Chapter Twelve
Cursing herself as idiotic for being vain, Jory snuck in a shower toward the end of her shift. She used her special shampoo and conditioner on her curls and scrunched them into place and lotioned her body, reveling in the light vanillaish scent of the shea butter.
She slid into a gray pair of stretchy jeans, cuffed them at her ankles and slammed her feet into her lug-soled black Chuck Taylor All Stars. She rarely bothered with makeup, but she did moisturize her face and add a bronze-tint sunscreen that added a little glow and sparkle. Then she lightly slicked her lips with moisturizing and sunscreen gloss.
She deeply regretted accepting Calhoun’s drive into town yesterday because now he’d have to pick her up so early in the morning. And worse, she was nearly sick with nerves about seeing him. Her heart thumped like she was in a horror film, not exactly sophisticated or sexy.
She ran into both orthopedic surgeons Witt Telford and Wyatt Gallagher near the nursing station.
“You clean up good. Hot date?” Dr. Gallagher casually asked as he looked over his patients’ charts.
Jory opened her mouth and closed it, and her skin prickled with heat.
“I think that’s a yes.” Rhianna had already pulled off her sweater and packed up her backpack, which she flung over her shoulder.
“It’s not even seven in the morning,” Jory denied.
“And that’s stopped anyone, when?” Rhianna demanded.
Twin smirky smiles met her denial, and Dr. Telford looked up from his chart examination, his expression puzzled.
“What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Jory assured him, schooling her features into a professional mask. And racked her brain for something relevant to say, but she’d covered all patient details, and Witt was looking at the charts.
“Our new hospitalist has a hot date at dawn,” Wyatt said.
“What is this, an episode of Grey’s Anatomy?” Jory asked coolly.
“She’s defensive, so she’d hiding something,” Rhianna said, straight-faced.
“Have fun,” Witt said politely and then he quizzed her about a few things on one of his patients and both Jory and Rhianna also slid back into professional mode.
She and Rhianna walked out of the hospital together, and it felt companionable, even though Jory’s stomach excitedly hopped at the thought of seeing Calhoun.
Lust. That’s all. No ‘feels,’ as Rhianna would say.
Heat and excitement crashed together in Jory like the timpani section of an orchestra when she saw Calhoun parked in an emergency lane and standing next to his truck. Wearing worn Wranglers, a deep-blue Henley shirt pushed up to his elbows and a black straw cowboy hat shadowing his features, he was mouthwatering. Kai sat at attention, his ears cocked adoringly.
“If that’s not a hot date that’s a crime against womanhood, Jory,” Rhianna said. “Seize the frickin’ day I say. And bonus. His sidekick’s a cutie too.”
Jory couldn’t speak. She stopped walking because her legs stopped working.
“Dr. Telford’s ‘have fun’ is way too mild for what you need to do with that Hottie McHottie cowboy.”
“We’re just roommates,” she squeaked.
Rhianna waved cheerily at Calhoun. “Just. Yeah. Right. He looks like he’s going to eat you for breakfast, and I’d pull up a chair and say dig in.”
“Rhianna.” Jory was shocked. She’d never had friends to joke around with. She’d been painfully teased in school, and mostly ignored in college except in study groups.
The nurse laughed. “I want you to stay in Marietta and at the hospital, Jory. I like working with you. You’re smart and an awesome doc, and I think we could be friends.” She stopped and gave Jory an unexpected hug, which Jory was too stunned to return. “I hope we can be friends.” The teasing smile was gone, then it was back. “Have fun.” She winked and peeled off toward her car.
“Good shift?” Calhoun slipped her backpack off her shoulder and over his.
Even though he’d been a patient three days ago, his movements were fluid, and his expression not twisted in pain like she’d seen the past couple of days.
He looked delicious.
“Yeah. Not too busy. A couple of ranch hands were brought into the ER after getting caught on the wrong end of a bull they were trying to unload.”
“Not Ryder,” he asked quickly. “Or Rohan or Huck?”
“Your friends? No. From another ranch. Nothing broken. A nasty puncture but no organs damaged. Just bruised and a dislocation that I handled as the ER doc was busy with another patient. I did learn some new curse words.”
