Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Reunited With The Bull Rider

Reunited With The Bull Rider
Christine Wenger


STEALING HER HEART—AGAINWhen an injury sends bull rider Reed Beaumont home to Oklahoma to recover, he doesn’t expect to bump into his high school sweetheart, Callie Wainright. She’s been hired to help restore his family ranch, which has been badly mismanaged. And though their attraction still simmers she’s far too busy to spend time on romance!Reed regrets breaking Callie’s heart by leaving years ago. And their rekindled relationship is the number one reason to remain in Beaumont. But he's still determined to top the PBR standings, which means returning to the circuit asap. Can this cowboy realize his dream, and still lasso Callie forever?







STEALING HER HEART—AGAIN

When an injury sends bull rider Reed Beaumont home to Oklahoma to recover, he doesn’t expect to bump into his high school sweetheart, Callie Wainright. She’s been hired to help restore his family ranch, which has been badly mismanaged. And though their attraction still simmers she’s far too busy to spend time on romance!

Reed regrets breaking Callie’s heart by leaving years ago. And their rekindled relationship is the number one reason to remain in Beaumont. But he’s still determined to top the PBR standings, which means returning to the circuit asap. Can this cowboy realize his dream, and still lasso Callie forever?


CHRISTINE WENGER has worked in the criminal justice field for more years than she cares to remember, but now spends her time reading, writing and seeing the sights in our beautiful world. A native Central New Yorker, she loves watching professional bull riding and rodeo with her favorite cowboy, her husband, Jim. You can reach Chris at PO Box 1823, Cicero, NY 13039, or through her website at christinewenger.com (http://christinewenger.com).


Also By Christine Wenger (#u124ce357-a25d-5c76-bde9-15bc40835395)

Gold Buckle Cowboys

The Cowboy and the Cop

The Rancher’s Surprise Son

Lassoed into Marriage

How to Lasso a Cowboy

The Cowboy Code

The Hawkins Legacy

The Tycoon’s Perfect Match

It’s That Time of Year

Not Your Average Cowboy

The Cowboy and the CEO

The Cowboy Way

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Reunited with the Bull Rider

Christine Wenger






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-08376-8

REUNITED WITH THE BULL RIDER

© 2018 Christine Wenger

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


“I hear you.”

He pulled the keys to the front door from his pocket. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“I’ll be working.”

“See you tomorrow, then. Sweet dreams.”

Her green eyes sparkled in the light of the full moon filtering into her car. Her lips were full and ready to be kissed.

He stretched his arm out on the back of the seat. It would take one move to wrap it around Callie and pull her close to him. He wanted to kiss her, but his gut told him that his kiss wouldn’t be welcome.

Not yet anyway.

Reed wasn’t going to let Callie go this time. She filled the empty space that was ten years of his life. Sure, he loved to ride bulls, but something was missing.

And that was Callie Wainright.


Dear Reader (#u124ce357-a25d-5c76-bde9-15bc40835395),

I’d like to introduce you to Reed Beaumont, middle brother of the bull-riding Beaumont brothers. After being on the road since he was eighteen, riding with the Professional Bull Riders, will Reed settle down now at the age of twenty-eight?

But Reed has a deep-seated desire: he wants to beat

his older brother’s record in Vegas. This goal will take

him away from Callie Wainright in approximately two months.

Callie was Reed’s first love, and the same goes for Callie. Reed asked her to join him on the road after high school, but she needed roots—something she’s never had during her twenty-eight years.

Will these two ever get together? Will a long-distance relationship work?

These are all problems that Callie and Reed have to figure out—or should they go their separate ways?

I love to hear from readers! Contact me at chris@christinewenger.com or at PO Box 1823, Cicero, New York.

Cowboy up!

Chris Wenger


To all cowboys and cops,

Be careful out there!

And to Michele Goldstein, new friend, who keeps smiling through every challenge. Chocolate will help!


Contents

Cover (#u6ad27782-d49a-51d6-909b-fc5eee56e18d)

Back Cover Text (#u9cd9e5f2-c730-5604-8227-1c877ec6b810)

About the Author (#u765182d4-dcbc-506d-9257-c5aa6bbaffb8)

Booklist (#ub2b1af18-e331-59c9-86a8-30c486c841c7)

Title Page (#ue9da28da-eeba-5fd2-91dd-de1649df252b)

Copyright (#u118fbf4a-7f02-548f-a963-69f69d2e5e93)

Introduction (#u519fbf35-ae0a-5d99-9da1-7147551b7b7f)

Dear Reader (#u98814f2d-86f5-52cc-8175-9aec7c795960)

Dedication (#u11cf7207-dc77-549c-92e9-6ebf675d9689)

Chapter One (#ue034c39e-3fcb-5c7d-80fd-dca63da6799b)

Chapter Two (#u802d087f-ec91-510b-94d8-6eeea902e6b9)

Chapter Three (#u35ed8d30-aee3-5441-a85e-8ef46d026ead)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u124ce357-a25d-5c76-bde9-15bc40835395)

“Callie Wainright, what the hell are you doing in my home?”

Callie jumped at the low and lethal voice. She spun around and found herself toe-to-toe with Reed Beaumont.

Reed. Seeing him so unexpectedly, so near, she couldn’t swallow. They’d gone to school together since they were first graders in Beaumont, Oklahoma, up until the summer after senior year of high school when things got too serious too fast. Then they’d parted ways.

Callie had thought she could handle seeing Reed again if they ever met face-to-face for any length of time, but she couldn’t find her voice.

He was the middle brother of the bull-riding Beaumonts. The Professional Bull Riders’ announcers called them the Beaumont Big Guns, and they were breaking records with every ride.

Big brother Luke was solid and responsible and a recent bridegroom. Younger brother Jesse was footloose with a devil-may-care attitude. Reed was a healthy mix of the two. There wasn’t a soul in the town that was named after their founding ancestor, Ezra Beaumont, who didn’t follow their careers, including Callie.

“R-Reed.” She swallowed hard. “Reed. Hello. It’s been a long time.”

She looked into his eyes for several beats of her heart. She remembered them as mostly calm and comforting, but the blue pools were turbulent, just like that sunny day that had changed the direction of both their lives.

Callie’s normally poised and businesslike manner was nowhere to be found, and she was afraid that her suddenly weak knees would give out.

“Why you are in my father’s study and sitting in his chair? What are you doing at the Beaumont Ranch?” His voice was cold and icy; obviously he’d never forgiven her. In spite of all their wonderful plans for the future, Callie had backed out at the last minute. She’d stayed home to take care of her mother and gone to community college. She had been supposed to go on the road with him, but she hadn’t able to.

Not when her family had needed her—and they still needed her.

She’d had obligations in Beaumont back then. She still had the same obligations, only now she had a mortgage and she was working hard to pay for it.

“In answer to your question, I’m working here for a while.”

Recently, Luke had hired her for the job of her dreams. When he was in town last year, restoring the ranch after Hurricane Daphne, he’d heard of her work as an executive helper, along with her top-notch business, Personable Assistance.

Yes. She was now sitting in Big Dan Beaumont’s office on an overstuffed brown leather executive chair on the historic Beaumont Ranch. Several patriarchs had sat behind the great oak Stickley desk.

The ranch was the pride of little Beaumont. As a tourist attraction, it brought much-needed dollars to various shops, restaurants and cafés in the area.

The Beaumonts needed her and she needed them. When word got around town that she’d been hired at the ranch, Callie’s Personable Assistance would skyrocket. Maybe she’d even have to hire some help.

She pointed to the crutches he was leaning on. “Bull-riding accident, Reed?” she asked to fill the silence.

“Yeah. But how about elaborating on my question—what are you doing here?”

“I’m a personal assistant. I was hired to get everything organized,” she said. “And to digitize the ranch’s records.”

When Luke had shown her what he’d wanted her to do, Callie had noticed that the Beaumonts’ record keeping was an outright train wreck. All income and expenditures needed to be organized and entered on a spreadsheet.

She was good at that.

Callie gestured to the pile of mail sliding from the desk to the floor like an avalanche. There were opened and unopened sympathy cards and mass cards in memory of Valerie Lynn Beaumont, Big Dan’s wife. Valerie Lynn had died over three years ago.

