SHELBY EXAMINED THE roasted chicken that she’d just taken from the oven. It was splotchy. Nearly white in some places and bubbled up with burned spots in others. It looked more like something Rosy would try to stuff and “pretty up” in her shop than a tasty dish she could serve Callen at dinner.
“Uh, it’s not too bad,” Rosy said, peering over her shoulder.
It was a lie and nowhere near convincing since Shelby had eyes—and a nose. The chicken didn’t smell so good, either. Apparently, the “surefire” recipe that she’d got off the internet for mixed herb rub wasn’t so surefire after all.
Rosy and Shelby weren’t the only ones who were frowning over the unpleasant-looking, smelly poultry. The cat, Elvira, was perched on one of the kitchen chairs, and she eyed it as if it might jump off the roasting pan and come at them all with a carving knife.
“Maybe putting some sauce on it would help,” Rosy suggested.
Shelby figured she’d have better luck torching it with a flamethrower. It was definitely a reminder that she couldn’t cook worth a darn. Something she tended to forget despite too many failures to count. When she asked what she could bring to a party, the host would always recommend paper products and soft drinks. She was that sort of person. Why she thought she could fix dinner for Callen, she’d never know.
But she did know.
This was to be a seduction of sorts. Dinner, wine, hopefully followed by some incredible sex for dessert. Too bad she’d put a lot more time into thinking about the sex than she had the meal. If she had put more thought into dinner, Shelby would have asked Rosy to cook it. Or at least heavily supervise the process.
“Maybe you could go meatless tonight,” Rosy said.
Shelby practically snapped toward her. No way did she want another sex talk with her soon-to-be stepmother.
“Serve only side dishes,” Rosy clarified. She lifted the lid of the Crock-Pot to peer at the apple-buttered sweet potatoes that the recipe had called the fail-proof, perfect side. The recipe had further touted “you can’t go wrong with this yummy dish.”
Well, Shelby had clearly gone wrong because it looked like orange goo, and the butter had puffed up like globules. Elvira and Rosy looked distressed over that, too, and it sent Rosy scurrying back to the stove to take a look at the steamed green beans.
They were green mush.
“Oh dear,” Rosy declared. “I wish I’d come over earlier to help.”
There was no need for Shelby to say it’d be nice if hindsight were foresight or something about her needing a better memory about her lack of culinary skills.
Rosy did more scurrying, this time into the pantry. “You’ve got a box of mac and cheese in here,” she suggested after surveying the shelves. “Maybe you could doctor it up a little and serve that? You still have nearly an hour before Callen is expected.”
An hour that Shelby had set aside to get dressed. Besides, mac and cheese, even the doctored-up stuff—whatever that meant—didn’t scream romantic, seductive dinner.
Shelby took out her phone and called Bluejay’s Pizza, the one and only pizza place in town. It wasn’t half-bad, which meant it’d be a whole lot better than splotchy chicken served with orange goo and green mush.
“Hey, Shelby,” Pete Harper greeted her when he answered. He’d obviously seen her name on his phone. Pete was not only the owner but also the cook. Sometimes, the delivery person, too. “Want your usual?”
Italian sausage, peppers, spinach, extra cheese. “Sure, and could you maybe do a side salad and some breadsticks?”
“I’m out of breadsticks, but I’ve got some cookies Jaylene brought over at closing time. She had extras.”
“Bring them and anything else you think might make a real meal of this.”
“The cooking didn’t go so great for your dinner with Callen, huh?” Pete concluded. “Don’t worry, Shelby. I’ll fix it all up and get it right out to you.”
Shelby thanked him and turned to the next step—getting dressed. Something that she was certain wouldn’t leave her with mush and goo. She switched off the oven, the Crock-Pot and the steamer and headed to the bedroom. She’d already showered before Rosy dropped by to check on her, so that would leave her plenty of time for makeup and stuff.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Rosy said, following her. “My wedding dress came late yesterday. Only three more weeks until the big day.”
