Chapter 30
THIRTY
MEREDITH
I slept harder than I ever thought I could.
I would still be under, but my bladder has other plans.
My eyelids flutter open, but a heavy weight rests across my stomach.
I’m so warm. So cozy. If my eyes didn’t feel like I exfoliated with sandpaper, my throat weren’t raw, and my nose weren’t still a little stuffy, I’d want to do something about that tingling sensation igniting between my thighs.
Calder’s face is buried in the pillow behind my head, and his chest brushes my back with each steady rise and fall. Is he shirtless? I wasn’t able to see it last night.
Light peeks through the blinds. I frown. It’s morning. Calder’s still here?
The heartbeat between my legs aggravates my bladder.
Dang. I really have to go. And I’m not facing him with morning breath either.
His probably smells like he chewed on orange peels and cedar chunks all night.
I pat his hand and inch closer to the edge of the bed.
His hold tightens, and he draws in a deep breath, sinking his nose into my hair.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I try to scoot out of his iron grip. The thoughtful water he brought me last night is why I have to leave this perfect cove.
“Mm.” His deep rumble goes right through my back, but he releases me and rolls onto his back.
My breath catches when I scurry around the bed, stepping over the photo albums I was looking through before I collapsed in a sad heap.
Calder’s shirtless. He’s got an arm flung over his head, and his other rests across his stomach.
Apparently, I have a thing for biceps. The only thing stopping his sweats from pulling down is the impressive morning wood acting like a catch.
He’s watching me through slitted eyes, the corner of his mouth lifted.
I put my head down and get to the bathroom before I wet myself. After I’m done, I wash my hands and groan. The sight in the mirror is straight out of a horror movie. Bloodshot eyes, wild hair, blotchy skin. “Oh god.”
A knock on the door makes me yelp.
“Sorry,” Calder says from the other side. “I’m gonna run downstairs to get my phone and grab us some food. I want you to get your ass back in bed when you’re done in there.”
“I have to go to work.” I missed half the day yesterday, and I have to finish getting the pallets ready to ship.
“You’re not working today. Or tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Get your sweet ass back in bed, then we’ll talk.”
Warmth explodes behind my sternum, and I catch my smiling reflection in the mirror. I’m in so much trouble with that man. How am I going to feel when he returns to Denver?
“Fine. McBossy.”
“Good girl.”
Laughter sputters out of me. The crushing sadness from yesterday is still there. And the fatigue. I could use two weeks of the sleep I got last night. But I’m lighter. Talking about Holly made me feel better and less conflicted.
I finish in the bathroom and crawl into bed. It’s still warm from us. I pick up an album, and the grief returns. I set it back on the stack.
“Open it up.”
I jump again. “Jeez, how are you so big but so quiet?”
Calder enters the bedroom. Unfortunately, he put a shirt on, but his gray sweats are still on.
Big fan of those. He’s juggling two plates in one hand, each with a calzone and a banana, and two bottles of apple juice are tucked into the crook of his arm.
He hands a plate over. “It’s an eclectic mix. ”
“Looks perfect.” I take it from him. “Eating in bed? You don’t seem like the type.”
“I can be casual.”
The appetite I lost yesterday roars back, and I saw into my calzone. He digs his phone out of his pocket and tosses it on the bed. A stream of messages lights his screen.
Alarm spikes in my gut. “Is everything okay?”
“Just work.”
“It’s running okay without you?”
He gives me a quick smile. “Mostly. Some clients are worried it won’t be for long because I can’t jump on a call whenever they beckon.”
“That’s what you used to do?” I stuff a cheesy bite in my mouth.
“For the money they were paying me, yeah.”
I knew he was working on his stuff in the office during the day, but how much? Is he getting any rest, or answering emails after he goes to bed? He’s gone for his dad’s funeral. His clients should understand.
I swallow my mouthful. “But you’re making them a lot more money, right?”
“Yep, but I can’t without their trust. I’ll return the messages later.” He gestures with his fork to the edge of the bed. “The album?”
Okay. The discussion of his work is over. I lift the scrapbook album Holly made. The front cover flops open to show a picture of me and Sawyer on the brothers’ horses. “Shoot. Sorry.”
“No, I’m glad they got ridden. They were good horses.”
“The best.” I down the juice, and he hands another bottle of water over.
I page slowly through the album, filling in information between bites. Christmases he missed. Cattle drives. Halloweens.
“Nice, Annie,” he says.
Leave it to Calder to recognize my ninth-grade costume, Little Orphan Annie. “No one knew who I was, and half the school thought it was uncool to dress up anyway.”
“The other half always rocks it.”
“More like the five kids who actually do it. What were you when you dressed up? Grumpy teen country kid?”
“Nailed it. My brothers wore the same costume.” He stops at a picture of me with a teacher. “Jenni Lynn? Was she a teacher?”
“She still is. But then she was a student teacher.” I groan and set my plate on the nightstand by the pile of tissues I really should’ve thrown on the way to the bathroom. “Don’t tell me—you two were a thing?”
“First girlfriend. Yes.”
“At least you had good taste. She’s nice. Married with three kids now.” Is he thinking that could’ve been him?
He chugs his juice and sets the empty bottle on his nightstand. There’s no wistfulness in his eyes. “We broke up by junior year. Did she marry a Carter, by any chance?”
That’s right. Jenni Lynn and her husband were college sweethearts. “Yes. So? Any regrets?” Yup, I’m nosy.
His brows shoot up. “With Jenni Lynn?” He chuckles. “No.” He eyes me. “Do you have regrets about anyone?”
“Not with anyone specific. Guess I thought I’d be more of a Jenni Lynn by now.
” I turn the page. There’s a photo of me with Holly and Sawyer on our graduation day after that fateful speech.