“I’ll send thank-you cards to what needs to be answered,” she told Luke. “Like the mass cards or monetary gifts.”

There was more mail in the three feed sacks leaning on the right wall. Luke had pulled them out of his pickup, hoisted all three on his shoulder and deposited them, explaining that it was fan mail from the Professional Bull Riders’ office for Reed, Jesse and himself.

Callie remembered telling Luke, “I’ll answer all the fan mail with an autographed picture of whomever the mail is addressed to. And then there’s email that comes via your outdated websites. I’ll answer that, too, and get your them into this century.”

Reed cleared his throat. “Who hired you?”

“Your brother Luke.”

“But Luke’s on his honeymoon,” he said coolly.

“I know. He hired me before he left for Hawaii with Amber. I think that it was Amber—or should I call her Sheriff Beaumont?—who suggested me.” She stood and rubbed her forehead. “What’s the problem, Reed? Do you think I broke into this office because I was just dying to answer fan mail for you and your brothers?”

“Guess not.” Reed aimed his crutches in the direction of a brown leather wingback chair and flopped down with a grunt. He stretched out his right leg.

“So, Callie. Tell me. What have you been doing these past ten years?”

* * *

CALLIE LOOKED AS beautiful as always, Reed thought. His fingers itched to bury his fingers in her mass of blond curls like he’d done before. Her eyes had always reminded him of the spring-green grass along the Beaumont River on the eastern side of the ranch.

Today, Callie had on a pair of jeans that she’d been born to wear, jeans that enhanced her curves. He liked her long-sleeved shirt; the pink-and-blue plaid looked soft enough to touch. And she wore cowboy boots. Callie always wore boots. She said that it made her look taller than her five-foot-five-inch frame.

“I’ve been living my life, Reed. Going to school and working.”

“You look great.” And she did. But even more than looks, Callie was a good person inside and out. He’d developed a deep respect for her back when they were in grammar school together, and finally found the nerve to ask her out on a “real” date in senior year. What had followed was three months of romance and a summer full of heat that they generated themselves.

Callie had been his first, and he was hers.

He’d liked the fact that she always volunteered to help someone in need, but she would never ask for anything for herself. He’d missed her, missed their long walks and longer talks. He should have called her, but he couldn’t, not after the way they’d parted.

“Thanks. You look great, too.” She glanced at his injured leg. “Well, except for the obvious.” She sighed. “I always tune into the PBR, but I must have missed the news about your leg.”

“It’s my knee. Torn meniscus. I might not need surgery if I take it easy on the leg and keep it up.”

“Let me get you another chair so you can stretch out.”

Before he could tell her not to bother, she pulled over the other seat.

With a groan, he put his leg up and tried to get comfortable. “Thanks, but you never answered my question. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been...fine. But I really should get back to work. And to clarify things, Luke hired me to clean up all the papers in here and get them all organized.”

Callie didn’t say much, but he knew she had a habit of changing the subject when she didn’t want to answer a question. Like now.

“Good. This place needs organizing. There are still...things...from my mother’s...um, death, like cards and all. We just couldn’t bring ourselves to go through everything, least of all my father. After Hurricane Daphne hit, we just dried out whatever papers looked important and tossed the rest.”

Silence.

Callie cleared her throat. “Big Dan is still in rehab, isn’t he?”

She asked that question probably to break the silence this time. She had that habit, too. She knew the answer already. Beaumont was a small town. But Callie cared about people, so her question was genuine. All his feelings for her came rushing back like a tidal wave. Was she dating someone? Was she glad to see him? “Yeah. Alcohol rehab. My father’s been there for seven months, but it seems like he’s been fighting his demons forever.” Truthfully, he was worried about his dad. He’d had several setbacks, but they’d be worth it if he learned something from them. Reed wasn’t sure that his dad realized that he could actually get a sentence of incarceration if he was found guilty of violating his probation.

“I understand about Big Dan. And you know, Reed, I can’t believe I’m here, either. I came to the ranch on the usual visits we had every two years in school during history class. Your beautiful mother gave us the tour. I’ve always loved the ranch.”

A pang of sorrow hit his heart, as it always did whenever he thought of his mother, and he took a deep breath. “Mom loved to share the Beaumont history. And remember how I had to take the tour, too? Sometimes I gave it!”

She laughed.

“Callie, I’m sorry I reacted so weirdly. I just didn’t expect to see you, but I’m glad I did. So you’ve been okay?”

“I’ve been fine.” She nodded.

“According to the town grapevine, I know you’ve never gotten married, but are you dating anyone these days? Weren’t you engaged once?”

His mom had seen Callie’s engagement announcement in the Beaumont Bulletin, and Mom had called him—a couple of times—to tell him. Immediately, he fell into a riding slump, drank way too much beer and had to climb out of his funk with the help of his riding pals and his brothers.

“I’m between serious relationships.” She laughed, but her eyes suddenly misted. “It’s a long, boring story.”

“I have the time.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. I have work to do.”

It was like pulling teeth with a bull rope, trying to get her to expand on her replies, but he’d find out sooner or later. On occasion, Reed had seen Callie in town. They would wave to each other, but they’d never stopped to talk. She’d always seemed like she was in a hurry to get away from him.

There wasn’t anything more to say to each other after their disastrous split. He’d been hurt to his very soul when she’d stayed in Beaumont. Or maybe he’d been just too damn young and idealistic to think that she’d travel with him, that’d he’d win a lot of money and they’d start a family.

He’d achieved two out of those three.

“Callie, did you ever go to college for advertising and marketing, like you wanted?”

“No. I didn’t. I went to Beaumont Community College and took some business classes.”

“Why not advertising and marketing?”

She shrugged and looked away, not meeting his eyes. “Things happened,” she said quietly. “And BCC didn’t offer advertising and marketing.”

“But you dreamed of working at an ad agency on Madison Avenue someday.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said softly. “I have my own business now.”

“Good for you. Callie. You always managed to land on your feet.”

“Most of the time.”

Reed could see how uncomfortable he’d made her, so it was his turn to change the subject. “So whose personal assistant are you exactly?”

“Luke’s. He was the one who hired me, although I seem to be doing things for your family.” She pointed to the three overstuffed feed bags. “Those are full of fan mail. The Beaumont Big Guns are quite the hit.”

“That’s all...ours?”

“Yes. And it’s loaded with SASEs for autographed pictures and your reply.”

“Huh?”

“Self-addressed stamped envelopes.”

“Oh.”

“I understand there’s even more mail at the PBR office. They’re shipping it here.”

“Wow! I am totally shocked.”

“You shouldn’t be. It seems like the whole country is cheering for you three.”

“Tell me, what else does a personal assistant do?” Reed asked with a wink and a grin.

“Not that!” He liked getting a rise out of her. He wasn’t disappointed. Callie’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me.

“Hello? Yes. Hi, Luke...He’s here right now...Yes...He’s supposed to keep his leg up?...Oh?...I’ll tell him...Luke, should he do that considering his injury?...Okay, yeah, I’ll get him there...But I wasn’t hired to be Reed’s...nanny.” She clicked off her phone and turned to Reed.

“Do you have your cell phone on?”

“I can’t find it.”

“Apparently your agent, Rick...um...”

“Kessler.”

She nodded. “Mr. Kessler has been trying to call you. He phoned Luke in the hope that Luke could get hold of you. Mr. Kessler wanted to remind you that today you’re supposed to go to the local public TV station and be interviewed.”

“Dammit! I forgot about that!”

She checked her watch. “You have to be there in an hour. You might want to—”

“Shower and shave?” he asked.

“Might be a good idea since you are going to be on television.”

“I remember now.” He adjusted his crutches to get up from the chair. “They are doing a segment on bull riding.”

“Here’s some more news, Reed. I am now your personal assistant, too. In addition to my other duties here in your father’s office, I am supposed to ‘facilitate your recovery,’ according to your agent and Luke.” There was an incredulous tone to her voice, like she couldn’t believe she had to add Reed’s circumstances to her original duties. “Also, Mr. Kessler is worried that you keep missing your appointments and public appearances. And you are supposed to keep your leg elevated. I also have to make sure you make the appearances that your agent arranged. Sounds like a contradiction. And I’ll be getting paid extra.”

“Then I’ll make it worth your while!”

“Don’t even think about it,” she said. “But tell me about your knee.”