Three weeks. Not long at all. And Shelby tried not to think that shortly after those three weeks Callen would be moving out of the inn and going back to Dallas. It seemed a little depressing to think about while she was primping for what would be their first date.
“Anyway, I was wondering if I could try it on for you so you can see if it needs any adjustments or embellishments?” Rosy asked.
“Of course.” Shelby went to her closet and took her new dress off the hanger. It was Christmas red, not too flashy, not too tame. Hopefully, just enough for Callen not to think she was trying too hard.
Which, of course, she was.
“And remember Monday we’re doing the final selection on the flowers,” Rosy added.
Yes, she remembered. That would mean a trip into San Antonio since there wasn’t a florist in town. “Maybe we can go after school and take Lucy with us,” Shelby suggested. “It might do her good to get out and about. Maybe we could even have an early dinner or something.”
When Rosy didn’t say anything, Shelby looked out from the closet. Rosy was sitting on the foot of the bed, and there were tears watering her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Shelby immediately asked and would have hurried to her if Rosy hadn’t waved her off.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” Rosy insisted. “It just touches my heart the way you help Buck’s kids. Lucy needs that, more than some of the others.”
Definitely more than Rayna, who was thankfully already on her way back home. But, yes, Lucy and her brother needed help. Shelby just wasn’t sure she could do much.
“I don’t have the knack with them that my dad does,” Shelby confessed. And she thought of Callen. Of his brothers. They, too, had needed more than some of the others, and Buck had given that to them. For the most part.
Pushing that thought aside, Shelby shucked off her jeans and top and shimmied on the dress, realizing that just the fact it required shimmying meant it was likely overkill. However, when Shelby saw Rosy’s face, she knew that overkill was the way to go.
Rosy’s face lit up, and there wasn’t a trace of the earlier tears. Well, not sad ones, anyway. She might water up a little with the happy variety. “Wow. Callen’s gonna trip over his own tongue.”
She hoped not. Shelby didn’t want any injuries tonight. But she wouldn’t mind if the dress boggled his mind a little. She located a pair of shoes and then went into the adjoining bathroom to put on her makeup.
“How’s Dad?” Shelby asked. “Is he taking his vitamins?”
“He is, and I’ve been fixing more foods with iron in them. You know, liver and such. He’ll be fine and dandy in no time.”
Fine and dandy. One could hope. And that was what Shelby was doing. Lots and lots of hoping and praying. Maybe, just maybe, it was just a small problem that could be fixed with vitamins and liver.
“I’m glad you’re having dinner with Callen,” Rosy said. “I really think you two can help each other right now.”
Shelby peered around the jamb of the bathroom door and gave the woman a long glance to see what hidden meaning there was in that or if this was about sex again. Nope, not sex. Hidden meaning, which, of course, wasn’t actually so hidden because Shelby knew what she meant.
Her nonexistent broken heart that Rosy was certain existed and that dark, troubled look in Callen’s eyes. And the earlier thoughts of him and his brothers that she’d pushed aside came back to her.
“Do you remember the day the Laramie brothers first came to the ranch?” Shelby asked. She tried to make it sound like casual chitchat so as not to sour Rosy’s mood.
“Of course I do.” Rosy stood now and came closer. “Such sadness. Not so much from Kace. That boy was born old. I suppose that’s because he was the oldest. Judd, on the other hand, picked fights with everybody. And Callen...” Her words trailed off. She closed her eyes a moment and shook her head. “He came first, a couple of days before Kace and Judd, and I’ve never seen so many cuts and bruises on a kid. He looked like he’d been in a car wreck.”
So much for not souring the mood.
Shelby also remembered that day. She’d been twelve, and her nose had been out of joint when her dad had told her that four boys, brothers, would be staying with them. There were already two girls there, and while Shelby had liked them, she hadn’t been so crazy about having the place overrun by boys. In her experience, teenage boys were loud, rowdy and ate like pigs.
