Take a flying leap.
That’s what Callie wanted to say. What she’d been waiting ten years to tell him.
Sure it wasn’t the ideal scenario. No killer job or killer heels, but she wasn’t going to get caught up in the details. It wasn’t as if Brett Sawyer waltzed back into her life every other day. This might be her only chance to blast him and tell him what she really thought of him.
That he was a no-good, unreliable lowlife who’d ruined everything. He’d dumped her and taken the most important thing from her—her parents.
But the truth was, she didn’t really want to blast him anymore. And not because she was too tired or because she didn’t look her best or because she was coming off one of the worst days of her life. But because, in all honesty, he just didn’t deserve it.
Yes, he was no-good and unreliable and a lowlife. And he’d most definitely ruined a lot of things—namely her self-esteem. At least back then. But he hadn’t taken her parents from her.
Ten years had taught her that sometimes bad things just happened. To some more than others.
She’d blamed him at first because he’d been an easy target. She’d been mad and hurt and he’d been such a jerk that night. He’d been the reason she’d had to call her parents in the first place.
Still, he hadn’t been the one who’d crashed into them.
He stared at her expectantly. “Are there more boxes?”
“No, I just…” Her voice faded and she caught her lip, trying to say something—anything—so she didn’t appear a total idiot. His gaze dropped and she could practically feel it slide over the fullness of her bottom lip. “That is, I thought you might want to take a tour of the house.”
His mouth crooked at the corner and she saw a hint of the teasing grin that she remembered so well. “You trying to sell me some real estate?”
“Hardly.” She had the sudden image of that grin up close and personal a split-second before his mouth pressed against hers and her stomach hollowed out. “I’m not even a licensed Realtor.”
Yet.
She steeled herself against the thought, one which had nagged her for the past few years, since the moment Les had urged her to get her Realtor’s license. “I’m an office assistant. For now.” She wasn’t sure why she kept going except that she needed to do something with her mouth that didn’t involve kissing him, and rambling seemed like the only thing she could come up with. “As soon as I settle everything with my grandfather’s estate, I’m out of here. I’ve got a stack of resumes ready to send out to the Dallas Herald, the Houston Chronicle, and a dozen other publications. Everything from a few Texas travel magazines to a local Hill Country tabloid.”
“So you still want to be a journalist?”
“An investigative reporter.” She shrugged. “At least that’s what I’m hoping for eventually. Right now, I’ll settle for compiling traffic reports or doing human interest—anything to get my foot in the door. I’m doing a few stories here and there for the Rebel Yell, but nothing big. Just enough to keep my feet wet for now.”
“I figured you would have taken off after that dream a long time ago.”
She remembered how excited she’d been those months leading up to graduation. How hopeful because she’d gotten into one of the best journalism schools in the country. Her hope had died that night as she’d stood in the ER, listening to the doctor deliver the bad news that both her parents had passed away shortly after arriving at the trauma unit. She blinked against the sudden burning behind her eyes and shrugged. “Life doesn’t always work out the way we want.”
“Tell me about it,” he murmured and she noted the weariness around his own eyes.
Something twisted in her chest. “I heard about your grandfather. How’s he doing?”
“He’s hanging in there.” He stiffened, as if fighting some internal battle. “I’m sure he’ll be back on his feet in no time.”
“But I thought he had Alzheimer’s?”
“He does, but he still has good days left. A lot of them.” His gaze locked with hers and she saw the glimmer of desperate hope, as if he was still holding on to the idea that everything could be okay. That it would be okay.
She recognized the look because she’d told herself the same thing as she’d waited in the ER for news of her parents. Everything would be okay. Life would go on. Dreams would be achieved. “When he’s on his feet again and the ranch is in a better position, then I’ll hit the circuit again. I landed a new sponsor for this next tour. A big one.”
“That’s great.”
“They just delivered the contracts a few days ago. Once I sign I’ll be their spokesperson for the next five years.”
