SEX PLANNING TOOK, well, planning. And energy.
Because of the fatigue, stress and worry over her dad, Shelby hadn’t actually considered that. She’d gone all loosey-goosey, making herself believe that she could just go home after lunch and have the afternoon to get ready for what would almost certainly be great sex with Callen.
Stress-relieving, distracting, pleasurable, great sex.
After the past couple of days, she was certain they could both use it. What she hadn’t considered in her loosey-goosey-ness was that she’d be this exhausted. All for a good cause, though.
Dr. Breland had finally released her dad from the hospital so he could go home and wait until his surgery. Wonderful news that had included not only getting her dad and Rosy back to the ranch but also moving the gazillion things that had accumulated in his hospital room. Bridal magazines, books, a whole florist shop of flowers and, yes, Billy. Shelby had transported the icky armadillo, too.
It had been for a worthy cause, Shelby reminded herself. With her taking care of the moving duties—which had involved multiple trips—Rosy had got to spend some time alone with Buck. She’d managed to get it all done, but now she was paying the price. She was bone tired and feeling the effects of functioning on only a handful of hours of sleep for the past couple of nights.
Shelby checked the time when she got home. She still had an hour before Callen got there, so she could grab a shower and dress. It wouldn’t be that slow pace where the anticipation of the evening could build, but Callen could do better things than anticipation anyway.
Thankfully, she’d already tended the horses. She’d done that early in the morning after coming back from the hospital. Having that chore out of the way gave her a little extra time, so she called for a pizza to be delivered in an hour. Then she dropped down on the sofa just to put up her feet for a minute or two.
A minute came and went. Then two, and Shelby forced her eyes open. Something was wrong. She didn’t need any extra minutes to figure that out. She was no longer sitting but rather lying on the sofa, and she had a blanket over her. Moonlight streamed through the windows.
No. Wait.
Not moonlight. Sunlight.
She jackknifed to a sitting position, her startled gaze trying to figure out what the heck was going on. The pizza was there on the coffee table, the box open, and Elvira was licking the cheese. Two pieces were missing, so either the cat had got very hungry, or...
It was the or.
Callen was there. He was standing by the sofa, and he was sipping some coffee. “I was about to leave you a note,” he said. “I have a meeting this morning. An important one that I can’t reschedule, and it starts in about ten minutes. Sorry.”
Morning. That was why there was sunlight. And it forced all of her loosey-goosey/“put her feet up for a minute” memories to come crashing into her.
“I didn’t get to have sex with you,” she said.
He nodded, and the groaning rumble in his chest let her know that he wasn’t any happier about that than she was. The kiss he gave her was the same as that rumble. It had so much need in it, and it stirred the sleep away. It could work miracles.
But apparently what it couldn’t do was get Callen out of this meeting.
“Gotta go,” he said, landing another kiss on her now-disappointed mouth. “Oh, by the way, it’s true. You do moan out my name when you’re asleep.”
Heck, that wasn’t an especially grand accomplishment, and to prove it, she moaned out his name just fine as he headed out the door.
* * *
CALLEN WAS PRETTY sure that time had crawled to a near stop. He was also certain that Shelby and he had paced ruts in the old linoleum floor. Kace was putting in some miles on it, too, but he sat occasionally to give Mateo or Judd a crack at what was turning out to be a premium pacing surface.
The nonpacers—Rosy, Nico, Havana and Lucy—had claimed a cluster of seats together near the back wall. Rosy had the dead stuffed armadillo on her lap, declaring it was her good-luck charm. Heck, maybe it was, but it was creeping out everyone who trickled in and out of the waiting room to check on Buck.
“Maybe I should switch from white roses to violets,” Rosy blurted out. “A violet bouquet would look so pretty against my pink dress.”
There were some sounds of agreement. Mild agreement. The mild wasn’t because people weren’t interested; it was just that it had been Rosy’s umpteenth wedding suggestion made during the two hours Buck had been in surgery. Callen knew it was a way for the woman to keep her mind off Buck, but it was a reminder for the rest of them that the wedding might not even take place.
A week was a long time to make a quick enough recovery from major surgery, and then say I do.
But if anyone could pull it off, it’d be Rosy and Buck.
Judd grumbled something under his breath, and there’d been enough grumbles that Callen had decided that was Judd’s preferred coping method. Havana had her method, as well. She was working on her laptop, her long tangerine-colored nails making pecking sounds on the keyboard. Then there was Lucy. She was chewing on her lip while she pretended to read a book. Nico was stretched out, his Stetson covering his face.
Callen supposed a nap could be considered a coping method.
Shelby and he had their own ways, as well. Their pacing pattern would intersect every couple of minutes or so, and they’d make eye contact. Things passed between them. Not sexual things or missed opportunities for sex. But the worry and the uncertainty. It was all there in that brief glimpse in her eyes, and Callen suspected she was seeing the same thing in his.
