Nash opened the door Sunday afternoon to a very welcome sight. Brian stood next to his mother, a yellow kiddie construction hat tilting precariously on his dark head. A tool belt was slung around his waist. He held a toy wrench in one hand, a play screwdriver in the other.
“Ho, ho, ho, and Merry Christmas!” Callie exclaimed, a bag of goodies in each hand. “We’re here to help you put up your tree!”
“Me fix.” Brian held up a screwdriver and wrench. He could not have been more serious.
“Long story.” Callie shook her head, her chocolate-brown curls bouncing around her face. “Involving a very convoluted misunderstanding that doesn’t bear going into. Suffice it to say, this little elf got the idea that your tree needed fixing, and fixing usually involves tools of some sort. And, well, you can see the rest for yourself.”
“Actually, little Brian here is not far off the mark,” Nash admitted, happily ushering them in.
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
With a wink, he walked them through the house and out the back door, to the bucket on the back porch. “I’ll let you decide for yourself.”
Callie stopped at what she saw. “That’s...”
Aware how pretty she looked, standing there in the afternoon light, Nash couldn’t help but chuckle. “The saddest little tree you’ve ever seen in your life?”
She whirled to face him in a drift of hyacinth perfume. “Well, it does give new meaning to the phrase a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree.”
“Beginning to see why I didn’t rush to put it up?”
“Um...yeah...actually...” With a slant of her head, she conceded him the point.
Oblivious to their disdain, Brian pointed to the tree, then the top of his own head. “Look, Mommy. Me.”
Callie interpreted for Nash. “I think he’s trying to say it’s his height.”
“It is indeed,” he observed. “At least on the one side that has branches.”
Callie moved around to see what he meant. “Oh! It is a little lopsided, isn’t it?”
Exactly why it had made such a good prank.
She sauntered back to his side, standing comfortably close. “How come you haven’t gotten rid of it?”
He shrugged. “I felt a little sorry for it, to tell the truth.”
“I see...” Callie wavered, as if not sure what to do next.
Nash figured, however, that it was not too soon for Brian to learn how to get into the spirit of the season. He bent down to the tyke’s level. “You ready to help me get this tree up?”
Nodding solemnly, Brian held out his toys. “Tools.” Then he pointed to his head. “Hat.”
“Tell you what,” Nash said, adapting the same ultraserious look as his little helper. “I’ll get mine, too.”
Nash returned with a real hard hat, small hand saw and tarp. “If everyone will step back, just a bit...”
Callie kept her son safely to the side. Then the two of them watched as Nash pruned. Short minutes later, they had the tree in a stand, a fact that delighted the little boy to no end.
His little chest puffed out proudly, Brian “helped” Nash carry the Christmas tree inside and set it in the living room. Afterward, Callie wrapped a red velour skirt around the base, got out the lights, the star and some unbreakable ornaments in red, green and white. Together, they all worked to decorate the tree. It was the most Christmas Nash’d had in years.
“Pretty.” Brian beamed.
“Very Christmassy,” Callie decreed.
“It looks great. Thank you.” On impulse, Nash enfolded them all in a group hug. “This means a lot to me,” he confessed in a low, gruff tone.
To his satisfaction, though she refrained from saying as much, it seemed to mean a lot to Callie, too. Nash relaxed. Maybe this was exactly what the three of them needed. Maybe they were all on their way to having their best Christmas in a very long time.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” Callie’s mom said Tuesday morning, when they caught up with each other via phone. “How are things going?”
Callie switched the call to speaker. Aware it was almost time to leave to take Brian to school, she continued loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. “Good.” She thought about the last time she’d made love with Nash, and knew it had been so very good.
“Did you have a nice weekend?” Lacey continued.
Callie smiled, reflecting. “Very.” Since most of it had been spent with Nash.
“How did your retreat go yesterday?”
“Really well.” Callie told her mom the details while she made her son’s lunch.
“And the rash on your finger? How is that doing?” Lacey asked with maternal concern.
“It took a few days to fade completely.” But after the second time that she and Nash had made love, it had disappeared.
“So no more itching or redness?” her mom prodded.
Callie held out her hand. Her ring finger was smooth as silk. “Nope,” she confirmed.
There was the hiss and steam of the coffeemaker in the background. “Have you been able to go back to wearing your rings?”
Callie listened to the distant clatter and knew her mother was filling her thermal work mug and getting ready to leave, too. “They’re still at the jeweler’s in San Antonio. I haven’t had time to pick them up yet.”
