Christine Wenger - Reunited With The Bull Rider

“You on one side on the booth and me on the other?” Callie giggled. “That’s not very romantic! We should be on the same side at least, just like the front seat of a car.”

“I remember many great times with you in the front seat of my car!”

She laughed.

Reed thought Callie’s playful spirit was slowly returning and that made him glad. She seemed so sad sometimes, and guilt would overwhelm him as he was responsible for some of that.

He remembered how Callie was always hell bent on helping others and working hard, and he loved that about her, to a point. He didn’t want her to overextend herself and make herself sick. On top of that, he knew how much she anguished about her mother’s health, worried about her brothers and paying for their injuries, and was anxious about keeping a roof over all their heads. Nothing ever changed with her.

But all that angst was part of Callie, but so was the laughter and joy, and the latter was what he wanted to bring out. He wanted to make her smile and laugh and forget about her worries for a while.

The chicken parm came on two more platters, one for Callie and one for Reed. A mountain of spaghetti was stacked on the side.

“It’s amazing that you, Jesse and Luke are the first three in the standings. What are the odds of that?” Callie asked twirling some spaghetti with her fork.

Reed tried the chicken. Delicious. “I don’t have a clue about the odds, but I like the fact that the Beaumont Big Guns are in the top three. And Luke was even going to retire after he got married, but I’m guessing that he’s going to give the Finals another go. So, he’s riding in another circuit to keep in the game while on an extended honeymoon. Amber is traveling with him and they are having a great time. She loves it.”

Callie sat as still as a statue.

“We could have had a great time, too, Callie.”

She shook her head. “My father left us with thousands of dollars in credit card debt from his gambling addiction before he split for Tahiti with Tish Holcomb, rich widow and my father’s latest meal ticket. Besides, Reed, admit it—we were too young.”

“We might have been young, but we were certainly mature.” He sighed. “Your father should have paid his own debts, not saddle you and your mother with them.”

“I agree, but most of the cards were in my mother’s name, and the creditors were tormenting us.”

He sighed. “You could have followed me at any time. We talked about that, but I didn’t hear from you and I missed you.”

“The phone works both ways, Reed. You could have called me, but the Beaumont grapevine said that you had the company of your buckle bunnies.”

“There weren’t any buckle bunnies—at least, none that I’d have liked to spend my life with.”

There was silence as they both played with their spaghetti.

He tossed down his fork and gritted his teeth. “Amber, I could have helped you.”

She shook her head. “It was my responsibility.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” He exhaled a loud breath. “Is your mom okay now?”

“No. It came back. She’s going through chemo now.” Tears stung her eyes. “Can we please change the subject? Let’s go back to bull riding. It’s mostly neutral.

“Yeah. Okay.” Reed twirled his spaghetti with his fork. “How are your brothers doing? They have to be—what?—seniors in high school by now.” He was still reeling. He hadn’t known Mrs. Wainright had breast cancer again.

“The twins are great. They both got football scholarships. John is going to Notre Dame and Joe will be playing at the University of Southern California.”

“Fabulous. I can’t wait to see them play.”

“They are both fans of yours. They’re hoping you beat Luke for the championship in Vegas.”

“So do I, but if I don’t and he gets a fourth victory, it’ll be a record that’ll stand for a long time. That is, until I beat it.” He laughed. “Jesse will ride the best he can, too. Maybe he’ll be the one who’ll beat Luke. But, as the saying goes, one cowboy against one bull.”

She smiled slightly. “One cowboy against one bull. And one woman against one bull rider. I have to get back to work. I can’t be playing all the time.” She paused for several uncomfortable seconds. “And Reed, I think we should maintain a business relationship only. No more personal questions.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “Every woman I know likes to talk about herself.”

Callie shook her head. “I don’t.”

“I guess I stand corrected,” he said. “We’ll limit our conversation to sex, drugs and rock and roll, but not if it pertains to ourselves.”

“Exactly.” Callie nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Then let’s talk about sex.”

* * *

CALLIE PUSHED AROUND a piece of chicken on her plate and wondered what on earth she should do.

But she didn’t want to bare her soul to Reed. She’d done that way too many times with other men.

She’d told herself that she was going to take a break from men, and she’d meant it, and that included the amiable and happy-go-lucky Reed Beaumont.

Maybe she was only rowing with one oar, but she was going to stick to her promise to herself: concentrate on her business. Maybe someday she’d get her dream of going back to college.

“What did you say, Reed?”

“You look a million miles away.”

“I guess I was,” she said. “I guess I was just thinking.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to share.”

“No. It was nothing important. And it wasn’t about sex.”

Maybe indirectly it was about sex or lack thereof.

Callie was glad when Darlene returned with their take-out boxes and plastic bags. Callie put what was left of her meal into the containers. Reed did the same.

“This is going to be breakfast tomorrow,” he said, and Callie believed him. Inez, the cook at the Beaumont Ranch, had just left for vacation.

Al returned, wiping his hands on his apron. “I always think when I work, and I think that you both are perfect together. So, let me show you my new reception halls.”

Reed looked at Callie and raised an eyebrow. “Shall we, darling?”

Callie wasn’t amused.

“Uh... Al...we have only become reacquainted for—” he checked his watch “—about three hours so far. As much as I like Callie, I don’t want to rush things. Right, honey pie, my sweetheart darling?”

She tried not to laugh, she really did, but Reed always had a way of making her heart feel lighter, happier.

“Well, my beloved, I think we should leave before Al has us picking out a menu for our reception,” Callie joked.

“Maybe we need to pick out rings first!”

“First, you need to go down on one knee,” she instructed.

“I can’t. I have a torn meniscus.”

Callie looked up at the ceiling, painted with a landscape of Venice’s Grand Canal with more gondolas than people. The artist loved his gondolas.

“We’d better go, Reed. I am way behind on my work today.”

She started walking quickly, wanting to leave all the proposal, ring and reception talk behind.

Reed cleared his throat. “Ah, the real Callie returns. Nose-to-grindstone.”

She was going to say something snooty in return but Reed was shaking hands with Al and she remembered her manners.

Walking back, she said, “Thanks, Al. Another great meal.” She held out her hand, but he wrapped her in a hug instead. “Oh, we forgot our doggie boxes, Reed. I’ll go get them.”

She picked up the bags containing their leftover meals and couldn’t resist peeking into the two rooms labeled Room A and Room B. They’d be perfect for an elegant wedding reception.

Hurrying back, she walked to the parking lot with Reed, and they got into Callie’s SUV.