Chapter 23
Chapter 23
C al wandered back into the kitchen where Cam and Maggie stood talking and laughing. Maggie had finally woken all the way and was back to her cheerful self.
“There’s one piece of bacon left,” she announced. “I’ll arm wrestle you for it.”
“She cheats,” Cam whispered in a loud aside.
“Everybody cheats for bacon,” she returned.
“I’m good, you can have it,” Cal said. He sat, feeling sore and tired for no reason he could figure.
“Did Bailey get off okay?” Cam asked, his tone bordering on tentative.
“Yep.” Cal drummed his fingers on the table and stood. “Think I’ll go for a ride.”
“What is it with you cowboys?” Maggie asked after he’d gone. “Every time one of you gets upset you go off on a horse somewhere?”
“Pretty much,” Cam agreed.
“If we had horses, we’d never finish an argument,” she said.
“Now you know why my parents have been happily married for forty years,” he said. He lifted her onto the counter, resting his hands on her hips. “It would seem we have the house to ourselves. What to do, what to do?”
“We’re getting low on pie,” Maggie said.
“Woman, we have this big place to ourselves for an hour, and you want to bake?”
“Pie takes an hour in the oven. If we hurry, we’ll have all that time together to find something to do. And then after, there will be pie. Doesn’t that sound nice?” she asked, slipping her arms around his neck.
“I’ll peel the apples, you make the crust,” he said.
“You are the master of foreplay, Cameron Ridge.”
“Let’s hurry up so I can go for my doctorate,” he said, and she laughed.
When Cal returned a while later, he saw them frantically assembling a pie.
“Y’all enter a contest or something?” he asked.
“No, we enjoy speed baking together,” Maggie hedged. “It’s a sport in my family.”
“Is that a thing?” Cal asked.
“Yes, it goes hand in hand with a sport where your wife makes promises that never come true,” Cam said. He sank into a chair at the table beside his brother. “Cal, we need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk about anything,” Cal said.
“You mean you don’t want to deal with anything,” Cam returned.
“Wait, let me try. I’m getting pretty good at knowing how to handle Ridge men.” Maggie dusted her hands and went to stand beside Cal. She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Cal, your self-immolating behavior, while noble, is not conducive to achieving the desired outcome. It’s a negative interpretation of what should be a positive encounter.”
Cal blinked at her and leaned around her to look at his brother. “What’s the non-librarian translation of that?”
“You think you’re being a hero by pushing Bailey away, but instead you’re being a tool. Go get your girl.”
Cal pushed away from the table and stood up. “All right then.”
Maggie beamed at his retreating backside. “See? I totally fixed it.”
“What’s it like in your world, pretty girl?” Cam asked, tilting his head at her.
“There are fifty minutes left on the pie clock. I could show you, if you like,” she offered.
“Well, I’m not going to say no to that.”
She stood and prepared to dart away. “I’ll race you.”
“I have a better idea.” He picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her to their room.
B ailey was stuck in the middle seat. She craned her neck, trying to see over the man to her right—who was already asleep—to say a final goodbye to Texas. The seat to her left creaked. She turned to see a man wearing a familiar looking jersey. She had seen a similar one hanging in Cal’s den.
“Who’s on your shirt?” she asked.
The man turned his back to her so she could read the name. “Calhoun Ridge,” he said at the same time she read the words.
“Are you a big fan?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah, that guy could have been a legend.”
“He is a legend,” Bailey said, her heart squeezing painfully.
“Yeah, he was pretty amazing, and then he walked away, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “You know his family ranch is somewhere around here. He’s like a total recluse now. And his wife was murdered, so it seemed like a good time to pull the shirt back out. Solidarity, you know? Man, he shoulda stayed in the NFL.”
“He wouldn’t have been happy there. The ranch is his life.”
“Doesn’t make sense to me.”
“It wouldn’t to most men,” she said.
“You’re a fan, too, I take it?” he asked.
“The biggest,” she said, smiling. Her smile must have been a bit too enthusiastic because the guy leaned toward her, resting his elbow on the armrest between them.
“Where you headed?”
Before Bailey could answer, a shadow fell on them. “Excuse me, would you mind trading seats with me?” Calhoun towered over them.
The guy glanced up with a scowl. “Get your own seat.”
“I have one, but I wondered if you’d like to trade. I kind of need to talk to her.”
