To Have And To Hold. Myrna Mackenzie
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“First, that you reconsider and give Lily riding lessons.”
Callie didn’t try to disguise her astonishment. “I thought you were going to find her another instructor.”
“Apparently you’re the best around.”
“Yes,” she replied, fighting the rapid thump of her heart. He was close now. Too close. “I am.”
“And I want the best for my daughter.”
“You should have thought about that before you called me an irresponsible nutcase.”
His green eyes looked her over. “Is that what I said?”
Callie unbuttoned her jacket. “Words to that effect,” she said, feeling suddenly hot and sweaty in the fine-gauge wool coat she’d had tailored to fit like a glove. She longed to strip off her hat, but the idea of him seeing the very unattractive hairnet she wore to keep her thick hair secure under the helmet stopped her.
He smiled. “Then I owe you an apology for that, as well.”
“Yes, you do. So, anything else?”
“That you give me another chance,” he said quietly. “I might be a jerk on occasion … but I’m not such a bad guy.”
She snorted and that made him smile again. God, her hormones were running riot. Did this man know how earth-shatteringly gorgeous he was? She had to pull herself together. He leaned back against the stall and Callie watched, suddenly mesmerized as the cotton shirt stretched across his chest as he moved. One step and I could touch him. One tiny step and I could place my hands over his broad shoulders.
“So, do we have an arrangement?”
His voice jerked her thoughts back. “No, we don’t.”
“Are you going to play hard to get?”
The double meaning of his words could not be denied and Callie blushed wildly. She looked at her feet, thinking that any minute she was going to plant one of her size nines into her mouth and say something she’d regret. And typically, she did exactly that.
“I’m not playing anything with you,” she said hotly. “As you pointed out so clearly last weekend, I don’t have the skills required to handle your daughter. What I do have is a business to run … a business that means everything to me. I work hard and I won’t do anything that could tarnish my reputation.”
His gaze narrowed. “And you think teaching Lily would?”
“I think …” She stopped. It wasn’t about Lily. It was about him. She only hoped he didn’t realize it. “I think … another teacher would be better for her. Someone she would actually listen to.”
“And if I promised that she would listen to you, Callie?”
She drew in a breath. It was the first time he’d said her name. It sounded personal. Intimate almost. “You can’t promise something like that.”
“She’ll do what I ask.”
Yeah … like putty in his hands. That’s how Callie felt at the moment. “Look,” she said pointedly. “All I want to do is run my school and care for my horses and try to fix up my house, which is crumbling around my ears. I just don’t want any drama.”
It sounded lame. Callie knew it. He knew it.
Something passed between them. Awareness? Recognition? A look between two people who hardly knew one another … and yet, strangely, on some primal level, had a deep connection. More than merely man to woman. More … everything. It scared the breath out of her. Thinking about him was one thing. Feeling something for him was another altogether.
“And there’s nothing I can offer you that might make you change your mind?”
Callie’s temperature rose and launched off her usual, well-controlled sensible-gauge. It was ridiculous. She couldn’t imagine everything he said to her had some kind of sexual innuendo attached to it.
“Nothing.”
“Even though you say you need the cash?”
It sounded foolish put like that. But she wasn’t going to give in. “Exactly.”
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“Well, you know me—all bad judgment and recklessness.” She picked up the pitch fork. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go and watch Fiona.”
He half shrugged, looked at the pitch fork as though she might consider running him through with it, then took a small card from his pocket and passed it to her. “If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.” Callie folded the small business card between her fingers and opened the door to Indiana’s stall. She slipped inside and waited a full five minutes before emerging—and only when she was certain Noah Preston had left.
Noah usually let the kids stay up a little later on Saturday nights. But by eight-thirty the twins were falling asleep on the sofa and Jamie took himself off to bed just after Hayley and Matthew were tucked beneath the covers.
Lily, however, decided to loiter in the kitchen, flicking through cupboards as she complained about the lack of potato chips. She made do with an opened box of salted crackers.
“So,” she said as she sat. “Did you ask her?”
Noah stopped packing the dishwasher and looked at his daughter. The makeup and piercings and black clothes seemed more out of place than usual in the ordinariness of the timber kitchen. He wished she’d ditch the gothic act, but he’d learned fast that barking out ultimatums only fueled her rebelliousness.
“Yes.”
Lily looked hopeful and Noah’s heart sank. How did he tell his kid the truth? “She’s thinking about it,” he said, stretching the facts.
His daughter’s expression changed quickly. “She’s still mad at me?” Lily dropped the box of crackers and stood. “She’s the best, Dad. And learning from the best is important. It means I might get to be the best at something, too.”
She looked painfully disappointed and Noah felt every ounce of her frustration. If she’d followed Callie’s rules, it wouldn’t have been a problem.
“Lily, whoever you get lessons from, you’ll have to follow the rules.”
Lily’s dramatic brows rose. “I’m not the one who shouted at her.”
Noah stiffened. “I didn’t shout. We had a conversation.”
“Yeah, and after that she said she wouldn’t teach me.”
He had to admit his daughter had a point. If he hadn’t acted so irrationally and lost his cool with Callie, he figured Lily would have been able to stay at the school. Lily had messed up, but so had he.
“‘Night, Dad,” she said unhappily and left the room.
Noah looked at the clock. He was weary but not tired. He left the dishwasher and headed for the living room. The big sofa welcomed him as he sat and grabbed the remote.
Another long Saturday night loomed ahead. He flicked channels absently and settled for a movie he’d seen before. It didn’t hold his attention for long. He kept thinking of Callie. She was a real dynamo. All feisty and argumentative, high octane. But underneath, he saw something else … something more. He wasn’t sure how he knew—but he did. Whatever was going on with her, she wore it like a suit of armor. And he was interested in knowing what lay underneath all that fire and spirit. Hell, he was more than interested. Way more. The way she’d glared at him from beneath her hat, the way she’d filled out her riding jodhpurs … His skin burned thinking about it.
He flicked channels again, but it was no use. Television wouldn’t hold his attention tonight. More so than usual, he felt