Chapter 5 #2
“I’m glad that time turned out well. At least for you.”
He nodded, a lump forming in his throat. She was so close, her body heat reaching for his. It would be so easy to wrap his arms around her waist. They were both dirty, standing in a barn littered with cow shit, but all he wanted to do was hold her and never let her go.
“Bridge.” He had to get out of this situation and break this spell she had over him. Her rejection had destroyed him once. He wasn’t in a place to weather it again. “You coming with me to Farah’s?” There. That was a good place to start.
She drew in a breath and dropped her hand from his shoulder. He instantly missed the contact.
“I am hungry.” There was still a note of uncertainty.
“I mean, if you can tolerate not having Walker beef.”
She grinned and lightly punched him on the shoulder. “Now I’m going to have to go and scope out the competition.”
“You’d better come with. I don’t think Derrick will forgive me if I don’t bring the one person who can talk cattle as much as him.”
She laughed, and they wandered to his pickup. He should’ve made life easy on himself and dissuaded her from coming with him. But he would find a way to endure being inches from her without trying to kiss her and making an ass of himself. All he had to do was make it through the night.
It was getting late, and the temperature was dropping below freezing, but Farah had opened the shop doors and fired up the electric heater. Brigit’s coat was in Caleb’s truck, but she was comfortable in the sweater she’d thrown on.
If her college friends could see her now.
She was in an old university sweater and a clean pair of jeans she usually wore around the farm, with a pair of boots that weren’t muddy.
Her clothing was snugger than the last time she’d come home to help work cattle or bring the harvest in, but all that meant was that she was the same size she’d been when she’d left home.
The food! Body-conscious Oliver and his protein shakes and mixed green salads. All were fine, but Lord, she’d missed her beef, and not the lean cuts. Mr. James had grilled a “rib eye and a spare” for each of them. She’d eaten both. Because life was too short to limit her intake to eight ounces.
She might regret that motto in the morning.
But for tonight she was full of quality cuts, she had a cold beer in her hand, and she’d been cornered by Mr. James and his wife. Caleb was laughing at the folding table with Farah and Jesse. Justin had claimed he had a late conference call and couldn’t make it.
Brigit caught herself looking at Caleb again and how the sweatshirt he wore draped over his broad shoulders and tapered down to his waist. She tore her gaze off him and focused on her own conversation.
“Black Angus don’t get as big as we need.
” Mrs. James was talking, proving she could still command a room.
Before her stroke, she’d been the sheriff, but her gaze was direct and while her words came slower now, she made them count—when she could get a word in edgewise.
Brigit and Mr. James hadn’t let up discussing sales-barn politics and Big Agriculture conspiracy theories.
Mr. James nodded. “I don’t think purebred is the way to go. The best cattle I’ve ever raised were Black Angus crossed with Charolais.”
“For a small operation like this, I think mixed genetics is the best,” Brigit agreed. “But I think it’d be interesting to see what a ranch like Caleb’s could do if they partnered with a genetics company and raised stock cattle.”
“It’s tempting to switch to stock cattle.” Mr. James huffed. “Especially the way beef sales have slowed down. But we’re too small to catch their notice. The Walker Five could get into negotiations though.”
“I’ve put a bug in Caleb’s ear about it.” Brigit grinned. “Everyone thinks he’s laid-back, but when it comes to the ranch portion, he’s interested in expanding.”
“Good for him.”
“But between trying to build a house and balancing the ranch and his job, he’s a little stuck on what he’s able to do.” He wanted to do more with this place, and she had so many ideas. But it wasn’t her place.
Story of her life.
Mr. James nodded. Caleb’s financial dilemma was the story of a lot of ranchers’ lives. “I wish I could get to more ag shows in the winter, but it’s getting harder to travel. But you know how it goes. Moore’s too small to attract much of any workshops or conferences.”
Mr. James glanced at his wife and did a double take.
The more the night went on, the less animated her features were.
“It’s past our bedtime. What d’ya say, honey?
” He didn’t wait for an answer but hopped up to help her stand.
Arm in arm, they walked out of the shop.
“You kids stay as long as you want. And don’t worry about the noise. Our neighbors moo all night.”
Brigit wandered over to the folding table, trying not to stare at the tender way Mr. James treated his wife. Her chest constricted. The Jameses were in it for the long haul, their lives and their careers in Moore.
Why hadn’t Brigit wanted that?
Right. CEO ambitions and all that—after the whole law school debacle.
Caleb pulled out the chair next to him. “Say the word and we’ll go. Farah and I are used to being up at all hours and we tend to keep Jesse past his bedtime.”
“I’m fine.” Brigit took her seat. This night was better than any bar she’d ever gone to.
Jesse had his arm slung across the back of Farah’s chair and she snuggled into him. Seeing how she acted around her fiancé made Brigit wonder how she’d ever thought Farah and Caleb had a thing for each other. They were close, but there was nothing physical between them.
Farah broke the silence. “Too bad Justin couldn’t make it, but he was always the mysterious one.”
“That’s a good word for it.” Brigit set her drink down. The others were looking at her, and just like that, any small talk skills she possessed vanished. These three were clearly good friends. She was the odd one out. Like always. Only Caleb didn’t overwhelm a conversation like Oliver had.
Caleb chuckled. “I don’t know what international marketing entails, but I think he’s really a secret agent still working out of Denver.”
“A secret agent sheep farmer?” Brigit asked.
“The best cover.”
