Catching Calhoun (11 page)

Olivia stared at Calhoun, only mildly aware that Archer and Bandera were leading her kids toward town. “Drive us home?”

“Sure. Your dad can rest in the motor home. Archer’s the king of horses. He and Gypsy would get along fine. I’ll drive the motor home, and you can hang with your kids and take care of your dad.”

His offer surprised her. “I don’t think I can do that,” she murmured. “Though you’re sweet to suggest it.”

He sat beside her on the stoop and tucked her hair behind one ear. “Olivia, did I do something wrong? Have I upset you?”

“No,” she said, hating to see the disappointment in his eyes. She couldn’t tell him the truth. And yet, the hurt was clear in his eyes. He didn’t understand why she wasn’t treating him as she had before.

She could tell him, or not tell him, the choice was hers—but not telling him meant he would never think less of her. By the shine in his eyes, she knew he admired her.

It felt so good to be admired by a man as wonderful as Calhoun. “I like you, cowboy,” she whispered. “I really do. I can’t say yes to your offer, and I can’t see you anymore, but I really, really do think you’re the best man I’ve ever known, besides my father.”

“Hmm,” Calhoun said. “I’m not sure that’s a ringing endorsement.”

She squeezed his arm. “Don’t take it wrong. You’re both wonderful. You make me dream dreams, Calhoun.”

“What kind of dreams?” he asked, staring hungrily at her lips.

“Those kind of dreams,” she whispered. “The kind you’re thinking of right now.”

“Olivia,” he said. “Why did you leave like that?”

“Reasons I can’t tell you,” she said. “Things that happened long before you and I met. Calhoun,” she said, putting her hand out for him to take, “come with me.”

He slowly rose, never taking his eyes from hers. She drew him into the motor home and locked the door. “I don’t want to leave you without saying goodbye. I don’t care what my father thinks, or anyone else. For some reason, when it comes to you, I don’t even care about my promise to myself.”

“Oh,” he said, pulling her up against his chest, “never break a promise to yourself.”

“I had promised,” she said, rubbing her hands lightly over his chest as he held her, “never to fall for a cowboy.”

“Well,” he said, picking her up and settling her legs around his waist, “that one you can break.”

He kissed her, and she went breathless. She could feel him hard underneath her, and Olivia welcomed the knowledge that she’d be a lot happier woman if she let Calhoun into her life. Even if it was just for this night, she deserved this man.

“You make me whole,” she whispered against his mouth as he carried her back to her bed.

“You make me want the entire thing,” he said, tearing off his shirt and then hers. She tugged off her jeans, and she did the same for his. When she was down to matching blue underwear, he took a deep breath. “Come here, Olivia,” he said. “Don’t keep me waiting a second longer.”

Her eyes huge, she went into his arms, staring up at him. “I’m…not scared,” she told him.

Silently, he laid her on the bed, covering her with his body as he found her mouth. He kissed her—long, hard, deep, and for five minutes—before he spoke. “How’s the fear factor now?”

“I’m not scared,” she said.

“We’re not ready until you say you are. I never want you to say that word again.” He ran a hand down her hip, tugging her up against him. He kissed her slowly, passionately, patiently for at least another five minutes. Then he looked into her eyes. “How are you, Olivia?” he asked, his voice deep as he caressed her bare thigh.

“I want you,” she said. “I want you so much, Calhoun.”

He pulled down her panties, moving them over her feet and tossing them to the floor. Very slowly, he removed her pretty blue bra and cupped a breast. “Tell me again,” he said, squeezing a nipple lightly. Then he kissed her nipples, one then the other, sweeping a hand up the inside of her thigh.

Olivia arched, her fingers tugging him anxiously to her. “I do. I want you.”

He raised his head to nibble at her lower lip. “You’re sexy,” he told her. “You’re hotter than the firecrackers we set off in Shoeshine’s barn when we were kids.”

“What?” She could hardly think. Calhoun’s hands and mouth were driving her mad.

“Hot,” he said huskily. “I’ve wanted to get inside your heat since the first second I laid eyes on you. But you’re going to have to want me, Olivia, because when you remember me, you’re going to remember me with a smile on your face.”

