Chapter Six
I t was fifteen hours since Beth had come clean to Savannah Casey about the wild marriage proposal that had so offended her hardworking second son…
Fourteen hours since Seth had taken a seat at his mother’s kitchen table and drawn up a plan for buying her ranch while still allowing her and Sam to keep a stake in it…
Twelve hours since starting her night shift, thoroughly buoyed and distracted and anxious that Seth’s plan would appeal to everyone…
Now, thirty seconds after putting Sam on the school bus and waving him away, Beth made a U-turn and steered her trusty old pickup toward the lower pasture to check that her hungry heifers hadn’t made another break for more palatable ground.
Except that when she got there, she found fresh bedding hay on the ground, more bedding hay double stacked in an L shape facing away from prevailing winds to provide a windbreak, and alfalfa hay bales sitting up off the ground in feeders she knew she didn’t own. The water trough—one of the heated ones Red had insisted on—was full to the brim with clean water. She did a quick head count, didn’t take long. There were only fifty-two of them left and they were all accounted for, standing or sitting, round bellied, cud chewing and content.
She wouldn’t cry… She would not cry at the easing of her load and the euphoria that came with it.
She’d been tearing up far too much of late.
It wasn’t until she was parking beneath the lean to beside the barn that she noticed Cal’s truck over by the house. She found the man himself next to her woodshed, splitting wood and stacking it neatly in a nearby wheelbarrow. He hadn’t seen her yet, and she took some time to watch the play of muscle beneath his plaid shirt as he raised the axe and brought it down in one smooth movement, strong and sure. He made grunt-work look graceful, but she’d never tell him so. Her words would come out all wrong. He’d think she was teasing him. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be comfortable if she flat out admired him, and wasn’t that a shame.
Maybe it was finally time to admit her long-held crush on him.
Comparing him to Red used to be something to avoid at all costs. It had never ended well. But she’d kept her wedding vows, in deed and in thought, as best she could, and she had nothing to feel guilty about.
Not then. Not now.
Things were different now.
He’s Cal Casey, that’s all. Six-foot five of pure cowboy muscle and integrity. And unexpected sweetness. Hard not to be impressed.
She looked toward her back porch at the stack of wood that certainly hadn’t been there this morning. It was his third or fourth barrow load, no doubt. And she somehow didn’t think he was cutting it because he thought she’d be out of the place within a week.
Funny how she’d been reflecting in depth on her embarrassing marriage proposal. Why had she done it? Had she really wanted him to say yes? Would she have been at all satisfied with a business arrangement? Would she have pushed for more?
He’d been right to reject her, but she sure as sunrise was right about him being a man worth having. Had her subconscious been working overtime?
What would he look for in a partner? A pretty face? Youth? Someone unencumbered? No dead husband and a kid that wasn’t his?
And then he shouldered his axe and looked at her and the warmth in his eyes clear stole her breath. Since when had she ever been on the receiving end of that kind of appreciation from this man?
It was enough to make her glance over her shoulder to make sure the perfect woman hadn’t magically appeared behind her.
Nope.
Nothing in view but a kitchen door in need of a lick of paint, so she turned back toward him, determined to keep breezing past her failed marriage proposal and find solid footing somewhere up ahead. Especially when they might soon become business partners in this spread.
“You saw to my cows,” she said, and waited while he wheeled the wood in the barrow to the porch and stacked it in the little snug beside the kitchen door.
“You mean my cows,” he replied with a grin. “We shook hands on it.”
“Did Seth talk with you about the plan for me and Sam, and a bunch of Caseys—including you—to buy shares in this place?”
“Yep.”
Seth had secured in principle agreements from everyone but Cal before she’d left Savannah’s table yesterday. Cal had been the only one left to ask.
“And?” She opened the kitchen door and waved him in.
Except that he stepped up behind her, his arm raised far higher than hers to keep the door open while she went in first. She could smell his clean, outdoorsy scent—a smattering of hay, a sprinkle of pine tree. She even imagined the freshness of a mountain stream bubbling over mossy rocks.
Cut with the simple tang of sweat.
“Beth? You in or out?”
“Yes. Sure, I was just…” Making a thorough examination of his jawline while contemplating deodorant marketing. “Thinking.”
He took his boots off at the door—his mama had taught him well. “I know about the plan,” he rumbled. “Wanted to iron out a few wrinkles before I said yes.”
Wrinkles. “Is this going to be a conversation that requires alcohol or will coffee be enough?”
“Pretty sure I had enough alcohol last night to last me a year.”
“They got you drunk?”
“They tried. I don’t want this house—that’s what I came here to say. No one does. You and Sam could continue to live here, and it wouldn’t bother anyone.”
But she was already shaking her head. “I don’t want to stay.”
“What about Sam? It’s the only home he knows.”
