скачать книгу бесплатно
Doing her best to calm her racing pulse, Callie persisted. “Nash Echols has got to be violating some noise regulation—or something with all that racket!”
Lily shook her head. “First of all, there are no noise ordinances in rural areas.”
Callie bit down on an oath. It was bad enough that her next-door neighbor was incredibly annoying, but at six foot two, with a lumberjack’s powerful build, shaggy wavy black hair and slate-gray eyes, he was also handsome enough to grace an outdoor-living magazine cover. Not that his rugged good looks would help him where she was concerned...
“There are air rights,” her sister continued practically. “But those belong to whoever is renting or residing on the property on which any noise is made. Which means any noise Nash Echols creates on his land is well within his rights.”
Callie didn’t care if Nash made himself deaf. It was her son—who luckily was still at nursery school—and the retreat clients set to start arriving the following week that she was worried about. Thankfully, though, at the moment she was the only one on her ranch, witnessing the ruckus.
“But his noise is coming over to my property! I mean, it’s horrible.” She opened up the window next to the phone, and just like before, the constant whine of multiple power saws reverberated in the brisk November air. She shut it again and turned back to the computer screen on her desk. “See what I mean?”
Lily nodded. “Just hearing it through the walls of your ranch house is enough to give me a headache—and I’m two hundred miles away! I can only imagine what it sounds like from your end.”
“Exactly!”
Her sister picked up a pen and turned it end-over-end. “But you can’t go to court on account of someone giving you a headache, Callie. Or the justice system would be jam-packed with nuisance cases.”
Reluctantly, she supposed that was true.
Lily’s demeanor gentled even more. “You want my honest advice, sis?”
Callie did her best to relax. Not easy, when she was still seeing—in her mind’s eye, anyway—the smug expression on Nash Echols’s blatantly handsome face. Still feeling the taut, warm muscles beneath the palm she had recklessly planted on his chest...
Callie swallowed, tamping down the whisper of long suppressed desire. She was romantically unattached now, and planned to stay that way.
“That is why I called you,” she said quietly. Because, of all five of her sisters, Lily was always the quickest to cut to the chase with a solution.
“Go back. Apologize to the man. Tell him you temporarily lost your mind and want to work out an amicable solution, so that both your businesses can continue to operate.”
The idea of groveling in front of the way-too-confident man next door rankled. Worse, just the thought of seeing him again made her pulse race.
Taking all that into account, Callie uttered a morose sigh and rubbed at the tense muscles in her forehead. “He’s not going to go for it.”
Frowning at her sister’s defeatist attitude, Lily warned, “You better hope he does, because otherwise you’re in a heap of trouble. In the holiday season, no less.”
* * *
NASH HAD JUST gotten out of the shower when he heard a vehicle in the driveway. He pulled on a pair of jeans and, still rubbing a towel through his hair, walked barefoot to the front hall. The bell rang. Nash looped the towel around his neck, opened the heavy wood door and got his second surprise of the day.
On the other side of the portal was Callie McCabe-Grimes. She had a big wicker basket in one hand, and a handsome little toddler, clad in a tyke-size cowboy getup, in the other.
Although she was a married woman—with a kid, no less—and should be used to the sight of a partially disrobed man, she appeared taken aback by the sight of him. So much so that when she silently took in his bare chest and damp hair, she looked as if she wanted to bolt, but didn’t.
Tightening her grip on the little boy’s hand, and plastering a smile as big as Texas on her face, she said, “I’m here to apologize.”
That was news.
Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes to his, and kept them there. “I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot.”
No joke.
“Hence, my son, Brian—” she indicated the curly-haired little boy beside her with a tilt of her head “—and I would like to make amends and start over.”
If anyone had accompanied Callie for the mea culpa, Nash would have expected it to be her husband. But then, maybe Mr. Grimes didn’t know what his little woman had been up to.
Nor did her son.
Unable to resist making things at least a little difficult for the Texas belle, Nash ran a hand across his jaw and pointed out, “Brian doesn’t owe me an apology.”
Callie flushed, obviously recalling her diva-like exit from his property. “Yes, well, as I said...I forgot my manners momentarily. And I do feel terrible about that.”
She felt terrible about something—that was clear. Exactly what that was, he wasn’t entirely sure.
Still, he had been raised with manners, too, and since his new neighbor had taken what had to be a difficult first step toward reconciliation, he felt obligated to be cordial, as well.
