Chapter Seven
B eth couldn’t sleep. She never napped well before a night shift, even though she did all the right things, like eating a solid meal beforehand and making sure her bedroom was dark and warm. She’d tried listening to white noise, meditation music, even go-to-sleep podcasts, and sometimes one of them would work, but most times they didn’t.
Her sleep prep patterns didn’t have an eagle’s chance in the deep blue ocean of helping her out today.
Beth had a bank account bursting with money, she’d paid bills and set her mind at ease, and what was Cal doing chopping wood for her and talking about love languages and tilting his hat just so and taking the steps two at a time, his stride quick and confident. Busy man, places to go.
Right after setting her world on a tilt.
Flinging her bedcovers aside, she got up, got dressed, and headed for the kitchen. When in doubt, bake.
Brownies were easy, and she always had the ingredients.
Fruit pies were easy, too.
She prepared potato bake for tomorrow, Sam’s favorite.
Put ribs in the slow cooker.
What was Cal’s favorite meal? Would it take a lot to fill him up? There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, but he worked hard and would need a lot of fuel to keep going.
He had a love language?
He’d also said a solid no to her marriage proposal, for all the right reasons, and she’d accepted that, so what the ever-lovin’ hell did he think he was doing?
Flirting? Had they been flirting?
Getting to know each other on a different level than they’d ever allowed each other before?
Had he been trying to make her aware that although he didn’t want to wed her, he wouldn’t say no to a little somethin’ else? Because maybe she wouldn’t say no to a little something else either . Like kissing.
Or hugging.
Climbing all over him.
Maybe even loving him.
Wouldn’t exactly be hard.
*
Days later, Cal made good on his promise to show Sam how to make a leather belt. It was Sunday afternoon, not as if he had anything else planned, even if he did somehow end up with a house full of people to entertain along the way. Sam had ridden up on his pony, bright eyed and buzzing with energy. Jett, Mardie, and their daughter Claire—who was too young to make a belt but not too young to draw daisies all over a square of nubuck leather—were already in his workshop, and they’d brought food. Seth and Madeline had turned up, with Maddie’s much younger half-brother in tow. The kid was a sweet city boy, a couple of years younger than Sam, and they’d taken to each other like long-lost friends.
Cal forgot sometimes Sam was an only child, and a chatty one, at that, who would have delighted in having a couple of siblings to run around with. Not everyone grew up with four brothers.
“What I want to know is why you’re all here,” Cal said, as Jett passed him a cola. “What have I done to deserve all this attention?”
“Can’t a man bring his family out to visit his favorite brother?” Jett said with a bright smile that Cal knew full well not to trust.
“Didn’t realize that was me.” Because it wasn’t.
Jett and Seth were tight. Cal was closest to Mason, even though they’d been known to rail on each other like bitter enemies. TJ was the loner, but when he did take sides it tended to be with Jett and Seth. Possibly because Cal was a rock and Mason was an ass.
“When I heard you were giving a leather workshop for the next generation of Caseys, I wanted in.” Jett’s direct stare dared him to mention that not one of the kids present was, in fact , a Casey by blood.
Sam’s brilliant grin at being included in the Casey gang didn’t go unnoticed either.
Cal would be mentioning no such thing.
“Hey, Sam,” Jett said next, turning toward the two boys sorting through the pile of leather strips laid out on the scarred wooden workbench. “What do you think about you and your mom being partners with us in the ranching business? Any regrets that it’s not going to be all yours in years to come?”
“You realize you don’t have to answer him,” Cal countered. What the hell ? “Stop grilling the kid.”
But Sam just pulled a strip of pale tan leather from the pile and then looked up at them, his eyes way too wise for such a young, freckled face. “The cows are fed, the fences are mended, and I haven’t been late to school once this week. Mom says it’s better to be part owner of something special than full owner of something we can’t take care of properly. And she’s right. Besides, being a partner makes me, like, part Casey now, too, right?” Sam only had eyes for Cal.
And what was a man to do in the face of so much hope? Squash it? Hell, no. “You’re an honorary Casey now. We’ll do right by the ranch and by you, no matter what you want to be when you grow up. If you want to be a cowboy, you’ll have a head start. There’ll be a college fund waiting for you if you want to do something else. Because we’re partners and partners take care of each other.”
“Still want to forgo the lion’s share of the Evans ranch?” Seth murmured, because the paperwork was still with the lawyers, and because Seth was almost as good as Mason at picking on a person’s weak spot.
It was either ignore his brother or deck him, and Cal chose to be the bigger man.