Not exactly one to shy away from the thorny issues, was he? “And for that, he can be grateful that he’s had that kind of security for ten solid years,” she replied evenly. “Sam will come to a better understanding that we only own a tiny part of the place if we don’t have free run of it.”
He digested that in silence, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Was that a sign of displeasure or defense?
“Maybe Jett and Mardie might like to live here in years to come,” she offered. No point mentioning Seth who was already planted in the valley, up at the Love Ranch with Maddie, or TJ who lived several states away on his wife’s family ranch. Both holdings were far more significant than hers. “Or you. If you marry and have a family, you might decide you need the extra room.” His cabin was gorgeously cozy with views to die for, but it hadn’t been designed with a family in mind.
But he was already shaking his head. “No. To me this is Red’s house. Yours and his. I’ll never live here.”
Such deep-seated certainty.
She had strong views on staying here, too. “Then you’ll understand why I don’t want to stay either. There are memories embedded in these walls I’d give anything to let go of. Not all. But some. I want to move on.”
How could he possibly understand all the things she wasn’t saying?
She tried a different approach. “Then there’s the thought of creating a smaller, easier life in Marietta. Sam could have friends over without parents having to make a production out of getting them here and collecting them. I could join a book club or go to an antique restoration class and not worry that it ran from seven till nine at night. I could ask friends around for coffee or dinner and they might even say yes.”
There was one more reason she could confess. “I want to stop feeling like a failure.”
Cal leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes narrowed. He kept his arms crossed. Did he have any idea that his stance perfectly emphasized the breadth of his chest and the muscles in his arms? Or was it simply Cal being Cal. Either way, the man was built . Football offensive lineman style strength.
“I don’t expect you to get it—”
“Beth, it’s me you’re talking to. The one with sports champions for brothers, and another brother who built a multimillion-dollar construction company from scratch. I know a little something about feeling like a failure. Even though, in the general scheme of things, I’m not. The same way you’re not. Lack of capital did you in, and you inherited that position. Not your doing.”
She hadn’t realized how much she needed him to keep saying that.
“As for wanting a bigger social life, why is that a failing?” he continued doggedly. “You’ve identified a lack in your life, and you’re doing something about it.”
Why did she suddenly want to spill all her secrets? “I went into this life with rose-colored glasses on. If Red had lived and we’d filled this house with children and laughter… if money hadn’t been such a problem from the start… if I’d been the kind of woman who could keep his attention… maybe then I could have lived a ranching life and enjoyed it. It can be breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful out here. I know you know what I’m talking about. I love being able to saddle a horse and go riding over land I know . There’s nothing quite like tracking the changing of the seasons up close or feeding hungry cows in the snow and sleet and coming back into the light and warmth, knowing you’ve made a difference to their wellbeing.” She took a deep breath. “I get why you love it, and I know why I’m leaving—and it means a lot to me that you’re not going to judge me for it.”
“Okay,” he said. “Makes sense. Good to know.”
He uncrossed his arms and settled his butt against the edge of her high kitchen counter, a hand either side of him, curled over the edge of the surface. He leveled that piercing gaze on her once more. The one that never failed to make her feel understood, even when he never said a word.
He smiled faintly. “You’ll have to get used to neighbors living within yelling distance.”
Clearly a fate worse than death, in Cal’s reckoning. “Terrible. But I’ll also be able to swing by the shops for fresh milk.”
“Point.” He nodded. “Then there’s all that traffic.”
“Dude, it’s Marietta, not Kalispell. It takes ten minutes to get from one side of town to the other. Five if you’re in a rush. Five minutes to get to work!”
“Speeding tickets,” he countered sorrowfully, but his eyes smiling. “Cops.”
“Taxis,” she challenged. “Nights out on the town without worrying about how I’m going to get home.”
“And I could stay and listen to you wax lyrical about town living,” he drawled, “but I’m not going to. “I’m going to sling myself into the saddle and ride off into the wintry beyond.”
“Are you humming country music songs as you go?”
“I’m whistling tunefully.”
Cal Casey had a playful side, and it was dry and delicious. “Come visit us in Marietta, cowboy. You can tease me about being responsible for the worst marriage proposal you’ve ever received and scoff at the pitiful garden I’ll try to create. You can demand food in return for bringing me a load of cow manure and straw.”
“I’ll help you settle wherever you want to go.” He looked inexplicably sad for a moment. “Even though I don’t want you to go.”
“Don’t feel bad for us, cowboy. This is the best outcome I could ever imagine. Sam and I get to watch this place being run properly, finally , and we’ll still be a small part of it. Silent, grateful partners.”
“You’re sure?”
“Best deal to ever come my way.”
And for all that they’d never been touchy feely, she stepped up into his space and wrapped her arms round him and hugged him hard.
He tugged her into a bear of an embrace, and she closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest and felt cherished for the first time in years.
She could hear the solid thud of his heart and wondered what he’d do if she loosened a few buttons of his shirt and pressed her lips to warm skin. He might lower his head. Their lips might touch.