“Or maybe I should go with sunflowers,” Rosy piped up. “They’re so cheerful. I could even make a mini bouquet of them for Billy to hold.”
There were a couple of hmmms and a grumble from Judd.
“I killed him, you know,” Rosy said.
No mild reactions that time. They all stopped their coping and turned to look at Rosy. Even Nico. He lifted his hat so he could peer out.
“Are you talking about Buck?” Shelby asked. “Because if so, you didn’t delay his surgery—”
“No. Not Buck. Someone else. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did, and I was so sorry afterward,” Rosy added. She brushed at tears, which had Shelby, Callen and Kace moving toward her.
“Who did you kill?” Kace asked, and thankfully he didn’t sound like the sheriff questioning a suspect.
Rosy sniffed some more. “Billy. I accidentally hit him with my truck.”
Even though Callen was aware that was what she’d named the armadillo, it still took him a moment to shift from a murder confession to, well, roadkill.
“I just didn’t see him,” Rosy went on. “I’d spilled my Dr Pepper and was trying to wipe it up, and I took my eyes off the road for just a second. That’s all it took, one short second, and I smacked right into him.”
Judging from the silence, everyone was trying to figure out what to say. “I’m sorry,” Lucy managed, which turned out to be a stellar answer because Rosy smiled at her.
“I felt so guilty that I wanted to bring him back,” Rosy added. “I wanted him to be around forever.”
While that was touching, he was glad Rosy wouldn’t legally be able to do that to any of them.
The “coping” started up again, and while Callen paced, he looked around the hospital. There’d been lots of visits here over the years. ER visits because of sports injuries and fevers and such that just couldn’t wait for a regular office appointment.
Some of those early visits had been follow-ups for the injuries that Avis Odell had given him. Nico had had plenty of checkups, too, but that was only after he’d got out of the hospital in San Antonio.
Bad memories.
No matter how fast you paced, they were always right there snapping and nipping at your heels.
Shelby and he crossed paths again, but this time she stopped and caught onto his arm. She studied his eyes as if trying to figure out what new thing she saw in them. Of course, it wasn’t new, but it seemed to take her a moment to figure it out.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” he warned her in a whisper. That had worked for Rosy with the Billy-murder, but Callen felt too raw for that from Shelby. He wouldn’t break, but he might lose an edge that he needed to keep in order to get through this.
Shelby came up on her toes and put her mouth right against his ear. “You have a very nice ass,” she whispered. Her expression didn’t change, and she moved right back into the pace.
Well, it was just as effective as Lucy’s “I’m sorry” had been to Rosy. Maybe more. Because Callen found himself smiling. That ended, though, when Dr. Breland came out of the corridor and started toward them. The doctor’s somber look had Callen ditching the smile, and he went to Shelby so he could put his arm around her.
Suddenly everyone got to their feet, and they turned their complete attention to the doctor. Callen didn’t like to think that so many things hinged on whatever the man said. He especially didn’t like to think that Buck’s life hinged on it.
“Buck came through the surgery, and we removed the tumor,” the doctor explained. He held up his hands when the barrage of questions started. “We don’t know yet if it’s cancer. We won’t have those results back for a couple of days.”
Hell. More waiting. As much as that frustrated Callen, he tried not to show it. Shelby had burrowed against him. Rosy had done the same to Mateo, and Havana had hold of Lucy.
“Buck’s in recovery, and he’s heavily sedated,” the doctor went on. “He wants to see you. All of you,” he emphasized. His huff let them know that was an argument he’d had with Buck and lost. “According to Buck, you’re to go in alphabetical order by first name. I guess that’s his way of not showing favoritism.”
Maybe because they were all in a mind haze of worry, they started working their way through the alphabet. Callen would be first. Well, unless Buck wanted to appease Rosy and ask to see Billy. Barring that, Callen would be first and Shelby last. A sort of sandwich for the others. Callen only hoped Buck didn’t tire himself out so that he wouldn’t have much energy to speak with Shelby. Rosy and she needed Buck the most right now.
“Since there are so many of you,” the doctor went on, “you only get two minutes each, and I’ll be timing it. Don’t say anything, and I mean anything, that will upset him.”
“Oh dear,” Rosy whimpered. “I won’t bring up the sunflowers, then, because I’m not sure how he feels about them.”
As before, they gave her mild murmurs of agreement, and the doctor motioned for Callen to follow him. The hospital wasn’t that big, so it didn’t take them long to get down the hall and to the recovery room. He spotted Buck right away in the bed surrounded by machines.
God, he looked so pale, but then Callen hadn’t expected better since the man had just had his chest cracked open.
“Two minutes,” the doctor reminded Callen as he went in. “Not a second more.”