“Okay. Well, pay attention when you do start wearing them again.”
If I start wearing them again, Callie thought.
“Or if the rash comes back before then,” her mom warned, sounding more like a physician now than a parent.
Callie and her mom talked a little more. Her mom reiterated how much she was looking forward to seeing them at Christmas.
“Me, too, Mom,” Callie said.
Even though it meant leaving Nash behind.
And that, she wasn’t so happy about. But, Callie reassured herself, it was only for a couple of days. He’d still be waiting for her when she got back. At least she hoped he would. They hadn’t exactly figured out what they had going—except friendship and a blossoming affair.
Time would tell if it turned into anything more. In the meantime, Callie knew, she had to get her son to school.
Callie had never been one to eavesdrop, but there was something about hearing her name that always stopped her in her tracks. And that morning was no exception.
“Look,” Molly Franklin, the head chef of the Double Knot Ranch bakery and catering service said, from inside the party barn, “if Nash Echols were okay with being alone during the holidays, he wouldn’t have invited himself to Callie’s for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Callie’s twin, Maggie, spoke up, her voice loud and clear. “It wasn’t just him. He asked to bring all the men working for him, too.”
“Still,” Fiona Sanders said, with maternal wisdom, “it doesn’t hurt to welcome Nash back to the community, now that he’s here for good.”
“And introduce him to all the available women in the area, to boot,” Ginny Walker, the new assistant manager, chimed in.
“Well, luckily that doesn’t include me,” Callie said casually, figuring enough had been said on the subject, and walking in.
“Yes—” her twin sister winked “—since you already know him.”
Callie put down her briefcase.
She felt obliged to defend the handsome man they were all conversing about. “I know you-all mean well, but I’m not sure Nash is going to appreciate this.”
“Sure he will,” Molly Franklin disagreed. “And you know why? Because single men are always up for a good, hot, home-cooked meal. And that’s all everyone who is going to ask him into their domains is going to be offering him.”
Fiona Sanders held up her hand. “There’s still a lot to be done for the Old-Fashioned Christmas Celebration. So let’s get down to business, shall we?”
For the next few hours, Callie concentrated on the tons of details yet to be ironed out.
By the time she left the Double Knot Ranch, it was nearly noon.
She wasn’t due to pick Brian up from the Country Day Montessori Preschool until three that afternoon, which gave her plenty of time to stop by her ranch, grab a few things and head for Echols Mountain.
Nash was right where she thought he would be. Halfway up the mountain, in a staked-off area he planned to work in next.
He had sunglasses on to protect against the glare of a partially cloudy winter day. A knit cap covered his shaggy black hair. Black thermal underwear, a pine-green flannel shirt and a khaki field vest covered his massive chest. Worn jeans and brown leather hiking boots cloaked his legs. He had a leather apron stuffed with rolls of scissors, markers, pruning shears and varied colored plastic ribbon slung around his waist. He was unshaven, sexy as all get-out and so very male.
Her heart leaped as she returned his wave and trooped out to join him. It was easy to see what he had been doing. He had been marking trees and other native plants and shrubs for harvest, then recording the results. As she neared, he let the clipboard fall to midthigh. “Hey.” He hooked an arm about her shoulder and brought her close enough for a quick, casual kiss to her temple. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”
She knew it was a little corny, but still... She lifted the wicker basket in her hand. “Thought I would bring you a picnic lunch.”
“Thanks, I’m starved.”
He put down the gate of his pickup truck and spread a tarp, lifted her up into the bed, removed all his gear—including his hat—and joined her. “You going to stay and eat with me?”
“Why, Nash Echols—” she batted her lashes at him “—I thought you’d never ask.”
“So what’s up?”
Stalling, Callie handed him an overstuffed turkey, bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich on sourdough bread. She had hoped to work her way into this.
He watched her pour steaming coffee from a thermos. “You have that look on your face. Like you want to tell me something.”
Callie spread a napkin across her lap. “That obvious, hmm?”
“Yup.”
While they ate, she relayed the conversation she had overheard. “I saw what they’ve been doing. They’ve got a whole social calendar planned for you during the month of December.”
Finished with his sandwich, he opened a bag of chips. “Yeah, I know. The invitations have already started coming in.”
“So you don’t mind?” She found she wasn’t nearly as hungry.
