CALLEN COULD SAY with absolute certainty that he got no sense of accomplishment from lifting hay bales and hauling them onto a flatbed and driving those hay bales out to the pasture, where he had to lift them yet again.
Yes, he could physically do it, but it got old fast when he had to do it repeatedly while he worried about Buck. Still, he knew this was what Buck needed from him now.
Rosy and Shelby, too.
Since Buck’s hospital stay was now in its third day, they should be with Buck, and Callen could lighten their burden a little by helping out at the ranch. Of course, that meant working deep into the night at the inn to run his own business, but burning the candle at both ends had a way of numbing some of the fear over Buck’s health.
There’d be surgery; Callen had learned that much, and that would happen in five days, a week from when the wedding was supposed to have taken place. Now, instead of Buck finalizing whatever plans a groom made, he’d be under the knife and then hopefully recovering. Callen wasn’t exactly sure yet what a recovery would entail, but he’d heard the terms chemo and radiation thrown around.
There had also been some discussion about moving Buck to a large hospital in San Antonio. And that still might happen if things didn’t go well during the operation. There were some concerns about Buck’s blood pressure and how his age would affect his recovery. For now, though, Dr. Breland and one of the other local doctors would be doing the surgery.
Callen drove the tractor in from the pasture and made a check on the horses. Mateo and Lucy had volunteered to do a lot of that particular chore, but the kids were also in the middle of midterms at school. No way did Callen want them to back off on their studying to tend horses or cook meals. Thankfully, pizza had fixed the meal problem.
If only the rest of his problems could be fixed so easily.
In addition to Buck, Callen was worried about Rosy and Shelby. And all the hay hauling and chores weren’t going to make that better. Only the surgery and a clean bill of health could do that.
Callen checked the time. It was almost one o’clock, which meant he’d have time to visit Buck at the hospital before heading to his office at the inn. Shelby and Rosy would almost certainly be with Buck since they’d hardly left his side, but perhaps they’d get good news and Buck could come home while he waited for surgery. That would all depend on his blood pressure and the results from the lab work that had been done on him.
Maybe when Buck got home, Callen could finally sit down and talk to Shelby. He hadn’t done nearly enough groveling for the secret-keeping.
But he’d bought condoms.
Callen wasn’t sure if that made him optimistic, stupid or if it just gave him something to focus on besides worrying and hauling hay. He was leaning toward the stupid.
He grabbed a quick shower, changed into the spare shirt he’d brought with him and was headed down the stairs when there was a knock at the door. A heavy-handed one. Followed by a shout.
“Callen, I know you’re here, and we need to talk.”
Gavin.
Shelby’s ex wasn’t the last person on earth Callen wanted to see, but he wasn’t high on the welcome list, either. Callen went to the door so he could tell Gavin that this “need to talk” would be very short so he could get to the hospital.
That didn’t happen.
The moment Callen opened the door, a fist came flying at him. Quick reflexes had him ducking the full brunt of the punch, but Gavin still managed to get a glancing blow off Callen’s cheek.
“That’s for Shelby,” Gavin declared, and with that handful of words, he doled out a different kind of punch.
Oh man. That was a lot of alcohol on his breath, enough to have Callen needing to take a step back. Gavin must have seen that as some kind of retreat because he swung again, his fist going wide and smacking into the door. He howled in pain. A drunk, slurry howl punctuated with what Callen guessed was attempted profanity. All Gavin actually managed, though, was a few syllables.
“You bastard,” Gavin finally got out. “I love her.”
Callen didn’t have to guess about this part. Gavin was talking about Shelby, and apparently he had decided that he should declare his love to a man who he then wanted to beat up.
“Uh, you broke up with Shelby,” Callen reminded him.
“That was a mistake.” One that he apparently wasn’t going to own up to because he just kept going. “You don’t love her,” Gavin went on. “You just came here to have sex with her and break her heart.”
Callen could have pointed out that according to popular opinion in Coldwater, Gavin was the heartbreaker, but Callen knew differently. Shelby had been fine with the end of the engagement. And while Callen hadn’t come back to have sex with her or do any heartbreaking, he had indeed done the first. Might end up doing the second before this was over.
And yet he’d bought those condoms.
That stupid label was getting harder and harder to ignore.
“You’re not even going to stay around,” Gavin went on, his slurred voice a shout now. “You’ll hightail it out of here as soon as Buck’s better.”
