Catching Calhoun (14 page)

“Dude, can you imagine her sitting down to Christmas dinner with us?” Crockett demanded.

“Yegods,” Calhoun said. “I don’t know that I’ve thought that far ahead. I just wanted to get the confession out of the way. And I think the concussion moved the confession schedule up by about a week, because I’m pretty certain I hadn’t planned on dealing with this today.”

“Speaking of Christmas dinner, did anyone get an invitation out to Hawk and Jellyfish?” Mason asked. “Those two are just as much a part of the family as the girls from the Union Junction Salon. And did we invite Delilah and the Lonely Hearts girls?”

“Did we order extra help for Helga?” Calhoun said on a grunt.

“There’s all of us, and I figure Olivia will be happy to help. Are you sure Mimi’s selling her place?” Mason asked. “This could be our last Christmas together.”

“Oh, boy. Who’s got diarrhea of the mouth now?” Calhoun asked, sliding off the table. “I need to empty out my ears,” he said, quoting Olivia’s kids. “Don’t freak, Mason. She’s just moving into town.”

“But that’s not the same. And people just don’t sell their family home.”

“They do when they have to. Mimi’s going to finish her father’s term as sheriff and then run for the office herself. She can’t do that and take care of her farm and take care of him. It makes sense,” Calhoun said, cramming his feet into his boots. “I wish everything made as much sense as Mimi.” He sighed. “I’m
heading down the hall to visit Valentine and Annette, and then I want to be taken to my lodge where my squaw and her papooses can treat me like a chief.”

“Yeah, buddy,” Archer said, “he only lost about a billion brain cells with that swan dive from space.”

“I heard that,” Calhoun said, “and until I can think more clearly, the family conference is adjourned. I’ve got a baby to hold.”

Olivia watched as Calhoun casually strolled into the house, followed by his brothers. “I’m fine,” he said, holding up a majestic hand before he went upstairs.

His brothers looked at her apologetically. “Can you take care of him until his wits are unscrambled? It shouldn’t take long since it’s only a slight concussion,” Mason said. “Shouldn’t is the operative, but perhaps dicey, word. He seems to be channeling some ego-driven ghost from our family’s past.”

“It’s their fault,” Calhoun called down the stairs. “The kids wanted me banged up. So here I am.”

Olivia smiled. “Sure. He and Dad can keep each other company.”

The brothers left, after glancing one more time at the ceiling. Before he left, Mason whispered, “He’ll be fine soon, but for the moment, he’s having delusions of grandeur.”

“No royalty here,” she assured Mason. “I’ll let the kids take care of him.”

Mason nodded, tipped his hat and left.

“Olivia!” Calhoun called. “Where are the kids?”

She went halfway up the stairs. He came to the landing.

“They’re at the main house, making cookies with Helga.”

“Where’s your father?”

“He went with the kids, then apparently took some stuff over to Mimi’s house for Helga, met the sheriff and decided to sit and have an old man’s chat. At least that’s how he referred to it when he called here a moment ago to check in. How do you feel?”

“Like I had a watermelon dropped on my head. Splitting sort of headache. Doc says it’ll pass. It sure doesn’t feel like a mild concussion, though.”

“Go to sleep,” she told him. “Did they give you any painkillers?”

“No. They want you to watch me in case I start getting sick, or a bit clueless, or whatever. Changes in my personality.”

“They want me to watch you?”

Calhoun nodded. “Doc said someone had to do it. Your children prayed for me to get hurt, so the Curse of the Broken Body Parts would be visited upon me. I’m hurt, so now I’m here.”

Olivia nodded. “Okay. See that room at the top of the stairs that has a bass over the door?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Yes. It’s my room.”

“Excellent. Go in there, shut the door, turn out the light and snuggle up in your bed. I’m going to stay down here and fix some supper for my clan.”

He frowned. “Don’t you want to eat at the big house?”

“Well, it’s nice, Calhoun, but Helga shouldn’t have to take us on unexpectedly.”

“You’re Jefferson guests. She’ll think you don’t like her cooking. All Jefferson guests eat at the main house.”

Olivia shook her head. “Kenny and Minnie are up there eating more cookies than they bake, I’m sure. Helga will know we just need our family time down here.”

“If you say so. But I don’t like it,” he said.

“Well, we’re not going to have any opinionated moments that we blame on our concussion,” Olivia said lightly. “Your brother warned me that you might get a bit lippy.”

