face was animated; his now sapphire eyes were twinkling—it was clear he simply loved the sport.
Then his interview was over and he stared at his crutches for a few seconds before he picked them up. She was probably the only one who noticed the slump of his shoulders and the droop at the corners of his mouth when he looked at them.
He wanted to be riding bulls. Even Beaumont probably ran second place to his love of riding bulls.
“Callie, do you want to grab that lunch you owe me? I’m famished. It’s on me because you drove me here.”
“It’s on me. I lost the bet. Besides, I don’t need any payback.”
“I know, but I’d like to treat you.”
She smiled. “I really should get back to work.”
“You pick the place,” Reed said as if he hadn’t heard her.
“If you like Italian food, I’d suggest Poppa Al’s Restaurant on Main and Willow.”
“Sounds great.” He moved, but his crutches didn’t. She could see the pain register on his face and how it hurt when his right leg bore some weight.
They walked toward Callie’s SUV. “I’m hoping that this thing heals fast because I keep my rank.” He stopped walking and turned to her. “Okay, who’s your favorite rider?”
“Probably your brother Luke,” she lied. “He can ride anything with hair.”
Reed put his hands over his heart. “I’m wounded.”
“Yes, you are.” She pointed to his leg, then aimed the key fob at her ancient SUV to unlock it. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it didn’t. Today it didn’t, so she unlocked the driver’s side manually and leaned over to open the passenger side for Reed.
“You need to let your knee heal. You shouldn’t have done that interview.”
Reed sighed. “Rick said it’d be good publicity for us and for the PBR. I was committed to it.”
“Committed to it? You didn’t even remember—”
“That’s why I need a personal assistant, Callie. I got so much on my mind.”
“By going back to riding too soon, wouldn’t you be jeopardizing your life? I mean, if you have a knee injury that hasn’t healed yet, when your ride is over, can you hurry and run away before the bull pounds you into the dirt?” Callie asked.
“I might be a little slow getting away.”
“Then you are jeopardizing the lives of the bullfighters whose job it is to protect you.”
He paused for a while. “I’ll give them a heads-up. But you have to remember that almost every bull rider rides with injuries.”
“I suppose so, Reed, but I hate to see you hurt.”
“It almost sounds like you care.”
“Yeah, I care. I do. I don’t want to see any of you riders hurt.”
Reed put his hand on her shoulder and left it there for several beats. Her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart pounded in her ears.
She steeled herself and sternly reminded her heart that she’d had four serious relationships that never ended at the altar for various reasons.
And she was counting Reed, too. He’d been the first one.
Callie didn’t want Reed touching her, even if it was on top of a blouse and a sleeveless plaid vest. She’d sworn off men.
She was going to ignore him as best as she could while working in his house. She had to clean up Big Dan’s study and, by doing so, referrals to her business would soar.
She could pay her mortgage, maybe pay it off sooner that she needed to. Maybe she could even buy a bigger house.
And she could pay medical bills, her mother’s medical bills from her recent cancer treatments and her brothers’ from their sports injuries.
It seemed like a good plan. She’d just have to stay away from Reed and all the distractions that came with him.
Easy, right?
Reed wondered why Callie seemed so nervous.
When he’d put his hand on her shoulder, he’d thought she was going to jump as high as Cowabunga.
He’d just felt as if he’d known her forever, which was true. He remembered her shyness that first day of school at the huge building his ancestor Charlie Beaumont had erected for grades kindergarten through twelve. Everyone growing up in Beaumont went to that brick monstrosity on the hill. The next nearest school was in Waterville, a three-hour drive away.
That first day, Callie had clung to the wall like a coat of paint. Reed had taken her hand and led her to a seat because, as a member of the First Family of Beaumont, that’s what he did.
Reed wondered if Callie remembered that.
They’d kept a friendship brewing until a month before high school ended. They’d been inseparable that short summer until he’d left for the PBR.
He’d gone on the circuit; she’d stayed.
Could they pick up where they’d left off?
That was unrealistic. That bull had left the chute.
Callie never talked much about her problems. However, gossip had swirled when the story about her father taking up with a rich, older woman, Tish Holcomb, and leaving his family with a lot of credit card debt got around town.
In contrast, Reed’s life was an open book. He was usually in the spotlight due to his world ranking with the PBR. To him, there wasn’t a question that was off-limits, other than the name of who he was dating.
There were always a lot of women hanging around him whenever he went out or whenever he was autographing. Truth be told, he’d rarely dated. He was too busy keeping his rank. Every minute of his life was devoted to becoming a better bull rider.
He loved traveling with his brothers on the circuit—they had a lot of laughs and traded riding tips—but he definitely wanted to win the PBR Finals. To expedite his goal, he jogged. He worked out. He rode practice bulls, and while other riders, including his little brother, Jesse, were partying, Reed was doing yoga and pushups in his hotel room.
If he’d partied like Jesse, he couldn’t ride the next morning. Maybe it was because Jesse was two years younger.
It was Reed’s turn to win the Finals. He wanted to get out from under Luke’s shadow. Maybe he’d catch a break and Luke wouldn’t return to the PBR after his honeymoon.
No. He’d rather beat him fair and
