“So how about it,” her dad said. “You want to go shooting with the men tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Jake said. “I didn’t bring my rifle.”
“We’ve got plenty. We’re going to blow up milk jugs.”
“Possibly some C-4,” Boone said.
“I don’t want to hear this,” their mother said.
“Nobody’s lost a limb yet, Mom,” Jace pointed out.
“How did I raise such a pack of rednecks?”
The boys just shrugged.
“Shooting, huh?” Callie asked.
“Callie, I need you to stay to help make cookies,” her mom said. “You know how much fun it is for us to decorate Christmas cookies.”
Callie look tortured. But this was her show, and she didn’t give any indication of what she wanted. He could certainly lobby for her to come, and hell, if he were her actual husband that’s what he would’ve done. But he was here to help facilitate whatever she needed in terms of easing things with her family, easing things with the rodeo. So he didn’t want to go make a mess of it by intervening now when he didn’t have the full scope of what was going on.
“Right,” Callie said, looking angry and flat with it.
“Well, that was a right good dinner,” her dad said. “I think I’m ready to go take a drink in the study, if you boys want to come.”
“I think Callie and I better head on to our cabin. It was a long day,” he said, because he was ready to make the call now.
He lifted her up from her chair, and ignored the wide-eyed look. “Come on, darling,” he said. “I feel a might tired.”
And then her cheeks went rosy red, and he smiled. Slow and deliberate.
And he didn’t really know what he was trying to accomplish with it. Except... They ought to know. They ought to know that she was something more than special. They ought to know her.
He did. And it wasn’t that they didn’t treat her like she mattered. They did. They were all genuinely happy to see her, and he could tell that they loved her. But they seemed determined to write her into a different role than the one she wanted to put herself in, and that was what bothered her. He knew it.
And he was disrupting what they’d decided about her. So he figured... He might as well go with that.
And as they walked out of the dining room, he bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Her skin was so damn soft, and he hadn’t counted on the lightning bolt of desire that would overtake him at the casual contact. Callie had her hand on his back, and her fingers curled into a fist, grabbing hold of his shirt. They walked out the front door, and once they were on the porch, she moved away from him.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“You’re right. They do treat you like a kid. Like... A kid that you’re not.”
She was mad at him, and hell if he knew why. He was backing her up.
“So you thought making it sound like you were taking me back to the cabin and... Somehow you thought that was going to help? You might have insisted I get to go shooting instead.”
Damn. He had missed a trick there. “I didn’t know what you wanted. Honestly. I’m not here to stir shit up. I’m here to help you. Do you want me to go back in and say that I want you to come with me?”
“That won’t help.”
“I can say I can’t bear to be without you. Even for a few hours. I cannot go. We can stay in the cabin, make them think that we are—”
“No,” she said. She let out a long breath. “My mom likes me to do the cookies with her, anyway. There’s not much I can do about that. I can’t... Not do it. You know how it is.”
“I don’t,” he said, the words sounding flatter than he intended.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll tell my mom about... Your stuff. So that she doesn’t... So that she doesn’t say anything else.”
“I can take care of myself, Cal. I’m a big boy.”
“You’re here taking care of me. I might as well do my part to minimize the crap my family says to you.”
“Come on,” he said, wrapping his arm around her as they walked to the truck. She was warm and soft. And he knew he probably didn’t need to touch her like this. But she didn’t push away again.
They got into the truck and he started the engine. “You’re going to have to give me directions.”
“Yeah, I will.”
She let out a long breath. “It’s just up the road.” Her voice sounded small, shaky. And he had to wonder if she thought he was actually going to take advantage of the situation.
“Chill out,” he said, reaching across the space and putting his hand on her thigh. Which he realized too late wasn’t helpful for either of them.
“It’s just my family,” she said. “I love them. But...” She looked over at him. “They are the reason we’re in this situation.”
“Noted.”
“Turn left just up here.”
The cabin was hardly that. It was much larger than he’d guessed it would be, with large windows and a roof with a deep peak.
“Wow, this isn’t exactly the close quarters I was expecting.”
“I told you. They’ve got... Lots of space here.”
“You weren’t kidding.”
They got out of the truck, and he hefted their bags inside.
“There’s at least four bedrooms in here. Feel free to choose which one you want.”
“Sure.”
“The fridge should be stocked. And there should be coffee and everything. So... When you get up to go shooting with the boys tomorrow you should be well caffeinated.”
“Important,” he said.
“Yeah. So I hear. There’s not enough caffeine in the world to do cookies with my mother.”
“You don’t like to bake?”
“No. And more to the point, I’m terrible at it.”
“You’re terrible at it because you don’t care about it.”
“Oh? And you know that for sure?”
“I know you. If you care about something you’re going to become good at it. So, I assume you just don’t care about baking.”
“No. I don’t. But my mom does. So...”
“I get it.” A memory whispered at the back of his mind, and he blinked. “I used to make cookies with my mom sometimes. Logan’s mom... She made the best oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. My favorite. But my mom made the best sugar cookies. The crispy kind. I don’t like them chewy.”