“Ha! Don’t you listen to anything my brothers say, especially not Mason! If he wasn’t such a turtle, he’d have married the woman he loves instead of watching her move away!”

Olivia walked back down the stairs. “Go rest. I’ve got things to do.”

“Aren’t you concerned that your children specifically prayed for me to get hurt for Christmas? So that The Curse would work?”

“Yes, I am, actually. I’ll talk to them about it,” Olivia said. “They should never want someone to get hurt.”

“That’s not exactly the point,” Calhoun said. “In my family, we tease that we haven’t fallen…oh, never mind.”

“Go to bed. I’ll check on you in an hour and make certain you’re not ‘stupid,’ as you suggested.”

Calhoun watched Olivia walk away, then heard her go into the kitchen. Maybe The Curse wasn’t a curse. Falling out of a tree was just plain falling out of a tree, then. He’d have to tell Minnie that he’d been wrong; The Curse, which could actually be considered a blessing, was truly only a superstition.

“I don’t suppose you want to check on me from the close proximity of my bed?” he called.

“No! Go to sleep!”

“Spoken to just like a little kid,” he grumbled. “Stupid curse isn’t worth a flip!”

T
HANK HEAVENS
Mason had warned her not to listen to anything that came out of Calhoun’s mouth! If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was trying to sweet-talk her.

Apparently, not only did you have to watch out for cowboys, but cowboys with concussions were particularly to be avoided!

As she chopped peppers, she thought about what it would be like if she and Calhoun were married. She thought about her last name being changed to Jefferson. “Olivia Jefferson,” she murmured. “Ew, that would make my initials OJ, like orange juice. I’d have to stick with Spinlove. Spinlove-Jefferson. That might work.”

Very long and complicated, though. Good thing they’d understood that neither of them was trying to
make anything permanent out of their association, since everything about the two of them seemed to turn out long and complicated.

Except their lovemaking. That had been long and wonderful.

Calhoun came into the kitchen. “I thought about calling for a glass of water,” he said, walking by her in nothing more than a pair of faded blue jeans. “But I decided I could yell myself hoarse and just make myself thirstier before you’d come to my aid.”

Olivia quickly turned her head, chopping furiously. He had no shirt on and was barefoot. His jeans were low and casually tight to his body. He acted as if it was nothing to walk into a kitchen half-naked!

She heard him fill up a glass from the fridge, then he stood there and drank it, his back to her as if she weren’t there. Sneaking a quick peek, Olivia got an eyeful of broad back as he lifted the glass to his mouth. Calhoun in broad daylight was even better than Calhoun by moonlight in a trailer!

She went back to chopping furiously.

“You like your peppers chopped fine,” he said, suddenly beside her. “Are you making a paste?”

“It’s for meat loaf,” she said stiffly.

“Hmm. Sounds good. I like my meat loaf with just a bit of crunch,” he said. “That, I would have to say, is pretty close to puree. I bet it will still be good, though.”

“No doubt,” she said between clenched teeth. “For a man who’s just had his head scanned, you’re awfully peppy.”

“Well, the action appears to be down here. Can I help you?”

“No. No, thank you.”

He moved her hair back behind her ear. “Is something wrong? I seem to be on the receiving end of some bad karma with you lately.”

She laid the knife down, turning to face him. “Calhoun, we agreed we weren’t going to be anything except acquaintances, particularly for the week I’m here. I’m not going to take advantage of being on your ranch to make a play for you. I’d appreciate you not hitting on me in my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen?” he said lazily.

“My kitchen,” she emphasized. “Because you invited me to stay here, and so here we are, but just because I’m cooking doesn’t mean I’m trying to stir up your sauce.”

“Mason didn’t care about Marvella being your mother,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t let it throw me. I think I hurt your feelings, Olivia.”

“You did.” She turned back to her work, beginning to chop mushrooms. “It threw me, and it upset me, and that was the last thing I ever expected anyone to say to me when my father was in the hospital. I was worried sick about him! And then this strange woman says ‘I’m your mother,’ like she said, ‘Here are flowers for your father,’ and then she walked out of my life the same way she walked in. Nonchalant, like it didn’t mean a damn thing. I could have used some support about then,” she said angrily, “but what I got
from you instead was the big hands-off, because I might mean trouble to the family. And you know what? I’m from a family where loyalty means everything, Calhoun. I totally understand family.” She shrugged at him. “But I wouldn’t cut other people out like they didn’t matter, then expect them to come back when I changed my mind.”