Jory walked beside him toward the truck. The air was warm and fragrant with grass, and evergreen and a hint of snow from the mountains. She felt energized, bubbly. Even the air felt buoyant.
“You can share in the truck. I brought you breakfast.”
Jory nearly stumbled over her feet. He brought her breakfast. No one had ever done that before—not even a coffee before Calhoun.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice rusty.
Calhoun opened the door and put his arm out apparently so she could use it as a boost up.
She placed her fingers on his arm, and she felt the zing to her nipples. He looked at her, his dark-honey-colored eyes shaded by the hat but still blazing with heat that also kindled heat inside of her. Her hunger burned and had nothing to do with food. With just a look, a touch he could set her on fire, and Jory despaired she’d never be the same. Never. But she didn’t want to go back to who she’d been before. Alone.
“What’s happening?” she whispered—not what she’d been planning to say.
“I say we let it.” Calhoun’s expression was dark, carnal, and looked like how she felt. “I’m so tired of fighting it, fighting fate.”
What did fate have to do with it?
Did she dare? How could she not? It would hurt when he was gone, but at least she’d have something lovely to remember instead of a giant nothing—just school, studies and work.
Jory jerked a nod and brushed her fingers against his cheek.
He kissed her fingers, sucked one into the heat of his mouth.
“You mentioned ground rules when we first arrived at your house.”
“The Telfords’ house,” she reminded him. “I’m good at rules.”
“I say we make some changes.”
She could barely speak around the rush of fear and lust and excitement.
“I’m listening,” she said, shocked that this was her life now. Other than the one night she’d stepped out of her routine Sunday night at Grey’s Saloon, she’d never so much as poked her head out of her shell. Now she was tossing her shell into a corner and scuttling free.
“I’m not looking for anything long term,” he said, each word enunciated like a bullet falling out of a clip. “I can’t promise that. Some things…have changed, maybe, but I have no definite plans, and I won’t make promises I can’t keep. I don’t see myself as a man who…” His face tightened, and he shrugged as if trying to rid himself of an unpleasant thought. “I don’t want to risk putting a woman in the cross hairs like that.”
What the heck did that mean? Calhoun wasn’t dark or dangerous. He’d been nothing but respectful of her boundaries and person, but he was trying his best to be honest, and she should be too. This was where she should say she wasn’t looking for a future with him or any man, but she wasn’t sure that was true anymore.
Did she really want to go through her entire life alone with only the hope of a dog as a companion once she had her financial footing?
Not Calhoun. He was too big of a reach, and it was clear by the way his gaze drilled into her that he meant every word. But maybe another man someday? The physical therapist she’d met with early evening yesterday, Edison Martin-Lea, had married Calhoun’s friend Ryder, and they’d met in the least likely of circumstances, while Edi was still consumed with grief from losing a baby, her marriage, and her grandmother’s slow decline into dementia.
And yet she’d reached for joy.
“I need to know before we go any further, Jory, that we are on the same page. I don’t want to hurt you. You’re sweet. You’re vulnerable.”
“I’m strong,” she countered. If she told him he meant more to her than fun and sex, he’d shut this down, and Jory was tired of playing it safe.
“I know that,” he murmured skimming her lips with his, and she rucked her hands behind his head and speared through the thick silk of his hair and lied.
“I understand your rules and the sentiment behind them,” she said.
There was something soaring about Calhoun. He was like a golden eagle catching thermals while she stood on the ground, admiring, longing. He could dive down to earth, but eventually he would rise up and fly off again.
“I accept them,” she said rather primly. “We can have fun while you’re in town or while I am, and whoever leaves first we’ll wish them the best.”
She sounded so emotionally healthy.
Ha!
His eyes searched hers, and she wanted to kiss him to get this awkward part over with.
“There’s something else,” he said gravely, and Jory vibrated with tension. He hadn’t touched her yet, but she could smell him, feel his energy, and her body felt liquid with longing. “Did you take the Plan B? I read it had to be taken within seventy-two hours. Today is the last day within the range.”
She nodded. Yes, it was. And she hadn’t taken the Plan B, and it was her body and her choice and yet Calhoun too had a stake in it.
