Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
CALLIE
T wenty-four hours after the surgery, Mateo sleeps like a baby as I lie next to him in his big, cozy cabin bed. I never thought I’d go from mail-order bride to jilted lover to scorned woman and nurse so rapidly. I have trouble grasping everything that’s happened.
Carefully untangling myself from the massive Army Ranger, I pad down the hallway, stretching and feeling more relaxed than I have since arriving at my cowboy mountain man’s home.
Heading into the kitchen, I go through the motions of grinding coffee, measuring the right amount into his filter, adding water, and letting it percolate.
The orthopedist warned me that the second and third days after surgery are often the worst. Mateo’s nerve blocker will wear off, and he’ll need to take the pain medication he’s been prescribed, though the man’s hellbent on getting through this with Ibuprofen and Tylenol. We’ll see.
Fortunately, Wolfe and his other Army Ranger buddies are taking turns stopping by to care for the animals, collect eggs, check on plants, and ride Mateo’s horse, Duke.
Life in San Francisco didn’t prepare me for looking after fluffy alpacas, sassy goats, flashy chickens, silky rabbits, or a mean mule.
And Duke feels like an alien creature to me.
To say the least, I have some adjusting to do to country living.
But if Felicity can get used to being the wife of a shepherd, I can figure this out.
The doorbell rings, startling me, and my eyes dart to the time on the microwave.
Who in the hell would show up at Mateo’s cabin at six a.m. on a Sunday?
I can only guess. Padding toward the front door, I look through the peephole, seeing a diminutive older man with a salt-and-pepper beard down to his belly button. He reminds me of a garden gnome.
I open the door, asking politely, “May I help you?”
The man looks surprised, eyes rounding as he exclaims, “Callie Marchand. My goodness!”
“And who are you?” I ask, eyeing the man suspiciously.
He shifts his weight nervously. “I’m not sure how much McGregor … I mean, Mack, told you. Better coming from him than me.”
My stomach knots. I know exactly who this is. The corners of my mouth turn down. “Mateo told me everything, but I’d still love to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. Please come in.” I turn away from the man, walking back into the kitchen, anger simmering beneath the surface.
I hear the floorboards squeaking behind me, only turning to look at him once I reach the kitchen cabinet where mugs are stored. “Coffee?” I hiss.
“No, thank you,” the gnome says apprehensively, taking a seat at the kitchen bar on one of the tall stools.
“So, you’re Mack.” I frown.
“I’m the Mack that used to live here. But not the current one. Where is McGregor anyway?”
“Recovering from surgery.”
Mack’s face floods with concern. “Is he okay? What happened?”
I shrug. “Punched a rock, thanks to the drama from your silly letter-writing scam.”
His shoulders rise, face stiffening. “Seems a little over the top for something that obviously didn’t do anyone any long-term harm.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Excuse me?”
The man looks down, sheepishly, melting under my withering gaze. “Okay, maybe I should’ve thought things through better. But you enjoyed the letters, and I enjoyed feeling young again. What does any of that have to do with punching a rock?”
I don’t want to share any more details of my personal life with this man. He’s already invaded my world far too thoroughly, like a parasite. But he needs to acknowledge that what he did was wrong.
“Because of you, Mateo and I got off on the wrong foot in every way imaginable. We had countless misunderstandings, and we almost broke up twice in less than the first twenty-four hours of knowing each other.”
The old man stares at his wrinkled hands, fighting the urge to smile. I feel like punching something, a new sensation for me.
“Why the grin?” I bark.
“Because of me, you two met. Wouldn’t have happened without me.”
“That’s not necessarily true. My bestie lives in town,” I counter, pressing my lips firmly together.
“But that’s not how it happened. Despite everything, you two are together. And you never would have been if it wasn’t for a silly old man’s old-fashioned writing.”
“You don’t know anything about what’s going on with Mateo and me, and I aim to keep it that way. You’ve invaded my privacy more than enough, and I’m over it.”
“Understandable,” he says, rising to his feet.
“May I ask why you showed up here in the first place?”
“To see how the boy’s doing with cleaning up the place and to deliver these.” He pulls a packet of papers out of the inside pocket of his lightweight coat. “I’m here to get his signature on this cabin’s deed, and then I’ll record it when I can.”
“Oh, no, you won’t. You’re going to leave those papers right here for Mateo to record. I don’t trust anything about you. And you’re going to stay until I can get a mobile notary over here to watch us sign everything.”
