Chapter Seven
Snuggling into my pillow that smells like Calvin, it’s a level of comfort I’ve missed. I moved home four days ago, and he moved out to the bunkhouse.
I hate that he’s in there with the young bucks. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m a little nervous too. The amount of girls that get filtered through there for a quick fuck is sickening honestly. But, I trust Cal. It’s the girls I don’t trust.
In the meantime though, after a shitty and busy Friday night shift, I’m thrilled to be in my bed with Cal’s scent all around me. I haven’t changed the sheets. And usually I do that on Mondays, but I don’t know if I can give up his comforting scent.
We’ve texted a bit, but I haven’t gotten a chance to see him since Henry went into the hospital the morning after our date. He’s picking up a lot of slack with Murray now that Henry is officially down, mentally and physically.
Tomorrow I’m going to make his favorite dinner and leave it in the fridge so he can come home while I’m working and enjoy a hot meal without all the guys around. That’s middle ground, right?
Me: > Since I have to work tomorrow night, I’ll leave you a home cooked meal in the fridge and you can stay here until you have to go do morning chores.
He won’t get my message until he gets up for morning chores in a few hours, but I sent it. And I’m willing to meet him halfway in working on our relationship. I know a home cooked meal will mean a lot to him.
Curling deeper into our bed, my eyes grow heavy until I drift off.
Hubs: > I’ll take meeting in the middle. And a meal. And our bed. I could even meet you in our bed >
Hubs: Before you leave for the day, want to come meet the new Arabian we got at auction?
Rubbing my eyes I reach over to grab my phone. It’s not bright enough. Which means it’s too early. I must have forgotten to put the sound off on my phone. Dammit.
I read the messages displayed on my screen. Calvin is playing dirty. He knows I won’t turn down going to see the horses.
Me: Yes. You already knew that answer though, didn’t you?
Hubs: Why are you awake now?
Me: I forgot to shut my ringer off.
Hubs: Shit. Sorry, babe. Go back to sleep.
Me: Already up. Pick me up in ten for horses?
Hubs: Absolutely. I’ll even stop to get you coffee and donuts.
Me: Chocolate?
Hubs: Of course. I know what my wife likes.
I don’t miss the my wife comment. But I choose to ignore it and how it makes me feel for now because I haven’t had coffee yet. And the promise of donuts has me jumping up out of bed, abandoning my phone on the table.
I get dressed in record time, assessing the situation in the mirror. My hair is still damp from my shower when I got home from the bar so I just run my fingers through it, hoping for the best. The front door opens and I take one last glance in the mirror. You’ll have to do, Jules.
Jogging down the stairs, Calvin greets me with my coffee and a white bakery bag from Buckles and Brews.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme.” Taking the bag, I rip it open and inhale the heavenly scent of a fresh baked donut. “Mmmm. I love you.”
A grin splits his face. “If I knew all I needed to do was buy chocolate donuts…”
I roll my eyes. “Come on, I was promised horses.”
He brought me a french vanilla toffee latte and I take a tentative sip to test the heat level. Jess never misses with her flavor combos and I don’t think I could ever have a usual, because I just want to try them all.
“This is so good,” I moan.
“It’s one of her best flavors yet, I think.”
“You got something other than a black coffee?” I look at him in shock.
“No. I just took a sip of yours, because I couldn’t resist the smell filling my truck.” He pinches my side on the way out.
“You drank my coffee?” I feign being mad.
“Wasn’t yours yet. I hadn’t delivered it.” He pulls open my door, letting me slide into the seat like I’ve done so many times over the years.
The usually neat truck is a disaster. There are clothes all over the backseat, to-go mugs of coffee litter the floor at my feet and fast food wrappers fill the floor behind me.
“I know. Don’t judge me. If I leave dirty clothes in the bunkhouse they get mixed up, and there’s always a sink full of dishes so I can’t even do mine, and well… there’s no working stove so I’ve been visiting Ms. Patti for a lot of sandwiches.” He slips into the driver’s side.
“Calvin.” My heart breaks for him. Maybe I should be letting him back into the house. We can share a roof, right? “Maybe you could stay in the guest room?”
“I don’t want you to feel guilted into letting me move back in. This is on your timeline, Jules. No pressure from me, at all.”
The truck bumps down the dirt road over to the stables.
I stay quiet for a bit, thinking about the implications of letting him move home and stay in the guest room.
We would barely be home at the same time.
And if he makes a mess, I could just ignore it.
We’d be like roommates, not a couple. So basically how we’ve been living, only his stuff would be his responsibility, not mine.
Yeah, I can do this.
“You can move back. But this isn’t us back together. This is us being roommates. I stand by everything I’ve said.” I give him my best glare, trying to show how serious I am about this.
“Only if you want me to.”
“I do. But only if you don’t stop fighting for me.” My voice cracks with a little too much vulnerability for my liking.