“Calhoun,” she said, nervously realizing she might not be able to convince him that she wanted to make love with him. “I want you. I want you to make love to me. I want you to hold me, and kiss me, and…I want to hold you inside me,” she finished, not knowing how else to convince him that she would never be afraid of him, that she truly hungered for him.

He slipped a finger inside her, finding her wetness, and Olivia gasped. But he was over the edge now, and determined to take her with him. He kissed every inch of her body, before licking up inside her. Olivia
held back a scream as her body was taken over by sensations she didn’t understand, like strings pulling her toward heaven, and just as she thought she was going to come apart from the pleasure of the magic he was bringing her, he entered her. Then she did scream, clutching him to her as he covered her mouth with his, taking her cries of joy inside him.

And then Olivia realized she had never experienced true marriage before. “Oh, my gosh,” she said, when they lay in each other’s arms ten minutes later. “Calhoun…I—”

He rolled his head to look down into her eyes, and she went silent. He was so handsome, so manly. Everything about him was strong, and kind, and gentle. He was the Elusive Sexy Cowboy she’d run from, and yet he was the man of her dreams.

Dreams Marvella had crushed. Her eyes dimmed with the memory of that conversation. There was so much she couldn’t say to Calhoun.

“Tell me,” he said. “I want to know your every thought.”

She smiled shyly at him. “I think you’re handsome. And I think you’re good at
that.
” Then she blushed.

“Hmm.” He rolled over to bite at her neck lightly. “You’re keeping secrets, and that’s a number one no-no.”

“Okay. Um, I’m hoping I compare favorably in your eyes to the women you paint.”

He drew back to stare at her face, her nipples, her
navel and her most private area. She could hardly bear his scrutiny, and she tried to pull the sheet up over her, which he caught in one hand as he lightly moved a hand over her hip. “I will paint you one day,” he said. “But you won’t be nude, because no one is ever going to know what’s under your jeans but me. In fact, I’m giving up painting nudes for life. I have my favorite nude right here.”

Her blood chilled. He sounded so serious. As if they were going to be together forever.

“So tell me,” he said huskily, “before I have to give you the old-fashioned lie detector test.”

She smiled. “What?”

“I can tell if you’re fibbing,” Calhoun said. “A man has a very precise and delicate instrument to gauge his lady’s honesty.”

“He does not,” she said, laughing, until he slid inside her, just an inch. “Oh!”

“Now,” Calhoun said, kissing her lips, “this is the most reliable way for two people to get to know each other. It’s very accurate in testing honesty, as well.”

She stared at him, wanting badly to wriggle so he’d move farther up inside her. She tried to, but he shook his head. “Uh-uh,” he said. “You can’t be so forward. You tell the truth and I reward you.”

“No,” she said. “You’re driving me insane, Calhoun.”

He nibbled her ear. “Olivia, do you like me?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately.

He moved an inch farther inside her. Olivia
groaned and tried to pull his hips but he grabbed her wrists and held them over her head. Then he kissed her nipples, taking a long turn with each.

“Olivia,” he said, after licking his way up to her lips, “you ran off on me today. You
ran.
And it wasn’t a good thing, because I felt like I’d hurt you in some way.”

“No, you didn’t, I promise,” Olivia said, and he rewarded her by sliding inside her another inch. Olivia arched, her breath coming faster. “Calhoun, please.”

“Is it your father? Because I think given time, I can work out a better relationship with him. I’m willing to try,” he said.

“No…Calhoun, there was nothing wrong. I think I just felt like I’d imposed on you and your brothers,” Olivia began, but he pulled back an inch, and she looked up at him, startled and feeling empty.

His gaze was determined.

“I can’t tell you,” she finally whispered. “It’s my personal business. But it had nothing to do with you.”

He began filling her up again, and Olivia squirmed, wanting him so bad.

“The truth?” he said.

“The truth,” she replied. “Nothing to do with you at all. I got a little spooked.”

It wasn’t the complete truth, but she couldn’t tell him that. He seemed satisfied after he studied her eyes for a moment, then he stroked her with determination, possessing her as his alone, and Olivia felt the difference in his movements and his passion.
He’d been gentle before, working through her fear, but now he was her lover, believing he could keep her safe from anything.