He stepped aside, suddenly concerned about the drop in temperature. It was just above freezing now. “Would you like to come in? It’s pretty cold outside for your little one.”
“Yes, thank you. That would be nice.” Ushering his guests inside and shutting the door behind them, he realized that the foyer was a little chilly compared to the warmth of the rest of the rustically outfitted log-cabin-style ranch house. But that didn’t seem to bother Callie or her son.
She glanced around, taking in the soaring cathedral ceiling and large fieldstone fireplace in the adjacent living room. Her eyes fell on the leather furniture and earth-toned Southwestern rugs.
While his great-uncle Ralph had been alive, the Echols Mountain Ranch house had definitely been a man’s domain. Nash hadn’t changed much since he had arrived.
Nor did he intend to do so in the future.
Aware the domain seemed all the more masculine with someone as feminine as Callie in it, he asked casually, “How old is your son?”
“Two and a half.”
Nash had never been one to gush over kids, but there was something about this little guy—maybe it was his resemblance to his mama?—that drew him in. He smiled, inclining his head at the tyke. “Cute.”
“Thanks,” Callie murmured. And this time her smile appeared genuine.
Looking ready to make himself at home, Brian took off his Stetson and attempted to fit it over the newel on the staircase. It fell to the floor instead. He reached for it, tried again and missed by an even wider margin.
Nash leaned down. “Let me help you, little fella.”
“No,” Brian retorted with the stubbornness he evidently got from his gorgeous, dark-haired mama. “I do.”
Nash lifted his hands and stepped back.
Seeming torn between correcting her son and getting on with it, Callie blew out a breath and handed Nash the basket. “Inside you’ll find our welcome-to-the-neighborhood dinner. Homemade Texas chili and cornbread, fruit compote and chocolate cake.”
Nash couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a hot, home-cooked meal. Most of his meals were either from a restaurant or the freezer section of the local supermarket.
“Seriously?”
She shrugged. “Nothing I wouldn’t do for anyone else moving in.”
Nash figured that was probably true.
“The chili and cornbread are still hot.”
She was killing him; she had to know that.
Aware he was attracted when he shouldn’t be, he went on a fishing expedition. “I imagine your husband is expecting you home soon?”
Again, that pause. A definite evasion.
“Ah, no,” she said finally.
Which meant what? Nash wondered. Was she separated? Getting a divorce? Just unattended and unhappy?
Not that it was any of his business. Except, they were neighbors and, in the Lone Star State, anyway, neighbors looked out for one another.
Furthermore, his gut told him that Callie McCabe-Grimes definitely was in need of some—if not TLC—then, at least, amiable concern.
Meanwhile, little Brian was still tossing his hat at the newel post. And missing. Again. And again.
To her credit, Callie stood back and let the little fella keep on trying.
Aware he wouldn’t mind a chance to ease the rift between them and get to know a little more about his new neighbors, Nash turned back to Callie. She was right—there was no time like the present to start over. “Have you and your son eaten?” he asked impulsively.
Callie blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “Well, no...not yet...but...”
Nash gazed deep into her aqua-blue eyes and took another leap of faith. Maybe there was a helluva lot more to her than had first appeared. “Want to join me?”
Chapter Two (#ulink_d326c89f-2548-537a-8a8a-870cf1ea6d65)
Nash Echols was a man who was full of surprises, Callie acknowledged. The least of which was his current chivalry. Which seemed, at the moment anyway, to be as deeply ingrained as her own usual good manners.
Had she confronted him about the ruckus in any other way, she might have had a very different result. But she hadn’t, and now she had to deal with the consequences of her earlier outburst. And what was, at best, a very awkward situation.
Nash’s sexy smile widened as he continued in a silky smooth voice that ratcheted up the tension inside her even more, “I’m more than willing to share this delicious spread. I assume you brought enough?”
Glad she had one of the most effective chaperones ever put on this earth with her, as well as a reason to depart quickly once her mission was accomplished, Callie nodded. “Except...Brian doesn’t eat chili. It’s too spicy.”
His gray eyes twinkled. “Will he eat cornbread and fruit, and—” Nash paused, clearly thinking how to phrase it “ —the last course?”
Callie nodded, aware her son was listening intently now—and clearly a little enamored of Nash. Maybe this was a good time to work out a solution to their mutual problem. “Oh, yes. He loves c-a-k-e.”