“The medical staff think that my meniscus might heal on its own. I’ll need surgery if it doesn’t.”

“Then you’ll have to keep it up whenever possible. Now, go and take a shower, and make it quick. And if it sounds like I’m nagging you, it’s because I am!”

Reed saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

He hated being laid up, but he was getting a kick out of the fact that she agreed to look out for him. “I’m getting back to the PBR as soon as I can. The Beaumont brothers have the first three slots tied up. I can’t stay on the injured list for any length of time or some young rider will take my place.”

“I hear you, but first things first. I’ll get you to the TV station, since you can’t drive with a torn meniscus.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He tweaked his hat with his thumb and forefinger, and crutched to his room, where he’d tossed his duffel bag.

After pulling out clean clothes, he went to the bathroom off the bedroom he would forever think of as his. He shucked off his clothes and adjusted the shower water until it was just lukewarm.

No matter how far away he was, he always wanted a home to come back to, and the Beaumont Ranch was the place. For some reason, it felt even more like home with Callie here.

And if it wasn’t for Amber, they would have lost the ranch completely in a tax auction. Thankfully, Amber had made it a point to go to a PBR event and told Luke that he’d better get back and rescue the ranch, not only from the auction block but from the damage that Hurricane Daphne had done eighteen months prior.

Luke had contacted Jesse and Reed, and the “Three Musketeers” sprang into action and sank every penny they received from their bull-riding winnings into fixing up the ranch.

Reed took the fastest shower of his life. He got dressed, grabbed his crutches and went back to Big Dan’s study, where he found Callie hard at work.

* * *

CALLIE’S HEART DID a little leap in her chest when she looked up and saw Reed in the study.

His hair was sticking up in places and it was still wet. He looked...gorgeous.

He wore a long-sleeved baby blue shirt that stretched across his muscled chest.

“So, you’re my new personal assistant?” He grinned, then winked.

“Don’t go all juvenile on me.”

“But we’ll have fun,” Reed said.

“Don’t bug me, Reed.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asked.

“It’s a fact.”

“We’ll see about that, Miss Callie. We’ll see.”

Callie couldn’t help peeking as Reed walked to the front door. That cowboy could really work a pair of jeans, even on crutches. No wonder the buckle bunnies were always after him. Reed was one hunk of a man.

But she wasn’t interested. Her past love life was like a soap opera and she was canceling the show. She didn’t want to think about her past relationships now, if ever.

Callie found her car keys in the deep recesses of her purse and held the door open so Reed could crutch through. His aftershave wafted around her. Pine and leather. Strong scents. Strong, like Reed.

No. She wasn’t going to think things like that. He was just a client, not boyfriend material. He hadn’t been after high school and nothing had changed. In fact, she was even more wary of getting involved with yet another man.

Callie was just tired of putting effort into another relationship. She was tired, just plain tired.

Reed’s magnetism was lethal and, therefore, Callie had to be extra cautious. She had to reinforce that wall around her and wear a Kevlar vest to protect her heart.

They both slid into her ancient SUV and Callie turned the key. It started with a moan and a groan, but it started. She patted the dashboard. “Good job, Ruby.”

“Ruby?” Reed asked as she aimed the vehicle toward the long exit out of the ranch.

“It used to be red, but now it’s mostly faded to pink. I should call it Pinky.”

He grinned. “I’m guessing that it’s about ten years old.”

“Close. It’s twelve years old.”

He chuckled. “You really should put it out of its misery.”

“Then what do I drive?” she asked.

“Another car. Maybe something newer.”

“When you find a money tree, let me know where it is.”

“Oh, I see. Sorry.” Reed was quiet for quite a while before he started talking again.

“Callie, I’ll never forget the day and night of our senior prom. I loved taking you and showing you off. And at graduation, when you were valedictorian, your speech was a pitch for the graduates to stay in Beaumont and make it bigger and better. I liked that.”

“I figure that only about one-third of them moved. I’ve kept track throughout the years. Some even returned.”

Reed snapped his fingers. “Let’s throw a reunion. We can have it at the practice arena on the ranch. I’ll order some tents. It’d be great to see everyone.”

“You want to have a party on the same spot where you practice riding bulls?”

“Yeah. I don’t have any practice bulls here yet, if it’s the manure you’re thinking of.”

Callie couldn’t plan a party right now. She had enough work to do being the personal assistant to the Beaumonts. “Um, uh...maybe when I have everything organized, having a reunion is something to think about.”

“Don’t you ever have fun, Callie?”

“Basically...no. Not since high school. I’ve been juggling many balls in the air. I have responsibilities and obligations.”

“Responsibilities and obligations? Sounds serious.”

“It is. They are.” She decided to change the subject because she sounded like such a dud. Maybe she was, but such was life. “I liked the prom. If I remember correctly, Tiffany McGrath, head cheerleader, was the prom queen and you were king.”

“I wonder what Tiff is doing now.”

“She lives on Maple Street and has three kids. She married Josh Nelson. Remember how everyone called him Nerdy Nelson? He’s not. He’s a full-time investment broker and a volunteer firefighter. Tiff has her own gift shop on Main Street—Gifts by Tiff.”

“Tiff had dreams of working for the United Nations. She was studying three languages.” He shook his head. “She wanted to move out of Beaumont and go to a big city.”

“Things change, Reed. People change. She told me that she wanted to raise her family in Beaumont.”

“That’s nice.” He paused, as if he were thinking, then asked, “Do you ever regret not going to New York?”

“Maybe, but here I have responsibilities and—”

“Obligations,” Reed finished.

“Yes.”

She couldn’t leave if she wanted to. She was entrenched in Beaumont, and her mother had her own local doctors who’d saved her from breast cancer ten years ago, and she hoped they’d be able to do it again now.

Her twin brothers would be leaving for college soon, but Beaumont was where they loved to be right now—in the small bungalow on Elm that she’d bought for them. Well, the bank owned it, but as long as she kept working as hard as she had been and kept up with the taxes and the monthly payments, no one would ever evict them again.

Never.

“Is the TV station still on Wells Avenue?” Reed asked.

“Yes. And we’re cutting the time short. You won’t have much time to prepare.”

“I’ve done a million of these things. I don’t need to prepare. ‘Reed, what made you become a bull rider?’ I’ll answer, ‘I love the adrenaline rush and the friends that I’ve made. And being with my brothers is another reason why I love riding. To love what you’re doing and make money doing it...well, it doesn’t get any better than that.’”

Callie chuckled. “I guess you don’t need to prepare after all.”

“If he asks me that question first, I’ll buy us coffee.”

“If he asks you that first, I’ll buy us lunch,” Callie said in a moment of exuberance she hadn’t felt in a long time. Goofy bets with Reed had been some of the best times of her teen years, and no one else she’d dated since he’d left had made her laugh like he had.

Callie parked in front of the station and they both hurried into the lobby, where Reed was whisked away to the booth. Callie was directed to a viewing room, where she settled into a comfy chair.

The announcer nodded to Reed. “With us is champion bull rider Reed Beaumont. Reed, tell the audience why you decided to ride bulls.”

Reed looked at Callie through the window of the booth, grinned and winked. Then he launched into his memorized speech.

Callie enjoyed watching him. He was in his element, casual and charming, informative and humble. She could tell he was excited about all aspects of bull riding and appreciated the PBR.

She used to be that excited about studying advertising and marketing. The internet had made everything so exciting. Besides, facts and figures were her strong suit, and developing spreadsheets was exhilarating. And who didn’t adore pie charts?

She studied Reed. He was sitting on a chair with wheels and his left arm was up in the air. Callie could hear how he was retelling one of his rides on Cowabunga, his nemesis.

Reed’s face was animated; his now sapphire eyes were twinkling—it was clear he simply loved the sport.

Then his interview was over and he stared at his crutches for a few seconds before he picked them up. She was probably the only one who noticed the slump of his shoulders and the droop at the corners of his mouth when he looked at them.

He wanted to be riding bulls. Even Beaumont probably ran second place to his love of riding bulls.

“Callie, do you want to grab that lunch you owe me? I’m famished. It’s on me because you drove me here.”

“It’s on me. I lost the bet. Besides, I don’t need any payback.”

“I know, but I’d like to treat you.”

She smiled. “I really should get back to work.”