“It delays ovulation so it’s not technically an abortion, if you were morally worried,” he added.
He clearly was. And that told her two things. He was responsible. And while respectful of her independence and agency, he meant what he said: he wasn’t sticking around.
“Your facts are correct, and I bought it from the hospital pharmacy last night before my shift began.” And it was still wrapped and tucked in her backpack. It had been hard to do it without any other staff being around.
She felt Calhoun’s shoulders relax. “That’s good,” he said.
“You don’t need to worry,” she said, barely recognizing herself and the conversation—not one she thought she’d ever have. “I wasn’t exactly in the window of my ovulation.”
“Isn’t it a cycle, so it’s the same every month?”
Jory forced a laugh. She was unfairly regular and had never once had a cramp or mood swing, much to her roommates’ dismay over the years.
“Not for everyone.”
She was practically becoming a politician with the way she was dodging his questions. She wanted to tell herself they were out of the woods, but the woods was where she unexpectedly wanted to be.
But why? Just to hold on to the dream for another week or two—that small tendril of hope unfurling like the first new leaves of spring.
It wasn’t fair to Calhoun.
It wasn’t fair to the possible baby to not get to know its father.
She would take the pill when they got home.
His eyes searched hers. “It’s your body, Jory, but I gotta tell you I don’t want kids.” He swore, leaned across her and placed his Stetson on the back seat and then ran an agitated hand through his hair. He looked across the hospital parking lot.
“Never wanted. I don’t want to pass on…” He jerked his arm wide.
“Never?” she whispered astonished—not that she’d thought of having kids. The financial burden was daunting. And what if something awful happened, and she couldn’t love them anymore like her mom had barely seemed to notice her half the time after her father left?
But Calhoun radiated health and confidence and masculinity and drive and kindness. A man like him seemed destined to be a father, and a good one. She could see him coaching his kids’ little league or soccer, taking them for ice cream following a game—unlike hers.
He sighed. “Sorry to hit you with everything. I can get intense. You must be exhausted.” He opened the back cab door for Kai, who scrambled in.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Do you have a genetic predisposition to…”
He barked a laugh and started the truck. “You would think that. Just boundless greed, narcissism, lust for power and a skill for being a gigantic dick, excuse my language. Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair, and then lightly brushed her shoulder. “Not a good way to start your day with my chest-beating rant.”
“Beat away.” She was puzzled, but didn’t like to see him distressed or down on himself. She wanted to distract him from his dark thoughts. “It always takes me a couple of hours to wind down from a shift before I go to bed. “I thought we could…” She broke off smelling something mouthwateringly delicious.
Calhoun grinned as if he hadn’t been so intense a moment ago. He opened a bag and handed her a steaming, fragrant croissant sandwich.
“Spinach, egg, cheese and bacon. Food of the gods. You’re not vegetarian judging by how you eyed my chili yesterday.”
Jory unwrapped the sandwich and closed her eyes as she took a bite. A hunk of egg fell off, and she caught it.
“Can I?” she asked tilting her head toward Kai, sitting up in the back.
“Not sure if Kai could fall for you any more but go ahead.”
She handed the morsel to the dog, who took it daintily from her fingers. He licked his lips, and Jory smiled. “Yes, it is that good,” she agreed and broke off another piece of egg, avoiding the bread as she wasn’t sure if dogs should eat bread. She thought not. Kai licked her hand as if thanking her, and she stroked his sleek head.
“He’s so beautiful and sweet.”
Calhoun laughed. “He’s a fierce and highly trained former officer, but his service to our country is over, and I want him to still have a purpose but also to be a highly loved-up dog.”
“Me too.” She smiled at Kai, giving him a bit more of her egg.
“You don’t want to spoil him,” Calhoun said, but his voice was full of indulgence. “It’s your breakfast.”
And Jory had to bite back the more than idle comment that she’d love to spoil them both. Not that she knew how, but she wouldn’t mind learning.
*
They spent aboutan hour driving gravel roads north of Marietta because Calhoun wanted to look at all the properties and roads he’d been googling and looking at using a hunting app. He was trying to get a direction for what could have happened to a father and son—how they could have been killed—hit, shot, murdered, but why? Drug deal gone wrong? Gambling debt? A rancher taking the law into his own hands?