Olivia cried out with pleasure, and Calhoun followed her into her bliss, and as he whispered her name over and over in the dark, Olivia knew she was going to lose the best man, the only man, she would ever love.

Calhoun left the trailer an hour later, with Olivia sleeping like a contented cat. What he loved best about her, he decided, was how innocent her face looked when she slept. She was sweet, Calhoun decided, and his former shadowy misgiving must have been his wild side giving one last call to him before he pushed it away for good.

Olivia was his woman, real and in the flesh, not a painted lady.

“Foxy and fine and all mine,” he said happily, heading over to the Lonely Hearts Salon. Whistling, Calhoun found his brothers and the children over at Delilah’s, eating pancakes.

“These kids are spoiled,” Bandera said. “They talked Delilah into making them their favorite food.”

Delilah laughed. “It was no trouble. How are you, Calhoun?”

“Never been better,” he said, which made his brothers laugh. He glared at them as Delilah handed him a heaping plate of pancakes. “Where’s Jerry?”

“On the road. Left yesterday.” Delilah sat down with a cup of blackberry tea. “I have never understood how that man can drive such a big rig, stay gone a week and only take a couple changes of underwear and an extra set of clothes. He packs so light.”

Bandera and Archer looked at Calhoun.

“And that just shot your emotional baggage-size of suitcase scenario,” Calhoun said cheerfully. “No correlation at all.”

“Where’s Momma?” Minnie asked, her lips wet with syrup.

“She went to the hospital to check on your Grandpa. Gypsy says to tell you hello,” Calhoun said.

The kids giggled.

“When Gypsy says hello, she usually does it by tapping a barrel with her hoof,” Kenny said.

“Or giving you a nudge with her nose,” Minnie added.

“Well,” Calhoun said, “this time, she said hello by sneezing all over my shirt.”

The kids thought that was funny. Delilah smiled at him. “You planning on making something of this?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Calhoun shrugged. “Not sure the lady in question is appropriately eager.”

“Really?” Bandera asked. “We figured for sure you’d lock her down this time. What are you waiting on?”

“I don’t know,” Calhoun said, his good mood
evaporating. “Just a moment ago, I felt great. But now that you’ve put a fine point on it, I’m not sure. Guess I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No one’s talking,” Archer said.

“It’s just that she’s a secretive little thing,” Calhoun said, thinking out loud. “She says she’s telling the truth, but I can tell something’s still bothering her.”

“Women are delicate creatures,” Delilah said. “We like to be able to figure things out ahead of time. We don’t like things out of order.”

“Calhoun’s definitely out of order,” Archer said. “He fell before he looked at what lay below.”

Calhoun sighed and drank his milk. “This is delicious, Delilah.”

“Thank you. I’m always glad when the Jefferson men stop by.” She smiled at them. “You know, speaking of things that are out of order, my sister, ever-peculiar Marvella, has been even more peculiar lately.”

The three brothers looked at her, pausing in their eating.

“Well, it might be nothing,” Delilah said. “But she stopped me on the street the other day, and she asked me if I’d ever regretted not having children. Of course, I said I’d been lucky to have all these girls come to my salon who needed a job and a new start. Truly, they are my sisterhood and maybe my parenthood. But then she said the biggest regret she’d ever had was not knowing her child.” Delilah shook her head, sipping her blackberry tea. “She’s gone off her
rocker, you know. Marvella never had a child.” She sighed and sat back in her chair.

“Then she said she was enjoying the charity work I’d gotten her into. Remember when she needed a bull at the last rodeo, and I lent her Bloodthirsty, but made her promise in exchange that she’d do charity work?”

The brothers nodded.

“Turns out she likes it.” Delilah smiled. “Maybe it will make a difference in her life. It’s good to care about the people around you, instead of just caring about how to make a fast buck.”

The brothers hastily dug back into their pancakes.

“It was quite strange, though,” Delilah said. “Marvella and I quit speaking after her husband left her. She thought I’d stolen him. But nothing could have been further from the truth, which she has managed to twist over the years. Oh, he did come to see me once or twice, but it was on matters of business, and nothing more than that. Let’s see, what was his name?” She looked around the table, then at the pancakes. “Barley,” she said. “His name was Barley.”