“You pick the place,” Reed said as if he hadn’t heard her.

“If you like Italian food, I’d suggest Poppa Al’s Restaurant on Main and Willow.”

“Sounds great.” He moved, but his crutches didn’t. She could see the pain register on his face and how it hurt when his right leg bore some weight.

They walked toward Callie’s SUV. “I’m hoping that this thing heals fast because I keep my rank.” He stopped walking and turned to her. “Okay, who’s your favorite rider?”

“Probably your brother Luke,” she lied. “He can ride anything with hair.”

Reed put his hands over his heart. “I’m wounded.”

“Yes, you are.” She pointed to his leg, then aimed the key fob at her ancient SUV to unlock it. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it didn’t. Today it didn’t, so she unlocked the driver’s side manually and leaned over to open the passenger side for Reed.

“You need to let your knee heal. You shouldn’t have done that interview.”

Reed sighed. “Rick said it’d be good publicity for us and for the PBR. I was committed to it.”

“Committed to it? You didn’t even remember—”

“That’s why I need a personal assistant, Callie. I got so much on my mind.”

“By going back to riding too soon, wouldn’t you be jeopardizing your life? I mean, if you have a knee injury that hasn’t healed yet, when your ride is over, can you hurry and run away before the bull pounds you into the dirt?” Callie asked.

“I might be a little slow getting away.”

“Then you are jeopardizing the lives of the bullfighters whose job it is to protect you.”

He paused for a while. “I’ll give them a heads-up. But you have to remember that almost every bull rider rides with injuries.”

“I suppose so, Reed, but I hate to see you hurt.”

“It almost sounds like you care.”

“Yeah, I care. I do. I don’t want to see any of you riders hurt.”

Reed put his hand on her shoulder and left it there for several beats. Her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart pounded in her ears.

She steeled herself and sternly reminded her heart that she’d had four serious relationships that never ended at the altar for various reasons.

And she was counting Reed, too. He’d been the first one.

Callie didn’t want Reed touching her, even if it was on top of a blouse and a sleeveless plaid vest. She’d sworn off men.

She was going to ignore him as best as she could while working in his house. She had to clean up Big Dan’s study and, by doing so, referrals to her business would soar.

She could pay her mortgage, maybe pay it off sooner that she needed to. Maybe she could even buy a bigger house.

And she could pay medical bills, her mother’s medical bills from her recent cancer treatments and her brothers’ from their sports injuries.

It seemed like a good plan. She’d just have to stay away from Reed and all the distractions that came with him.

Easy, right?


Chapter Two (#u124ce357-a25d-5c76-bde9-15bc40835395)

Reed wondered why Callie seemed so nervous.

When he’d put his hand on her shoulder, he’d thought she was going to jump as high as Cowabunga.

He’d just felt as if he’d known her forever, which was true. He remembered her shyness that first day of school at the huge building his ancestor Charlie Beaumont had erected for grades kindergarten through twelve. Everyone growing up in Beaumont went to that brick monstrosity on the hill. The next nearest school was in Waterville, a three-hour drive away.

That first day, Callie had clung to the wall like a coat of paint. Reed had taken her hand and led her to a seat because, as a member of the First Family of Beaumont, that’s what he did.

Reed wondered if Callie remembered that.

They’d kept a friendship brewing until a month before high school ended. They’d been inseparable that short summer until he’d left for the PBR.

He’d gone on the circuit; she’d stayed.

Could they pick up where they’d left off?

That was unrealistic. That bull had left the chute.

Callie never talked much about her problems. However, gossip had swirled when the story about her father taking up with a rich, older woman, Tish Holcomb, and leaving his family with a lot of credit card debt got around town.

In contrast, Reed’s life was an open book. He was usually in the spotlight due to his world ranking with the PBR. To him, there wasn’t a question that was off-limits, other than the name of who he was dating.

There were always a lot of women hanging around him whenever he went out or whenever he was autographing. Truth be told, he’d rarely dated. He was too busy keeping his rank. Every minute of his life was devoted to becoming a better bull rider.

He loved traveling with his brothers on the circuit—they had a lot of laughs and traded riding tips—but he definitely wanted to win the PBR Finals. To expedite his goal, he jogged. He worked out. He rode practice bulls, and while other riders, including his little brother, Jesse, were partying, Reed was doing yoga and pushups in his hotel room.

If he’d partied like Jesse, he couldn’t ride the next morning. Maybe it was because Jesse was two years younger.

It was Reed’s turn to win the Finals. He wanted to get out from under Luke’s shadow. Maybe he’d catch a break and Luke wouldn’t return to the PBR after his honeymoon.

No. He’d rather beat him fair and square.

Luke was riding high. He’d married the woman of his dreams, Beaumont Sheriff’s Deputy Amber Chapman just after the World Finals in Vegas last November. With seven months of marriage under his belt, Luke was riding high with Amber.

Reed constantly wondered when it would be his turn to fall in love with a special person, like Luke had. No matter how much he loved riding bulls, he’d give it all up in a heartbeat to start a family.

He longed to model his kids’ childhoods with the one he’d had. He and his brothers had had the whole Beaumont Ranch as their playground. They’d ridden horses, bikes, ATVs and various ranch equipment. The cowboys who worked the ranch had told them stories about the “golden days” of the Beaumont Ranch.

Those had been the carefree days...before his mother had died.

When Valerie Lynn was kicked in the head by a horse over three years ago and died, his family had never been the same. His father, Big Dan, had developed an alcohol problem and was now a ghost of his former robust self.

Big Dan hadn’t wanted the ranch repaired and fixed to the way it had been. He’d wanted it left the same as the second his beloved wife died. It had been left the same, until Hurricane Daphne hit soon after. Then Big Dan was about to lose the ranch to taxes.

That was when the Three Musketeers had stepped in, pooled their money and become the owners of the ranch.

He marveled at the comfortable silence between Callie and him. Any other woman would find it necessary to fill the quiet with mindless chatter.

Reed was simply content to ride through Beaumont with Callie, seeing old haunts and marveling at new construction—new to him at least.

His stomach growled and Callie laughed. “I think you’ll like Poppa Al’s Restaurant, Reed. Their specialty is chicken parm. It’s delicious.”

“Chicken parm sounds good to me,” he said.

They both got out of the car and, as he retrieved his crutches, he cursed the famed Cowabunga under his breath for his damaged knee.

“What’s the matter?” Callie asked. “You doing okay?”

“I’m sick of these crutches already. I could go without them, but it hurts like the devil. Hell, it hurts like the devil with them.”

“Then use the crutches, Reed.” Callie jogged a few steps ahead and opened the door to make it easier to pass through.

He walked through. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

A man came out from behind the bar, took Reed’s hand and began pumping it. “Well, if it isn’t Reed Beaumont, the great bull rider! It’s about time you visited my place.”

It took a split second for Reed to recognize Alphonse Giacomo. They’d played football together on the high school team. According to the Beaumont Bulletin, which he read online to keep current with the happenings of his hometown when he was on the road, Al had gone on to play professionally, but an injury had forced him to retire.

“And Callie Wainright!” He pulled Callie into a big bear hug. “It’s good to see you again. My Susan was just talking about hiring you to keep our books straight. She doesn’t trust me to do it correctly and thinks we’re going to land in federal prison. That’s my wife, five feet three inches and one hundred twenty-five pounds of total worry.”

They all laughed.

“Have her call me.” A business card appeared in Callie’s hand and she held it out to Al. He took it and slipped into the pocket of his checked pants.

“We’ll call you for sure, Callie.”

“So, you’re Poppa Al?” Reed asked, adjusting his crutches.

“Guilty as charged. I only wanted to open a spumoni stand, but look at this!” He spread his arms wide to show how big his place was. “I can hold two wedding receptions at the same time—or one huge one.”

Al looked from Callie to Reed and back again. His thick black eyebrows rose as he rubbed his hands together in glee. “So, are you here to book your wedding?”

“Uh...um...” Callie began, a blush starting on her neck then settling on her cheeks. “No.”

Reed just laughed. “We’re here for your chicken parm.”

“You’ll love it,” Al said. “I make it from scratch. And I’ll make you an antipasto to share. It’s on the house. Now sit. Sit in the first booth. It’s very romantic.”