But what had happened to their truck?
And as Mrs. Johanson’s mind began to unwind, was she really partially remembering anything she’d seen twenty-plus years ago? And why hadn’t Jace said anything to his family? He would have been a kid—a young teen.
None of it made sense, and he felt cross-eyed from looking at aerial photographs.
“The Wyatts’ ranch is, I think, at the highest elevation and still considered to be in Paradise Valley,” Jory noted at one point. “I’ve never been up there, but the views must be even more spectacular than from here.”
Calhoun was floored by the beauty, gaping at it all like a tourist, and Kai had his head and half his body out the window sniffing.
“What’s that lake over there?”
“Miracle Lake. My mom and dad took us ice-skating there a few times. They have a little skate rental booth and hot apple cider, coffee and hot chocolate, but I don’t know if it’s there anymore.”
“Do people swim in the lake?”
“Crazy people. It’s glacier-fed, but yeah, kids go up there to swim. Families go to float on rafts or hike—there are some trails, picnic. Fishermen swear by it. Lots of couples make out up there.”
Her cheeks pinked—whether from alluding to kissing or insinuating that they were a couple, he couldn’t guess, and her thinking of them as a couple flashed all sorts of danger signs, but he was going to plow through them with a recklessness that had him wondering if he hadn’t escaped the Lael-Millers’ greed and selfishness as much as he told himself he had.
“I had something a little more comfortable in mind back at the house,” he said. “But maybe we could pack a picnic one afternoon when you’re not working and take a hike.”
Jory’s eyes shone. “I’d like that. In late spring and summer there are a few trails I’ve heard of but never hiked. That would be fun. Kai would like it.”
He frowned. It sounded like her childhood had sucked. So had his, but he’d had many outings and activities even though he’d worked hard learning all areas of the family’s businesses.
“In the winter there’s snowshoeing and cross… Oh.”
Her light dimmed, and it felt like she’d flipped a switch in him. He wouldn’t be in here in the winter. But maybe she might.
The Coyotes would be here, working out their business plan, building their own small empire, and his gift would help to make that happen. He’d already checked out the rules for the sealed bid on the upcoming auction and contacted his trust’s executor and investment broker. He’d also seen another hundred-acre parcel that looked intriguing. Having that much land would allow his brothers to expand the business over the years, and if not, they’d have one hell of an investment to sell and split.
“Do you want to see Miracle Lake?” she asked, and he realized he’d gotten lost in his thoughts.
“Let’s go home.” He covered her hand, and she flipped hers so that they were palm to palm.
The significance of the word he’d used hit him as did the light in Jory’s eyes, and just for a moment, he let himself relax, pretend he could be someone else.
“I like the sound of that,” Jory said.
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Jory leaned across the middle console and kissed him, and he kissed her back with a hunger that felt consuming. He’d planned to wait until they made it back to the house, but his body had different, more urgent ideas, and the way Jory’s fingers tugged on his hair and stroked his shoulders added to his heat until she came to the wrap around his ribs.
“Oh. I forgot.” She pulled away, but he crushed her to him.
“I’m fine—better than.” He kissed her again, but then Kai’s muzzle was there, and Jory was laughing. She kissed Kai’s snout.
“Sorry that you’re feeling left out, Kai. You are a sweetie, but I prefer kissing the big guy, but we’ll be more circumspect about it.”
Kai wagged his tail and settled back in his seat as if he understood. Calhoun looked at Jory. She was full of surprises, and he was finding that too damn appealing.
*
“It’s weird tobe back here,” Jory said. “I didn’t want to take the assignment in Marietta, but it was all that was on offer, and I wanted the money since my mom and oma didn’t feel ready for a visit.”
She frowned. “But I’m glad now.” She hoped the driving wasn’t too much for him. She’d offered to take over, but men and their trucks… He’d asked to head back to the farmhouse a different way, and Jory had already directed him to take a wrong turn once, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been out here,” was her apology. “I feel like I’ve been running away my whole life,” Jory mused, letting the air from the open window dance the curls around her face because Calhoun had said once he liked her hair. “From the embarrassment of being a Quinn, from poverty, from the gossip about us, from my mom’s devastation when my dad and brother left.”