Looking more interested in her reaction than what had gone on behind his back, he leaned against the metal side, legs stretched out in front of him. “That people want to socialize with me? Or that I’m considered a catch in these parts?”
Ah, humor. Was there ever a time when he did not use it to his advantage? “I imagine you’re a catch in whatever part of the country you end up in.” She tried not to sound as jealous as she actually felt.
His brow lifted. Then his gaze roved her languorously, head-to-toe, before returning to settle on her eyes. “To you, too?”
Callie tried unsuccessfully to fight a blush. “You know I’m attracted to you,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice calm and steady. “I think I’ve made that clear.”
He nodded, his expression maddeningly indecipherable. “And I to you.”
She sipped her coffee, the heat of the beverage a nice panacea to the lingering chill of the wintry afternoon. “What I can’t figure out,” she continued, as the sun went all the way behind a cloud, “is why anyone would think you would have trouble finding ‘available’ women to date all on your own.”
Nash drained his cup, crumpled up his napkin and put it in the paper sack she’d provided for trash. “Probably has something to do with Lydia,” he said.
An awkward silence fell.
Funny, she hadn’t allowed herself to imagine him with another woman. But of course there had been other women.
Was there now, too? Finally, Callie worked up enough courage to ask, “Who is Lydia?”
Nash had known they would have to talk about this sooner or later. Unable to sit still a moment longer, he sighed restlessly and climbed down from the bed of the truck. He paused long enough to give Callie a hand down, too, then walked back out to resume his work. Aware this wasn’t an inquiry likely to go away, he said over his shoulder, “Lydia was a woman I dated for five years.”
Callie meandered after him, tramping through the undergrowth. “Was she from around here?”
“No.” Nash picked up a roll of orange tape and measured off another section of virgin woods. “We met when we were both working in the Pacific Northwest. I brought her home to Texas to propose to her.”
Callie ducked beneath the tape to lean up against a particularly sturdy fifty-year-old live oak. “I’m sensing it didn’t go well.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, looking as wary as she had the first time they’d met. He hated seeing her that way.
“And it caught you off guard?” she gathered.
Nash fought the urge to take Callie in his arms and kiss away all her distrust. He also knew it wasn’t going to happen unless he gave her the information she was looking for.
Wearily, he shoved a hand through his hair, recounted, “I made it clear from the time Lydia and I first met that I was looking to get married and have a family. She said it was what she wanted, too, once she had established herself in a career.”
Callie looked around, found his hat and tossed it to him. “And you believed her.”
Inside, Nash’s annoyance built. “Yeah, Callie, like a damn fool, I believed her. Right up until the time I got down on my knee, popped the question and she told me that not only did she not want to have kids, but she did not want to actually be married, either.”
Callie blinked, for a second looking as confused as he’d felt at the time. “Then why did she ever indicate otherwise?”
Nash sighed. Dropped the roll of tape. Strode nearer. “Because Lydia assumed I was just doing what she had been doing—just saying what people wanted and expected to hear.”
Nash paused a moment to let his words sink in.
He looked into Callie’s eyes, then matter-of-factly went on, “Lydia was willing to get engaged as long as it never went any further than that. We never got around to actually setting a date or planning a wedding.”
Callie rubbed her temples as if she felt a headache coming on. “A lot of people seem to be doing that these days.”
He nodded but said nothing.
She trod closer, her eyes soft, serious now. “You must have been really hurt by Lydia’s deception.”
Nash didn’t want her pity. Aware he still felt like a damned fool, he rubbed a hand beneath the stubble on his jaw. He wished he had taken the time to shave that morning. Would have, had he known he would be having lunch with Callie.
He strolled closer. “What made it worse was that I’d told Hart and a few others what I was planning. So when it all went bust, and Lydia went back to Oregon without me, everyone knew what had happened.”
Callie wrinkled her nose. “I’m guessing you got a lot of sympathy.”
Gazing down at her, he took her hands in his. They were as soft and silky as his were rough and calloused. “Plus well-meaning advice on how to pick ’em next time.”
She winced.
Nash let go of her hands. “And that’s probably why they all think I need a little ‘help’ in the romance department.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, lifted her face to his. “There is one way to put a halt to all this not-so-subtle matchmaking on my behalf.”
“Really?” Color heightened the delicate bone structure of her face. “And what’s that?”
Nash took her all the way into his arms. “We could tell everyone I’m already romantically involved. With you.”
Another long awkward silence stretched between them.
His pulse accelerating, Nash watched Callie’s reaction to his proposal.