But not these boys.
Especially not Callen.
Shelby had taken one look at him, and even though she’d been too young to melt in the way that she did now, he had tugged at something inside her. Something more than just the hurt of seeing all those injuries.
“I hope the man who hurt Callen and his brothers paid for what he did,” Rosy said. “His name was Avis Odell.”
Yes, Shelby knew that. And because of internet searches, she also knew he’d gone to jail for five years. Not nearly enough time for what he’d done. But Avis Odell wasn’t the only dirtbag responsible for those bruises and breaks. Callen’s then foster mother had stood by and let it happen. And she hadn’t paid.
Heck, Callen’s own mother hadn’t done anything, either, nor had she paid. That was because she’d died of a drug overdose shortly after the boys had been removed from her custody. In the mother’s case, death seemed like an easy out.
“You want me to wait around until your pizza comes?” Rosy asked.
The question drew her back from her thoughts. Which was a good thing. Those memories were too dark to go back to tonight.
“No need.” Since Shelby hadn’t put on her lipstick yet, she brushed a kiss on Rosy’s cheek. “Thanks for dropping by to check on me.”
Shelby heard Rosy let herself out, heard some chatter, too, and with the mascara wand still aimed in the vicinity of her eye, she went into the living room, expecting to see someone delivering the pizza.
And it was.
But that someone was Callen.
“Pete’s truck wouldn’t start,” he said, using his elbow to hold the door open for Rosy. “So, he brought the food to the inn and asked me to get it to you. He said I should get it to you while it was still hot.”
And speaking of hot, Shelby was reasonably sure that she was the one in danger of tripping over her tongue. Great-fitting jeans, a gray shirt and black leather jacket. He looked like a hot cowboy-biker who’d stepped off the cover of a glossy magazine. Well, except for the cardboard pizza box he was balancing in one hand and the plastic bag he was holding in the other.
“I’ll just be going,” Rosy wisely said. She gave them a toodle-oo and a wave and headed to her truck.
Shelby headed to Callen. “My plans to cook didn’t go as planned,” she confessed, hearing the silk and the sex undertones in her voice.
“That’s what I figured.”
There was sex in his undertones, too, and in the long, slow gaze he slid over her. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the mascara wand that Shelby had forgotten she was holding until she nearly poked herself in the eye.
She quickly capped the mascara and tossed it onto the counter so she could take the pizza and usher in her dinner date. Maybe she could talk him into staying for breakfast. First, though, they could have a little wine—
Callen spun her around and kissed her.
Even though he’d done the same thing at the inn just days earlier, Shelby hadn’t seen it coming, but she certainly felt it now. And this one was better. Because it was long, deep and satisfying.
She wondered if he knew he tasted as expensive as he smelled. Something manly and rugged. Something that let her know that he knew what he was doing. She didn’t mind that this kind of expertise had no doubt required much practice. Nope, didn’t mind it a bit since she was on the receiving end of it now.
Shelby groped behind her to put the pizza box on the counter. Well, maybe it landed there. She wasn’t sure and didn’t care. That was because Callen rid himself of the bag, and with his hands free, he dragged her against him. He didn’t have to put too much effort into that since she was already headed his way.
She made a sound of drunk pleasure because the kiss was already going to her head. The kiss had some help, though. With her pressed against his body, she could let her hand slide underneath his jacket and over all of his muscles. Muscles that stirred beneath her touch, causing her to stir, too.
The body pressing got tighter. The kiss got deeper. And Shelby started to believe that getting him to stay until morning wasn’t going to be an issue. But then Callen pulled back, his gaze colliding with hers.
“Hello,” he drawled.
“Hello,” she drawled back, and smiled.
Of course, it was easy to give him a heated smile since their arms were still holding each other in place. Hers on his back and his on her hips.
“Nice dress.” More drawling while he looked at her with those sizzler, dreamy eyes.
“Nice body.”
