Chapter Two
Wade did not spare the horses as he drove his Mustang to St Luke’s. About a hundred different scenarios chased their way through his head as he navigated red lights, pedestrians, and roadworks. All of them ended up with his father being dead when Wade arrived at the hospital.
Why hadn’t he fucking picked up the phone and called him on his birthday?
Twenty minutes later, it was a massive relief to find his father alive and well. But it still punched Wade in the gut to stand at his bedside and see such a big, strong man with drips and wires and a monitor that reduced his heart rate to a green squiggle and a continuous series of blips.
Cal Carter had always towered in Wade’s mind, yet today he seemed smaller. Older.
Mortal.
“Son…I told your mother to tell you I was fine. There’s no need to go interrupting your day over this.”
Wade felt lower than a snake’s belly that both of his parents apparently felt something as serious as this would be some kind of inconvenience in his life. He knew it wasn’t intended as a criticism, but it sunk like a barb into his chest.
He’d been neglecting his family responsibilities. Showing up for Christmas and Thanksgiving wasn’t enough. His parents were both getting older.
“Dad. You’re in the hospital. You need a pacemaker.”
His father waved it aside. “Doctor Cranforth says I’ll be right as rain once it’s in.”
Wade glanced at his mother. Veronica—Ronnie—Carter nodded reassuringly. Her blond hair had turned silver over the last decade, and there were lines on her face, but she looked good for sixty-four. She still helped out on the farm, contributed to their church, and had a seat on the Credence town council.
“What do we know about him?”
“He’s the heart doctor and the loveliest man. Seems very competent. Don’t fret now, darlin’.”
Wade didn’t give one fuck how lovely the doctor was. He cared how experienced he was, how many people had tried to sue him, and how steady the guy’s hand was. He pulled out his phone. There was a text from CC with a bunch of links for him to check out pacemakers. He sent a quick reply.
He also sent a text to Doug Schumann, the team doctor when he was playing for the Broncos, but it could be a while before Doug got back to him. CC’d be quicker.
“When are they doing it?”
“Tomorrow.”
That was good. It would give Wade time to check out the doctor and make arrangements to get his father somewhere else if needed. “How long will you be in for?”
“Doc reckons I can go home the next day if everything goes well. Day after at the most.”
“But he has to take it easy for six weeks,” Ronnie interjected. “No lifting. No driving.”
Christ, his father would hate that. Wade had never seen his father idle in his entire life. “Any hogs due to farrow in that time?”
His father snorted. “There’s always hogs farrowing.”
“It’s okay,” Ronnie soothed. “Wyatt’ll pick up the slack.”
Wade nodded. His brother was more than capable of running the entire operation by himself. “I could get him some extra help while Dad recovers.”
“Nah, son.” His father patted his hand with his big paw. It was easy to see where Wade had inherited his giant, safe quarterback hands from. “We’ll be fine.”
Which probably meant his father wasn’t planning on being very compliant. He opened his mouth to say as much, but his phone buzzed, and a message from CC flashed onto the screen.
Tension in Wade’s shoulders—tension he hadn’t even realized was there—eased suddenly.
“Dad…” He glanced at his mom, who was apparently as unconcerned about his heart requiring an external force to keep beating as his father. That was the problem with his parents’ generation—they put too much faith in doctors. “Have you thought about retiring?”
“Retiring?”
Wade couldn’t help but smile. His father was looking at him as if he’d just muttered the “v” word in his presence.
Vegetarian.
“Yeah, you know. Stop working. Pass the farm over to Wyatt and…I don’t know. Go on a vacation or something. I can send you on that Caribbean cruise Mom’s always been talking about.”
His parents had worked all their lives, why shouldn’t they get to relax in their old age?
“Hell, you can go live somewhere else if you want. Come to Denver. Or Florida. Mom likes Florida. I’ll buy you a place there. Some place with a view of the ocean. Some place where you’re not freezing your ass off half the year or up at three in the morning with a sow.”
The blipping of the heart monitor picked up a little as his father gaped at him. “Florida?”
That suggestion drew an even more virulent response than the retirement suggestion. Wade might as well have uttered vegan this time.
“What in hell would we do in Florida?”