“It scared me, Olivia. I can apologize. But we just had a baby born yesterday who was the focal point of a lawsuit from Marvella. She tried to get to us through an employee’s child. How much easier would I make it for her if I fell in love with her daughter?”

“I’m not asking you to change your feelings, Calhoun. I’m just saying don’t ask me to run into your arms now that your family has given you the green light.” She paused, looking at him. “I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t care about you. I’m not going to deny that a part of me fantasized about the two of us, and maybe still does. But the strong part of me, the wise part, knows that you’d always be looking past me for Marvella. You’d never trust me. I had a marriage where there was no trust. I know nothing lasts that way.”

“You still live in the past,” he told her.

“Yes. And so do you. Only I didn’t need my family to give me permission to love, Calhoun. My father was against you, and I still was crazy for you. I made love with you. So maybe someday your family decides they don’t like me. Then I’m out. Well, that’s not love. Love is two people.”

Calhoun stared at her. “Olivia, I’m pretty new at this love thing, I’ll admit. I know I made a mistake.”

“Yeah. You did. You romanced my kids, you romanced me, my horse, you even got my father’s respect. But what you didn’t do was fall in love with me. You fell for everything around me, but not me. Once you found out who I really was, you vamoosed. I can live with that. I just think you should, too.”

Calhoun stared at Olivia, his heart beating uncomfortably hard. She was telling him there was no chance for them to move forward. As far as she was concerned, there was no them. They were finished.

He didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t come in here,” she said softly, “and tell me that just because my kids prayed for some silly curse to work, and you took a bump on the head, that I am the woman for you. That’s just an excuse to say what you should have said before. I’m a grown woman, Calhoun, and next time I fall for a man, he’s going to be a man. Not a little boy who needs voodoo or some other silliness to admit his feelings.”

Calhoun swallowed. “I hardly know what to say to such a steamed-up little woman. I sort of sense that anything I say right now isn’t going to cut it. So I think I’ll head upstairs and watch
Oprah
and hope my concussion doesn’t kill me.”

“Good idea,” she said tightly. “I already have two children and a sick father to care for. They come first, Calhoun. They’re my family.”

“I got it, I got it,” he said, backing out of the
kitchen with his hands in the air in mock surrender. “No nooky on the kitchen table when I’m concussed. No naked-Olivia-cooking-my-dinner fantasy when I’ve just gotten out of the hospital. And especially no chocolate-and-strawberries sex on the kitchen floor when I’ve just fallen out of a tree teaching your kids about bird feeders.”

“Calhoun,” she said, her tone warning.

“I got it,” he said. “I’m gone.”

He left, then peeked back around the corner. “I thought I saw potential weakening in your stance when I mentioned chocolate—”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “Figment of your imagination.”

“Just checking.” Whew. This was no woman you cajoled out of a bad mood. He obviously couldn’t tease Olivia into a good humor.

The problem was, she had a point. He had moved back about ten yards when he’d found out about Marvella. Now he was relying on humor to smooth over what wasn’t funny—a very boyish maneuver. “Grade school,” he muttered. “Like tugging on a girl’s pigtails and being mean when really you just want her to like you.”

That wasn’t going to cut it with Olivia.

Frankly, it shouldn’t.

He was really messing up. Olivia might not believe in charms and curses, but one thing he did believe in stoutheartedly was that no man let a good thing get away from him if he really wanted it.

It was time to get smart.

He put on a shirt, combed his hair, brushed his teeth and put on some cologne. Boots were required for serious conversations, so he pulled those on, too.

Maybe flowers.

No, not flowers. It was December, and all he had around was a poinsettia, and he wasn’t going to hold out a potted poinsettia.

Taking a deep breath, he went downstairs and into the kitchen.

But Olivia wasn’t in there. The pot was empty and washed out. Peppers no longer lay on the cutting board, and that had been washed clean, too.

That was a very bad sign from a woman who claimed this domain as her own.

“Olivia!” he called, his heart beginning to race. “Olivia!

There was no answer, so he ran outside. The motor home was still parked outside, which eased his mind a bit.

Banging on the door, he breathed even easier when Olivia opened it.

“Olivia,” he said. “I was…what are you doing?”

“I prefer to live in my own home,” she told him. And then she closed the door.