“So I’m guessing you’re just home temporarily.” He nodded and she felt a strange whisper of regret. A crazy reaction because it made little difference if he stuck around. She’d be long gone from Rebel just as soon as she figured a way out of the tax debt. “It’s good that you’re going back. It would be a shame to give up after that last ride.”
“You saw the Vegas run?”
A smile tugged at her lips. “I may have been flipping channels and caught a glimpse of the finals on ESPN.” She didn’t mean to tell him, but the glimmer that lit his eyes prompted her to keep talking. “You were really great.”
His mouth didn’t just hint at a grin in that next instant. Instead, she got the real thing as his sensuous lips crooked at the corner. His blue eyes twinkled and her heart stalled. “Sounds like you caught more than just a glimpse.”
“Enough to know that you deserved that buckle.” And that he’d done not one victory lap around the arena after snagging the title, but three. Instead of basking in the media attention, he’d been fixated on talking to the fans. On thanking them and signing autographs and shaking hands. He’d been the usual smooth-talking charmer that she remembered so well, but there’d been something different about him, as well.
Something humble and achingly close to grateful.
She’d known then that he’d changed from the spoiled, entitled Sawyer who’d always had everything and everyone handed to him.
No one had given him that victory. He’d worked for it.
Fifteen minutes, she reminded herself. She’d watched him all of fifteen minutes, until the show had ended and the latest NASCAR race had taken its place. Not nearly enough time to gauge whether or not Brett Sawyer was still the same self-centered jerk he’d been back in the day.
No one could change that much.
That’s what she told herself.
But there was no denying the facts. He’d come home to help his pappy and showed up at the church with a plant and stopped to help her with the boxes and …
Motherfudger, he was different.
The realization made her want to cross the space between them and see what else had changed about him. Did his lips still feel as soft when pressed against hers? Would he still do that little circle with his thumb at the base of her spine when he pulled her close? Would he make her feel the same dizzying heat she’d felt that night in the backseat of his pappy’s fancy car? Would he make her feel all of that and more?
The questions bombarded her, one after the other, making her hands tremble and her body ache and—
Are you freakin’ kidding? This is Brett Sawyer. The guy more interested in the chase than the actual prize. You’re not throwing yourself at him. You’re never throwing yourself at him.
Never, ever again.
She stiffened and glanced at her watch. “I, um, really need to get home.”
He arched one eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to give me a tour?”
“I can’t. It’s, um, against the rules. I’m not a Realtor, so I can’t legally show you a house that’s on the market.” Okay, so it sounded lame, but it was the best she could come up with. “I shouldn’t have offered, but my day’s been sort of screwy so I’m not really thinking straight. If you come back tomorrow, I’m sure Les would be happy to show you around.” She turned and headed for the foyer.
Her heart thundered in her chest for several long seconds before she heard the footsteps behind her.
“Thanks again for stopping to help,” she told him as she hauled open the door.
He stopped just a few inches shy and stared at her for a brief moment before he finally shrugged. “My pleasure.” His deep, rumbling voice echoed in her ears as he walked out the door and headed down the walkway.
Not a chance, buddy.
She concentrated on locking up the house rather than watching him climb into his truck. There wasn’t going to be any pleasure of any kind.
Not his.
Not hers.
No.
His truck grumbled to life and she felt the vibration along her nerve endings. Her heart sped faster but she kept from looking as he shifted the monstrous pile of sleek metal into gear and pulled out of the drive. She’d been down the pleasure highway once before with him, one pitted with dozens of potholes and sharp turns, and she wasn’t making the trip again.
No matter how much he’d changed.
She’d changed, as well. She’d learned from her mistakes and experience told her to forget all about Brett, take care of business, and get her life back on track.
That was the smart thing to do. The right thing.
And Callie Tucker always did the right thing.
She just wished the right thing didn’t always feel so damned wrong where Brett Sawyer was concerned.
The rumble of his truck faded, thankfully, and she managed to drag in a much-needed breath. A few minutes later, she climbed into her granddad’s old truck, fired up the engine, and headed home.