Wade shrugged. “Go deep-sea diving. Learn how to salsa.”
His father snorted. “You want me to move to a state where one of the football teams is called the Dolphins?” His father looked scandalized. “I’m a Broncos man.”
Wade had to concede his father’s point with that one.
“Fine.” He sighed. “But you could move into the house I bought you in Credence. You’d still be in town, still be close to the farm, but you wouldn’t have to work so hard every day.”
Wade had earned a lot of money over his career and had invested it wisely. He’d cleared the debt on the family farm many years ago. Every few years he upgraded the farm vehicles, and whatever new tech came along that Wyatt considered a worthwhile purchase, he bought.
He might not have been mucking in with the day-to-day work, but with Wade’s money and his brother’s savvy, they’d turned the farm into a modern agri-business.
“Son, if you think I’m ever living in that god-awful Southern horror show—” He glanced at his wife. “Sorry honey, no offense.”
Ronnie smiled at her husband. “None taken.”
His father turned his attention back to Wade. “—then you’ve fallen off the tater wagon.”
A couple of hundred years ago, back when Credence had been a thriving outpost, a snake oil salesman had settled in town and built a replica Southern-style mansion for his sweetheart, who had come from a plantation near Atlanta.
It wasn’t the full Gone with the Wind catastrophe, but it sure as hell stuck out like a pimple on a pumpkin in Credence.
As a kid, Wade’d been fascinated with the house. He used to pass it on his way to school, and it had seemed very elegant and grand. When it had come up for sale a decade ago, he’d snapped it up. Wade had thought his mother might appreciate some Southern influence, and it was a good solid building—big and roomy with amazing attention to detail in the interior.
“It’s got character.”
“I’m not living in a house that looks like a damn wedding cake,” his father bitched. “I’d rather move to Florida.”
“So.” Wade shoved a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I’ll buy you another one.”
“Darlin’.” His mother’s soft Southern drawl cut into the father/son verbal tussle. She squeezed her husband’s hand. “That’s so generous. We’re very lucky to have such a generous son. But your dad and I are happy on the farm. Your great-grandfather bought the land just before the depression. Your father was born there, and I’ve been living there for over forty years. It’s our home, and we’re not fixin’ to move.”
And that was that. His father might think he wore the pants in their relationship, but he was the only one under that illusion. Her voice may have been quiet, but when Veronica Carter spoke—everyone listened. She even had all the old dudes on the town council totally snowed.
She smiled at Wade reassuringly. “I won’t let your dad do anything he’s not supposed to be doing. Neither will Wyatt.”
His father scowled, none too happy to hear that. Wade wasn’t particularly happy about it, either. His father was having a pacemaker put in, and his brother and sixty-four-year-old mother were going to be picking up the slack and bearing the brunt of his father’s frustrations at being idle.
He suddenly felt like an outsider in his own family. He only had himself to blame for that, but it didn’t make it any easier to face.
Maybe it was time he stepped up and took on some parental responsibility instead of leaving everything to Wyatt? Being able to abdicate stuff was awesome, but he shouldn’t abdicate this.
Not any longer.
The kernel of an idea formed and took root in his brain. By the time he headed back to his apartment two hours later, it was fully-fledged.
He and CC and that annoying fucking cursor were moving to Credence to write his damn memoir.
…
CC was finishing her fifth Red Bull of the day—she was going to kick the habit the second she moved to SoCal—when she heard Wade let himself into the apartment. She’d been juggling research into cardiac conditions requiring pacemakers and clearing his schedule for the next couple of days while she’d waited to hear from him.
She knew this unexpected development was going to throw a wrench into her resignation plans but, right now, that wasn’t important. Wade needed her to do her job, and CC was in full organizational mode.
Wade looked good when he appeared in the doorway—better than when he’d hightailed it out of here a couple of hours ago. His father must have been okay. She’d been trying not to think about the older man, but it’d been hard. She’d met him on several occasions and had always liked him. He reminded her of Wade in a lot of ways.
Physically, there were many similarities. Both men were big and broad and had hands like meat cleavers. Not to mention that loose-hipped swagger and the aura of restless energy that seemed to vibrate off both of them. But it was in the attitude as well. She’d seen Wade’s masculine confidence in Cal, too.