That was the plan, had been the plan all along, but Callen didn’t care to share that with Shelby’s drunk ex with a bad aim. Gavin’s next punch slammed into the jamb, and his howl of pain was even louder than the first.
It wasn’t the only howl, though. Another came from outside, and when Callen looked in the driveway, he saw Silla behind the wheel of her car. So she’d driven her drunk brother to confront him. Either Gavin had been very persuasive in getting her to bring him or else Silla was still holding a grudge. Either way, she was here, and that meant Callen didn’t have to come up with another way to get Gavin out of there.
“Go home, Gavin,” Callen advised him. “Sleep it off. While you’re at it, get your knuckles cleaned and bandaged. You’re bleeding.”
Gavin didn’t take that advice well because another punch came Callen’s way. Enough was enough. Callen came out on the porch so he could shut the door and lock it before he caught onto the back of Gavin’s belt and the collar of his coat. He marched him toward Silla. Well, as much as you could march a drunk man. There was some staggering and weaving going on.
Silla got out, making sounds of outrage and protest, but Callen just gave Gavin a final push so that he landed in his sister’s arms. “Why the heck would you drive him here to do this?” Callen demanded.
Callen thought maybe she would have some clever answer—something about believing Shelby and Gavin were soul mates or such crap. But as she stuffed Gavin into the car, she shook her head and gave Callen a blank look.
“Because he’s my brother,” she said. “He asked me to do it, so I did.”
So, not a clever answer after all, and it wasn’t as if Callen could huff and declare it dumb reasoning since it was uncomfortably similar to what he’d done for Buck. Buck had asked, and Callen had done it.
“Gavin wants Shelby back,” Silla added. “And once you’re out of the picture, it’ll happen. You’ll see. She’ll be so upset when you leave, and she’ll go running back to Gavin. Of course, I’ll talk him out of taking her back because my brother shouldn’t have to settle for Callen Laramie’s leftovers.”
The anger just zoomed right into Callen. Leftovers! He stopped, trying to figure out how to aim all this dangerous energy zooming and bubbling inside him. He couldn’t beat up a drunk idiot or his equally idiot bitch of a sister. Well, maybe he could beat up the drunk, but that would only delay him even more, and he doubted there’d be much satisfaction in it.
Much.
Reining in his fury, Callen just turned and headed to his truck. When he drove away, he couldn’t resist calling out to them. “Dookie Heads!”
Obviously, he could have come up with a new insult or at least one that was age appropriate, but judging from Silla’s stunned expression, it’d worked.
Callen didn’t speed away. In fact, he took his time, trying to steady himself before he saw Buck. The fight—or rather the attempted fight—with Gavin hadn’t exactly put him in a soothing mood, and he didn’t need to go into Buck’s hospital room like that.
There were already too many other things unsoothed there.
However, it did make Callen wonder if he should talk to Shelby about it. Not to tattle but to give her a heads-up in case... Well, he wasn’t sure what stunt Gavin could pull, but he didn’t want Shelby blindsided. He especially didn’t want her running back to Gavin when he left. Silla was wrong about that.
He hoped.
Shelby deserved a heck of a lot better.
The slow drive worked, some, because by the time he’d parked at the hospital, his steaming anger had mentally moved to the lukewarm burner. Another burner got going, though, as he walked into the hospital and saw Shelby. She was coming out of the hall that led to the patient floor where Buck was staying.
She stopped when she spotted Callen. Clearly hesitating, and while he knew why she had that reaction, he despised it. Just days earlier they’d had sex—great sex!—and now it felt as if there were miles between them. Miles he had put there, so he had no one but himself to blame.
“Good—you’re here,” she murmured. “Dad’s been asking for you.”
“Yeah, I got a little hung up.”
“Ranch stuff,” Shelby supplied. “Thanks for doing that.”
This sounded like small talk to him, and he hated it. Hated not being able to touch her. “I can lift hay bales all by myself,” he said, hoping it would make her smile.
It did, but then she must have remembered there wasn’t a whole lot to smile about because it quickly faded. “Thanks,” she repeated.
Since that was civil and because she was still standing there, Callen nudged the conversation out of small-talk zone. “You know I’m sorry, right?” he asked.
Shelby nodded. Paused. Nodded again. Then she tipped her head in the direction of the cafeteria. “I’m going to grab some coffee while you visit with Dad. See you in a bit.”
Well, along with the double nod she’d given him after his apology, that was better than “don’t let the door hit you in the ass,” and Callen would keep the picture of her smiling in his head for a while. Not a bad start to what would almost certainly be a bad visit.
