Chapter 7
Chapter 7
T he next morning Cal drove Bailey to town, more than an hour away. Bailey stared quietly out the window the entire time while Cal drank his coffee and tried to wake up. It had been a sleepless night after Isabel’s visit; it always was. Regret had a way of keeping him awake, regret and pain and worry for the future. He’d wasted a decade of his life on a woman who didn’t love him, who refused to give him children. There was no way to get those years back, no way to make amends for the damage he’d done to himself. The only thing he could do from here was to protect the remainder of his family from Hurricane Isabel.
He returned his coffee to the console and saw Bailey’s hand resting idly between them. All of a sudden he was tempted to reach out and take it, and he was both surprised and repulsed by the temptation. He was the sort of man who demanded perfection from himself and usually got it—perfect discipline, perfect control, perfect performance. So it always came as something of a surprise when some wild urge sprang out of him—the desire to hit Isabel, the desire to take Bailey’s hand and, not just that, but to reach for her, to pull her to his side of the truck and kiss her. It had been a long time since he kissed Isabel and even longer since he kissed anyone else. And he missed it, missed the intimacy of being with a woman, both physically and otherwise. He missed sharing his life with someone. Was he attracted to Bailey merely because she was handy or was it something deeper? Either way, she was off limits to him. His wedding band served as a constant reminder of that.
So deep was he in his thoughts about her that he jumped like a nervous jackrabbit when her hand landed lightly on his arm.
“I think you missed our stop, boss.”
He came to and looked around, realizing as he did so that he’d driven straight through town. “Sorry, my mind was,” he turned to face her, his glance falling to her lips, “somewhere else.”
“Hmm,” she replied and turned her gaze out the window. He began to wonder how many things she said when she did that because she did it a lot, in multiple different tones. “Who am I meeting with today?”
“Sully Langford, our local Texas Ranger,” he said.
“I’ve never met a Texas Ranger before,” she said, perking up.
Cal fought an unwarranted stab of jealousy. She was young and single and could meet with whomever she wished. Meanwhile he was old and married, a broken down has-been quarterback bent on saving his family ranch. Maybe that was it; maybe he was merely jealous of the promising young life ahead of her. She could settle down, have kids, be deliriously happy while his life stretched out before him in a yawning wake of Estralita’s stews and quiet nights on the porch.
“Would you like to come with me?” she offered.
He imagined himself as the lone old guy in the room while she and Sully talked. “Thanks, but I have a few things to do. Meet me at the diner in an hour for lunch.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, sarcastically this time.
“Please,” he added belatedly. “Although if you knew me better, you’d know that was implied. When I’m bossing you around, you’ll know it.”
“I believe it completely, sir,” she said.
“Stop calling me sir,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Were you this impertinent in the marines?” he asked.
“Subversively so, yes, sir,” she replied.
“It’s a good thing you’ve met me at this late and settled stage in my life, Major, because twenty years ago, you and I would have gone a few rounds.”
“Then I am incredibly thankful I’m meeting you now instead of then. Would have been a shame to skunk you on your home turf,” she said and slipped out of the tall truck, landing lightly on her feet.
Cal remained in the cab a few minutes, draining the last dregs of his now-tepid coffee. His right hand reached for the ring on his left, twisting it. He was tempted to remove it, to take it off and have done with the nightmare that was Isabel and their failed marriage. But removing the ring wouldn’t erase the past, wouldn’t make Isabel go away, wouldn’t change the fact that he was still married to her. With a sigh he dropped his hands. The ring would stay as long as Isabel was still his wife, his albatross, his constant reminder of a mistake that couldn’t be undone. Taking a breath, he opened the door and strode from the truck, wondering as he did so how it was going with Bailey and Sully.
B ailey was shown into an office to wait for Sullivan Langford. When he finally arrived, she stood. He gave her a patronizing smile that right away set her teeth on edge.
“Have a seat, Miss,” he said.
“It’s Major,” she replied.
“Miss Major?” he asked.
“Major Bailey Dunbar, United States Marine Corp,” she held out her hand and he shook it.
“Ah, they’re letting women be majors now. Super.”
“Yes, sir. We’re hoping someday they’ll let us vote and drive.”
“Oh, you’re one of those,” he said, sitting down behind his desk.
“One of what, sir?” she asked, remaining standing until he indicated the chair for her with a wave of his hand.
“A feminist.”
“No, sir,” she contradicted. “I’m merely an American who believes in equality.”
“Equal opportunity does not mean equal ability, Miss Dunbar,” he said.
“No, sir, I agree with you. Take us for example. You and I have been given equal opportunity, and I’m the only one who’s a major,” she said.