“A notary?” he asks, wide-eyed. “I don’t have time for that.”
“You will make time for it,” I order, giving him the look Mama always reserved for me when I acted the fool as a child.
“Mack,” a groggy voice says from the hallway that leads to the bedroom.
“McGregor, my boy. You look like shit,” Mack exclaims, eyeing the hulkish cowboy as he saunters down the hallway.
“I feel like it, too.” I know Mateo well enough now to realize that’s as close as he’ll ever get to admitting physical discomfort.
“I was just talking to your lady friend, Callie, here about the marvellous circumstances surrounding your meeting.”
Mateo frowns. “No thanks to you.”
Crossing the distance to me, he wraps his arm around me, grimacing as he moves his bandaged and braced hand.
He leans down, capturing my lips before his eyes turn back to his AA sponsor.
“Why are you here? I thought for sure you and Trixie would be preparing a decorated vehicle for Burning Man or something.”
“Just wanted to get your signature on the deed so that I can record it, though Ms. Marchand has other plans.”
“I do,” I chime in, looking up at the redheaded mountain man. “I don’t trust Mack as far as I can throw him for obvious reasons. So, I said you or I would record the necessary documents. But first, we need a notary to witness us signing them. I’m Googling a traveling service as we speak.”
Mack runs his good hand over his face, still trying to wake up. “Yep, and we should add your name to the deed, too, Shivers.”
His words stun me. “But why?”
“Because you’re my woman now, Calliope, which means your home is my home?—”
“And all thanks to me,” Mack chimes in, ignoring me completely as he stares at Mack.
“Despite you.” Looking down at me, Mateo asks, “Is there anything you want to ask Mack about? Or something you’d like to say to him?”
I’ve been thinking about this ever since Mateo’s surgery, ever since perusing the notebook. Knowing that at some point, I’d have this man on the phone. I never thought it would be in person, though.
My mind feels scrambled, still so early in the morning.
“What you did hurt a lot of women’s feelings, including my own.
And Mateo has had to pay the price for all of it.
You’re a coward, Mack, for making him clean up after you, and what you did was repugnant.
Why did you lead so many innocent women on? ”
He shrugs. “Because I like writing love letters, and I was lonely at the time. I wanted to vibrate with love so that the Universe would manifest it in my life, as it finally did in the form of Trixie. And you and those other women were beautiful, worth cherishing. Through my love letters, I wanted to express that to you … no string attached.”
I frown. He makes his motivations sound so altruistic, but the pain he left behind can’t be denied. “But there were promises made. Fake strings most definitely attached. You broke a dozen hearts.”
Mack adds, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Callie. You were always my favorite gal to talk to. So sunny and optimistic in your letters and emails.”
“Emails I never got to read,” Mateo grumbles. “Though Calliope thought I had, which caused catastrophic problems between us.”
Mack shifts his weight uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry.” Eyeing me, he asks, “Any word on when the notary will be here?”
“Within the hour,” I answer.
“That’ll cost a fortune.”
I shrug. “You’re paying for it.”
He grimaces, but he doesn’t argue. “So what’ll we do until then?”
“Work on loading your journals into the back of whatever vehicle you brought,” I say firmly. “Because I plan on keeping Mateo far too busy to transcribe any more of your writings.”
“But the journals were a part of the?—”
Mateo cuts him off. “The deal I made before learning you stole my identity and used it to string along countless women. I’ll have my buddies help me move your journals into your storage unit. But I won’t spend another moment on them. Got it?”
Mack concedes, nodding his head.
Time flies as we stack the journals in the back of Mack’s beat-up white Toyota 4Runner.
Mateo refuses to sit this process out despite my numerous warnings.
By the end, I can tell the Ranger is in pain, though he hides it well.
I heat a plate of tamales for him and get him a glass of sweet tea and a couple of Tylenol as we wait at the kitchen bar.
Finally, the notary shows, and we work through the paperwork quickly and efficiently. There’s no way I’m going to let Mack scam me or Mateo any further. After everything’s complete, the old man beelines for the door, clearly anxious to escape.
Mateo follows him, face unreadable as he pats him on the back and says, “Thank you again for everything you did to help me get sober. But what you did on Mountain Mates was unforgivable. I’d better never catch you using my photo or information for dating purposes again. Or anybody else’s for that matter.”