“I promise I won’t.” We pull to a stop at the fences and all the horses come running. They know they’re about to be fed. “Come on, come meet our new horse. He’s beautiful.”
The grin, the closeness, the old habits, and now letting him move back in… this is a recipe for disaster. I need to stand strong.
The bar is packed tonight. A night when the Houston Havoc plays on a weekend always brings in the crowd to watch the hometown hero, Sanders.
While I usually appreciate the business and the crowd, I am over it all right now.
We had an issue with delivery so I don’t have a lot of food that are crowd favorites, pissing off a lot of the older cowboys who like their routine.
Dakota had to leave early, because her son got sick.
And I’m anticipating Cal to come in with the guys when they’re done working.
Jess walks through the door, saving my life.
“Oh my God, thank you so much!” I rush out from behind the bar to hug her.
She fills in for us when either Dakota or I need a night off, but I know I pulled her out of bed tonight with the last minute ask.
I just couldn’t handle the crowd on my own.
I might need to hire someone part time. At least for the weekends.
“Of course.” She looks around the full space. “Didn't realize it was a Havoc game night.”
“It is. I promise that’s the only reason I pulled you out of bed.”
Calvin and Murray walk in with the guys.
“No other reason? Like back up with your sexy-as-sin husband?”
I let my eyes wash over him. His now shaggy hair looks perfectly styled, the navy blue henley is stretched over his muscular chest, the jeans that I love so much… well they accent his perfectly sculpted ass and thighs.
“Ugh. Letting him move back in has been hell on the lady bits.”
Her eyes take the same path mine did seconds ago. “Girl, I’ve never even licked those muscles and it’s hell on my lady bits. What about the one in the black cowboy hat?”
“Murray?” I chuckle. “You'll have to fight Dakota.”
“Don't they hate each other?”
“More like love to hate? Think Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”
“Shit that’s hot. Keep me posted on any single silver foxes okay?”
She walks behind the bar taking up her spot to take orders and apparently hunt for a silver fox.
Calvin catches me staring again and sends a wink my way. God, he’s so fucking cocky, and I am pissed he caught me appreciating his body.
Pulling out my phone I send him a text in continuation of this game we’ve been playing.
Me: >
Hubs: > Glad to see some hardware back on that finger of yours. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen all day.
Me: Didn’t want any more blood on my bar. >
Me: PS if things don’t work out with Dakota… Jess thinks Murray is the sexiest thing she’s seen all day.
Hubs: And what is the sexiest thing you’ve seen all day, wife?
Me: Hmm. I think it would be my husband’s ass in Wranglers. Too bad I need to get back to work so I can’t ogle him. >
Pocketing my phone I go back to the bar to help Jess. One of the other local ranch’s rowdy crew of men just settled at the bar and this night went from bad to worse.
Calvin catches my eye, gesturing to the crew with his and I roll my eyes back. He knows this crew and I’m thankful the guys from Sanders Hollow are here for any back up I might need with them.
After serving about two hundred beers, the crowd is happily buzzed, and Sanders is getting beat up in the game. The player that has it out for him is currently in the penalty box for the fourth time this game against Sanders.
The boys from Black Key Ranch haven’t kept their damn mouths shut about Sanders all night long. Constantly making dumbass comments about how he left his family behind and doesn’t give a shit about any of us, but here we are worshiping him. The golden cowboy doesn’t have a loyal bone in his body.
I have half a mind to kick that one out, because he’s already started three scuffles that were dissolved pretty quickly with free beer.
When the player gets out of the box again, he targets Sanders once more.
I don’t think anyone in the bar is breathing as we all watch in rapture as he races across the ice, ignoring the puck, skating right to our friend.
The camera zooms in, showing his eyes and they look soulless. He’s pissed at something.
Before any of us know what’s about to happen, he slams Sanders down on the ice and we watch as his head slams, cracking his helmet before it bounces up and slams back down a second time.
His neck looks like it’s bending in a weird way and there are so many people running out onto the ice when he doesn’t get up.
A collective gasp sounds, and no one speaks. Until the Black Key crew.
“Good. Fucker finally got what he deserved. Thinks he’s better than us just because he left.” One of them lifts his glass toward the television, to our friend who isn’t moving on the ice, celebrating it.
I brace myself, because I know what’s coming. Bodies start launching across the bar at this group. Fists are getting thrown.
Shit. I can’t have a bar fight. I knew those guys were going to cause shit when they came in.
“Hey! Stop fucking fighting in my bar!” I jump up on top of the bar, trying to find the main offenders when I’m pushed off by two fighting assholes.
I land with a thud on the floor and attempt to grab at legs, pushing bodies away from me long enough that I can stand up.
But it’s a failing attempt. Not one of these men are paying attention to the five-foot-two bar owner on the floor.
Instead of continuing to fight I curl into a ball and try to get under a chair where I can formulate a plan.
But before I can find one I’m lifted into the air, and carried out.