“Who are you making the belt for, dude?” he asked Sam, completely ignoring his brothers. “You want more stamps to choose from? I got leaves, I got moons, I got flowers…”
“Not to mention you got the fatherhood thing down solid,” Jett murmured in Cal’s ear, before stepping back a length. “Hey, we met a Swiss snowboarder mixing drinks at the Graff the other day. Strong and fit and—looking for a cowboy to show her a good time. I mentioned you.”
“And how well does matchmaking usually work out for you when trying to matchmake me ?” Cal replied dryly, not sure if he welcomed the change of subject or not.
“Brunette,” Jett said, completely undeterred. “Blue eyes, good teeth, fun loving.”
“No.” There was only one woman filling his mind these days—and it didn’t seem as if she was going to respond to his wooing, seeing as he hadn’t heard from her in close to a week. He’d even started to catalogue their meetings. The blow up. The funeral apology. The breakfast proposal. The love language wood pile.
“How’s your mom?” Seth asked Sam with all the subtlety of a snowplow. “Still pulling all those extra shifts at the hospital?”
“She said no to one last night,” Sam stated proudly. “She’s on a baking streak and practicing huckleberry tarts and cinnamon rolls today and bringing them up later when she comes to collect me.”
“Did you know cinnamon rolls are Cal’s all-time favorite,” Seth asked.
“Yep.” Big emphasis on the P . Sam chose a diamond shaped stamp with stripes running through it and slid him a sideways glance. “And huckleberry tarts are mine.”
*
When Beth walked into Cal’s workshop that afternoon, she should have known there’d be a crowd of Caseys in attendance. She didn’t know what the sudden speculative silence was all about, but if hospital shifts had taught her anything, it was that filling awkward silences got easier with practice. “Greetings, busy people. I come bearing gifts.”
“Mom, close your eyes. Turn around!”
“Oh! Right.” Shuffling noises ensued, and when she finally got the okay to turn back, a heavy canvas sheet covered several feet of the workbench and two boys were leaning all over it, attempting to look angelic. “Will I get a straight answer if I ask what you’ve been making?”
“New friends,” Jett said.
“Exploring the craft,” Seth added.
“Memories,” Cal said, deadpan.
“Funny guys.” And then Sam hugged her tightly around the waist, and although it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so, this time he seemed to be trying to take a measure of her waist. Subtlety of a strangler python, that one.
Cal suddenly disappeared around the corner, tape measure not quite hidden in hand, and Sam followed shortly thereafter. And if their reflections in the nearby window showed a boy holding his arms out wide and a big man solemnly measuring a forearm to fingertip length, well, she wasn’t the only one smirking at the sight.
She made her way to the sofa, where the two M s, Mardie and Madeline, held court, and began unpacking the day’s baking. Perfectionism wasn’t her thing—she could put up with a few misshapen cinnamon rolls as long as they tasted good, and these tasted very good. Besides, a dusting of powdered sugar hid many imperfections.
“I didn’t hear your truck drive up,” Maddie said.
“I rode.” Now that the weight of the ranch had been lifted from her shoulders she could enjoy it again in a way she hadn’t been able to do for ages. She could see a brilliant blue sky and snow-capped mountains rather than a fence in need of fixing or a pasture already grazed out with no more growth left in it before winter. “It’s beautiful out there today. Big blue sky, snowcapped peaks, crunchy fresh snow, and sunshine. Why you’re all in here is beyond me.”
She’d made cinnamon rolls and huckleberry tarts, carrot cake, and had even tried her hand at a new cherry-chocolate brownie recipe she’d found online. She pulled out a sourdough round, hollowed out and ready for the barbecue pulled pork she’d brought along in a casserole dish. It would need heating up again if they wanted to eat it now, or Cal could tuck it away for later.
“We are definitely doing craft mornings at Cal’s place more often,” Mardie said as her little girl joined them, eager to see the goods. “Wait, Claire. We don’t know if Uncle Cal wants to share the bounty.”
“Does Uncle Cal have a choice?” He’d come over to the table and was eyeing the goods with gratifying appreciation. “Vultures, the lot of you.” But he went and found plates and utensils from a nearby cupboard and then held up a drinking glass toward Beth. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Cherry cola if you have any.” May as well go for the sugar high to end all sugar highs. “The filling for the sourdough needs heating and there’s a cheesy sauce to go on top that could do with warming up as well.”
His eyebrows rose and a smile tugged at his lips. “And for the second time today I ask, what brings all this on?”
“Just trying new things.” She was hardly going to explain her newfound interest in love languages with this lot present. “Call it a thank-you for sharing your leatherwork skills with Sam.”