Or not.
When he stepped into Buck’s room, he saw things he shouldn’t see. Not bad things, just unsuitable for his eyes. Rosy was on the bed, and Buck and she were making out. Callen truly hoped he could rid his memory of Buck’s hand up Rosy’s shirt. He turned to do an about-face so he could leave, then knock. Knock hard and loud so they’d have some warning.
“Callen,” Rosy greeted him with a giggle and a flushed face. “Come in. We’ve been expecting you.”
Obviously not, since he doubted they’d wanted him to witness what he had any more than he did. Except maybe it was a sort of good thing for him to see. Rosy and Buck clearly weren’t in a doom and gloom sinkhole of despair. Buck was blushing some, too, but it was the blush of a man who’d got as sexually lucky as he could get while in the hospital.
“Buck and I were just working out some wedding details,” Rosy announced.
No, they’d been making out, but Callen didn’t call them on that. “Oh?” he settled for saying.
Rosy nodded, beamed. “We’ve decided we’ll go through with the wedding on the planned date. If Buck’s still in the hospital, then we’ll have it here.” Still beaming, she kissed Buck again and picked up her purse. “I’ll go find out if we could use the cafeteria and the chapel.”
Callen didn’t get into questioning whether or not that was a good idea. He just smiled when Rosy gave him a hug and hurried out.
He glanced around, not actually surprised that there was more stuff crammed into the room than there had been the day before. A stack of books and magazines. Flowers—everywhere, including one with a now-sagging Mylar balloon.
And in the center of the flowers sat Billy the stuffed armadillo.
Creepy as ever. Today, he was wearing green surgical scrubs and had a toy stethoscope draped around his neck. Someone—Rosy, no doubt—had put a tiny sign in his hands that said, “Get Well Soon, Buck.”
“Is Rosy handling this as well as she seems to be?” Callen asked.
Buck sighed. “Not really, but the new wedding plans will help and give her something to do. What would help even more is for me to be out of here by then and get married at the inn.”
So, the wedding was on no matter what. And in a perfect scenario, it could happen. Buck’s surgery was a week before the wedding, and he could have recovered enough by then. If it wasn’t cancer, that was.
“Anything on a possible family for Mateo and Lucy?” Buck asked.
“I’m working on it.”
“Good. Good,” he repeated, and he patted Callen’s hand when Callen sat in the chair next to the bed. “Because here’s how this could play out. With my bad health, CPS will remove them, and Rosy will claim she can handle them. She can’t. Not by herself.”
Callen silently agreed. Rosy’s heart was in the right place, but her head often wasn’t. Plus, she would be sick with worry over Buck, and that would take her head out of it even more.
“I could convince Rosy to back off on fostering the kids,” Buck went on, “but then Shelby would just step up to take them. She’s a good daughter, but that’s too much to put on her. It seems to me that it’s something she should want to do rather than something shoved on her.”
Buck had obviously given this a lot of thought. So had Callen. “Shelby would do it. And I would help her.”
“I know that, too, but Shelby and you aren’t a family. At best, you’re just trying to figure out if you even like each other.”
“I’ve figured out that I like her.” Callen tried to keep it light. That didn’t make it less true. He liked her and he wanted her. Normally, a good combination.
“Glad to hear that.” Buck’s smile returned, but it wasn’t one of those that Rosy could genuinely dole out. “But I know I didn’t help with that by creating this friction between you. Putting Mateo and Lucy in that mix is wrong. They need a family, a solid one that’s been together through thick and thin and will continue to stay together.”
Callen couldn’t argue with that. Though Buck had done a decent enough job raising a horde of kids on his own, he might not be up to doing that again for a while. If ever. It was the “if ever” that was tightening Callen’s stomach.
“I have a confession to make,” Buck went on. He coughed and waited a moment to regain his breath. “I asked you to come to the ranch to help me, but I also wanted you here for Shelby. I wanted you two to get together.”
Callen’s shoulders stiffened.
“Yes, I know,” Buck continued before Callen could speak. “It was wrong, but she’s been half in love with you for years. She moaned out your name.”
Callen blinked and experienced nearly every other physical reaction a man could have from shock. “She what?”
“Moaned,” Buck repeated. “Last night she slept here. In that.” He motioned toward a chair. “And she moaned out your name.”