CC opened her mouth to ask Wade about his father, but he didn’t give her a chance.
“How long would it take you to pack for Credence?”
CC blinked, alarmed. Oh God. Was his father that sick? “Is it bad? Your father?”
“Oh no.” He shook his head. “I spoke with the cardiologist. Barring unforeseen complications, he should be out in a couple of days.”
“Okay.” A surge of relief flushed through CC’s veins. “So…you’re going there for a few days? A week?”
Normally he went overnight and packed his own bag. If he wanted her to do it for him, she’d need to know how long he was planning on staying away.
“Three months. Thinking of going for the summer.”
Three months? The longest Wade had ever spent in his hometown since she’d been with him had been two nights, and that usually had him mad as a cut snake on his return, mumbling about country drivers and the appalling lack of good coffee.
“The summer?” Her brain quickly rattled through the logistics of possibly having to cancel three months of speaking engagements and public appearances and board meetings. Or most of them, anyway. She glanced at his schedule on the screen of her desktop, running her eyes over the heavily booked months. “Like, all of it?”
“CC.” He shoved his hands on his hips, the epitome of exaggerated patience. “My dad’s having a pacemaker put in. He’ll be out of action for six weeks, and I want to be there to help Wyatt around the farm. Neither of my parents is getting any younger, and I think this is a good opportunity to spend some time with them.”
Obviously seeing his father in the hospital had shaken him, but…“Wade The Catapult Carter is going to help muck out pigsties?”
The man couldn’t even buy his own condoms.
One winged eyebrow lifted. “I spent a lotta years mucking out pigsties, thank you very much. I’m pretty sure nothing’s changed. Plus, I have a book to write. And I think going home to my roots might be good for the process. It’ll sure as hell be a lot easier doing it in Credence, away from all the distractions in Denver.”
CC snorted. She knew what distraction was code for. She clicked the schedule closed because her head hurt even thinking about reshuffling everything. “I hate to break this to you, Wade, but wherever you go, there’ll be women.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Not Credence. It’s had a declining female population for decades. Girls go off to college and don’t come back. My mother tells me that very few women of marriageable and child-bearing years can be found in Credence these days, and the rest are snapped up pretty damn quick. Apparently, the school will be facing closure in a few years’ time because of low enrollment. No babies being born in Credence.”
CC didn’t care how many women of marriageable age there might or might not be in Credence. She’d been around Wade long enough to know that wherever he was, women followed. He was like the pied freaking piper of women.
She’d lay money on a busload of Playboy Bunnies pulling into town the day after he arrived.
“So…let me get this straight.” Folding her arms, she leaned back in her desk chair. “You’re moving to a town with no women? For three whole months?”
“I can go without, CC.”
“Yeah, but…when was the last time you had to?” Mercy. The man was delusional. He wasn’t like other mere mortals—women threw themselves at him.
“You think I can’t be celibate?”
CC laughed at the very suggestion. “I think a rabbit on Viagra has more of a chance at celibacy than you.”
He looked like he was going to dispute it for a moment, then grimaced and clearly thought better of it. “Well, yeah…maybe. But it won’t kill me.”
“I know that.” If lack of sex killed, she’d have been dead five years ago.
“It’ll be better for my concentration.”
“Absolutely.” She didn’t doubt it for a moment. Wade was not a multi-tasker. He did well when he concentrated on one thing to the exclusion of everything else. His football career being a case in point.
“Good. So…how soon can you get us ready to go?”
“Well…your schedule might take a while to wrangle, but—” Wait… CC blinked as her brain zeroed in on what he’d just said. Us? She sat forward abruptly. “What do you mean, us?”
He frowned at her as he wandered over to her desk, stopping right in front, all that swagger and confidence even more potent up close. “Well…I’m going to Credence for the summer, and you, as my PA who always goes wherever I go, will be coming with me.”
CC gaped at him. What? Had he lost his mind? No. Absolutely not. No way, no how.
No sirrreeee.
She was leaving his employ and yes, she’d have to serve out her notice, but there was no way Wade was taking her any farther away from California than she already was. Even for a couple of weeks. Moving to Denver had been hard enough. As pretty as those mountains were, give her a beach any day.
