Chapter Seven

 

 

“Callie?”

The voice came from somewhere deep in her subconscious.

“Callie, wake up, hon. Let’s get you to bed.”

Daddy? She twisted up toward the voice and attempted to open her gritty eyes. “Murphy.”

“Yep.” He took one of her hands and pulled her into a sitting position. Groggy, she shook her head and tried to focus. “Oh my. I was sleeping solid.”

“And snoring.”

She looked at him. He was grinning. Maybe. She could still barely see. “I was not.”

“I’m joking.”

Rubbing her hands over her face, she tried to wake up. “I fell asleep.”

“I see.” He was crouched before her. She could see him now. “You’ve had a couple of long days.”

“What time is it?”

“Early. Before five.”

“I could sleep some more.” She started to lie back down.

He caught her and pulled her to him. “No deal, Sleeping Beauty. Not here.” Before she realized it, Murphy had lifted her into his arms and was carrying her out of the stall. He kicked the door shut until it latched and started through the barn.

She couldn’t help it. He smelled good. He was warm, big, and virile. Irresistible, in so many ways. Callie wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzled her face into his shoulder, and sighed. “Where are you taking me,” she whispered.

“To bed.”

Her head jerked up. “Oh?”

“Yes.”

Oh my God! With several more strides, he was out of the barn and walking up the stairs. “You should put me down. I’m heavy.”

“Naw.”

“I am.”

“Shut up, Callie.”

“Yes, sir.”

They were inside his apartment now, over the barn. He strolled through the room and into his bedroom, and then laid her on his bed with a plop.

“That was graceful.” Her feet dangled over the edge.

“Nice boots.”

“I like them.”

“Better than those red heels you wore in here night before last.”

She cocked a brow. “You noticed?”

He nodded, slowly. “Yep. I noticed.”

“I like these better.”

He grasped a foot and tugged at the heel. “I do too.”

That little exchange was about more than boots, and she knew it. So, Murphy did feel something for her more than friendship? Ever since he pulled her to her feet in the stall, something had shifted between them. Things were different.

Callie watched him reach for her other foot and remove that boot too. He held her foot in his hands for a few seconds, brushed his thumbs over her toes, and then let it back down. He glanced up. “Scoot up to the pillows.”

He avoided eye contact. She did what he said and then he covered her with the quilt from the foot of the bed. Callie watched his face as he tucked the blanket around her, and then reached for her hair.

“Hay,” he said.

“Hey back.”

He chuckled. “No, I mean hay.” He twisted the piece in his fingers.

“Right.”

“I’m going out to the kitchen. Make some coffee. Watch the weather report. You sleep. It’s going to be a long day.”

That was an understatement.

He turned toward the door.

“I could have slept in my own bed, Murphy.”

He stopped. Turned slowly and looked at her. “Yep. You could have.”

She breathed in and out, her chest rising and falling. “I’m fine right here though.”

Murphy stood still. Finally, he made eye contact. She wasn’t sure what was going on between them, but she was powerless to stop it. Did he truly care?

Was there more to them than half a lifetime of friendship?

“Callie…” he started and then hesitated. “I…I need to go get that coffee going.” He headed for the door.

She sat up. “Wait!”

Again, he halted. Then abruptly, as if he had to act before he changed his mind, Murphy turned and rushed back toward the bed. Callie leaned closer and Murphy cupped each side of her face in his hands and drew her toward him.

The sensation of her face nestled in his big hands was heavenly.

He looked into her eyes. “I might be making a huge assumption.”

“And what assumption is that?” she breathed.

“You want me to kiss you.”

Callie licked her suddenly parched lips. “And what makes you think that?”

“Just a feeling….”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“You want me to?”

“Yes. Ten years ago.”

He peered deep into her eyes and whispered, “If I had kissed you ten years ago…” His lips grazed hers.

“…I might never have left,” she breathed.

Murphy’s mouth landed on hers with a burst of pent-up passion. Not wild and abandoned but measured and deliberate. Make no mistake, Murphy Reynolds was out to kiss her, and kiss her good. His lips moved over hers, moist and full. She opened her mouth and inhaled his breath, tasted his mouth, lips. She clung to him and her heart opened. Opened wide. He pushed her back against the pillows; the bed shifted with his weight. His heaviness across her chest was the most delicious thing Callie had experienced in a long, long time.

The kiss deepened and Callie drew him closer, her arms snaking up to lock around his neck. She involuntarily arched against him and for this moment, she wanted to erase everything and lose herself in him.

In sex. In him.

Oh. My. Sex?

“Murphy…” she breathed. “I can’t believe…Oh my God. I want you.”

He broke the kiss and pulled back. “Callie. No. I’m sorry. I….”

She placed a forefinger on his lips. Let it linger there. “Shh. It’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”

“The timing is all wrong,” he said. “Today. Your father—”

She applied a little more pressure to his lips. “Shush. Stop. Just for a moment, let’s forget all that.”

He angled his mouth to pull her finger inside his lips and lightly sucked. Callie died a little inside at the pleasure.

“I meant what I said,” she told him. “If you had kissed me ten years ago….”

“I’m kissing you now, Callie.”

“Yes.”

