, taking the coffee from my hand and depositing it on the counter. Before I have time to register what’s happening, he’s pulling me into a hug. My hands move of their own accord, returning the gentle embrace.
“I knew.”
“How? Did Mo tell you?”
He pulls back, gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Two and two together, remember?”
I can tell there’s something more he’s not saying, but as our eyes meet and hold for a long moment, my brain short-circuits.
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.
Too soon, his hand drops away, and he clears his throat. “How do you like your eggs?”
I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. “Runny.”
“Do you like bacon?”
“Does the tin man have a sheet metal cock?”
Jaxon throws his head back laughing. “Now that you mention it…”
“The math checks out?”
He points at me with the end of a spatula. “Exactly.”
One after the other, he cracks two eggs into the hot skillet one-handed without any shells falling into the pan.
Am I in heat? Why was that so hot?
“You’ll have to be careful what you say around Emmy Lou. She’ll have you shoving your entire life savings into her swear jar if you’re not careful.”
I’d already heard all about Emmy’s swear jar from Evie at one of our book club meetings. I make a mental note to temper my language around little ears. I can scarcely afford basic necessities, let alone the luxury of cursing around a child, apparently.
“Noted. Anything else I should know about your family?”
“You’ve met most of them,” he says. “And Pops and Wilder are both pretty laid back. I’ll give you a tour later, and you can meet them too.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to turn him down, but the alternative is meeting them all at once, and that sounds like a nightmare scenario for my social anxiety.
Jaxon plates our food and carries them into the living room as the delicious scent of bacon and eggs permeates the air. We eat in companionable silence across from a roaring fire as I try to reconcile everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.
If it hadn’t been for Jaxon, I’d still be shivering in my freezing car on the side of the road in Willow Valley, doing mental calculations to justify the cost of breakfast. Instead, I’m in this beautiful home surrounded by warmth with a full belly and a man who’s been nothing but kind since the moment he walked into my life.
Jaxon
After breakfast, Callie takes our plates and washes them by hand. I stand back against the wall and watch her. This whole thing feels domestic as hell, and I’m not sure what to make of it. She looks good here. Too good.
She dries her hands on a dish towel and catches me staring. Trying to act casual about the whole thing, like I wasn’t just salivating over the view, I twirl my keys around my finger and push off the wall.
“Your chariot awaits.”
“Just give me a minute to grab a jacket.”
As she heads down the hallway to the guest bedroom, my phone chimes with a message from the family group chat.
Girls, Hayes, and Neighs
Griffin: Since when do you drive a shitty hatchback?
Jaxon: It’s Callie’s.
Griffin: Oh shit. Jaxy brought a girl home. Someone alert the press.
Jaxon: Fuck off. She needed somewhere to stay so I offered her the guest room.
Wilder: Been there.
Olivia: It’ll make a great nursery someday.
Jaxon: This family makes me want to murder people.
Ruby: Is she hot?
Griffin: A hot librarian with glasses and everything.
Ruby: Way to go Jaxy.
My thumb hovers over the mute button as I contemplate the best way to dispose of their bodies. Callie returns, and she’s not wearing just any jacket… she’s wearing my jacket. My mouth goes dry as I run my fingers through my hair.
“Hi,” she says, biting down on her bottom lip.
“Hi yourself. Ready to go?”
She nods and slips on her canvas shoes. I make a mental note to get her more appropriate footwear to wear around the ranch. With any luck, she’ll be here for a while.
With my hand on the small of her back, I guide her out to the truck. Callie’s the first woman I’ve ever brought home, and the implication isn’t lost on me.
I hold open the door to my truck and move my arm in a sweeping motion with a dramatic bow for good measure. “M’lady.”
She purses her lips as she slips into the passenger seat. I shut the door and make my way around to the driver’s side.
The truck gives a violent lurch forward as I shift into gear.
Callie gasps, her hand snapping to my thigh. “Is it supposed to do that?”
I glance down at where we’re connected, grateful her hand didn’t land a little to the left, where she’d feel exactly what her touch is doing to me.
“She’s a little finicky, is all.” I pat the dashboard. “Easy, Reba.”
She pulls her hand back onto her lap, and I have half a mind to snatch it and put it back where it belongs.
She snorts. “Reba?”
“My sister named all of our trucks. She made me choose between Reba or Fancy.” I angle the truck toward the main road. “She named hers Dolly.”
“Let me guess, Griffin has Shania?”
“Wynona, actually. Wilder has Shania, but he won’t admit it. He says he’s against naming trucks on principle.”
“At least someone has some sense.” Her head tilts, and her brows knit together. “Does Ruby realize someone probably has a truck named after her, too? What with the whole country music superstar theme and all.”
“Huh. That’s a good point. I’ll have to ask her.”
I drive her around to the houses, pointing out the various facilities along the way. We stop by the chicken coop, the goat house, and the wedding barn. She stares quietly out the window as the scenery blurs past.
“It’s... wow, ” she murmurs.
“Yeah. It’s a lot to take in, but you’ll get used to it.”
I try to see it through her eyes, but lately its beauty is overshadowed by the ghosts of my past. This is my home, the place that built me, yet I can’t seem to summon any kind of sentiment for it. Not anymore.
I park outside the big barn and help her out of the truck. “This is where we keep all of our horses. We have another stable for boarding, and Griffin’s setting up a rescue on another piece of land.”
She follows me inside, where Wilder’s cleaning up Maverick’s hooves.
“Hey, Wild Man. This is Callie. She’ll be staying with us for a while.”
He pulls off a glove and wipes his hand on his jeans before holding it out to her. “Nice to finally meet you. Emmy Lou has told us so much about you.”
Callie’s expression softens. “She’s a sweetheart.”
He nods. “How are you settling in?”
“So far so good. My roommate is a decent cook, so that helps.”