we were kids, yeah. We went to school together.” But they ran in different circles. Callie had been a star in tiny Abrazo. He didn’t blame her for wanting to swim in a bigger pond. Once he’d gotten past the tequila-soaked shame of that August night, he’d wished her well.
Except for one thing. She’d felt sorry for him. That still burned. No one pitied Declan O’Neill. Losing his father had been hard, but he’d worked the ranch the way his dad would have and watched over his mother until she got her footing again. He’d gotten past that bad time when he’d almost cashed it in. He never thought about that. The memory froze him stiff.
“We’re lucky she could leave her company for so long to come out here. She does such exciting work. Parties with celebrities and socialites and big companies…”
“So I hear.” From what he could tell, Callie spent her days sampling cakes, choosing dance bands and turning goldfish bowls into centerpieces.
“She’s really made something of herself.” Dahlia beamed.
“Seems that way.” He had no doubt she was good. Callie was a sight to see on full throttle. But party planning?
Truth be told, Deck expected more of her. She’d been a firebrand in high school, smart and funny, full of ideas, impatient to fix any injustice. He figured she’d head a corporation, work for a cause. Hell, go into politics.
Maybe he’d just built her up in his mind.
She thought less of him, too, no doubt. To her, he’d gotten stuck in a hick town, spending his days babysitting cattle, his nights in a trailer, his life a pure waste.
She was wrong. There was solace in hard work and reward in the tangible outcomes of his efforts—a healthy herd, well-managed pastures, well-trained horses, spirited and smart.
Nothing wrong with that.
Still, Callie made him think of missed chances and open horizons. Seeing her made that sliver of restlessness he’d felt lately itch like a horsefly bite.
That was a pure trap. The grass always seemed greener in the next pasture, until you got there and found the same goat heads and dry patches you’d thought you’d escaped.
The truth was that he and Callie plain rubbed each other the wrong way.
They sure as hell used to rub each other right.
“Yes? Is something funny?” Dahlia asked.
“Uh, no.” He didn’t expect to be laughing anytime soon.
“Maybe I’ll go up and see what’s keeping them.” Before she left, she poured him more tea.
What could Deck do but drink it?
2
STARTING DOWN THE HALL of the owner’s quarters, Callie noticed her father’s bedroom door ajar, so she set down her bag and the basket and tapped before leaning in. “Dad?”
“Huh?” Her father sat up on the bed. “Uh…Oh, sweetheart, you’re here…good deal.” He sounded groggy.
“Are you okay, Dad?”
“Just waking up.” He pushed out of bed to hug her, then regarded her warmly. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Seeing you in the doorway, you looked just like Colleen when we first met.”
“I’m glad,” she said, happy to resemble her mother, though the reminder made her ache. “I miss her, too, Dad.” Tears made her nose sting. How stupid.
“What you resist persists.” The school counselor kept saying that whenever Callie tried to escape her probing questions. She’d itched to get away. Run, run, get out was her mantra. Leaving for college had been the first moment of true relief.
She lunged in for another hug, noticing that instead of the usual Old Spice, her father smelled of eucalyptus and menthol. “Are you wearing liniment?”
“It’s an ointment for arthritis Dahlia cooked up.”
“You have arthritis?”
“I’m a little stiff in the mornings is all. It’s nothing. I think herbs are fine for teas and face goop, but for curing you? Not so much. It makes Dahlia happy, so I use it.”
“That’s kind of you.” She felt the same way he did about herbal remedies.
“It’s so good to have you back,” he said, looking her over tenderly. “When you’re here, the place feels right again.”
She stiffened. What an odd thing to say. He never talked like that. Five months after her mother’s death, he’d insisted Callie go to New York University as planned, even when she claimed she wasn’t ready, which was a lie. She’d been worried about him living all alone. Her father would not hear of it. It was her mother’s dream for her daughter, and he would be busy working the ranch. She belonged in college, period. She had her own life, and her independence made him proud.
“Is something wrong, Dad?” she asked gently.
“Not at all. I’m just sentimental these days.” He waved away her concern. “I hate to drag you away from your business, but I really appreciate your taking the place to hand.”
“I’m happy to do it, Dad. My partner can pick up the slack while I’m gone.” Stefan owed her the favor, after all.
For being a cheating rat.
But that was another story.
“I’ll expand my expertise, too, so that’s good for my career. I’m anxious to dig in. I’ve got two contractors giving bids—tomorrow and the day after.”
“Whoa, now. Give yourself some time to relax, huh?”
“I saw the spreadsheets, Dad,” she gently reminded him. “We’re drowning in debt. Valhalla Investments expects quick action, too. We have to watch the timing for travel calendars for our launch. The pieces are like dominoes. Everything has to click into place. No time to lay back or slow down.”
She was armed with research, a plan, funding and a consultant known worldwide for her resort makeovers. She’d declared the ranch makeover “cookbook”—mostly marketing and promotion, which Callie knew cold—and would be a phone call away. What Callie couldn’t learn, she’d hire experts to do.
“We’ll see how it goes, huh?” her father said. “Maybe you’ll stay to run the place.”
She caught her breath. He had to be joking. “Very funny, Dad.” Not in a million years. Her plan was to get in, get out, not get tangled up in memory and emotion. This was like any assignment, just longer range. She’d be here four to six months, but she’d keep her head and be fine.
“I know you have a lot going on in New York.” This new wistfulness tugged at Callie. He always swore he was busy and happy. She tracked him closely, but she had the feeling he sometimes put on a show for her benefit.
“Come on, you two! Tea’s getting cold!” Dahlia sang to them from the base of the stairs.
“Be right down,” her father called, then spoke to Callie. “She’s worried you won’t like her. She’s been reading books about stepkids and losing a parent and what all.”
“She doesn’t need to do that. If you like her, I’ll like her.” She was determined to.
“I’m sure it’s tough to see me with another woman.”
“You’re forgetting I was the one who got you dating.”
“But now it’s real. That’s got to feel strange. You know that no one could replace your mother, right?”
“Of course not.”
“I love her, Callie. I was asleep and Dahlia woke me up. Thank God you both hounded me.”
“She hounded you?”