“Do we really have to call it that?” Madeline murmured with a suspiciously innocent smile as she reached for a brownie. “Cal, get back here and eat something. I’m trying to be polite and not start before you, but time is running out.”
Cal returned to the seating area with the cola and took his sweet time pouring it into Beth’s glass. “Ice?”
Beth knew he was stringing his sister-in-law along. “Looks cold enough to me.”
“I’ll get you some, anyway. On the side.”
“ Ca-al! ” Madeline looked truly pained. “I’m a woman on the edge. Hormonal. Unpredictable.”
“Nothing but the truth,” Seth said, with a fond glance for his wife. “They do say pregnancy does that.”
A cheer went up, and Beth watched fondly as a round of bro hugs and backslapping commenced. They really were something, these Casey men. Her son was lucky to have access to them.
When Cal finally picked up a cinnamon roll there was a pregnant pause and then another round of cheers when he bit into it.
Was there some kind of etiquette that demanded a host take first bite of gifted food? If there was, she’d never heard of it.
Beth perched on the edge of a wide-arm leather chair and cradled her cola and soaked in the sound of good-humored family bickering about names and whether they planned on finding out early whether it would be a girl baby or a boy.
“Would you have another baby, Mom? If you could?” Sam asked, leaning in to give her a one-armed hug and reaching for a slice of tart with his other hand.
“Maybe.” She was still young enough. Not yet thirty. “If I ever fell in love again and this was the kind of love and support involved. Would it bother you?”
“Hell, no,” Sam said. “I’d teach ’em everything I knew, wouldn’t I, Cal?”
She looked around to see Cal standing like a statue, as if he’d been walking over and had stopped mid-step in an attempt to change direction. He looked pale beneath his tan as his foot came down and he seemed to sway a little.
“You okay?”
“Thought I felt the earth move.”
“Too much pregnancy talk?”
“Could be.” If anything, he turned even paler as he looked at Sam. “You’d be a great brother.”
Even the simplest praise from this man could make her son’s day. “Like you.”
“Err…” He really didn’t know how to take Sam’s hero worship. “There’s two of mine here who might think otherwise—at least some of the time. I can be a bit—”
“Dumb,” Seth injected.
“Slow on the uptake,” Jett added. “Kids and animals seem to like him, though.”
“Always a good sign,” Seth said. “Reliable, too. And honest.”
“Patience of a saint,” Jett agreed. “Good genes.” He cocked his head to one side. “In any other family, he’d be the handsome one.”
Cal looked from one to the other and then to Sam. “It’s perfectly okay if you don’t want siblings. This would be one of the reasons why. What are you two doing ?”
“Singing your praises, man, as only a brother can.” Jett’s smile came swiftly. “Hey, you know what you need above this door? Mistletoe.”
“I have some,” Maddie said. “I’ll bring it over. Then there can be kissing.”
“My cabin does not need mistletoe,” Cal warned. “Nor does the barn. Or anywhere else. Besides, Christmas is months away.”
“If you had a wife and children, Christmas planning would already be underway. You’d be buying Christmas tree lights now, before all the good ones are gone. Ask me how I know,” Jett said.
Cal rubbed at his temple, possibly with the patience of a saint.
Maddie picked up a plate and held it out. “Have another. Everyone knows they’re your favorite.”
“Subtle,” he grumbled, but he took another cinnamon roll because he’d finished the first and it had been the best he’d ever tasted. “Beth, thank you for the baking. This is heaven.”
“Thank you. I like baking for people. It’s like woodchopping for you.” Was Beth blushing ?
What was she saying?
“One of his favorite chores,” Seth said, and Beth just knew they were making fun of Cal’s willingness to shoulder the hard work others avoided. He did it for them, and for her, and for all the others he allowed into his inner circle.
“Okay, maybe my baking’s not the same as Cal picking up mundane chores for us all. His generosity means a problem’s been solved for someone, maybe before they even realize it’s a problem. Me, I just spent the morning baking so we wouldn’t go hungry.” Which wasn’t quite the truth. “But, yes. I baked Cal’s favorite’s deliberately. You’ll just have to make of that what you will.”
Cal already had three other brothers. Who needed four?
He smiled at Beth, helpless in the face of her attempts to please him.
More to the point, the uneasy guilt he’d always felt when paying any attention whatsoever to her was gone.
Almost gone.
Maybe a smidgin still left, but surely he could work on losing it completely?
Because Red was gone and wasn’t coming back, and Beth was still here. Beth, who’d cooked all his favorite sweets and was now in his home, perched on a chair and shyly glancing his way, and well, now. Well.
I’ll be damned. She’s looking at me.
Wasn’t that something.
Hope was the craziest thing.