Al disappeared through swinging metal doors and Reed turned to Callie. “Shall we sit in the romantic booth?”

Callie shrugged. “Al seems to have made up his mind that we’re to sit there.”

Unlike Reed, Callie didn’t seem to be enjoying Al’s funny misunderstanding. Reed winked. “Then let’s not disappoint him,” he said as he hung his crutches from the coat hook.

They both slid into the red vinyl booth with the white Formica table. “I hope we don’t get indigestion from the romantic booth,” he added, grinning.

“It’d be a shame if we did. It would spoil the experience.” Callie’s eyes twinkled.

Reed enjoyed her lighter mood.

He looked around and was impressed. “I didn’t know Al Giacomo owned this place.”

“Al just opened a couple months ago. In another hour, there’ll be a line around the building. The word is out that if you want a good meal in Beaumont, go to Al’s.”

“This is a nice surprise, Callie. I’d lost touch with Al. Actually, I’ve lost touch with many of my pals in Beaumont. Too much traveling, another circle of friends and I don’t get home all that much.”

“How long are you going to be here this time?”

“Probably three months. I’m planning on going back after the summer break. Since I’m healing, I figure it’s my turn to work on the ranch. Luke did the majority of fixing up the ranch house after Hurricane Daphne, along with the barn. I am going to do more work on the barn and supervise fixing up the ramrod’s house. Luke said it needs a new roof and some remodeling inside. Then Jesse will take his turn and work on an addition to our bull breeding facility, and a new bunkhouse for the hired hands. The old one’s coming down.”

“You’re just about rebuilding the whole ranch.”

A waitress came and dropped off frosty classes of water. “Hi, Callie.”

“How are you doing, Darlene?” Callie said then turned to Reed. “Dar’s grandparents retired here and Dar is living with them for the summer. She’s working and going to Oklahoma State in the fall.”

“Nice. What are you taking up?” Reed asked.

Her cheeks turned pink. “Um, uh...in hospital...hospitality, I mean. Hospitality.”

Reed made eye contact with Callie, whose hands were over her mouth. She knew Darlene was having a hard time being a cool fan, whereas Reed was used to different reactions.

Some fans were terribly nervous; others were blatantly sexually aggressive. Luckily, more were nervous. He could deal with those fans, but the young ones who came on to him? Well, those made him nervous.

Darlene turned to Reed and giggled. “Uh... I’ve never done this before, but could I have your autograph, Reed?”

“Sure!”

“Wait here. Don’t move!” she ordered.

Callie burst out laughing then sobered. “We’re eating here, so we’re not going to move. Did she forget that? I wonder if it’s your celebrity or your handsomeness that has Darlene so overwhelmed.”

“It’s both. I’m sure it’s both,” Reed deadpanned, then raised an eyebrow. “But you think I’m handsome?”

“I...um...uh...”

Darlene returned out of breath and saved Callie from more stammering. She handed Reed a white foam take-out box.

“A take-out box?” Callie grinned. “But, Darlene, we haven’t had our meal yet.”

“I know, but this is all I could find for Reed to sign.” She handed him the box and a ballpoint pen. “J-just don’t press too h-hard or you’ll p-punch a hole in the top.”

He wrote his usual “Thanks for being a fan! Best wishes, Reed Beaumont” then added the city and date. He also added her name.

Smiling and holding out his hand, he waited several seconds before she realized what to do. She wiped her hands on her black apron and then held one out to him. They shook as she grinned widely.

“I am sorry to bother you again, but can I take a picture of you?”

“Absolutely.”

She positioned her cell phone and pushed the icon several times. “Thanks, uh... Reed.”

“But don’t you want to be in the picture, too, Darlene?” Reed asked.

“Can I?”

“C’mon.”

Without a word Darlene handed her cell phone to Callie.

Callie stifled another grin. “Sure, I’d be glad to take your picture with Reed.

Callie took four pictures of Reed sitting in the booth with Darlene next to him, then handed back the phone.

“Thanks, Reed.”

“You’re welcome, Darlene.”

Darlene scurried away, her cell phone next to her heart.

Every once in a while, Callie realized what a celebrity Reed was. Not only did he receive bags full of fan mail, but obviously women fawned over him. Everyone knew that he was a real athlete in a very dangerous sport, but to Callie, he was Reed Beaumont, the man who chose riding bulls over her. Reed sat back in the booth. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry...about what? Oh, you mean about Darlene? You were very sweet to her. She’ll remember this moment for a lifetime.”

“I hope not.”

“I was her age once. I know.”

“Now, what were we talking about? Oh, yes. The PBR and you, I think,” she said.

“Since I had the summer off from the PBR, I wanted to catch a couple rides on some of the other circuits so I could boost my points, but my injury put a halt to those plans.”

Callie nodded. “If you do what you’re supposed to, you’ll be healthy for the PBR when things start back up. It’s only the end of May. You can do it if you’d stay off of it and rest.”

“Will you hold my hand if I have to go to the hospital?”

“Oh! The brave, big-shot bull rider is too chicken to have surgery!”

“No,” he said quickly, softly. “I’m just too chicken to go to the same hospital where my mother died.”

Callie met his eyes. “I’m sorry, Reed. I didn’t think.”

He put his hand over hers. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to blurt that out. I was the one who didn’t think.”

She put her hand over his. “Obviously it’s bothering you. You could go to another hospital.”

“And not go to the one that Great-Gramps Cyrus Beaumont built? I’d be drummed out of the family, or what’s left of it.”

* * *

SHE REMOVED HER hand when the antipasto came and he felt deprived of her warmth. He knew she was only embarrassed for what she’d said, but he liked the feel of hers over his.

He looked down at the large platter. A mountain of lettuce was heaped high, a display of various meats, cheeses, tomatoes, tuna and veggies artfully piled on top.

Reed sighed. “Does Al expect us to eat all this plus a meal?”

“Yes. He does.” Callie picked up the big fork and spoon on the side of the platter.

“No wonder it’s the romantic booth. We could live here in this booth for a week eating one meal.”

“You on one side on the booth and me on the other?” Callie giggled. “That’s not very romantic! We should be on the same side at least, just like the front seat of a car.”

“I remember many great times with you in the front seat of my car!”

She laughed.

Reed thought Callie’s playful spirit was slowly returning and that made him glad. She seemed so sad sometimes, and guilt would overwhelm him as he was responsible for some of that.

He remembered how Callie was always hell bent on helping others and working hard, and he loved that about her, to a point. He didn’t want her to overextend herself and make herself sick. On top of that, he knew how much she anguished about her mother’s health, worried about her brothers and paying for their injuries, and was anxious about keeping a roof over all their heads. Nothing ever changed with her.

But all that angst was part of Callie, but so was the laughter and joy, and the latter was what he wanted to bring out. He wanted to make her smile and laugh and forget about her worries for a while.

The chicken parm came on two more platters, one for Callie and one for Reed. A mountain of spaghetti was stacked on the side.

“It’s amazing that you, Jesse and Luke are the first three in the standings. What are the odds of that?” Callie asked twirling some spaghetti with her fork.

Reed tried the chicken. Delicious. “I don’t have a clue about the odds, but I like the fact that the Beaumont Big Guns are in the top three. And Luke was even going to retire after he got married, but I’m guessing that he’s going to give the Finals another go. So, he’s riding in another circuit to keep in the game while on an extended honeymoon. Amber is traveling with him and they are having a great time. She loves it.”

Callie sat as still as a statue.

“We could have had a great time, too, Callie.”

She shook her head. “My father left us with thousands of dollars in credit card debt from his gambling addiction before he split for Tahiti with Tish Holcomb, rich widow and my father’s latest meal ticket. Besides, Reed, admit it—we were too young.”

“We might have been young, but we were certainly mature.” He sighed. “Your father should have paid his own debts, not saddle you and your mother with them.”

“I agree, but most of the cards were in my mother’s name, and the creditors were tormenting us.”

He sighed. “You could have followed me at any time. We talked about that, but I didn’t hear from you and I missed you.”

“The phone works both ways, Reed. You could have called me, but the Beaumont grapevine said that you had the company of your buckle bunnies.”

“There weren’t any buckle bunnies—at least, none that I’d have liked to spend my life with.”

There was silence as they both played with their spaghetti.

