Chapter 5
That Nervous Afternoon in Winter
Callan
I yanked off the white button-up, scrunched it in my fist, and tossed the lump of fabric on the pile of shirts discarded on my bed.
“Should’ve just put on the blue one,” I muttered.
The hanger scraped on the metal railing when I tugged off the fresh shirt. Clumsy fingers got it on, but I fumbled over the buttons until I caught my reflection in the mirror.
“You’re just picking them up from the airport.” I adjusted—and readjusted—the collar. “This is no big deal.”
I frowned at the moron staring back at me in the mirror.
Who was I kidding? I’d gone overboard on the cologne, and the get-up I was wearing screamed, “This is a big deal.” The blue-striped button-up paired with dark trousers and the boots I kept polished for the rare occasion Mim dragged me to church proved I was trying too hard, but…
Was that wrong?
I planted my hands on my hips and forced out a slow breath. Yup, it was wrong. Erin needed my support, not my dick. The stupid thoughts I had about making her fall in love with me had to be shoved to the back of my mind until she’d sorted out her divorce.
After fixing my shirt collar—again—I headed for the kitchen.
Mim turned at the sound of my footsteps. The perfectly functioning dishwasher I’d installed sat untouched. The stack of plates in the sink was forgotten, too. Her eyes popped wide.
“That’s a hell of an outfit,” she said.
I avoided her gaze. This was dangerous territory. “I can’t go into Hobart wearing my farming gear.”
“You polished your boots.”
“Uh…”
Mim’s fingernails tapped on the steel sink. “I really think I should come with you.”
No chance in hell was my mother riding shotgun in my truck to the airport. “You’ll be staying right here.” I grabbed the set of keys hanging by the door. “Erin doesn’t need every bloody Wolcott suffocating her right now.”
Mim let out a huff. “I wouldn’t suffocate her.”
My eyebrow slowly lifted.
“It’s called carin’, Cal.”
My expression didn’t change.
Mim twisted one of her sparkly chicken earrings in her fingers. “Maybe sometimes I can be a little too carin’…” She winced. She knew she could come on strong. “But Erin knows me. She’s basically family.”
“Family or not, she’s going through a lot. Give her a couple of days to settle in before you grill her for all the details.”
“And what are the details?”
“Nice try.”
Mim threw her hands up. “I don’t know why you won’t tell me what’s goin’ on!”
“It’s not my story to tell.”
“How long is Erin stayin’?”
“As long as she needs to.”
“And she’s bringin’ my little Til?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Bron fixed up that end cottage so nice. She hung fresh curtains and took down all that precious pink linen for Til’s room… not to mention all those cookin’ supplies… the vacuum…” Her eyes narrowed. “And don’t think I didn’t see you luggin’ that dollhouse out of your truck.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Uh…”
I’d gone a bit overboard with the dollhouse. The online listing had come with a box full of animal critters, clothes, and furniture, too. But Erin said Matilda loved dolls, so…
I attempted one of the boyish grins that used to get me out of trouble as a kid, but Mim was immune. Her eyes only narrowed more.
“This seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to,” she said. “Especially if it’s just… a week or two?”
Sly old chook. She wouldn’t trick me into blurting out any extra information, but it was adorable she kept trying.
“Bron goes overboard to make our guests feel comfortable no matter how long the stay is,” I said.
“Like that, is it? I labored with you for hours with no pain relief, Callan Joel Wolcott, and this is the thanks I get?”
I pulled her close. “I’m glad you’re my Mim. Couldn’t have asked for a better one.” I planted a kiss on the top of her head.
“So, I can come?”
“Nope.”
The endless green of the Coal River Valley blurred into gray as I pulled the truck onto the highway. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I was doing my best to keep distracted from how hard my heart was hammering in my chest, but my mind drifted to the same question.
When was the last time I’d felt so confused about Erin?
Her wedding?
Cole had loomed beside me that afternoon, his arms folded, heavy-browed blue eyes scowling at me in the mirror as I pinned a white rose to my suit jacket.
“You going to tell her how you feel?” he asked.
“Tell who how I feel about what?”
“Tell Erin how you feel about her.”