Knowing that this was where—if things were really going his way—Callie would leap at the chance to tell everyone they were, if not in love with each other, at least pretty damned smitten.
But if the expression on her face was any indication, he realized with ever-deepening disappointment, she did not want that. Not at all.
Nash pushed aside a sinking feeling of déjà vu. The fact he never seemed able to anticipate when his heart was about to be stomped on. Warning himself not to jump to conclusions, however, he played devil’s advocate instead. “Not interested?”
“I’m very interested in you. You know that.” Wringing her hands together, she spun around and paced a distance away. Stared down the mountain, to the valley where her ranch sat.
Finally, she turned back to meet his gaze with a level one of her own. “I just like to keep my private life private, that’s all. Especially now that I have a son. Plus—” her lower lip quavered “—we haven’t...even said...we’d be exclusive. So—”
Nash regarded her in dismay. Was that what was bothering her? She thought what they had was too casual—too inconsequential—to be mentioned?
“You’re right.” Deciding if it was a fishing expedition she was on, she was going to catch more than she bargained for, he strolled toward her lazily. “We haven’t nailed down anything.” He caught her around the waist and moved her up against the same broad oak she’d been leaning against earlier.
She caught her breath, and he quantified further, “Yet.”
And that, he thought, was mostly because she hadn’t seemed to want to do so.
Knowing actions always spoke louder than words, he undid his tool belt and dropped his clipboard. Then, ignoring the look of indignation on her pretty face, he leaned in even closer.
“What are you doing?”
If he didn’t know better, he would think it was Callie’s heart that was hurting, not her pride. His own body humming with aching, overpowering need, he planted his arms on either side of her so she was pinned between his body and the broad unyielding surface of the oak.
“Making my intentions clear,” he told her brazenly, not afraid to put all his cards on the table.
She released an unsteady breath but kept her eyes defiantly on his. “And that is...?”
“To make you my woman.” Caught up in something too primal to fight, he kissed her. Once, then again. Until her body softened and she surrendered against him. “I don’t care if it’s in public or in secret as long as I know that you’re the woman for me, and I’m the man for you.”
She sighed with pleasure. “I think I could live with that.”
It was a start. “Good.” He unbuttoned her shirt, unfastened her jeans.
Eyes huge, she whispered, “Here?”
He claimed her supple, hot flesh with the palms of his hands and the pads of his fingertips. “Unless you want to wait?”
His answer came in the speed with which she found his lips, kissed him back. Found the zipper to his jeans.
They kissed again.
And then there was nothing between them but the cold of the outdoors and the heat of their bodies, the swift, searing pleasure that catapulted them to new heights. For once, his control seemed as absent as hers. He didn’t hold back, and neither did she. They came, quick and hard. And even after they stopped shuddering, they lingered. Clinging together. Kissing. Prolonging this fierce, intimate experience for as long as possible.
And Nash knew whoever thought Callie was fragile was wrong. She was, in fact, one of the strongest, most resolute women he had ever met.
“Just so you know, I’m going to Frank and Fiona’s for dinner this evening,” Nash told Callie later, as she was getting ready to leave the woods. “I already said yes. So, if you and Brian want to join me...”
Callie thought about what fun that would be, then the inevitable gossip that would cause, and shook her head. “I meant what I said about keeping this just between the two of us for now. I don’t mind everyone knowing we’re friends, Nash. That we enjoy hanging out. Or that my son adores you. But beyond that...”
She had a business to run. A past to put all the way behind her. A future to build. She didn’t want a hot, sexy love affair detracting from any of that. She didn’t want to worry she was jumping headfirst into something else that could leave her emotionally devastated and ripped apart if it ended.
Knowing she would be disappointing him, she cleared her throat and pushed on honestly anyway, “I still want my private life kept private.”
He showed no reaction to her decision. “Can I drop by and see you later, then?”
“Sure.” Callie nodded, looking down to make sure her buttons were all done up right.
“Although,” she added practically, “I can’t promise much...” in the way of time or sex “...given how much I have to do.”
He walked her to her SUV, lingering long enough to give her a kiss that was so potent, she could barely catch her breath.
“I promise I’ll find a way to make myself useful.”
“I’m sure you will,” she returned dryly. Looping her arms around his neck, Callie kissed him back, knowing she would be counting the minutes until they were together again.
And honestly, if that wasn’t proof she was getting in too fast, too deep, yet again, what was?