He tossed down his fork and gritted his teeth. “Amber, I could have helped you.”

She shook her head. “It was my responsibility.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” He exhaled a loud breath. “Is your mom okay now?”

“No. It came back. She’s going through chemo now.” Tears stung her eyes. “Can we please change the subject? Let’s go back to bull riding. It’s mostly neutral.

“Yeah. Okay.” Reed twirled his spaghetti with his fork. “How are your brothers doing? They have to be—what?—seniors in high school by now.” He was still reeling. He hadn’t known Mrs. Wainright had breast cancer again.

“The twins are great. They both got football scholarships. John is going to Notre Dame and Joe will be playing at the University of Southern California.”

“Fabulous. I can’t wait to see them play.”

“They are both fans of yours. They’re hoping you beat Luke for the championship in Vegas.”

“So do I, but if I don’t and he gets a fourth victory, it’ll be a record that’ll stand for a long time. That is, until I beat it.” He laughed. “Jesse will ride the best he can, too. Maybe he’ll be the one who’ll beat Luke. But, as the saying goes, one cowboy against one bull.”

She smiled slightly. “One cowboy against one bull. And one woman against one bull rider. I have to get back to work. I can’t be playing all the time.” She paused for several uncomfortable seconds. “And Reed, I think we should maintain a business relationship only. No more personal questions.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “Every woman I know likes to talk about herself.”

Callie shook her head. “I don’t.”

“I guess I stand corrected,” he said. “We’ll limit our conversation to sex, drugs and rock and roll, but not if it pertains to ourselves.”

“Exactly.” Callie nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Then let’s talk about sex.”

* * *

CALLIE PUSHED AROUND a piece of chicken on her plate and wondered what on earth she should do.

But she didn’t want to bare her soul to Reed. She’d done that way too many times with other men.

She’d told herself that she was going to take a break from men, and she’d meant it, and that included the amiable and happy-go-lucky Reed Beaumont.

Maybe she was only rowing with one oar, but she was going to stick to her promise to herself: concentrate on her business. Maybe someday she’d get her dream of going back to college.

“What did you say, Reed?”

“You look a million miles away.”

“I guess I was,” she said. “I guess I was just thinking.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to share.”

“No. It was nothing important. And it wasn’t about sex.”

Maybe indirectly it was about sex or lack thereof.

Callie was glad when Darlene returned with their take-out boxes and plastic bags. Callie put what was left of her meal into the containers. Reed did the same.

“This is going to be breakfast tomorrow,” he said, and Callie believed him. Inez, the cook at the Beaumont Ranch, had just left for vacation.

Al returned, wiping his hands on his apron. “I always think when I work, and I think that you both are perfect together. So, let me show you my new reception halls.”

Reed looked at Callie and raised an eyebrow. “Shall we, darling?”

Callie wasn’t amused.

“Uh... Al...we have only become reacquainted for—” he checked his watch “—about three hours so far. As much as I like Callie, I don’t want to rush things. Right, honey pie, my sweetheart darling?”

She tried not to laugh, she really did, but Reed always had a way of making her heart feel lighter, happier.

“Well, my beloved, I think we should leave before Al has us picking out a menu for our reception,” Callie joked.

“Maybe we need to pick out rings first!”

“First, you need to go down on one knee,” she instructed.

“I can’t. I have a torn meniscus.”

Callie looked up at the ceiling, painted with a landscape of Venice’s Grand Canal with more gondolas than people. The artist loved his gondolas.

“We’d better go, Reed. I am way behind on my work today.”

She started walking quickly, wanting to leave all the proposal, ring and reception talk behind.

Reed cleared his throat. “Ah, the real Callie returns. Nose-to-grindstone.”

She was going to say something snooty in return but Reed was shaking hands with Al and she remembered her manners.

Walking back, she said, “Thanks, Al. Another great meal.” She held out her hand, but he wrapped her in a hug instead. “Oh, we forgot our doggie boxes, Reed. I’ll go get them.”

She picked up the bags containing their leftover meals and couldn’t resist peeking into the two rooms labeled Room A and Room B. They’d be perfect for an elegant wedding reception.

Hurrying back, she walked to the parking lot with Reed, and they got into Callie’s SUV.

Reed chuckled. “You’re not the only one who’s going to be busy. Onward to the Beaumont Ranch, please. I have a lot of calls to make to find contractors.”

“And I have a lot of paperwork to handle and file.”

Callie had an excellent reputation for doing quality work, but it wouldn’t hurt to give it more of a boost. She could raise her fees after working for the Beaumonts; their positive endorsement of her skills would get around the small town like wildfire.

“Can we share Big Dan’s study?” Reed asked.

It was his father’s study, after all, so she had no right to keep him out of the room. Wait a minute! The brothers had bought the ranch at a tax auction because Big Dan hadn’t paid the taxes and had ignored the upkeep after Valerie Lynn’s death. So, Reed owned one-third of the ranch and the study was his, too.

“We could share the study on a trial basis,” Callie said, turning left onto Rabbit Run Road. “If we can’t work together, I can pack up everything and move someplace else and just go in there to file.”

“But, Callie, we can get along. After all, we are faux engaged.”

“And faux engaged is all that we’ll ever be.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Is that some kind of a challenge for me to ask you out?” Reed asked.

“No. It is not. No way. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not flirting with you. I’m telling you straight. I’m not interested in developing a relationship with you, Reed, or any man. Not at all. I’ve struck out way too many times.”


Chapter Three (#u124ce357-a25d-5c76-bde9-15bc40835395)

Callie was as prickly as a saguaro cactus. Reed should take the hint and stay away, but instead he was going to enjoy the challenge of getting to know her all over again.

In senior year of high school, he had fallen in love with the shy girl who was always ready with a smile and a laugh, but this Callie had ten years of secrets that had etched worry lines on her forehead. He planned on finding out what had caused them. And he wanted to bring laughter into her life again.

Or was he just being a fool and trying to salvage a relationship that was in the dreams of an eighteen-year-old?

Right now, he was thinking of an excuse to go to his father’s study to look for something, or to ask her something, or to maybe bring her a glass of iced tea.

He went into the kitchen and looked into the fridge. Inez had made a pitcher of iced tea, bless her.

Finding a glass with a snap-on top, he tossed some ice into it, poured in the tea and put the container into a plastic grocery bag. Then he made his way into the study.

He found Callie sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by papers and envelopes. There were two pens stuck into her hair and a pair of glasses on her head. Another pair was on her face. She was chewing on a pencil.

“Callie?”

She was concentrating so hard that she didn’t appear to hear him.

“Callie, how about some iced tea?”

He’d spoiled her concentration. “Huh?”

“Iced tea. I brought you some.” He held up the bag.

“Thanks. I need a break.”

“I’m not staying,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.

Oh, yes, I did!

He made his way to the big maroon leather chair he remembered his dad sitting in, smoking a cigar and barking orders. Big Dan’s booming voice hadn’t scared even the most timid of their help. His big smile and even bigger cigar were always present.

Fortunately, after three barroom brawls, Big Dan had been sentenced to probation and ordered into inpatient rehab for his alcohol problem. That had brought his drinking and gambling to a screeching halt, with a couple of relapses thrown in just to keep everyone on their toes.

Someday his dad would be back sitting in his chair just like before. Or maybe Big Dan would like to keep his apartment in town since every inch of the ranch reminded him of how he’d lost the love of his life.

After Hurricane Daphne hit, many historically accurate repairs of the ranch house and outbuildings had taken place under his brother Luke’s watch. Unfortunately, Luke had ignored some of the mail and invoices, having much more pressing things on his mind, like bailing the ranch out of foreclosure.

“Um, Reed?”

Lost in thought, he didn’t realize that Callie had her hand on the plastic bag with the container of iced tea and he wasn’t giving it up.

“Oh, sorry. I was thinking of something.”

“Big Dan’s study is bringing back memories, isn’t it?”

She could read him like good ol’ Cowabunga—Cowabunga always knew if Reed was on his game or could be bucked off.

“Callie, you take Dad’s chair. I’ll sit in the brown leather one. That’s where I always had to sit when he was lecturing or dishing out some kind of punishment.”

He sank into the chair. He remembered the smell of leather, the sun shining in through the window and making patches on the carpet, and the swirl of the dust motes.