“Cake, Mommy!” Brian yelled.
“Some things, he can spell,” Callie said dryly.
Nash chuckled. “Well, then, we’re all set.”
Callie studied him cautiously, trying—and failing—not to be turned on by the sleek, suntanned skin over his wide, inviting shoulders and nicely sculpted chest and abs. “You’re sure it’s not an imposition?”
A slow grin tugged at the corners of his sensual lips. “I wouldn’t have asked if it was. Dishes are in the cabinets. Help yourself. I’m going to finish getting dressed then I’ll be right back.”
Yes, dressed was a good idea.
Standing there talking with him, when he was only half-clothed, had conjured up a wellspring of longing that was destined to go unmet.
“Right back, Mommy,” Brian echoed, snapping her out of her reverie.
Callie knelt to help her son off with his coat.
Nash headed upstairs. By the time he came back down, Callie had set out the food, situated Brian on a stack of phone books and pulled his chair up to the table.
Nash extended his hand. “Let’s start over,” he said, every bit the Texas gentleman now. “I’m Nash Echols.”
Warmth spiraled through her. “Callie McCabe-Grimes,” she added with a smile. “And my son, Brian.”
Nash helped her with her chair. For the next few minutes, they talked about where they both grew up. Dallas for him, Laramie, Texas, for her. The conversation then segued into where they’d gone to college, and the fact that, after graduation, she’d had her first business experience in Dallas, whereas he had spent ten years working in the Pacific Northwest, before coming back to his home state.
Nash helped himself to more chili. He topped it with pico de gallo, cheddar and sour cream. “How did you end up in this part of the state?”
Callie cut her son’s cornbread into bite-size pieces. “My twin sister, Maggie, and I planned joint nuptials at the Double Knot Wedding Ranch on Sanders Mountain. She had second thoughts and bolted during the ceremony, so I was the only one to actually get married that day.”
Nash grinned at Callie over the rim of his iced tea. “That sounds like quite a story.”
Nodding, Callie returned his smile. “Maggie stayed on at the ranch after her failed wedding to work off her debt. Fell in love with their son, Hart Sanders, and his little boy, Henry. And then they eventually tied the knot.” She paused. “Do you know Hart?”
Nash smiled fondly. “We go way back. I used to play with him when I was kid whenever I visited my uncle. Although, I haven’t had a chance to see either Hart or his folks in the two weeks since I’ve been back.”
Callie continued, “Hart’s parents, Frank and Fiona Sanders, hired me to craft a new marketing campaign that involved utilizing social media for their wedding train business. I moved here to do that. Once I finished that, I decided to go into business for myself. Which is why I bought the one hundred acre ranch in the valley between Sanders Mountain and Echols Mountain last summer, and spent the past few months—” and almost all her savings “—turning it into a corporate retreat.”
He regarded her with respect, one business person to another. His glance fell briefly to the rings on her left hand, before returning to her eyes. “How’s that going?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested.
“My first event is a week from today.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re worried about the noise from the tree-cutting.”
Callie forged ahead. “I advertise a peaceful setting for important meetings. If I don’t deliver that right out of the gate...” She’d be out of business before she even got started.
Nash rubbed a hand across his jaw. He clearly hadn’t shaved since morning, and the evening shadow gave him a sexy, rough-hewn allure. “How many bookings do you have?”
Seeing him push his empty plate and bowl away, Callie got up to cut them all a piece of cake. “I have four events planned from December first to December eleventh.”
He thought a moment. “Are they day-only events?”
“Yes.” Callie resumed her seat. “From eight in the morning till around ten in the evening, although if my clients’ meetings are slow to wrap up, it could run slightly later than that.”
Nash smiled, watching Brian dig into his cake. “I see where you are coming from.” He leaned closer. “But here’s my problem. I have been contracted to deliver four thousand fresh-cut Christmas trees by December seventh. I have a temporary crew of eighteen, coming in to help with the cutting and bundling and delivery, for the next two weeks.” There was a long pause. “However, today, for a lot of reasons, we only managed to get two hundred trees ready to go. And that doesn’t even include possible inclement weather because we can’t cut down trees if it gets too wet. So for me to suspend operations for four whole days—”
“Would likely mean you wouldn’t meet your business goals.”