Calhoun quit eating to stare at her, as did Archer and Bandera.

“My grandpa’s name is Barley,” Minnie said.

“It is?” Delilah said. “Goodness, not many people have that name, would you think?”

“No,” Calhoun said, thinking rapidly. “No. Oh, no.”

“Oh,” Archer said, with a glance at the children, “that would be too bad.”

“Ye gods,” Bandera said, his napkin dropping
from around his neck as he looked at Minnie and Kenny. “You don’t suppose?”

Calhoun’s throat dried out. The children looked up at him, smiling, their eyes innocent.

“Oh, no,” he said. “Life wouldn’t be so cruel.”

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER
, Calhoun had Kenny and Minnie at the hospital to meet their mother. His brothers had returned to Union Junction, somewhat glum for his sake.

But he wasn’t worried. There was no way that Marvella, the woman who had tried to sue Malfunction Junction through Valentine and her coming baby, the woman who was capable of more twists than a pretzel, could possibly be related to the Spinlove family.

It was out of the question that Marvella would ever be related to the Jeffersons.

“That would make her my mother-in-law,” Calhoun muttered. “Which is too scary to contemplate.”

“What?” Minnie asked.

He looked at her. “Thinker, do you have any family besides your grandpa?”

She shook her head. “Momma always said we just had each other.” Her smile was big. “It was enough, though, Grandpa always said.”

Calhoun’s heart beat uncomfortably. “Hey,” he said, squatting so that he was resting on his haunches and looking up into Minnie’s and Kenny’s little faces. “You’re good kids,” he said. “Real good kids.” He stared into their eyes, trying to articulate his feelings.

“Listen, when my brothers and I were growing up, we were hell on wheels. We got into all kinds of trouble. Shoot, we thought we invented new twists on trouble. That’s why they call our ranch Malfunction Junction. But if we’d been half like you kids, we would have turned out better people.” He reached up and touched each of their cheeks. “You’re good kids, and don’t you ever forget it.”

Minnie’s little mouth turned down a bit. “You ain’t keepin’ us, are you, Calhoun?”

He watched a bit of brightness flood her eyes. His heart ached.

“Calhoun?” she said. “I was kinda hopin’ you wanted to be part of our act.”

His chest felt tight. “Minnie, honey, you’ve taught me a lot about loving the whole more than the part. Being around you and Kenny and your mom made me realize I wasn’t painting the whole picture. But…”

“But you can’t be our father,” Minnie said simply.

He closed his eyes for a moment. How could he explain that her mother didn’t want to settle down, and there were reasons for that? Most particularly, she didn’t want to settle with him. And if it were true that Marvella was their grandmother, there was no way in hell he was going to be the Jefferson who brought her into the family tree.

They’d have to put a lock on the henhouse if Marvella was around.

“I can’t, Minnie,” he said slowly. “Not that you wouldn’t be wonderful children to be a father to, and
I want you to know that.” He shook his head, his heart breaking. “In my family, we have an old superstition. Do you know what a superstition is?”

“Something you think will make something happen to you. Like, Grandpa never eats before a show cuz he says it’ll make him sleepy.” Minnie smiled. “Grandpa’s never sleepy during a show.”

Calhoun nodded. “It’s something like that. Well, in my family, we believe in a silly thing called The Curse of the Broken Body Parts.”

Minnie and Kenny smiled.

“I told you it was silly,” Calhoun said. “Only this time, it doesn’t seem so silly. You only get cursed by the broken body parts when you’ve fallen in love, and each one of my brothers has hurt something when they met their future wife and family.”

“Didn’t you break anything when you met us?” Minnie asked.

Slowly, he took their hands in his. “Turns out I did,” he said softly. “My heart got broken. Which is why I know there’ll never be a little boy or a little girl I love as much as I do you two.”

They put their arms around his neck and squeezed.

“It’s okay, Mr. Calhoun,” Minnie said. “We’ll be all right. As Momma always says, the show must go on.”

O
LIVIA GLANCED UP
when Calhoun walked her two children into her father’s hospital room. “Thank you for bringing them,” she said, hugging both her children.

“Mr. Spinlove,” Calhoun said, politely tipping his hat.

