Helen Lacey - Made For Marriage

“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 alone and … lonely. Absurd when he lived in a house filled with children. And when he considered how great his family was. He loved his kids. His parents were exceptional, and his sisters were the best he could ask for.

But right now he wanted more than that. He needed more than that.

But what?

Company? Someone to talk with?

Sex?

Perhaps it was more about sex than he was prepared to admit. Up until a week ago he’d been in a kind of sexual hibernation. But Callie had him thinking about it. And got him hard just thinking about it. And not the vague, almost indistinct inclination that usually stirred him. This was different. Way different.

Maybe I should ask her out?

That was crazy. That would be like standing in front of a bulldozer.

She can’t stand you, he reminded himself. Okay, maybe I’ll just ask her to reconsider about Lily again?

Despite his brain telling him to forget the idea, Noah picked up the telephone and dialed the number he couldn’t recall memorizing but somehow had. She answered on the fourth ring.

“Callie, it’s Noah Preston.”

Silence screeched like static. Finally she spoke. “Oh—hello.”

“Sorry to call so late.”

A pause. “That’s okay—I’m not in bed yet.”

His body tightened. He had a startling image in his head and shook himself. Maybe I will ask her out . “I was wondering if you—”

“I haven’t reconsidered,” she said, cutting him off.

“What?”

“About Lily,” she said on a soft breath.

All he could think about was that same breath against his skin. “I was actually—”

“Janelle Evans,” she said quickly, cutting him off again.

Noah paused. “What?” he asked again.

“She’s an instructor just out of town. She has a good reputation. She breeds quarter horses. I have her number if you’re interested.”

Oh, I’m interested all right. But not in Janelle Evans .

She was talking fast and Noah knew she was eager to end the call. Bulldozer , he reminded himself. “Ah—sure.”

He took the number she rattled off and had to ask her to repeat the last few digits because she spoke so quickly.

“Well—goodbye.”

He hesitated, feeling the sting of her reluctance to engage in conversation. “Yeah, okay—goodbye.”

She hung up and he dropped the telephone on the sofa. He needed a shower—as cold as he could stand. Then he’d go to bed and sleep off the idea that he wanted to make love to Callie Jones more than he’d wanted to do anything for a long time.

* * *

On Sunday morning Callie woke at seven, after spending a restless night fighting with the bedsheets.

It was all Noah Preston’s fault. She didn’t ask for his late-night call. She didn’t want to hear his sexy voice just before she went to bed. She didn’t want to spend the night thinking about him.

She dressed and made short work of a bowl of cereal topped with fruit, then grabbed her hat and headed outside. The sun was up, already warming the early October morning air. She fed Tessa then headed for the stables, where Joe waited outside Indiana’s stall.

“Are you taking the big fella out this morning?”

Callie shook her head. “Not today.” Indy’s long head swung over the top of the door and she ran her hands down his face. “‘Morning, my darling boy.” She turned back to Joe. “He did well yesterday, two firsts and a third, so he gets a day off. Give him a feed, will you, and then tack up Kirra. The English saddle please.”

Joe made a face. “What do I tell the kid?”

Callie frowned. “What kid?”

“The one who’s here for a lesson.”

Callie shook her head. “I don’t have anyone booked until eleven.”

“I know,” Joe said. “I checked the booking sheet. But she’s here.” Joe pointed to the office. “I put her in there,” he said, then more seriously, “and told her not to touch anything.”

Callie strode the twenty meters to the office and swung the half-opened door back on its hinges. She stood in the threshold and looked at the young girl sitting at her desk.