She was quiet then and kept her hand tucked in Calhoun’s. He was so easy to talk to, and she felt safe—as safe as a woman could be with a man who had one foot out the door.
He shot her a look. She wondered if he expected her to say more. Did she want to? She’d revealed more about herself to him than she had anyone else, but he hadn’t shared too much about himself.
“I know a little about that,” he said. “I didn’t grow up poor.” He grimaced. “But my dad was a hard-ass.” He shook his head and blew out a hard breath. “Unreasonable and uncompromising. It was all about him and the family name, the legacy, and I was the male.” He sucked in a deep breath and made an effort to dial himself back.
“He never would have served his country or anyone else. I took the scholarship to West Point to piss him off as much as I did it to escape.”
Wow, West Point.
Jory didn’t know much about Ivy League schools or top-tier anything, but she knew West Point was an honor, and her heart swelled with pride for Calhoun’s quiet accomplishment and strength of purpose.
“We never spoke again. He wanted me to go to UC Davis—a few hours from home. Work in the family business. Live the life all of the other Lael-Millers had built.”
Jory wondered what the business was, but Calhoun looked broodier than she’d ever seen him, and while she was thrilled he was opening up, the past brought him no joy.
“I imagine a lot of families want to pass on their legacy, but I can’t imagine not being proud of a child who wants to strike out on their own path. I left after graduation and didn’t come back. I couldn’t even if I’d wanted to because there was no money, and I had no car. I worked my way through school but did send my mom and oma money when I could. And I called.” They’d been duty calls, but she’d be lying if she didn’t accept that she’d craved a connection.
She nibbled on her lip. Was loving someone weakness or strength?
I can’t love Calhoun.
He’d made that clear. And yet she was more than halfway home.
“You’re a better person than I am,” Calhoun said. “My dad piled all my stuff on a funeral pyre while I was at my graduation and giving my valedictorian speech.” His mouth twisted, and his eyes narrowed. “He lit everything on fire as I arrived home, just so I could watch it burn.”
Jory stared at him, eyes wide. “If this were an awful contest, you win,” Jory said, laying her head on his shoulder.
“I saved a few things—my lacrosse kit, laptop a few clothes. Drove out the gate for good. The old man cut me off and made a big deal out of it, and I just felt finally free.”
Jory kissed his shoulder. Breathed him in. Her heart felt heavy, but at the same time, she felt lighter, as if she still carried a burden but could see a shady glen up ahead, dappled with shade and sunlight and something cool and tasty to drink where she could finally lay her burden down and sit and just be. Take time to savor the moment and rest up for the next fight life threw at her.
“I wonder if it’s possible to be fully free of our pasts.”
“I intend to do my best.”
“Then maybe we both need to stop running,” Jory ventured.
They were quiet for a moment, but it was comfortable when Jory had expected Calhoun to insist he wasn’t running. But no, he was honest enough and confident enough to not pull out some masculine bravado.
Calhoun slowed just as the truck came over another rise so they could see a slightly different view of the valley.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her, nibbled on her fingers, sending her stomach and thoughts tumbling even as he looked straight ahead.
“Maybe it is that easy,” he mused, playing with her fingers. “Which way?”
The question felt rhetorical, even though the rough gravel road split off in three directions, one of them not looking often traveled. It was beautiful here, even in a state celebrated for its rugged beauty.
“Left,” she said.
He turned and then smiled, tangling his fingers in her hair. There was no sign of the bitterness that had gripped him. His eyes were clear with a touch of heat, and her blood rose to match.
“You soothe me.”
“I want to make you mad with passion.”
He laughed. “That too.”
He made another directed turn onto the gravel drive leading up to what used to be the back side of their property.
“Lots of memories,” she murmured. “Josiah and I caught the bus here. This used to be Quinn land, and also McBride, but both families sold off five-acre parcels to some townies who wanted to have some land for a bit of farming. “The Kagels, the Greberts. Hmmmm who else? Oh, the Johansons. She was always nice, baking muffins or cookies for the kids waiting for the bus.”