“Remember when you two used to spy on me?” Farah asked.
Jesse leaned forward. “Wait. I have to hear this.”
Caleb held up a finger. “One, we were, like, ten.”
“Thirteen,” Farah said.
“And two”—Caleb stuck up a second finger—“it just seemed like a good idea at the time. We asked you to ride horse and you said you were busy. Clearly, you don’t know the curiosity that inspires in a teenage kid.”
“I wanted to ride horse without you two dicking around and getting me in trouble.”
Caleb held up another finger. “Three, we didn’t know how not to get into trouble.” His serious expression dissolved into a grin. He took off his cowboy hat and brushed his hand over his hair. “Oh, man. I can’t believe your mom didn’t ban me from your property.”
Farah shook her head. “Mom and Dad never would’ve done that. Mom always said she’d been around enough bad people to know you’re not one of them.”
Brigit fought to keep her smile from dying. Mom and Dad would’ve never done that. How simply Farah said it, and with all the confidence in the world.
That boy is going to bring you down with him. What if he got you pregnant? How hard would college be then, and would he even stick around? He might be staying in Moore, but it doesn’t mean he’ll stay with you. Look at Adele Cruise. Do you want that for yourself, Brigit?
Mom had known Caleb for as long as Mrs. James.
“I wouldn’t have blamed her though.” Caleb’s own grin was still in place. “I was a shit.”
“Sometimes,” Farah agreed. “A lovable shit.”
Brigit eyed Caleb out of the corner of her eye. He’d made the claim so simply. He wouldn’t have blamed Mrs. James if she’d written him off as a lost cause and forbidden her daughter to have anything to do with him, like that was his lot in life and he accepted it.
“Why a fireman?” Jesse asked.
Farah cocked her head, like she’d never thought to ask. Neither had Brigit. “Caleb” and “fireman” had just gone together since she’d known him.
His expression turned grim and a flash of pain went through his eyes.
“You haven’t met my mom, Jesse, but being responsible was never her strong suit.
Neither was parenting. I was four when we were staying at her boyfriend’s place in Fergus Falls and they both fell asleep—well, passed out—with a cigarette burning away.
And I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d each had more than a smoke lit. ”
Brigit’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God. Did you all get out okay?” Obviously he had, and his mom had, but what about the boyfriend?
“They did.” His jaw was tight, his eyes pinched.
“I woke to smoke and shouting, and I did what most terrified kids do and crawled under the bed.” The shop was the quietest it’d been all night as the three of them were riveted by Caleb’s story.
“I should’ve been terrified. The fireman looked like an alien, but I always was a weird kid and when he held his hand out, I went.
” Caleb shrugged. “When he carried me out, I felt like no flames in the world could touch us.”
Brigit stared at him. One simple question. How had she not thought to ask why he’d wanted to be a firefighter?
“Damn, dude.” Jesse shook his head.
“Yeah,” Caleb agreed. “That was the first time I was taken away from Mom.”
All three of them blinked. Taken away? As in by Social Services? Had Brigit been the most selfish friend in the universe to not know this about Caleb? Had he ever told Justin?
“What?” Farah asked, her expression matching the incredulity all of them felt.
Farah’s ignorance made Brigit feel a smidge better.
“Mom was too wasted to remember I was in the house. It was a neighbor who reported having seen a kid running around that day. I was only taken away twice before I went to live with my grandparents. I guess it’s not something I ever talked about.”
“ Only twice?” Brigit said. He sounded so nonchalant about it.
“Mom moved back so I could start school, since her address was still here. Then after I was held back in first grade, Grandma gave her an ultimatum. I live with them, or Mom would get reported.”
Farah narrowed her eyes. “Reported for what?”
Caleb chuckled. He was the only one who saw humor in any of this. “Who knows? The cops, Social Services, the IRS? Could’ve been any of them.”
“Grandpa and Grandma Cruise were good people,” Farah said.
“The best,” Caleb agreed. “Not many people have to deal with what they went through, and at the time no one understood Mom’s attachment disorder well, much less how to raise a kid with it. So Mom never got the help she needed, despite my grandparents’ efforts.”
Brigit was still staring at Caleb. He talked so plainly about his past, a man comfortable with himself. She wanted to throw her arms around him, comfort him, but he didn’t need it. He didn’t need her.
The realization sank in. Caleb had never needed her. She’d left him, and he’d followed his dreams to the letter. He was in the career he wanted and had carried on his grandparents’ ranch.
Wasn’t that the ultimate point Mom had made, even if she hadn’t known it at the time? Caleb was strong enough to be on his own, but Brigit wasn’t.
She switched her gaze to Farah. The other woman was laughing as she and Caleb reminisced about his grandparents.
The woman had also stayed in Moore and made a name for herself.
She, too, lived with her parents—sort of.
Her home apartment was a mother-in-law suite built into the shop.
But she had a full-time job as a deputy and helped her dad ranch.
Mom had told her about the hubbub over Farah’s fiancé.
Her voice had dripped with disdain, and all his heroic deeds—like saving Farah and Caleb’s neighbor post-tornado—would never redeem him in her eyes for what he’d done to Brigit’s cousin’s place.
It didn’t matter that her cousin had forgiven Jesse or that Jesse was slowly paying him back.
When you’re a lawyer, you can make sure guys like that stay in prison.
I’m not going to be that kind of lawyer, Mom.
Brigit wasn’t going to be any kind of lawyer. Looking around the table, she was the only one who hadn’t amounted to anything.