Buck lifted his eyelids, not easily, and when he tried to speak, there was no sound. “Bumfuzzle...is a funny word...don’t you think?” Buck finally said.
Callen glanced back at the doctor. “He’s heavily medicated,” Dr. Breland reminded him.
So it would be this kind of conversation. Callen was almost relieved. It would be an easier one than some heart-squeezing outpouring of possible bad outcomes and such.
“Yeah, it is,” Callen agreed. “So is my personal favorite, catawampus.”
Buck managed a slight nod and an equally slight smile before his eyelids fluttered back down. “Shelby’s falling in love with you.”
Callen went stiff. Said nothing.
“Go gentle with her, Callen.” He paused, made a soft grunting sound. “You’re my favorite kid.” Buck made an air pat in the general direction of Callen’s arm.
“You’re going to say that to the rest of them, aren’t you?” Callen asked.
“Absolutely. And it’ll be true.”
With that, Buck drifted off.
* * *
FOR THE FIRST time in her life Shelby wished that her name had been Anne or, heck, even aardvark. That way she wouldn’t have had to wait so long to see her dad. But since she was at the bottom of this particular alphabet selection, she’d had to wait through Callen, Judd, Kace, Lucy, Mateo, Nico and Rosy.
Havana had given up her turn, so that had shaved a couple of minutes off her waiting time, but it still felt like an eternity. It didn’t bode well that Callen, Judd and Kace had all come out of the recovery room with somber expressions that they’d tried to cover with fake optimism.
The general consensus from those first three was that “Buck looked great but he’s a little out of it—which is to be expected.” She doubted that looking great part, hence her diagnosis of fake optimism.
No sunny outlook for Lucy. She’d come out dabbing tears from her eyes and had then asked the meaning of catawampus, making Shelby wonder exactly what had gone on during their conversation. Mateo had asked the meaning of bumfuzzle, making Shelby wonder even more. The wonder continued when Nico came out grinning and announced that he was “Buck’s favorite kid.” He’d added a fist pump.
All right. So that stung a little, but then maybe her dad had categories of favorites. Such as favorite kid whose name started with an N.
Rosy had come out of recovery beaming and was pleased to let them know that Buck had approved her choice to get violets for the bouquet. Shelby wasn’t sure that was a wise way to use her two minutes, but at least Rosy wasn’t crying, asking about the meaning of odd words or spewing fake sunshine.
Shelby had already made her way to the recovery room door so that she’d be ready when Dr. Breland gave her the go-ahead. When he finally did, she rushed in, not wanting to eat up seconds with the trek from the door to the bed.
“Dad, I love you, and I want you to get better fast,” she blurted out. She’d rehearsed it to make sure she got it all out. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just heal.”
Her dad looked at her, one of his eyes going in a different direction than the other. That confirmed the “heavily medicated” part. His sallow skin and hollow face confirmed that Kace, Callen and Judd had BS’ed her about his looking good. He looked like crud, but she suspected that was normal after surgery.
“Shelby,” he said, his voice weak and rattled. He did an air pat of her hand, and she braced herself for possible comments about favorites, strange words or flowers. “You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Okay. She hadn’t been expecting that. “Dad, it’s me, Shelby,” she clarified just in case.
“I know. Don’t blame yourself,” he repeated. “You’re not the reason your mother died.”
Everything inside her went still. “Uh, what?” she asked.
“Your mother,” he said as if that explained everything. “Not your fault that she was leaving us.”
“Uh, what?” Shelby repeated.
Nothing. Her father’s eyelids lowered, and he went back to sleep.
“Sorry, but your time’s up,” the doctor told her.
She shook her head to clear it and started walking. That had been the fastest two minutes of her life. And in some ways, the longest. What the heck had he meant? She wanted to believe it was just some fragment of a dream that had fallen out of the drug haze, but it had felt like so much more.
Shelby still hadn’t managed to shake off the haze when she made it back to the waiting room. Only Callen and Rosy were still there, though.
“Judd took the kids back to the ranch,” Rosy explained. “He’ll stay there tonight so you and I can get some rest.”
That was good. She wouldn’t have to worry about the kids. But she did have to worry about what her father had told her.
“Are you okay?” Callen asked.
“No.” In hindsight, she should have gone for some of the fake “all is well,” but Shelby didn’t feel so well. “Dad said I shouldn’t blame myself for my mother leaving. You two don’t know anything about that, do you?”
Their silent stares weren’t from surprise, she decided. No. That was more of a deer-in-the-headlights look. Looks that turned to glances that Callen and Rosy aimed at each other.
“You two don’t know anything, do you?” Shelby repeated.
It was Callen who broke the silence, and he dragged in a long breath. “Come on, Shelby. Let me take you home so we can talk.”
As they walked out, Shelby heard Rosy mutter, “Oh dear.”