CHAPTER 54
Cal
I watch her duck under the rotor blades and meet her father as he steps out of the Renaissance Empowered corporate helicopter. As the dust starts to settle, I see that Nigel Backlund looks every bit the captain of industry his official CEO portrait made him out to be.
But he’s not dressed in the kind of killer suit expected for a man in his position. It’s so, so much worse.
He’s decked out in a cowboy costume.
On his head is a pristine beaver fur cowboy hat, comically large.
On his feet are a brand-new pair of Lucchese hand-tooled leather boots designed for Rodeo Drive instead of an actual rodeo.
There’s a snap-button roper shirt, never-washed Wranglers with a ridiculous pressed seam down the front, and a whole-nuther-level-of-ridiculous suede and shearling rancher coat better suited to an Aspen apres-ski cocktail party than early spring at Yosemite Ranch.
I glance at my brothers. They’re staring, as fascinated by the freak show as I am.
The scene loses any of its entertainment quality when I witness Victoria’s body language as she approaches her father.
She walks cautiously. Head held high. That fucking computer still clutched to her chest. He moves aggressively toward her, obviously pissed off.
It looks like he’s lecturing her. There’s no hug.
No friendly handshake. Not even a smile.
And Victoria stands perfectly straight, taking it.
I want to punch his face. My hands ball into fists.
Whatever is going on between father and daughter is ugly. But she’s just accepting it. Like she expected it.
She turns. They walk together toward my dad. I see fear in Victoria’s eyes. And just then, her gaze catches mine. She shakes her head as if to warn me to keep my distance.
Fuck that.
“James MacLaine, what a pleasure!” Nigel shakes Dad’s hand. The look on my dad’s face is cautious but pleasant enough.
“Nigel Backlund. Welcome to Yosemite Ranch.”
“Thank you. Let’s chat, shall we?”
My dad laughs. “Well, seeing as how you just landed your helicopter in the middle of my damn ranch, sure, let’s talk.”
Just then, Victoria’s father notices that I’ve inserted myself into the welcome party. He takes a step back.
“Nigel, this is my oldest, Callum.”
“Ahhh, the former Navy SEAL I’ve heard so much about.” He offers his hand for a shake. I don’t take it.
“That doesn’t narrow it down much.” Evander hops over and stands directly behind me.
“We’re all SEALs,” Finn says, joining us.
“Every last one of us.” That’s Declan.
“Especially me,” Special K says.
I have no fucking idea what Kevin’s comment is supposed to mean, but I think Victoria’s father has a fair picture of the situation. His eyes are as big as baseballs.
“Let’s talk inside. Pay them no mind, Nigel— we MacLaines are known for our hospitality.” Dad turns Nigel towards his house and looks back at us with a shake of his head. Victoria follows behind, keeping her distance.
Special K leans towards me and whispers, “We’re known for our hospitality?”
Dad opens the door for Nigel, saying, “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? The hard stuff?”
Nigel laughs and pats my father on the back. The gesture makes me cringe. For the most part, I trust my dad. But enough is enough. I’m going in.
I stand next to Victoria on the porch. I know her well by now. I see the stormy, conflicted expression in her eyes.
“We better get in there,” she says, as if she’s reading my mind.
I wonder whose side she’s on. Does she want to protect her father or to protect us?
My dad’s large body suddenly fills the threshold, blocking us from entering.
“Give me a minute.” He’s speaking to both of us, his whisper serious.
Then he winks. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for one or both of you to join in the conversation.
Pop a squat and let me get a feel for the situation. ”
He closes the door.
I turn to look at Victoria. She looks away, turns, and plops down on the top step. I can’t sit, so I pace back and forth. Ten minutes go by, then fifteen. “What do you think they’re discussing in there?”
“I’m not sure,” Victoria says.
“What does your father think he’s going to accomplish?”
“No idea.”
I stop in my tracks, ready to spit out something that’s equal parts accusation and anger, but I don’t.
Instead, I return to pacing. Victoria jumps up and walks out to the road.
She’s wandering, her hand rubbing her forehead.
As always, there’s something more going on below her surface, and whatever it is, it’s eating her alive.
I finally give up and sit on the top step. Twenty minutes now.
Victoria returns to her spot, careful to put a lot of space between us. She starts scribbling on her pad of paper, tears off a sheet, folds it into a small square, and shoves it into the back pocket of her jeans. When she’s done, she slumps forward and drops her face into her hands.
Thirty minutes.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m worried about you.”
She straightens but doesn’t make eye contact.
“Victoria, please. You need to know that if I could…if I were capable of being anything other than—”
“Stop.” She turns to me. “We had fun and now it’s over. It happens.”
My jaw comes unhinged just as the front door opens. Dad tips his chin toward Victoria. “Come on in a minute, please.” She grabs her computer and notepad and jumps to her feet. My father shakes his head at me, yet again blocking my entrance.
“Be patient, son. I’ll call you in very soon.” He shuts the door before I can protest.
I stand frozen in place.
We had some fun?
Now it’s over?
It happens?
That’s all it ever was for her?
I don’t know what is most prominent, my anger or my surprise. I hardly have time to figure it out when the door opens. Nigel steps out first, his Hollywood hat in his hand and a thoroughly displeased snarl on his lips. Victoria exits next, her face stony and unreadable.
She doesn’t look at me.
“Cal?” My dad’s tone is matter-of-fact. “Please get Victoria’s bags and take them to the helicopter. The Backlunds are leaving.”