Sure, she’d been to a lot of different places with him far from a beach. A day here, two days there. But never three months. And he’d never taken her to Credence. Something that wasn’t about to change—not for three damn months or two lousy weeks.
He could take that to the bank.
“You don’t need me there,” CC hedged. She really didn’t want to dump a resignation on him when his father was facing heart surgery. She’d wait until his dad had been discharged and was safely home in Credence.
He folded his arms. His forearms bunched in an annoyingly distracting way. “You’re my PA, of course I need you there.”
Not for much longer. Surely the man could figure out how to buy his own Nerds?
CC shook her head. “I can manage things perfectly well from here. Especially if I’m canceling your schedule for three months. There’ll be nothing much for me to do, anyway. No Wade to wrangle, no schedule to juggle. Hell, there won’t even be any florists to call with no women, right?”
He shot her a doleful look at her attempt at a joke. “You’re my assistant.” He said it like she was his indentured servant and, standing there as implacable and unmoving as the ridged outline of mountains behind him, he kinda made her feel that way.
Her resolve to keep quiet about her intention to resign took a serious hit.
“You go where I go. You’ve always gone where I’ve gone.”
CC clenched her jaw. “Not for three months. To Credence.”
“Jesus, CC, anybody would think I was asking you to come with me to Siberia. It’s rural Colorado. It’s two hours down the road.”
She swung her head determinedly from side to side. “It’s practically Nebraska.”
“You’re from Nebraska.”
“My point exactly.” She’d gotten out of Nebraska as soon as she’d been able. A broken home, thanks to a father who’d left for another woman and a vengeful, needy mother who hadn’t coped with the betrayal, had amplified CC’s dislike of cornfields and snow. Nebraska was heartbreak and bitterness and stifling dependence. California was warmth and sunshine and freedom.
“You have a problem with small towns?”
“Not as long as there’s a beach.”
“There’s a lake.”
“Doesn’t count.” Everybody knew that.
“CC.” He sighed in that way he had that signaled his patience was wearing thin.
“Wade.” CC stood, although, as usual, he still dwarfed her. It felt good to have a desk between them. “You don’t need me there with you.”
“I’m writing my memoir. You’re supposed to be helping me with that.”
“I can do that from Denver.” She could edit and proof and be his research assistant from anywhere. He could call her, text her, Snapchat, or message her as much as he liked—just as he did every other day of his life.
Hell, she could handle all that from California. The thought was slightly cheering.
“Okay.” He took a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose momentarily before continuing. “Let me rephrase it. You work for me. I pay you very good money to go wherever the hell I want. And for the next three months, we’re going to Credence. End of story.”
He did. He did pay her very good money. She had close to a million in her bank account from almost six years with Wade and some astute investments. Almost enough to buy a place right on a beach somewhere in California. But that money had come with a certain price, and she’d known that.
She’d known she’d be at his beck and call twenty-four seven. That life would be fast-paced and busy, and there would be travel and all kinds of demands made on her time. He’d told her as much when he’d outlined his expectations almost six years ago.
If I call you at three in the morning for toothpaste, I expect you to say which brand. If I ask you to help me bury a body, I expect you to bring the shovels.
She’d understood. She’d sold her soul.
Something she’d been willing to take on the chin for six years. He’d wanted ten, but CC had done the math—she hadn’t needed that long on the salary he’d been offering. She’d countered at six, been adamant that it was her limit, and they’d signed on the dotted line.
So, yeah, basically, she’d known she wouldn’t have a life. She hadn’t known she’d develop a serious Red Bull addiction, but she’d been fine with both.
Not anymore.
Her broker had given her the means to walk away. Annabel had been the last straw. And Credence was her line in the sand. The ocean was calling. She really didn’t want to resign this way, but his arrogance wasn’t leaving her much choice.
“Okay. Fine.” Her decision crystallized inside her head, and CC knew it was the right thing to do. For her. She doubted Wade would be happy, but he was a grown-ass man—he’d get over it. Hopefully without the involvement of his lawyers.
He nodded. “Good.”
To his credit, he didn’t look smug. Wade never did smug. He just accepted that people would eventually bend to his will.
“I quit.”