“Hmm,” Barley said.

“I hope you’re feeling better.” He turned and met Olivia’s eyes. “Olivia, can I have a word with you?”

She got up and followed him into the hallway.

“How’s your dad?”

“Going home today. The doctor says he’s well enough to travel, but he needs to avoid strain and difficult conditions.”

“Olivia,” he said heavily. “How are you going to get all of you back home? To…where is it, anyway?”

“Kansas,” she said. “Not so far. We’ll be fine. We’ve managed before.”

“Your father can’t drive Gypsy’s trailer. He needs to rest. Does the doctor know what you’re planning? I’m pretty certain he’d advise against it.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said, but even inside herself she wasn’t certain.

“Where do the kids ride when you’re driving?”

“Usually in the truck with Dad.”

“Well, not this time,” Calhoun said. “At least promise me that. What if he has a heart attack, Olivia? Are you thinking this through?”

Anger flared inside her. “I would never endanger my children.”

He held up his hands. “I know you wouldn’t. But I don’t think any of this is a good idea.”

“My life is my own,” she said. “Just because something happened between us, doesn’t mean—”

Before she knew what had happened, he’d grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall into a small break room. Closing the door, he pulled her close to him. Olivia’s heart pounded.

“What exactly happened between us, Olivia?” he asked. “Yesterday you went cool on me. You took off like a cat out of a cannon. I made love to you, and I gave you time to tell me what was wrong. But you didn’t. And now you’re off again, without so much as a goodbye. I spent more time saying goodbye to your kids than you’d give me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Honestly, Calhoun, I don’t. I didn’t mean to fall for you, I didn’t mean to sleep with you and I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But?”

“But we’re just not right for each other. And we both knew that in the beginning. I live in Kansas, you live here. My family travels, yours stays in one place, for the most part.”

“When they’re not avoiding something? Like their responsibilities? Is that what you were going to say?”

“No,” she said, stung. “Why would I? If anybody is avoiding their responsibilities, it’s me.”

He let go of her. “What do you mean?”

“I spent time with you instead of here with my father. I spent time with you instead of with my children. My horse, my packing—I haven’t done anything except be with you.”

“Do you regret that?” His face was hard.

“No.” She shook her head. “But I know it’s time for me to quit spinning daydreams and get back to reality.”

“Reality doesn’t include me.”

She shook her head in the negative.

“You’re a tough cookie, Olivia Spinlove. I see now where you don’t fall far from the tree.”

She felt her face flush. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “Maybe you should tell me what it means.”

“If you’re saying my father—”

“I’m saying your mother,” he said pointedly.

He knew. She wasn’t going to tell him, but he knew. What was worse, he also knew she had planned on leaving him without telling him the truth.

“How did you find out?” she asked.

“So it’s true?”

“Apparently so. I haven’t asked Dad yet, and I’m not going to because he’s not supposed to get upset. It’s a talk that can wait.” She looked at him defiantly. “It’s bad luck for me, maybe, but it doesn’t change anything. Not really.”

His jaw tightened.

“I am sorry,” she said more gently, “but Calhoun, you said yourself you weren’t much interested in more than the surface of a woman.”

“I never said that.”

“Sure you did. You love to paint women, but you don’t paint women you love.”

He stared at her.

“I was never going to fit into your heart,” she said sadly. “Let’s not pretend. If I had fallen for your cowboy shtick, you would have hit the gas as fast as Last did.”

“That’s it,” Calhoun said. “I’m taking you home.”

She pulled away from him. “What are you talking about?”

“No woman,” he said, “and I mean no woman, accuses me of not having a heart. You’re going to bring the traveling circus to the ranch.”

“I cannot. We planned on being home by Christmas.”

He smiled at her, but it didn’t seem his eyes were happy. “Guess what? Christmas comes to Malfunction Junction just the same as it comes to Kansas.”

“What’s the point of this?” She glared at him.

“Because,” Calhoun said, “you’re the original runaway gypsy. I should have known that a lady with a horse named Gypsy, who lives in a motor home that stays on the road, would be all about roaming free. But Ms. Spinlove, you just ran out of run. Your kids need me, and they need stability, and they’re coming home with me for Christmas.”