“Well, ma’am, I’m a Texas Ranger, so I believe I’m doing all right,” he said.
“There we can agree, sir,” she said, letting go in order to move things along. It would do no one any favors to make an enemy of this man, especially not when she was about to ask a favor of him.
“What can I do for you today?” he asked, his tone more brusque than when he first sat down.
“I’m recently employed by Calhoun Ridge, looking into some security matters on his ranch.”
He blinked at her. “Cal hired you? A woman?”
She rested her hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Mr. Langford, let’s clear something up. In addition to not having a Y chromosome, I also hold a degree in Operations Research from the Naval Academy where I graduated with honors and distinction after being in the top ten percent of my class. I have served in three active duty combat scenarios overseas, participated in more classified missions than you have teeth, and have eleven confirmed kills to my name. I’m an expert marksman, and I can fly both an airplane and a helicopter. So if you would like to discuss which brand of makeup I prefer or maybe find out how I like to wear my hair or which shopping mall interests me most, I’m happy to do that at a later time. For now, maybe we could stick to the reason I’m here and talk about my job.”
“You’re a mite touchy about your gender, Miss Dunbar,” he said.
“No, Ranger Langford, I’m a mite touchy about everything,” she said. She pulled out her notebook and plopped it on the table between them. “I’ve been surveying the ranch and taking notes, and I have some questions I’d like you to answer.”
“I don’t think you said the magic word,” he replied, and all of a sudden she realized he was flirting with her.
“Oh, geez,” she said, pressing her thumb between her eyes to push back the encroaching headache. She could feel her blood pressure rising perilously. “Dismemberment, how’s that for a word?”
“Tsk,” he made a noise of disapproval, shaking his head. “All that passion and anger needs a proper channel, Major Dunbar.”
“Is this real life? I come to you as a professional and you treat the meeting like a speed dating session.”
“No one said the two had to be mutually exclusive. Have lunch with me, and we’ll talk all you want about your little project on the ranch.”
“I’m already committed to lunch with Mr. Ridge, thank the good Lord.”
“Cal won’t mind, he’s a friend of mine.”
“My condolences to him,” she said, and he laughed.
Bailey gathered her notebook and stood.
“Wait, we never got to have our little talk,” he said, still smiling at her in the aggravating way.
“Forget it. I’ll handle it myself,” she said and without waiting for a response stalked out the front door, slamming it so hard behind her the glass rattled.
Once on the street she rounded the corner and sat on a bench, breathing deeply to get herself back under control. Spots popped behind her closed eyes, and she figured her blood pressure was in or beyond the danger zone by now. The seat beside her squeaked. She braced herself in case it was the obnoxious ranger.
“Everything all right, little bit?” Cal asked.
Bailey opened her eyes and looked up at him. He frowned. “Hey there, what’s wrong?” The concern in his tone was genuine, and she could feel her blood beginning to recede back from her brain to where it was supposed to be. She took another deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Sometimes, Mr. Ridge, it’s very frustrating to have an outside that doesn’t match my inside, to constantly have to prove myself to everyone, to be looked at as little, helpless, and cute. Men seem to believe if I’m not interested in them I must be a lesbian because of course it couldn’t be that I simply want to do my job with no distractions. I can’t be soft or show any emotion without being dismissed as a little girl. I can’t be hard and unyielding without being branded a feminist witch. To always be too much of something for one group of people and never enough of something for everyone else. I know who I am and what I’m about, but I get very weary of a world that tries to make me forget.”
He was quiet a few beats before he spoke. “You should have been a quarterback, Bailey, because that was a good speech, one of the best. And I’m sorry I was one of those people who doubted you, who made you have to prove yourself. I promise not to do so again, and I’ll give you whatever support you need to do what you came here to do.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
“Stop calling me sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled. “Want me to beat up Sully for you?”
“I can do it myself, sir,” she said, and he laughed.
“I believe that you could, and I’d kind of like to see it,” he said.
“Give it time,” she said, and he laughed again.
“Ready for lunch?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“The diner is…people are going to talk about us.”
“What will they say?” she asked.
“That we’re a thing, that I’m using you to get back at Isabel, that I brought you on because you’re pretty and I want you in my bed.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding once decisively.
“Okay?”
“People will talk, sir. It’s the nature of things. As long as they don’t say I’m incompetent, I don’t care what they say.”
“I don’t think your competence will be foremost in people’s minds,” he said.
“It’s always foremost in mine,” she said.
“Very good. Keep focused on that and block out everything else,” he prompted.
“I always do, sir,” she said, and they walked side by side to the diner.