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“I don’t,” she replied, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Except for this one. He was left behind the Sundowner and I felt sorry for him.” Finished with her coffee, she took their mugs and rinsed them in the sink, while Cal shrugged into his coat and pulled on his boots. His hair was long and curled over the collar and she had to blink away an image of her fingers running through the thick waves.
He glanced up just then, and their eyes locked. It was the kind of look that was heavy with memory and things unsaid. And damned if she could look away. A slow heat began in the pit of her stomach, and her breathing hitched.
“You could have called, you know,” she said slowly. “Instead of coming out here.”
“You wouldn’t have picked up.”
She opened her mouth, a retort hot on her tongue, but then took a few seconds. He wasn’t wrong. “No, I supposed I wouldn’t have.” She tried to keep things light, because all of a sudden, it felt as if the room was closing in on her. As if the whispers of the past were hiding in the corners. It made her think of stuff she didn’t want to think about. “Is that it? Is that all you want?” As soon as the words left her, Millie Sue knew she’d made a mistake.
Cal was silent for a few moments and then spoke quietly, his voice curling around her body like an old friend. “There are a lot of things I want, Mills. Things I shouldn’t want. Not anymore. But you know me. I don’t play by the rules. I’m back, and it looks like I’ll be here for a while, so I’ll go slow and ask for one thing at a time.” He cracked a half smile as he reached for the door and winked at her. “I’ll start with the easy ones.”
With that, Cal Bridgestone walked out of her house. She gently closed the door behind him and leaned back, eyes on Mr. Higgins. The cat ran over to the window and stood on his back legs, tail twitching as he looked out the window and meowed. In the space of five minutes, Cal had somehow managed to win over a cat who didn’t give a rat’s ass about most people unless they had a treat in hand.
It seemed the Bridgestone charm was as potent as ever, and though she liked to think she was immune, she was only human. A girl with a big old floppy and bruised heart surrounded by flesh and blood. How long before all the bad stuff from the past disappeared and left her longing for more? If Cal stayed in Big Bend for any length of time, she just might be screwed. And damned if she was going to let that happen.
She looked at the cat and scowled.I need a contingency plan.
Millie crossed the room and fished out her cell. There was only one person on the planet who truly understood how dangerous Cal was in her orbit.
And he owed her.
CHAPTER6
Locatedon the outskirts of the Triple B and nestled among pine and spruce, the Founder’s Cabin was barely visible unless you knew where to look. Even though Cal hadn’t been to the place in years, he had no trouble finding it. Some things you just don’t forget. The small, weathered gray cabin stood in silence, a puff of smoke rising from the chimney like an afterthought, with a small barn off to its right. A beat-up and rusted red Ford, tires covered in chains, was parked there, as well as a sleek black snowmobile.
Up here, the snow wasn’t as deep as in the valley, but Cal was glad he’d taken a sled instead of trying to navigate his way with the new truck. With his luck, he’d have gotten stuck for sure. He let the engine idle for a bit and then turned off the machine, sliding off its back to sit on the edge as he took a moment to take in things.
The barn was new and painted to match the cabin, though the trim around the windows was fresh white. It looked like it could hold at least six horses, maybe more. There’d been an attempt to tame the wilderness that surrounded the cabin; some of the trees had been cut back, and burlap-covered bushes of some sort. The porch had been fixed. It used to sag like a son of a bitch. It sported a new railing, while window boxes lay beneath the two windows on either side of the door, and white paint had been added to the frames.
It looked like a picture-perfect cabin in the woods. The kind that brought in big bucks from tourists looking to play cowboy for the weekend, and maybe get in some skiing.
Back in the day, the place hadn’t been habitable. There’d been holes in the floors, busted windows, and always a critter or two calling the attic home. That didn’t stop him, Mike Paul, and their pals from coming up here all the time. It had been their hangout, a place far away from prying adult eyes and an older brother who’d taken too much of an interest in Cal’s shenanigans. It was a place to bring beer and liquor and play songs and get rowdy, maybe grab a kiss from some willing female. He smiled at the memory. Maybe grab more than a kiss. He’d brought Millie up here once. His smile faded at the thought.
God, he was a lifetime away from the kid he’d been, and a part of him missed it. Missed it a hell of a lot.
Cal cleared his throat and shook off the melancholy that had taken hold. There was no point pining for a past long gone. He tugged on his warm wool hat and slowly pulled it off, eyes squinting from the sun as it reflected off the snow. His dad was in there. A man he hadn’t seen or talked to in nearly fifteen years. If it wasn’t for the fact he was worried as hell about Ryland, he wouldn’t be up here at all.
He stared at the door for longer than he should and, before he could talk himself out of it, pushed off from the sled and made his way onto the porch. He held his hand up to knock, but then paused, ashamed that he felt so damn uncomfortable about seeing his old man. About being in a place he’d belonged to so long ago. A place that used to be his.
Fuck it, he thought, and reached for the handle. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about Manley Bridgestone. The door swung open, and Cal walked inside. He stamped his boots on the rug near the door, his gaze wandering as he tugged off his gloves and shoved them in his coat pocket. The cabin was pretty much one big open room, with a foldaway staircase on the right side that led to what had once been the attic, but had been opened up and was now a loft. It ran the length of the place. He spied a bed and desk up there.
A fire gave the place warmth, flooding it with light and shadow. There was a brown sofa facing it, newer, by the looks of it, with big yellow pillows and a couple of blankets folded neatly across the back. A coffee table with several hardbacks and a few magazines was centered between the sofa, a large pale blue wool rug underneath, and an animal bed lay beside that. The kitchen area was simple with pine cupboards and plain white countertops. There was a decent-sized table off to the side, beneath a large window that showed the mountains out back. Running water was new, and he noted the sink in the kitchen. It was nestled beneath a window, and there was another smaller one by the front door. Between the three of them, enough natural light was able to find its way inside.
Cal turned in a full circle. The place looked homey…lived-in. Hell, there was even a set of floating shelves along the wall near the kitchen that held plants of various shapes and sizes. He had his doubts they were real, but still.
He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, unsure how to proceed. The house was empty, though with a fire on the go and—he sniffed—chili simmering on the stove, he was betting he’d see his father or Ryland sooner than later. Thinking he should maybe wait outside, he reached for the doorknob, but froze when the back door to the cabin banged open and a large animal, the biggest dog he’d ever seen, bounded inside and immediately headed his way. Cal realized about two seconds before it bared its impressive fangs and growled that it wasn’t a dog, but in fact a large gray wolf.
What in the actual hell?
“Penny, stop right there.” The wolf gave one last growl and then was silent, its eerie yellow eyes trained on Cal with an intensity he didn’t like.
“Penny?” Cal ground out, gaze on the man who now stood a few inches away. He didn’t look like the father he remembered. This version of Manley Bridgestone was healthy and fit, with wide shoulders and a sturdy body that was muscled from work. A trim beard couldn’t hide the strong jawline, speckled with salt and pepper to match the thick hair atop his head. His eyes were clear and intense, the pale blue of them nearly white in the dim lighting.
Manley Bridgestone was a long way from the withered, bitter drunk Cal had known.
His father didn’t look surprised to see him standing in the middle of the cabin, though he didn’t say a word. Their gaze held, and then Manley cleared his throat.
“Nora named her,” he said, voice deep and rich with that bit of Southern twang he’d inherited from his grandma, one he’d never been able to shake. He nodded at Cal. “Take off your boots. I’m just about to serve lunch.”