I snorted. “She knows how I feel. She’s one of my closest friends.”
“You’re in love with her.”
“Bloody hell, Cole. Knock it off, man. She’s getting married in an hour.”
“Not to you.”
“No shit.”
“You’re going to regret not telling her.”
I hadn’t understood a word he was saying until the priest had asked the groom to recite his vows.
Off I went. Cole’s elbow in my ribs and a well-timed cough covered up my mistake.
It was a hell of a time to realize I’d been in denial for years, but once I’d admitted my feelings—at least to myself—it was all over.
My bed turned cold. I hadn’t looked at another woman since.
Regrets? Yeah, I had one. Cole was right. I should’ve told Erin.
Now, she was coming home, and Jeremy wasn’t coming with her.
All the nerves I’d ignored on the drive to the airport swarmed in my gut like a pack of pissed-off wasps when Erin walked into the terminal.
Sporting a ponytail, jeans, and a pink T-shirt, she still looked like a million bucks to me.
My palm flattened on my chest. A big breath dragged in.
Would this dizzy feeling ever go away when I got my eyes on her? Did I want it to?
Matilda marched beside Erin. No nerves for that kid. She grinned at the flight attendant cooing over her curly pigtails and then twisted around to show off her ruffled pink princess dress. The high-top sneakers that lit up when she walked were my favorite, though.
I could’ve played it cool, hung back, and waited for Erin to search for me in the crowd at the gate. Did I? Nope. I started shouldering my way past everyone to get to the front.
“Ez!”
Relief flooded her eyes. “Cal!” She flew at me with her arms wide.
I wrapped her up in a hug. “It’s been forever since you were here.” The squeeze of her arms around my back was the best feeling in the world.
“Not quite a year.” She tipped a grin up at me. “You’ll be sick of the sight of me soon enough.”
Never.
A tiny hand tugged my shirt. “Matilda like hugs!” The soles of her high-tops flashed as she bounced up and down, arms flapping to get my attention.
I gave Erin another squeeze and untangled myself to make some space. “Oh, does she?” I smiled down at Matilda.
The little girl’s eyes rounded, and she scurried behind Erin’s leg. Bloody hell. Had my face scared her? Probably. Not many men walking around had scars as bad as mine.
I crouched in front of Matilda’s hiding place, and softening my voice, I said, “Hey there.”
One dark eye peeked out from behind denim.
“You probably don’t remember me,” I said. “I’m Cal.”
Matilda inched away from her mother’s leg. “You a…pie-wot?”
I glanced up at Erin, silently begging for a translation. Matilda had the sweetest chirp, but I’d need to listen extra hard until I was used to talking to a toddler.
Erin whispered, “Pirate.”
I cocked my head. “You think I’m a pirate because of this?” I asked Matilda, my finger tracing the longest scar that went through my cheek.
She nodded.
“Nah, I’m just a farmer. I had an accident when I was a boy,” I said. “You know what an accident is?”
“That a ‘oh no!’”
It had been an “oh no,” alright. A chain on the tractor had snapped and ripped half my face off. It was a one-in-a-million kind of accident where my stupid head had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was lucky as hell I hadn’t lost my eye.
“Yup,” I said. “The doctors fixed me up almost as good as new. Your mummy came to the hospital every day to play board games with me, even though it was summer and she could’ve been swimming in the river with all her friends.”
The little girl beamed. “Matilda like swimming.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said. “You got some fancy goggles to wear so you can see under the water?”
Matilda’s eager nod bopped her curly pigtails. “Yeah!” She shuffled closer. “We go swimming now?”
“It’s a bit cold for swimming in the winter down here.” I reached out to tickle her side, and she peeled off in giggles. “But if you’re still on my farm come springtime, I’ll take you and your mummy to the river.”
I glanced at Erin. She was looking down at me with the biggest smile and mouthed, “Thank you.”
I ducked my head so she wouldn’t see the wave of heat winding its way up my neck to my cheeks.
Would Erin still be here come spring?
I wasn’t a praying sort of man, but I closed my eyes and whispered a silent plea to whoever was listening up there.
Please, can they stay?