I don’t want a credit card or a cell phone.”
“No, it’s not one of those. I think you might want to take this call.”
“Yeah?” He took the phone from Troy’s fiancée, who looked as though she knew something he didn’t. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” she said, and shut the door.
He settled back on his bed. “Hello,” he said, wondering who would call him his first night back. Probably one of his friends from the feed store who hadn’t come for coffee.
He thought perhaps the caller had hung up, but then a woman’s voice said, “Cal?”
“Uh, Christie?”
“Yes! I’m so glad you remembered.”
“How could I forget?” How, indeed. She’d been every man’s dream of a great weekend. Tall, blond, built, fun, smart and sexy. Very sexy. They’d met at the Barnes & Noble in Fort Worth’s Sundance Square on the Friday afternoon before his unit was scheduled to deploy. They’d both carried the same recently released biography and had ordered coffee at the attached café. He’d told her the truth—that he was a rancher who was in the reserves, called up for active duty and set to leave the next week. As far as he knew, she’d told him the truth—she was a widow who lived in Fort Worth and worked in marketing.
They’d spent one fantastic weekend together. He’d never expected to hear from her again, not that he minded she’d called him tonight.
Unless she was some kind of weird stalker…
“What’s up, Christie?”
“I’d like to see you, Cal. Maybe tomorrow for lunch?”
“In Fort Worth? I just got home and—”
“No, I’m nearby, in Graham. I could meet you at Dewey’s, or, if you’d rather, we could meet in Graham. There are several restaurants here.”
“Yeah, I know, but…I don’t want to be rude, but what are you doing here?” She seemed to know her way around already.
“I…I just need to see you. I have something to tell you.”
“Tell me now.”
“I can’t. I need to see you.”
“I’m not real fond of surprises, Christie.”
“Yes, I can imagine you’re not, but this is one of those times when you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Or not.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he kind of regretted cutting her off at the knees. In a low voice, she said, “Please, Cal.”
He paused for a moment, then asked, “You’re not dying or anything, are you?”
“No! I’m fine.”
“No illnesses that you want to tell me about?” He knew he didn’t have anything, since he’d had about a dozen physicals since their weekend together.
“Absolutely not.”
Well, hell. His curiosity was piqued. “All right,” he said. “Noon at Dewey’s.”
“We…I’ll be there.”
“We what?”
“Nothing. We just need to talk. I’ll see you at noon. Good night, Cal.”
“Good night.”
He ended the call and sat there on the edge of his bed, wondering what the hell was up. What couldn’t she tell him over the phone? Or had that been just a ploy to get him to meet her? She didn’t have to resort to games. He would have been glad to see her for a replay of their time together. She’d had some tough luck in her life, though. Her husband had been killed in an accident, and she couldn’t have kids. That would be hard for any woman to handle, but she’d shown an inner strength when she’d told him a little about her past.
She’d been one special woman.
Maybe she still was. Maybe he was worrying too much, but he’d learned to be cautious. He’d trusted his brother to take care of the family ranch, and Troy had changed everything. He’d trusted the military to let him out when his time was up, and they’d extended his duty.
What else could possibly happen?
CHRISTIE ARRIVED EARLY, requested a booth near the back and tried not to show Peter how nervous she felt. She settled him in the wooden high chair and spread a handful of finger food on the table in front of him. Oblivious to her worries, he babbled and grabbed a handful.
She would have preferred finding a babysitter for Peter, but she knew so few people: Toni Casale on a professional basis, Raven York via the telephone, the daytime front-desk clerk at the motel in Graham. She didn’t know any of those women well enough to ask them to watch Peter while she went to lunch with Cal. Besides, they might not be good with children.
Maybe she should go ahead and hire a nanny. She rarely felt she needed one, but with the upcoming renovations on the motel, perhaps it would be wise to have a professional available to watch the baby. He was crawling and nearly walking, and getting into everything. She had to settle down, perhaps even find a house in Brody’s Crossing for a few months until the owner’s suite at the motel could be finished.
Unless, of course, Cal absolutely pitched a fit, rudely and publicly denounced her and his son and told her to get out of town.
Would she listen? Her first instinct was no, she would fight. But for what? If he was insistent that he didn’t want to acknowledge Peter, maybe they would be better off without him in her son’s life. She didn’t have to stay in Brody’s Crossing. Her nice condo in downtown Fort Worth waited for her, if she chose to move back, or she could buy a house in the suburbs. She wanted to give Cal a chance for all their sakes, but only if he wanted to be a positive part of Peter’s life. A bad father was worse than no father at all, in her opinion.
Her own father hadn’t been bad, but he hadn’t been nurturing and kind, that was for sure. When she’d done something he approved of, however, he’d been generous with his attention and his money. His love, as he defined the emotion, had been conditional.
Oh, why was she worrying so much? Cal would be here soon, and she would know almost immediately how he’d react to the news that they’d created a son together.
“Ba-ba-ba,” Peter demanded, banging on the table, scattering finger foods.
“Are you ready for your bottle already?” she asked. “Okay, Mommy’s hurrying,” she said, digging in the diaper bag on the seat beside her. Once she found it, she motioned the waitress over. “Could I get some warm water, please?”
“Of course. What can I get you to drink?”
“Iced tea would be fine,” Christie replied, fishing for the terry-cloth bib she kept for Peter’s feedings. “Here it is,” she said to the baby, and held it up for him to see.
And