Well, hell. That couldn’t be good, not in front of her father, anyway. Callen definitely wasn’t going to ask Buck to elaborate since it had a whole sex vibe about it, but he wanted to suggest that the moan was possibly because she’d had to sleep right next to the creepy dead stuffed thing named Billy. But since that would be a dis to Rosy, he could darn sure dispel the other part of Buck’s comment.
“Shelby’s not half in love with me,” Callen assured him. “She’s, uh...” He didn’t draw a blank. Just the opposite. Callen could come up with several possible ways to fill that in.
She’s on the rebound. Which wasn’t as true as some thought it was.
It’s lust. Which was absolutely true—and on both sides—but not something Callen would admit to Buck.
It’s a leftover childhood crush.
Callen went with the last one, but when he said it aloud, it only caused Buck to smile and pat his hand. “She moaned out your name,” Buck said as if that explained everything that needed explaining.
Thankfully, the uncomfortable conversation came to a halt when Rosy rushed back in. “It’s a go,” she announced. “We can use both the chapel and the cafeteria. They even offered to supply the food.”
She made that last part sound like a good thing rather than something she should definitely turn down. Callen had eaten in the cafeteria, and it wasn’t a wise choice for tasty celebration treats.
“That’s great,” Callen assured her, and Buck echoed the same.
“I hope Buck and you finished your chat,” Rosy quickly added. She took Callen by the arm and led him to the door. “Because you should go check on Shelby.”
Instant alarm. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. I saw her talking on the phone to someone while she paced across the waiting room. She seemed upset.”
Rosy had barely got out that last word when Callen said a quick goodbye and headed out to find her. By the time he’d got to the waiting room, he’d worked up all sorts of bad scenarios, including but not limited to Shelby having some kind of meltdown about her father. But he was several steps beyond being merely confused when he finally saw her.
She smiled at him and quickly halved the distance between them, only to motion for him to follow her toward the corner. Not exactly private, but they wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the room, either.
“Did you beat up Gavin?” she asked once they were there. “Silla just called and said you had.”
Silla—of course. The woman hadn’t wasted much time, but at least Shelby didn’t seem upset but rather amused. Or proud.
“No, I can’t take credit for that,” Callen admitted. “Gavin sort of beat himself up. But I did call him a name.” And he hoped she wouldn’t ask exactly what name.
“Yes, Silla mentioned he was drunk.” Her smile vanished, and she got an Oh God look in her eyes. “I’m sorry. That’s what I should have said right off the bat. I’m sorry that Gavin went to you and tried to start something.”
“So, why did you smile?” he asked.
Her chin came up, and she touched one of the buttons on his shirt. For a button touch, it seemed to be strangely intimate. And he was reasonably sure that it signaled something huge.
That Shelby had at least partly forgiven him.
“Because I thought you were defending my honor or something,” she explained. “It’s stupid and childish.”
Yeah, it was, but Callen didn’t say anything. He just stood there and let her fondle his button. Maybe this was like a gateway maneuver that would soon lead to her touching him.
“I knew you weren’t hurt,” she went on. “I mean, I could see that when you came in, so I just figured you’d managed to defend my honor without breaking a sweat.”
“No sweat broken,” he assured her, and because he couldn’t stop himself, he moved a strand of hair off her cheek. Much better than button touching. But he needed to add a disclaimer here that had nothing to do with the subtle foreplay going on between them. “I don’t want Gavin or Silla to cause you any trouble.”
“They won’t. When he sobers up, Gavin will be embarrassed enough by this to back off for good. The same for Silla. They’ll avoid me like we all steer clear of Gopher when he’s wearing a raincoat.”
Now Callen smiled, and maybe it was that easy smile that lulled him into blurting something he probably shouldn’t have blurted. “Did you really moan out my name last night?”
Shelby’s eyes widened. “Why? Did Havana say something about that?”
“Havana?” What the hell would she have to do with this? He shook his head. “No, Buck mentioned it.”
“Oh.” Her forehead bunched up. “Did he say if I moaned out anything else?”
“No, that was it, but I think he knows the context of a moan.”
She nodded, shrugged. Looked up at him. Her fondling finger slid off the button and bingo—onto his chest. “Want to hear me moan your name in person?”
“Yeah.” But it took him several flustered seconds to get out that simple answer.
She brushed a quick kiss on his mouth, goosing him with a punch of lust. “Good. My place, tonight, around six.” The goosing turned to an avalanche when she added, “This time, bring a box of condoms.”