Daydreams could be so lovely sometimes.
She was allowed to take this little slice of comfort, wasn’t she? Didn’t have to mean anything. “Thank you for checking on us… and for wanting the best for us. You always have, and I want you to know that I only want the best for you, too.”
His arms tightened briefly, and then he set her aside and stepped away, taking all that lovely warmth with him.
“I’m going to join a painting class. Paint and sip, they call it, because they added wine,” she told him, because suddenly she didn’t want him to leave. Not with this uncomfortable tension thrumming between them.
“Sounds good.”
She didn’t for one moment believe that he thought it sounded like a good idea for him . “Want to come with me?”
“Er.” His startled horror made her laugh. “No.”
“I’ll look for a class we can all do. Sam, too. Something manly and tough. Metal work. Welding.”
His smirk told her he probably had ample expertise in both.
“Leather work. Saddle making.”
“Lady, I teach classes in that.”
“One day, I’m going to invite you to something you can’t resist,” she warned.
His smile was one to treasure. “Looking forward to it.”
“What if I became your matchmaker?” She’d heard he dated now and then, but nothing serious, nothing firm. “You said you were in the market for a proper relationship.”
“Did I? When?”
“Yesterday, during the rejection that shall not be mentioned, you said you wanted the real thing.”
“Hmm.”
“So, what’s the hold up? Is something wrong with your, er, equipment? Because there are treatments. Pills. Options.”
He snorted. “My equipment works just fine.”
She felt her cheeks heat at the mental image of Cal’s equipment in perfect working order, not that she’d ever seen it, but if resting bulges were any indication, Cal Casey was packing plenty. “So, is it a matter of, uh, preferences? Because if you mentioned what it is you’re specifically looking for, people might be able to help.”
“Plenty of people already know my preferences. Apparently.”
“ I could help if I knew what you wanted.”
He pinned her with his gaze again and she fidgeted and turned away rather than wear it. “Beth Ann Evans, are you planning to pimp me out? Because I gotta say my brothers have tried and it never ends well for them. Think of me as an acquired taste.”
Well, she would now .
“I’m not handsome.”
“You’re very rugged.”
“I’m a big guy. There’s a lot of me to handle.”
Her eyes widened. Was he talking about… Did it even matter what he was talking about?
“Sometimes that can make people nervous. Me included.”
Funny how she was suddenly thirsty. “How enlightening. So, you’d prefer a woman of substance, maybe. On the larger side?”
He shrugged. “Could be more comfortable for everyone involved.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for a six-foot Amazonian for you. And for the record, I’ve never felt intimidated by your size. That crouch you do around little kids is very cute. That and removing your hat. Very John Wayne.”
“Tends to stop the crying,” he offered dryly.
“Do you like to cook? Would your partner need to be a good cook? Or are you mostly a food is fuel kind of guy and anything will do?”
“The second one.”
“Bet you like your mom’s cookies.” She knew he did.
“They were her secret weapon throughout my childhood. Mere mention of ice-cream cookie sandwiches could get every one of us to behave for at least twenty minutes. I have all her recipes and I know how to use them.”
“I’m just going to mark down your future partner as being capable in the kitchen. Who knows—if they like baking, they might even turn you on to chocolate brownies or apple pie.”
“I do like your cherry chocolate brownies.”
Magnanimous of him. She had a tray of brownies in the freezer she could fish out, and why not? It wasn’t every day she sold a ranch and gained a whole new outlook on life. She retrieved it and put it in a carry bag and handed it to him. “Take that one with you. What else do you look for in a woman?”
“Someone who knows what it takes to be a rancher’s wife. Doesn’t matter how they came by their knowledge, just that they know what they’re in for and won’t bail as soon as the going gets tough.”
Count her out, then.
His eyes narrowed. “That comment wasn’t aimed at you. You’ve done it tough for years. There’s strength in knowing when to let go.”
“Bet you never would.”
“Don’t be so sure. There was a time last year I was looking into buying a place in South Dakota. I figured what with me and Mason at each other’s throats all the time, someone had to go.”
He’d shocked her speechless.
“Mason got a job that put him on the road and left me to it, so I never had to follow through.”
“Your family would never have let you go,” she murmured finally. “Not if they had any sense. I can’t imagine it here without you.”
He put his hand in the front pocket of his trousers and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here’s my offer for your herd. I ranked the cows by quality. Even the poorest of the breeders would fetch well above market price. The money’s already in your account.” He set the paper down on the kitchen bench. “Better get to work.”
“Thanks for chopping the wood.”
“Easy done. Thanks for the sugar fix.” He paused when he reached the door, half turning around, his craggy face in stark profile. “Madeline’s been in my ear about love languages and how people show each other that they care. She thinks my way involves doing chores and lightening someone’s load, no words involved.” He nodded and reached for the hat he’d left on the peg by the door. “Maybe she’s right.”