To Have And To Hold: Made for Marriage / To Wed a Rancher / The Mummy Proposal

“What’s up with you today?”

Lily’s accusing voice vaulted her back to the present. “Nothing,” she said.

“You’re not paying attention to me,” the teenager complained.

Callie switched her mind into instructor mode. “Of course I am. You’re doing great.” She grabbed a neutral subject. “How did your sleepover go at Maddy’s?”

Lily’s gaze snapped at her suspiciously as she trotted Samson in a circle, skillfully rising from the saddle in between beats. “How did yours go with my Dad?”

Maybe not such a neutral subject after all!

Callie’s face burned. She called Samson to a halt and waited until he slowed before roping him in. Once horse and rider were in front of her she spoke. “It wasn’t like that.”

Lily’s expression remained skeptical. “Yeah, sure.”

“I stayed for dinner,” she explained. “And then I went home.”

Lily didn’t like that, either. Her look became as black as her mood. “So you guys are friends now?”

Callie thought about how to answer. “I … suppose.”

Lily dismounted. “I thought you were my friend?”

Uh-oh. Callie chose her words carefully. “I am, Lily. I have all different kinds of friends.”

“Well, he doesn’t look at you like he wants you to be his friend. He looks at you as if he wants you to be his girlfriend.”

Callie grabbed the reins and tried to squash the sudden heavy thump of her heart. He’s not looking at me like anything at the moment.

“We’re just friends,” she said firmly, unclipping the reigning lead and handing Samson to Lily. “Give him a brush down and ask Joe to get a small feed for him.” She caught Lily’s scowl. “Horsemanship includes ground work and is all part of learning to ride.”

Lily started to move then stopped and swiveled on her boot. “I just don’t want things to change, that’s all. I like coming here. I like learning how to do stuff.”

“Nothing’s going to change,” Callie assured her, sensing that it was what Lily needed to hear. “I promise.”

“So you’re like, not moving back to California or anything?”

California? “No.”

Lily shrugged. “Because people do move. People … leave.”

Like her mother. Callie took about two seconds to figure it out. “Not all people,” she said gently. “Not your dad.”

Lily didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, I guess,” she said. “It’s not like I don’t want him to date or anything … I mean, as long as whoever he dates is not some old witch who hates kids. But you’re my instructor … and if you went out for a while and then stopped going out, I wouldn’t be able to come here anymore. When adults break up that’s what always happens.”

Callie drew in a deep breath. “We’re not dating. We’re friends.”

Lily nodded but clearly wasn’t convinced. Callie remained in the arena until Lily had led the horse into the stables. She wiped her hands down her jeans, tightened the hat on her head and walked toward the house. He wasn’t on the porch. The side gate was open and she headed around the back. Noah was by the fence, pulling off a couple of loose palings, while Tessa bounced around his feet.

“Lesson finished?” He spoke before she even made it twenty feet from him.

“Yes. She did a great job. A few more lessons and she’ll be ready for her own horse.”

He kept pulling at the palings. “I’m nearly done here.”

Callie took a long breath and stepped forward. “I was talking with Lily,” she said, watching as he kept working. “She knows … I mean, she thinks there’s something going on between us,” she blurted.

“I’m sure you set her straight.”

He was angry.

“I said we were just friends.”

He glanced at her but didn’t respond. Callie took another step and called the pup to heel. But Tessa, the traitor, remained by Noah’s side. He popped the palings in place with a few deft swings of the hammer.

“Sure, whatever.” He started walking past her but Callie reached out and touched his shoulder to stop him. He looked at her hand and then into her eyes. “What?”

“Exactly,” she said, digging her fingers into his solid flesh. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t move. “Nothing.”

A big fat whopping lie—and they both knew it. “Are you mad or something?”

“No.” He still hadn’t moved.

“So, we’re … okay?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Callie dropped her hand and felt the loss of touch immediately. He looked tense. More than that … he looked as wound up as a coil.

“Noah,” she breathed his name on a sigh. “If you—”

“Just drop it, Callie,” he said quietly. “I have to get going. See you later.”

She stared after him and watched his tight-shouldered walk with a heavy feeling in her chest. She almost called after him. Almost. Tessa followed before she turned back and sat at Callie’s boots. She touched the dog’s head and the pup whined.

“Yeah … I know what you mean, girl,” she said and waited until his truck started up and headed down the driveway.

She lingered for a moment, staring at the dust cloud from the wheels. Once the dust settled she headed back to the stables and prepared for her next student. Fiona called after lunch and made arrangements to drop over later that afternoon. Her final student left at four o’clock and once Joe took off for the day Callie grabbed her best show bridle and began cleaning the leather. Cleaning her gear had always settled her nerves, and she undid the nose band and cheek strap, set them aside and dipped an old cloth into the pot of saddle soap.

It wasn’t much of a diversion, though. Because Callie had a lump in her throat so big, so constricting, she could barely swallow. For two years she’d had focus. The farm. The horses. Her students.

And now there was Noah. And Lily. And the rest of his children.

Deep down, in that place she kept for her pain and grief and thoughts of her baby son, Callie realized something that shocked her to the core. If I reach out, I know in my heart I can make them my own. She wasn’t sure how it had happened so quickly. Feelings hadn’t been on her agenda for so long. Now, faced with them, Callie could feel herself retreating.

She wondered if she should have told him about Ryan. Would he understand? He’d had his own disappointments, but he didn’t appear to be weighed down with regret and grief. Maybe people could move on? Perhaps hearts did mend.