46. Audrey
AUDREY
Ridge was at the kitchen sink, wrapping his right hand in gauze, when I got home from the hospital.
“What happened to you?” I asked, entering the kitchen.
“Rough day in the workshop,” he said, turning to kiss me. “Nothing to worry about, wildcat.”
The nickname fell easily from his lips, and heat warmed my body.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Out back. Graham’s grilling. Go get comfortable. We can take a dip after dinner.”
I went upstairs to take a quick shower, then put a bathing suit on under shorts and a tank top. I headed barefoot downstairs and found the Bulls on the deck.
My pulse quickened at the sight of them: Graham’s back flexing in his black henley as he worked the grill, Holden sprawled shirtless on one of the Adirondack chairs, Ridge leaning against the deck railing, carving another piece of wood, the shavings cast out like a blessing from his strong hands.
Ella was with Dean until Monday night and I was more than ready to be alone with the three men who made me wet just by being there.
Apparently the feeling was mutual because Holden’s gaze traveled over my body, his eyes lit with appreciation.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, doc.” He dug in a galvanized tub filled with ice and handed me a beer. “How was your day?”
“Rough.” I inhaled the clean air and let my gaze travel over the field where the sun was setting behind the trees. “Had a handful of teenagers in the ER after a car accident last night. Summer’s are always bad for that.”
“Not much to do around here, I guess,” Holden said.
I frowned. “There’s lots to do. They could go hiking or kayaking. They could go rock climbing or take the train into the city.”
“Yeah but when you’re sixteen, getting trashed and making out sounds like a lot more fun than hiking,” Holden said.
“Until you end up in the ER with three broken bones and a scalp laceration.”
Holden grinned. “Until then.”
“That smells good,” I said to Graham. “Need some help?”
“All taken care of,” Graham said.
I wondered if he’d ever be less than gruff with me. If we’d ever talk like two normal people just having a conversation.
I hated the fact that I wanted him. Hated the fact that his distance made me want him more.
You can’t fix him, Audrey.
I knew it was true, but the worst part of all was that I didn’t even want to fix Graham Calloway.
I just wanted to know him.
Clearly I needed help.
“Sit your sweet ass down, is what Graham here means,” Holden said.
Ridge set down the block of wood and his carving knife to pull out a chair for me at the outdoor table.
“That doesn’t hurt with your injured hands?”
“Not too bad.” He took the seat next to me. “Thought Ella might want a couple cows to go with her horses, maybe a few chickens.”
“You don’t have to do that for her,” I said.
“Keeps my hands busy,” he said.
I glanced at his bandaged knuckles. “Looks like your hands are plenty busy.”
Holden laughed. “You don’t know the half of it, doc.”
Graham set a platter of grilled chicken on a table already filled with covered dishes, a crock of butter, and two jars of barbecue sauce.
“Dig in,” he said, taking a seat across from me.
My stomach growled. “It smells so good.”
We passed around the chicken, a bowl of potato salad, a platter of grilled corn, and wedges of ice-cold watermelon.
The sun dropped below the tree line, and strings of outdoor lights came on overhead, obviously on a timer.
They cast a soft glow over the wood table laden with food, and I buttered my corn while I watched the Bulls douse everything — even the potato salad — on their plates with barbecue sauce.
“You sure do like your barbecue sauce.”
“Who doesn’t?” Holden asked. “You have to try Reva’s potato salad. It’s the best.”
I took a bite of the potato salad then gagged when it hit my tongue.
I spit the bite in a napkin. “Oh my god… that’s… that’s awful.”
Ridge looked confused. “The potato salad?”
“Yes.” I looked at his plate, but his helping was already half gone. And he wasn’t the only one. Graham and Holden were devouring their potato salad like it was chocolate cake. “How are you eating it?”
Ridge reached over with his fork and tasted the potato salad on my plate.
He grimaced. “You just need barbecue sauce.”
He picked up one of the bottles and poured barbecue sauce on my potato salad. “Try it now.”
I did, then spit that bite out too. “It tastes like bad potato salad… with barbecue sauce on top.”
Even Graham looked puzzled. “Sounds like a you problem.”
I watched him take another bite of potato salad covered in barbecue sauce and remembered the terrible soup Holden had served me after Dean broke into my apartment.
“Did you…” I hesitated, not wanting to offend them, but my curiosity got the better of me. “Did you ever wonder if Reva’s cooking is really, really bad but maybe you just think you like it because you cover it in barbecue sauce?”
“No,” they said at the same time.
I raised my eyebrows. Okay, then.
“You going to eat that?” Holden asked, pointing at my potato salad.
I pushed my plate toward him. “Definitely not.”
Luckily the potato salad was the only thing made by Reva, and there was more than enough food to satisfy my hunger. I gorged myself on barbecue chicken, salty buttered corn, and the sweetest watermelon I’d ever tasted while the Bulls talked about the ranch and all it took to keep it running.
By the time we finished eating, darkness had settled over the fields, and they were telling me about a horse named Outlaw that Graham had been trying to break for the last two months. I was full and comfortable, the sound of insects a soothing song all around us.
“That was delicious,” I said when they were done. I moved to get up. “I’ll clean up.’
“Hell no, you won’t doc.” Holden stood and walked over to the house, then opened an electrical panel I hadn’t known existed. “Not before we take a soak.”
The lights came on in the round stock pool on the deck, the water illuminated a deep blue.
“Let’s go, wildcat.” Ridge stood and reached for my hand. “We’ve been waiting days to get you wet again.”