Calhoun slowed and looked at her.
“She worked at the bank in town.” Jory looked around. “The drive is nearly grown over. I wonder if the house is still there or if anyone still lives back here. Maybe not. Maybe the Telfords bought what was left of the McBride land that was back here. My daddy and old Mr. McBride used to argue a lot.”
“Any other families out here when you were a kid? Were they interviewed when your dad and brother disappeared?”
He sounded like a cop. So much for moving on, but would she respect him, if he broke a promise to his friend?
“The McBrides. The Boylens—that was deeded to Jason McBride when he married Amanda Boylen—now McBride. The Johansons leased from them. And a small part of the Telford Ranch speared through it all, and when Taryn Telford took over from his father, he was a really good rancher, and worked hard to put the original Telford Ranch back together again, and then some, but a lot of the families made it easy for him. And the economy.”
Calhoun looked out the windshield.
“I told you, the cops didn’t think there was a problem so I doubt they talked to anyone, but I’m sure my mom talked to Mr. Johanson and Mr. McBride. Do you want to walk around?” she asked, not sure what he thought he would find decades later.
He was quiet for a moment. Jory put her hand on the door handle, prepared to help in whatever search Calhoun needed to make to honor his friend.
“I want to go back to the house and take a couple of hours to make love to you.” He shoved the truck in park and kissed her, lips lingering, and his hand sliding under her T-shirt so that she had no doubt about his intentions.
She moaned as his hand cupped her breast.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he ground out. “If I’d know that I would have taken the highway back to the house and done recon later while you were sleeping.”
“No can do, Cowboy.” She could barely breathe or speak because she didn’t want to miss a millisecond of this. “We’re partners in your quest.”
“You are so damn beautiful.” He kissed his way down to unbutton her shirt and lift up her tank. His tongue stroked her nipple and he bit down lightly. “Delicious.”
“No one’s around.” She reached for him.
“Another time,” he promised. “I want to spread you out like a feast and devour you until you scream my name, but with my stupid ribs and dumb stitches the truck fantasy will have to wait.”
Jory laughed a little even as she whimpered when he found a particularly sensitive spot. She stroked him through his jeans.
“I want to taste you too,” she whispered boldly.
He groaned in her mouth, and his hand cupped her. “Take off your pants,” he hissed, his hand already on her zipper working it down.
They were out in the open on a rise and in the middle of a road on someone else’s ranch and Jory didn’t care. She kicked off her shoes and wiggled out of her jeans, and then Calhoun’s fingers were stroking her, and inside of her.
“Angle your seat back. I want to make you come while I’m driving back to the house.”
“We’ll crash.” She angled the seat back.
“Spread your legs.”
Despite what they’d done at the Graff Hotel, Jory felt she’d never been so bold. So openly dirty, and the excitement pulsed through her like a laser.
“You’re so wet,” he marveled, stroking her and then bringing one finger to his mouth to taste her.
“Sweeter than honey. I’d love to have you on toast.”
Jory blinked, shocked. No one had talked dirty to her, ever.
He drove, eyes on the road, but his fingers edging her closer and closer to an explosive orgasm before he’d dial it back down. She held on to the seat, bucking against his hand and begging—shameless, she thought when she could think.
“Calhoun,” she breathed. “I need you. Now.”
She tried to grind against his hand, set the rhythm she needed, but he pulled away.
“This is my rodeo,” he said darkly, and she stared fascinated at the way his cheeks were streaked with red, and his breathing was as ragged as hers. “My rules.”
“Then my turn,” she insisted.
“Absolutely,” he promised.
She wasn’t even aware the truck had stopped until Calhoun was out of the truck and jerking her door open. She spilled out into his arms, and his jeans were down, and he had a condom sheathing him even as he braced her against the side of the seat, jerked her legs around his hips and plunged into her hard and fast. Jory, clutching the armrest on the door with one hand and part of the seat with the other, cried out his name as the long-teased orgasm finally hit and continued to wash over her as Calhoun rode her. Jory fell back against the seat, giving up all control as bliss blasted through her, and she looked up at the brilliant blue sky as Calhoun drove them both over a sharp edge she’d never imagined in her wildest late-night fantasies.