That caused him to smile. “I hadn’t expected you to be able to feel so much of it, but I had a hard time resisting.”
“I noticed.” She shifted a little, giving the front of him a nudge with the front of her. It caused a husky sound to rumble in his throat, and his eyes went hot.
His body went hard.
Well, one specific part of it did, anyway.
It would have been impossible for her to miss that, what with her being plastered against him. She was about to go bold, something she never did, and lure him back into another kiss. Then to her bed. Or the floor since it was closer.
But then Callen stepped away from her.
And amid all that heat in his eyes, she thought she saw something that wasn’t on the foreplay menu. Regret.
“Seems a shame to let the pizza go cold after you slaved over the phone to order it,” he said.
So maybe he was hungry. That was fine. The plan all along had been to eat, drink and...do other things. The other things would have to wait.
“I talked to a social worker,” he added as she took the pizza box to the table that she’d already set.
“About Mateo and Lucy?”
He nodded, brought the bag to her. There was indeed a salad in it. One still in a bag, but the cookies looked good. They were pretty flower cutouts with sprinkled sugar. Maybe Callen didn’t have a sweet tooth because he frowned at them a little. Of course, the frown could be about what he’d learned from the social worker.
“It won’t be easy to find them a permanent home where they can stay together,” he continued, “but the feelers are out. I already heard back from someone who’s interested in adopting Lucy. Just her. But maybe my social-worker friend can change the family’s mind and they’ll want Mateo, too.”
Such a serious subject, and it cooled down some of the heat from the welcome kiss. “Mateo will be tough to place because of his juvie record.”
“You knew about that,” he said, peeling off his coat and draping it over one of the barstools at the counter.
She nodded, went to the bottle of red wine she’d set out and poured two glasses. “He shanked some other boy when he was in juvie lockup.”
“Hell.” Judging by Callen’s reaction, he hadn’t known that particular detail.
“I think the other boy was giving him serious trouble,” she explained. “At least that’s what I’ve been able to get out of Dad. You know how he is about not spilling a lot on his kids. He’s good at keeping secrets.”
Callen suddenly looked about as comfortable as a steer’s rump on a branding iron. Perhaps because he thought Mateo shouldn’t be trusted around Buck.
“For what it’s worth,” she continued, “while Mateo’s been at the ranch, he’s been as good as gold...whatever that means. Why isn’t it as good as platinum or diamonds since they’re more expensive?” She shook her head when she saw Callen give her that funny look again. “Never mind. Not relevant here.”
It took a moment to get back on track.
“Anyway, maybe there’s a family out there who’ll see that Mateo just needs a safe, loving environment and will give it to him,” Shelby concluded.
An environment that her dad would have almost certainly given Mateo and his sister had it not been for his age. Buck was sixty-nine, and since Lucy was only twelve, it meant Buck would be well into his seventies before the girl even came of age. That was a lot to take on when he should be at a point in his life when he was slowing down. Especially since he might want to enjoy married life with Rosy. Rosy could have taken on some of the child rearing, but she was seven years older than Buck.
After handing Callen the glass of wine, she sat at the table across from him. Shelby didn’t bother with the salad but slid slices of pizza onto both of their plates. Since it appeared they were going to have a meal, she went with some conversation.
“I heard you had coffee with Kace,” she remarked. Best not to mention that she’d heard it from six different people. One, Loretta Lavenhouse, who had been at the table across the room from them and had tried her hand at lip-reading to find out what they were saying. According to Loretta, Callen had either confessed to murder or had mentioned his mother.
Shelby knew Loretta was wrong on the first one and hoped the woman was wrong about the mother mention. That wouldn’t have been a pleasant chat.
“I know you’re only back here for a few more weeks, but maybe Kace and you can reach some kind of...understanding,” she said. Though that wasn’t the right word. They understood just fine, but there was anger folded and blended into it.
“Did Kace really tap his badge when he was talking to you?” she asked. Because Loretta had insisted that’d happened.
