Chapter Thirteen

The next night, Callie snuggled into the couch under a blanket, her book and reading light put away, but her body—and mind—not ready for sleep. “You still awake?” she said into the quiet. Once asleep, Hunter slept like the dead, so she wasn’t worried about her question waking him up.

Disappointment flooded her when he didn’t answer. Last night had been…

“I am,” he finally said. “Sorry, I was doing a calculation in my head. I need to order feed tomorrow and we’re helping another ranch, so it’s not the usual order. You having trouble falling asleep?”

Hearing about him help others and then insinuating he’d like to help her fall asleep were a killer combination. If she were anyone else, she’d be crushing on him by now.

“I’m anxious to hear back from Mrs. Chapman about the cottage.” Callie crossed her fingers under her pillow. She couldn’t afford to buy the building so asked if she could rent it with an option to buy after six months. She’d come up with a generous rental fee and hoped the owner agreed. Was she worried six months gave her enough time? Yes. But nothing motivated her more than a deadline.

With some more luck, her dressmaking business would soon take off. She had a feeling Hunter’s future engagement was the key.

“When will you know?”

“This week, I hope.”

“I have a good feeling about it,” he assured her. “How are things going with Archer and Bridget?”

Her pulse skittered. Did he want her to tell him about the dirty parts? She’d thought about their conversation from last night all day and earlier swore Hunter had undressed her with his eyes. His deep, sexy voice seemed to do the same right now. Was he picturing them exploring each other’s naked bodies?

The man could no better stop flirting than he could stop breathing.

She wanted to be furious with him for breaking their rule, but that would make her a hypocrite because he had her most intimate parts tingling, her mind thinking about the sinful positions they could get into together. In the darkness, inside this small, warm space he’d turned into a home, her body reacted to him whether she liked it or not.

“She’s mad at him.” And lusted after him. Pretty much exactly how Callie felt at the moment. Somewhere between a BW bite, the ambassador competition, and designing his best man suit, Hunter had piqued her interest without her approval.

“And what did Archer do?”

“He made a bet with her and won.”

“I think I’m going to leave that alone and ask if you’re available for dinner tomorrow night. My dad will be back from his trip, everyone from the wedding this weekend will be checked out, and my mom is planning to have the whole family over.”

“Actually, Nova already invited me.”

“Oh, cool. You’ll be there, then.”

There it was. The boyish, slightly awkward manner that had dictated the majority of their interactions over the years. That behavior she knew how to handle. The trouble was, she no longer wanted to respond with quiet disregard. She’d rather flirt, laugh, get to know him better. She’d rather replay the inappropriate thoughts in her head than neglect them.

She blamed his very nice butt. She couldn’t unsee it!

She’d miss this when she left the bunkhouse. Miss feeling this unanticipated camaraderie with her best friend’s brother. Hunter Owens’s companionship had turned out to be a nice two-way exchange of support.

His bed creaked as she heard him shift, then groan.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just a cramp in my calf. It’ll pass.” He’d suffered joint pain earlier, reminding her he had more healing to do.

Several quiet seconds passed where she debated getting up to massage his leg for him. Instead, to get his mind off the muscle spasm, she said, “If you could no longer see, what’s the one thing you’d picture all the time so you never forgot it?”

“Did you ask yourself that after your accident?” Care and sincerity made the question easier to answer.

She nodded even though he couldn’t see her. She’d asked herself the question dozens of times. “I still do. Those few weeks were the worst of my life, and to this day I ask myself that question to make sure I commit important things to memory. Not just how they look, but how they smell and make me feel.”

“It’s impossible to pick just one thing, then.”

“I guess it is.”

“Have you ever thought about riding a horse again?”

“No.” She knew it had been a fluke accident, but she couldn’t even look at a horse without fear.

“Because you’re afraid of it happening again?”

When she didn’t answer right away, he continued. “If you ever want to start slow, let me know. I could take you to Rebel’s stall and you could feed her a carrot. Pet her. There’s also George, who is friendlier than you can imagine, closer to the ground, and very gentle with new riders.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She hated that fear still gripped her, and for the first time since that awful day, a tiny part of her wondered if she could do it. Hunter’s kind voice and knowledge of horses were hard to ignore… But he’d been there that day. He’d seen her damaged body and terror.

She wiped the corner of her eye; humiliation once again overpowered every other emotion. She hated that he’d witnessed her embarrassment. Her weakest moment.

“I fell off a horse once,” he said into the stillness. “I was Jenna’s age and too cocky for my own good.”

The invisible weight pressing Callie into the couch lessened just a little.

“I landed hard enough to break a finger and give myself a black eye. To this day, I can’t properly flip anyone off with my left hand.”

She laughed.

“It’s not the same thing, I know, but you’re not alone, Triple C.”

“Triple C?”

“Callie Chanelle Carmichael. I can’t have you contemplating riding without a nickname. It’s sacrilegious. Now quit talking, would you? I need to get some sleep.”

No one had ever called her anything but Callie or Cal, which apparently didn’t count as an appropriate nickname. Once again, Mr. Fab Ass—his nickname in her head—caught her off guard in a really nice way.

She smothered a smile into her pillow before whispering, “Good night, Hunter Calrissian Owens.”