Ransom’s not in the photo, but he took the picture, and it’s one of my favorites.
Sawyer and I flank Holly, and she looks happy and proud.
My whole life was ahead of me. “I thought maybe I’d start my own brewery one day. I even played with names.”
“Yeah?”
I nod, nostalgia adding to my sadness. “I had mock recipes and ideas for additives, and your dad—rightfully so—wanted to preserve Julia’s work.
When I returned home after the Tanner debacle, he was more willing to add stuff like the mango to the raspberry sour.
I guess a part of me wants to put my stamp on the brewing world. My own flavor profiles and techniques.”
“Dad wouldn’t have helped you start your own place?”
I laugh, and the bitterness is unintended.
“I didn’t ask, but after I tried to do a home brew and he got all grumpy, I gave up the effort, and I didn’t talk to him about it since I had nothing to kick in, thanks to my ex.
” And I still don’t have anything. Just a deep affection for the place, the land, and…
probably the eldest brother. I smother a yawn.
“You need to rest.”
I want to, especially when he tells me to, but I can’t. “No. I need to get to work.”
“And I told you you’re staying in bed all weekend.”
A stair creaks, and a muttered curse filters in. I frown at Calder, but he’s flicking his phone screen off from yet another notification. He doesn’t seem surprised Sawyer’s here.
She stops in the doorway, wearing a reddish-brown Scandalous Vet T-shirt and regular blue jeans. She’s still clean, so she must be on call, and it’s been a quiet morning. Her gaze lands on Calder. “Oh. You’re still here.”
“I was waiting for you,” he says, “otherwise she might try to get out of bed and go to work.”
Sawyer was called in for me? “I can’t stay in bed all weekend. The truck comes on Monday, and I didn’t get the hot washes done in the tanks.” It’s almost noon, and it’ll push the malt preparation too late. Plus, it’s Saturday, and tonight will be busy.
“Packaging is done,” he says. “Washes are done. Brew logs are filled in. Bowen’s probably on the first brew by now.”
Shock cools the heat created by Calder’s proximity. When it’s just me—and it usually is—I have to prep a brew day. But the guys have already done the prep and moved on to the brew? Sawyer’s mouth falls open. She doesn’t know what’s going on either. Something’s had to fall through the cracks.
“Bowen finished the packaging?” I ask.
Calder lifts a shoulder. “He’s done it before.”
“A long time ago! The equipment is all different.” The packaging line isn’t quite fully automated, but logins, programs, and data need to be entered before each batch.
“He figured it out in five minutes.” Calder narrows his gaze on me.
“Don’t go berating yourself. Technology is his thing.
He’d have taken it personally if he couldn’t master it in under ten.
Landry did the hot wash last night, and they’re both working on the cleaning and brew today. Tomorrow, they’ll get in another brew.”
“We have the keg order going out Monday too.” I was going to do that today, along with everything the guys are doing. Did they really jump in after all this time with no issues? How redundant does that make me?
“Send me the details, and I’ll pass them on, but you’re staying in bed today. And tomorrow.” He catches Sawyer’s eye. “Let me know if she doesn’t listen?”
Sawyer’s brows tick up, and she looks at him like she’s never seen him before, but she nods. “Only because I agree. Not because you told me to.”
His expression softens to an almost smile. He rolls out of bed, and it instantly feels cold and empty without him. He gathers his plate then rounds the bed to collect mine and all the tissues.
“Oh, gross.” Embarrassment flames through my cheeks. “You don’t have to get those.”
He leans over me, pushing me back until my head hits the pillow. “Your body fluids don’t scare me away, rosy.” His gaze strokes over my lips. “Rest up.”
On his way out, he dips his head to Sawyer, murmurs his thanks, and is gone. She turns her wide gaze to me. Opening her mouth, she pauses and peers down the hallway before closing us in the bedroom.
“Who the hell was that? Sweats? Your bed? His brothers are working at the brewery? When he texted me, it took me ten minutes to figure out who it was. I was afraid for seven of those minutes that you were back with Tanner, then I had to convince myself it was Calder asking me for a favor. What happened?”
So much, yet not a lot. I tell her about what I overheard in the brewery office as anger plays over her features with sadness and regret.
“Why didn’t you call me?” she asks, her hurt loud and clear.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
She shakes her head and stretches out cockeyed on the bed, her boots hanging off. “Even if you were, you wouldn’t have called.”
“I came to you when I found out they were selling.”
She rolls her eyes. “Only because you didn’t want to face them here alone.”
Chagrin stirs up the calzone in my belly. “I don’t want to bother you. You have a stressful job.”
“So do you, and you don’t always have to protect me. I’ve been handling Bowen and his salty attitude just fine.”
I’ve been so wrapped up in funeral planning and the fallout of the trust that I forgot she’s been helping Carlos more since Ransom died. Calder and Bowen have been doing chores too. Their paths are crossing more. “Has he been bad?”
She lets out a gusty sigh. “I wish I could say he’s been a huge asshole, but we don’t talk much, and he doesn’t argue at all when it comes to anything vet related. It’s kind of refreshing, actually. He looks grumpy, though.”
“He’s been closing the taproom and still gets up for chores. Calder too.” They get less rest than I do, but I’m the one who crashed.
“Landry’s going to start joining them, I’m sure.” She pushes at my shoulder and gives me a hopeful smile. “Maybe they’ll realize they love all this and won’t fight you about selling.”
“Right.” I smile only to make her feel like she cheered me up.
They’re going to see how far things have fallen, how much money they’d have to put in, and they’ll double down until, eventually, my only option will be to agree to sell. Then I’ll have no reason to be in Calder’s life, and he’ll leave once again.