“He did. It’s a big-brother thing.” He drank some of the wine after he finished the pizza slice. “What else did the gossips tell you?”
“Nothing much...other than my name came up.”
Now his eyebrow lifted. “It did,” he admitted. And he didn’t say anything else for several moments. “My brain tells me it’s not a good idea to kiss you, that it could lead to sex. And other things. Things you might not be ready for.”
She groaned, pushed back from the table and finished her glass of wine. “I’m not brokenhearted.”
“I believe you, but you’re only a couple of months out of a long-term relationship.”
Great. It was a one-two punch. Either she got accused of the whole broken-heart business or else she was rebounding. There was no getting around it.
Was there?
“Just how long does the rebound period last, anyway?” she asked. “I hope less than three weeks because after that, you’ll be gone.”
He stared at her, set aside his wineglass. “You could get hurt.”
“I could get lucky.” And since that was way more forward than she’d intended to be, Shelby added a smile, leaned closer. “What if I give you some kind of disclaimer, like a business contract? I agree not to hold you responsible for any hurt that might happen when you drive away again?”
She could see him working that out in his mind. Of course, that wouldn’t stop her from getting hurt. Nor would it stop him from blaming himself. That was just Callen. And that meant he was probably going to babble off a couple of reasons why they shouldn’t go at each other again.
He didn’t.
Callen went after her again. He reached out, took hold of her arms and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her again. Despite the quick maneuvering, the kiss was slow and easy, as if he was giving her a chance to change her mind. As if. He had her exactly where she wanted him to have her.
His arms came around her, not that she had plans to go anywhere, but his grip was as gentle as the kiss. He didn’t urge her closer, didn’t tighten what she was sure would be clever fingers on her waist and back. He just kissed her while she sat there.
Shelby sank into the kiss, letting the feel of his mouth light little flames all over her body. Of course, they didn’t stay little, but that was his fault because he slid his mouth and tongue first to the spot just beneath her right ear. Then lower, to her neck. He might as well have struck a match and set her ablaze because the need quit merely pulsing and took on an urgency.
She was pretty sure Callen was in on that urgency, too, because finally his grip tightened enough to pull her closer to him. It was a safe kind of “closer,” though, since she was sideways on his lap. Not touching the suddenly very needy center of her body to the center of his.
He cursed under his breath, and she thought he was cursing both of them before he buried his face in her neck. Thankfully for her that meant his mouth was buried there, too, and with his breath gusting some, it was creating a very nice sensation. One that sped that urgency along.
“I’m going to hell for what I’m thinking about doing to you,” he said, intriguing her.
“That good, huh?”
And she made him laugh. That was an interesting sensation, too, with his mouth still against that sensitive part of her.
But she had plenty of other sensitive parts, and Callen found a couple of them when his hands went to work. One of his hands slid over her breasts, cupping her and swiping his thumb over her nipple. The other—the one with the naughtiest intention—skimmed up her thigh. She was hoping that thumb could soon do some clever swiping, too.
Shelby figured she was well on her way to experiencing that when his hand continued up, up, up...
And then his phone rang.
She wasn’t sure who groaned the loudest, but Shelby thought Callen had won that particular title. Along with the groaning, he cursed and continued to curse when he dragged out his phone from his jeans pocket.
The cursing stopped when he looked at the screen. “Sorry, but I need to take this,” he said before she could get a look at who was calling.
He eased her from his lap and got up. Not easily. That probably had something to do with his erection that was straining against his zipper. He walked back into the living room before answering the call.
Shelby had zero lip-reading skills, but she knew bad body language when she saw it.
And this was bad.
“I’m on my way,” he told the caller, and he put his phone away before he turned back around to face her. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” He grabbed his coat and put it on.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, and she meant it. He looked genuinely distressed.
“No, but thanks. I’ll call you,” Callen said, and then brushed a kiss on her mouth before he hurried out the door.