“No way. This is the seat I paid for, and this is where I’m going to stay,” the man said.
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks,” Cal offered.
The guy shook his head.
“How about his autograph?” Bailey interjected, and the guy did a double take.
“Geez, are you really him?”
“Depends on who you mean,” Cal said. He pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled his autograph, and handed it to the guy. The guy held it to his face like Charlie when he won the Golden Ticket. “Uh, guy, the chair?”
“What? Oh, right, right. Sorry. Good luck.” He traded spots with Cal and gave him the double thumbs up.
Cal returned it. “Maybe I should have let him stay. It looked like you guys had a good thing going.”
“Eventually things would have become awkward. Turns out we both love the same guy. What are you doing here, Cal? You do realize you’re on an airplane that’s about to fly. In the air. Off the ground.”
“I didn’t make it in time to stop you before you got on, and it was the only way they’d let me through. You know, the FAA is kind of a buzz kill when it comes to true love.”
“It’s almost like terrorism is their main concern in life. Tunnel vision much?” she said. “Also, at what point in this flight are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”
“I…” he began but then the flight attendant stood to give the pre-flight spiel. Bailey tuned it out, but Cal focused on it like there was going to be an exam later. Finally the talk was over.
“You were saying,” Bailey said.
“Sir, your seatbelt,” the flight attendant interrupted. Cal jumped to attention and buckled his belt, testing it twice to make certain it was secure.
“I think you’re good,” Bailey told him.
“Right. You left, and the house was…” His attention drifted out the window as the plane began to roll. “We’re moving now.”
“It was bound to happen eventually,” she said, squeezing his arm. “The suspense is sort of killing me here.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, drawing his attention from the window to her. “Bailey, I thought I would let you go for a bit, to heal, to get myself together. And then I would present myself to you, whole and healthy. But I realized…” the airplane had finished taxiing and began to pick up speed. Cal reached for his airsick bag and bent forward, closing his eyes.
Bailey rubbed his back soothingly. He breathed into the bag a few times and faced her. “I realized I’m already whole, and you’re the reason why. You’ve brought me back to health, back to living. Without you there I…”
The plane began to accelerate and he pressed the bag back to his face, breathing hard and squeezing her hand.
He lowered the bag and blurted a quick stream of words. “Without you there, I’m half a person, half a heart again. I need you with me, and I want you with me. I love you.” He closed his eyes and pressed the bag to his mouth again, taking a few puffs. The plane began its ascent and his face drained of color.
Bailey peeled the bag out of his fingers, turned him to face her, and kissed him, sliding her fingers across his scalp so when he reached out it was for her and not the bag. Once they were safely in the air and the bumps and jostles of ascension were over, she pulled back a bit. “Yes. I realize you haven’t actually asked me anything, but I’m saying yes preemptively because I’ll say yes to whatever you want of me for the rest of our lives. Yes to you, yes to babies, yes to the ranch, yes to Texas, yes to anything you suggest. If you want to sell the ranch, move to Siberia, and become ice mongers, I’ll say yes to that too.”
“I don’t think ice monger is a thing, but let’s go back to the part about the babies. Exactly how soon can I get you pregnant, and is there enough time to make an honest woman of you first?”
“That depends.”
“On what?” his said, his tone wary.
“On whether or not Estralita can make enough stew and cornbread for a crowd.”
“She has, she can, and she will,” Cal promised.
“Then two weeks ought to do it.”
“Do you really want to get married at the ranch?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve always wanted to get married at home,” she said. He reached for her, but she put up a hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to save that for the landing?”
“We’re floating through the sky in a metal death box. We’re not guaranteed a landing,” he said.
“Good thing you’re not about to marry a pilot,” she said.
“We all have our crosses to bear. Mine is that the woman I’m in love with hates gravity. You know when I get you good and pregnant, you’re going to have to keep both feet on the ground.”
“We’ll talk,” she promised.
“It’s non-negotiable,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Are you doing the thing where you pretend to agree with me but in reality you’re going to keep doing exactly what you want to do?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“You’re going to make me crazy, aren’t you?” he said.
“For the rest of our lives.”
“Promise?”
“You have the word of a marine.”
“Remind me what that’s worth again.”
“Everything,” she said.
“I believe it completely,” he said and kissed her again.