“I want to keep kissing you, now and in the future. But I don’t want to screw this up by moving too fast. I don’t want to lose you and I don’t want you to regret….”

Lose me? Regret what? A prickle of panic eked up inside her chest.

It hit her. This was Montana. Things were permanent here. People stayed together a long time. New York minute hookups didn’t happen. Not much anyway.

Sex was a bad idea. What the hell was she thinking?

What the hell do I want?

She pushed back a little. “You’re right. We are moving too fast. So much has changed in ten years. Murphy, we don’t really know each other anymore.”

Hell. What was she doing? A complete 180 reversal. Her brain was scattered.

He reached for her hand. “Callie. I have always…I love—”

Oh, God.

Suddenly it was ten years ago and she was back in the old truck cab. That confused, icky, remorseful feeling of her telling Murphy not to love her, that she was leaving, came blasting back. Déjà vu hell!

What to do?

The old phone beside the bed rang, splitting the air. “What the—?” Murphy sat up and snatched the receiver. “Yeah.”

She watched every feature in his face drop while he listened to whomever was on the other end. The news was not good.

She sat up.

Panic seized her, soul-deep.

Oh, God.

“Be right there,” he said and hung up. He looked at Callie, lingering over her face, and then spoke softly. “That was Parker. Your father died a few minutes ago of a heart attack. He’s gone, Callie. He’s gone.”

****

No need to go to the hospital, Parker had told Murphy. They had already taken his father away. Parker had been there all night and was the only one with him when it happened.

He said it was quick and that James didn’t suffer. The only thing left to do was gather the family together. Thank God they were spared the horror of having to make the decision about life support. Everyone was to meet at Liz’s house as soon as possible. And if he could go by his house and pick up Callie, he’d appreciate it. Parker hadn’t been able to get in touch with her.

No, he hadn’t, because Callie was with him. And if Murphy had anything to say about it, things would stay that way. He wanted her with him, always.

He just wasn’t sure she felt the same way. Right before the call, he felt things shift with her, and he wasn’t sure it was in the right direction. His direction.

Now, every protective instinct Murphy possessed was coming forward. Their relationship might be a teetering, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t support her. He knew by being there for her, being her rock, he was also doing what he needed to heal himself. Making sure Callie was okay was his gift back to the old man.

He wanted to protect her from what was coming next. Spare her from the pain and heartache. Hold her tight and never let her go.

He couldn’t do any of that, of course, but that didn’t keep him from wanting to do so.

Murphy glanced at her sitting on the passenger side of the truck, staring out the window. She’d not said a word since the bedroom.

Reaching between them, he pulled her left hand off her lap and held it on the seat. His big hand covered hers, and it felt so damn right. She turned and looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes. He squeezed her fingers and she squeezed back.

“I loved him so much,” she said. “I truly did. Even if I wasn’t here.”

Murphy’s eyes began to sting. “I know that. We all know that,” he said.

She nodded, tentatively, and then looked back out the window.

His heart was breaking for her. She was carrying around a ton of guilt, not to mention the other family issues, and she was going to have to deal with all of that, he suddenly realized, before she could move on and even think about loving him.

Exhaling long, he knew it was an uphill battle.

He loved her, dammit, more than anything. But he wouldn’t push her. She was too vulnerable right now, and he would not take advantage of that fact.

He was going to have to be patient.

****

Parker met them on the sweeping porch of the new house. Callie took one look at him and lost all control. He stood tall and solid as she raced toward and crashed into him. As she began a slow unraveling, he remained her rock. But there was one small moment, when she was starting to gain a little bit of her own composure, when she felt his slip. His shoulder’s shook and he exhaled in short choppy bursts.

Pulling back, Callie looked up into her big brother’s face. His dark brooding eyes were moist, his brow furrowed, his expression different from any she’d ever seen on his face—confused, sad, and perhaps, just plain hurt. “He died peacefully,” he told her. “I never saw him even move. The machines went off, the staff rushed in, and within seconds, he was gone.”

“I’m glad you were with him,” she whispered. Then she grasped his arms firmly and added, “Really glad, Parker.”

“I’m happy you had a few minutes with him earlier in the day. Callie, there is nothing anyone could have done.”

“I know. Thing is, he wasn’t alone, Parker. He had you. And that gives me great comfort.”

He sniffled and glanced off. Callie watched his profile. Then he nodded and swiped at his eyes with the back of his right hand. “He was a good man. A great dad. It was the least I could do—for him, for all of us.”

For a moment, Callie thought she might have to be his comfort, his rock. And she’d gladly be that for him. She’d never seen her brother cry.

“C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go see Liz.”

She wove her arm through his, and then looked back to Murphy who was standing off on the sidelines. She reached for him, and he stepped up and took her hand, his gaze never leaving hers. She knew he was there for her, and for all the family.

Callie was prepared for whatever came next.

When the front door opened wide, the three of them looked into the entryway of the house. Liz was framed in the doorway. Brody and Mercer stood slightly back, behind their mother. A lump gathered in Callie’s throat as she took in the tired, but welcoming look on her stepmother’s face.

“Oh, Liz,” Callie said softly.

Liz stepped over the threshold and onto the porch, her arms wide, and gathered her stepchildren into her arms. “He’s at peace,” she said. “He is at peace.”