The room still smelled faintly of cigar smoke. As a kid, he’d both hated and loved that scent. It meant one of two things: that his father was nearby and some kind of punishment was headed his way, or it meant that his father was nearby and was going to do something fun with his brothers and him.

“How are you doing, Callie?” Looking around at the cluttered room, he realized what a dumb question that was. “I hate to tell you, but this office is looking worse, with all the assorted papers and envelopes on the floor.”

She took a sip of iced tea. “It’ll get worse before it gets better. I’m sorting.”

“I see. Need help?”

Then Reed saw the perfect way to keep him near Callie when he wasn’t busy hiring contractors: he could answer his own fan mail. He had a stack of unsigned pictures he could autograph and some nice paper with his letterhead. He could write a quick note to the fan.

“No. But thanks, anyway. I’m making progress,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal.

He looked at the now six bags full of mail. He never realized that he and his brothers had all those fans.

“I think I should answer my own fan mail, Callie. I feel bad that I neglected them. I’m going to write a note and send a signed picture.”

He repeated himself. “Yes. It’s time I answered my own fan mail.”

Callie grunted. “I could set you up in the kitchen. Or your bedroom. You could answer it there.”

“Why bother? I have everything here that I need.”

“Reed, I see what you’re doing. You want to pester me and drive me crazy.”

“Nah. I have better things to do. Besides, you made it crystal clear—I think those were the words you used—that you weren’t interested in me. So I don’t see a problem. Pretend I’m not here in my own father’s study.”

“Reed—” He felt like her eyes were throwing daggers at his chest.

He grinned. “I think you’re protesting way too much. I can only think that you have feelings for me.”

“Just wait until I show you how wrong you are, cowboy.”

* * *

EARLY IN THE morning on her second day of work, Callie received a call from the brothers’ agent.

“Reed, I have to talk to you,” she said, waiting for the sound of his crutches. He was in the expansive ranch house somewhere. “Reed?”

“At your service, ma’am.” He was in the kitchen reading the paper and chugging coffee.

“Rick would like to know if you could fill in for one of his other clients. They want you to cook with a celebrity chef.”

He shrugged. “When and where?”

“This afternoon. They will come here to you. The show is called What’s in Your Refrigerator?”

“That sounds easy enough. What are we going to cook?”

“Whatever they find in your fridge. They are going to make a meal out of it.”

“Interesting concept,” he joked.

“Can you cook, Reed?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “No, I can’t. But I’m a master with a microwave.”

“If they use a microwave, I’d be surprised.”

“You never know.” He smiled. “Maybe I’ll go shine it up. Then I’m going to see what Inez left in the fridge before she went on vacation.”

“No. I had to promise that you wouldn’t open it until they tell you to do so on the air.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I shall not open it then. I don’t want to be arrested by the fridge police.”

“Good.”

“What a bull rider has to do, huh?” he asked.

“Probably with all the publicity you are getting, you’ll get new fans, and then there’ll be new fans for the PBR. The money doesn’t hurt, either. Your product endorsements are very lucrative, too.”

“The Three Musketeers are putting most every cent we can into the ranch.”

Callie nodded. “I can tell you are all pitching in, from some of the bank statements I’ve seen.”

“You’re going to know all about us, except what size underwear we wear.”

“Oh, I found a receipt from the Beaumont Emporium. I know that, too.”

He looked at Callie, eyes as wide as some of the belt buckles he sported.

She laughed. “Only kidding.”

He laughed. She enjoyed how he laughed—free and easy—as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

In fact, that was the essence of his personality. It must be nice to be like that.

“Reed, can I make a suggestion?”

“Try and stop you.”

“I think you should wear your cowboy clothes. Cargo shorts and a T-shirt that says Beach Bum might not be what this show is looking for.”

“Point taken. I’ll be right back.” He hurried down the hallway.

Callie wondered if Reed’s room was the same as it was in high school. She remembered it as a cheery room with colorful Navajo blankets and shelves packed with trophies and belt buckles. Each award displayed a picture of the presenter and the name of the event. There were bigger pictures of saddles, rifles and boots that he’d won—more boots than a man could ever wear. No wonder that they always looked like he’d just taken them out of a box. He had.

Several minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Reed yelled, “Do you mind getting that, Callie?”

“No problem.” She put down the files she was labeling on a cleared spot on the big desk and headed for the door.

“Hi,” she said, looking at all the equipment several people were unloading from a van parked out front.

An older woman with a clipboard waved. “We’re from What’s in Your Refrigerator?”

“Come in,” Callie said. “I’ll show you where the kitchen is and you can set up.”

A man with a white chef’s jacket and black-and-white-checked pants whistled. “I am Chef Marty. What a fabulous place! I heard that it was historic, but this is amazing.”

“Hello, Chef Marty. I’m Callie, assistant for the Beaumont family. The ranch really is a historic place. It was founded at the time of the Oklahoma Land Rush.” Callie grinned. “The founder, Daniel Beaumont, was said to be a Sooner. He was Reed’s great-grandfather, times a few greats.”

She thought she sounded like a tour guide, but she had grown up in the light of one of the most historical places in Oklahoma. Every man, woman and child in Beaumont knew the story of the old place.

“It’s totally ancient. It’s totally medieval,” said a kid in sunglasses lugging an aluminum suitcase and with an e-cigarette in his mouth; she thought he was probably an intern.

“Not quite medieval,” Reed said, entering in the kitchen. “But close.”

“Excuse me, I have work to do,” Callie said, hurrying back to the study. As much as she would like to ogle Reed, she was better off away from him. Their earlier exchange had been a lot of fun, as was any time they talked together, but she needed to focus on her job.

She supposed she could stretch her duties to make sure everything was going smoothly in the kitchen, but what could go wrong?

Thump! Boom!

Someone swore.

Then three more people swore.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Callie went running. In her gut, she knew what had happened: Reed had lost his balance.

Oh, no! She hoped that he hadn’t hurt his knee even more.

But it wasn’t Reed on the ground. It was a crock of chili that Inez had made before she left that had hit the thick tiles and splashed all over Reed, the chef and the lady and her clipboard.

“Dude, this is epic,” said the kid with the sunglasses.

“I’ll double down on that,” Reed said.

Callie sprang into action. She grabbed a roll of paper towels and began scooping the chili into a trash can.

As best as he could, Reed tried to help her. None of the TV people lifted a finger, and that annoyed her.

“Reed, you can’t kneel down with your problems. I’ll take care of this while you change your jeans.”

“I hate to stick you with cleaning up.”

“I have twin brothers who play high school football, baseball and basketball. Can you guess at how many things hit the floor? They’re always tossing something, bouncing something or knocking over something with some kind of ball.”

“You’re too good. My mother would have made us clean it up,” Reed said.

“Oh, I do. Then I clean it up much better after they’re finished.” She turned toward Chef Marty. “Is it still a go for the show?”

“Absolutely. It looks like we are going to make grilled ham and cheese using flour tortillas. Then we are going to make salsa.”

“I think Reed can handle that,” Callie said.

While the TV crew took a break outside, Callie found a mop and bucket in the walk-in pantry and mopped the area. Then she dried it with more paper towels.

“I can’t thank you enough, Callie.”

She jumped at the low but familiar voice. Puffs of air teased her neck as he whispered close to her ear. Turning, she noticed that Reed had changed into black jeans that clung perfectly in all the right places, along with a long-sleeved white shirt covered with either embroidery or sewed-on patches of products and companies that sponsored him.

He had changed his boots from brown to black—alligator, maybe, or some kind of snake.

Not that she’d noticed.

“Oh, uh...you’re welcome,” she said, managing to look away from Reed. “Well, I’d better get back to work.”

“I’ll take you out for your kindness, Callie. I won’t forget.” Reed turned, probably knowing she’d protest. “Let’s get this show back to the kitchen and get cooking.”

She couldn’t help it. She had to watch him walk—crutch—away.

Callie had to get away from Reed, the scent of chili and the young kid with the e-cigarette that smelled like bubble gum.

She couldn’t wait to return to the pounds of paper that divulged the financial secrets of the Beaumonts and get everything entered on her spreadsheet.

* * *

CALLIE SURE WAS a good sport, Reed thought. Whatever Luke was paying her, it wasn’t enough. She was even cleaning up chili explosions. It didn’t go unnoticed that the rest of the people in the kitchen hadn’t lifted a finger to help, except for the young dude with the sunglasses who’d kept handing Callie paper towels. His name was Arnold and, as it turned out, he was the director of the show.

Reed, who had been feeling every ache and pain lately that came from riding bulls, really felt like an elder statesman of the bull-riding world when he realized he had saddles older than Arnie.

“Let’s get going, ladies and gentlemen,” Reed said. “My knee and lack of intact ligaments are killing me.”

Arnie blew a whistle, which made them all flinch. No one was talking, so the loud sound made it all the more bizarre. “Let’s move it, people. Our bull-riding star is faltering.”

“Not faltering, Arnie. Just aching,” Reed clarified. “If I faltered, I could never ride.”

Maybe he should just get the darn surgery and get rid of the crutches and stop wasting time.

So far, in his career, he’d managed to escape surgery. Oh, he’d had broken bones that had needed to be set and shoulders that had needed to be jammed back to where they belonged and petty stuff like that, but he’d never had real hospital surgery.

The saying went, “When you’re a bull rider, it’s when—and not if—you’ll get hurt.” He’d had his share of problems, but a lot of riders had had it a lot worse.

Chef Marty now had him grating Colby cheese.

“Do you have cilantro?” asked the chef.

“I’ll look in Inez’s garden,” Reed said.

“Can’t you send your secretary out there to get the stuff?” asked Arnie.

Reed raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Callie is not my secretary—she’s an administrative assistant and a very successful businesswoman, and I think she’s done enough to help us out here. I’ll get the cilantro, and Chef Marty can keep chopping.”

“No!” whined Arnie. “You have to do the chopping, bull rider dude.”

“Reed.”

Arnie looked around. “What’s that?”

“That’s my name,” Reed said. ”I am not a dude. Well, I am a dude, but that’s not my name.”

“Oh. Yeah. I know, dude... I mean Reed. My secretary, uh...um—my administrative assistant—” He snapped his fingers. “Louella. Louella will get it.”

Callie must have heard her name earlier because she walked into the kitchen with a handful of cilantro.

“I thought it would speed things up if I got the cilantro,” she whispered to Reed as she handed the greenery to the chef.

“That means I owe you two nights out,” Reed said.

Callie motioned with her head for him to follow her, and she picked a quiet spot away from the TV people. “That means that when everyone leaves, I can have some quiet time to work.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to go out with me? How about tonight?”

“Reed, thanks for asking, but I don’t have time. Tonight I have to go to my brothers’ baseball game, and I have some housework to do. Besides, I have other clients to handle other than the Beaumonts. So, no. I can’t go out with you. Thank you, anyway.”

“I’ll take you to your brothers’ game.” Callie was just about to say no when Reed added, “They’re open to the public, right?”

“You know they are.”

“Meet you there.”

“But you can’t drive, Reed.”

“Oh. That’s right.” He rubbed his chin. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you pick me up?”

“You’re... You...you are incorrigible!” She stared at him without blinking. “And this will not, I repeat not, be a date.”

Her constant rejection would have made any other man give up on her, but there was a reason for it, and he didn’t think that it all had to do with him.

When the occasion presented itself, he was going to find out what had made her so vehemently against dating him.

While the others were huddled around a monitor of some sort, Reed went into the study to retrieve his wallet. At the same time, Callie’s cell phone, which she’d left on Big Dan’s desk, rang and she hurried to answer it.

“Hi, Mom. I was just going to call you. How are you feeling?...Uh-huh. Feeling well enough to go to the twins’ baseball game?” She paused. “Okay, great! I’ll meet you at the high school then...Yes, save an extra seat...Yes, um, it’s for Reed Beaumont...No, Mom, it’s nothing like that. He just wanted to go...I don’t know why—he just does—so just save another seat if you get there before I do.”

Callie clicked her cell phone off and slipped it into her purse.

“Callie, I couldn’t help but overhearing... Is your mother doing okay?”

She took a deep breath and then let it out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, but it sounded like you were worried. I know the feeling. My father has me worried most of the time.”

He gave a half-hearted smile. “I remember your mother from when she was our school nurse in grammar school. I remember how she was always making sure that everyone had all their shots, and she always sent get-well cards when we had to stay home with one of those childhood diseases. I got them all—measles, mumps and chicken pox—and I received several more cards from her.”

“Mom has breast cancer again. She’s doing chemo. Doc Lansing feels that she’ll beat it this time, too. But I’m scared, Reed. The chemo is hitting her hard this time. She always hates to lose her hair, so she has a bunch of wigs. She’d have to be really bad before she missed one of the twins’ games. She went to all of them—football, baseball and basketball—unless she was horribly ill. Mom and I were so grateful when they got football scholarships. I couldn’t afford to send them to college.” She took a deep breath and looked at Reed. “What is it about you that makes me just spill my guts? I usually keep my life to myself.”

“Maybe I’m a good listener.”

“I think that’s probably true.”

Reed reached out to take Callie’s hand but then changed his mind. He thought that she wouldn’t welcome the contact. “Or maybe you’re just feeling overwhelmed. I mean, just look at this mess. I feel like I should help you more, not only just answering my fan mail.”

“I hired on for this job, Reed. It means everything to me. With the Beaumont account, I’ll be in more demand and I can provide for my family more.

“Good for you.” Reed knew how she felt, being able to help her family, and admired her to no end. He’d had the same feelings when he was able to help save his family’s ranch from both the auction block and Hurricane Daphne. Well, actually, the Daphne work continued.

“Hey! Hey, bull rider, Reed! Are you ready to begin again?” Arnie’s usually thin voice was exceptionally loud. “Let’s get going, please.”

Callie smiled. “Cowboy up, Reed. The cooking show must go on.”

He was reluctant to leave her when they’d had a good conversation going. “I’m making grilled ham and cheese on a tortilla with fresh salsa. If I don’t burn everything, we can eat what I make. So, how about dining with me before the game?”

Callie looked like she knew when she was beat. “Okay, cowboy. I’ll dine with you.”

Finally!

Reed chuckled. “Can we call it a date?”

“No!”

“I’m going to keep asking you, Callie. From what I can tell, you seem to need a little fun in your life.”

Her usually lush lips transformed into a thin white line. “And you’re just the cowboy to provide the fun, huh?”

“I can try.”

“You can try, but you won’t get far.”

Reed winked. “We’ll see about that.”

* * *

ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, just when she was getting into designing a spreadsheet, Callie’s cell phone rang. She saw that it was Big Dan’s probation officer, Matty Matthews. Matty had been two years ahead of her in high school and was coached her brothers in basketball.

“Matty Matthews? This is Callie Wainright. Which one of my brothers got hurt this time?”

He chuckled. “Neither. They are both alive and kicking, but I have a favor to ask you.”

She sat and tried to calm her thumping heart. “Name it.”

“Big Dan isn’t concentrating on his rehab, Callie. He’s too damn distracted. He needs someone to take care of depositing his Social Security check. I’d do it, but office rules state we can’t take money from probationers. Oh, and Big Dan also wants someone to take periodic pictures of the ranch so he can see the progress made, but actually, Callie, I think he just wants someone to talk to him about the outside world—mostly about what his boys are doing. I have over a hundred probationers on my roster. I can’t be at Dan’s beck and call.”

“I’m sure Reed’s going to feel like he should have this responsibility if he could drive, but until then, I’d be glad to help out.” She wrote diligently on a notebook page: deposit Social Sec check, talk, take pictures of ranch, etc.

“Oh...and, Callie?”

“Yes, Matty?”

“Could you possibly get Reed to come up and see him, please? He’s at the Beaumont County Alcohol and Drug Rehabilitation Facility. He needs company. Big Dan is about to go ballistic.”

“I’m sure that Reed has been meaning to see Big Dan, but there’s been a lot of going on lately. I’ll be sure to pass along your message.”

Soon after they hung up, Callie realized she had just become the personal assistant to Big Dan Beaumont.

Callie was ready to explode with happiness. With the extra income, she could pay more money on her mortgage, keep up with monthly insurance premiums and add an extra payment on medical bills for her whole family and herself. Maybe she could even save for a new car.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/christine-wenger/reunited-with-the-bull-rider/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.