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He loved traveling with his brothers on the circuit—they had a lot of laughs and traded riding tips—but he definitely wanted to win the PBR Finals. To expedite his goal, he jogged. He worked out. He rode practice bulls, and while other riders, including his little brother, Jesse, were partying, Reed was doing yoga and pushups in his hotel room.
If he’d partied like Jesse, he couldn’t ride the next morning. Maybe it was because Jesse was two years younger.
It was Reed’s turn to win the Finals. He wanted to get out from under Luke’s shadow. Maybe he’d catch a break and Luke wouldn’t return to the PBR after his honeymoon.
No. He’d rather beat him fair and square.
Luke was riding high. He’d married the woman of his dreams, Beaumont Sheriff’s Deputy Amber Chapman just after the World Finals in Vegas last November. With seven months of marriage under his belt, Luke was riding high with Amber.
Reed constantly wondered when it would be his turn to fall in love with a special person, like Luke had. No matter how much he loved riding bulls, he’d give it all up in a heartbeat to start a family.
He longed to model his kids’ childhoods with the one he’d had. He and his brothers had had the whole Beaumont Ranch as their playground. They’d ridden horses, bikes, ATVs and various ranch equipment. The cowboys who worked the ranch had told them stories about the “golden days” of the Beaumont Ranch.
Those had been the carefree days...before his mother had died.
When Valerie Lynn was kicked in the head by a horse over three years ago and died, his family had never been the same. His father, Big Dan, had developed an alcohol problem and was now a ghost of his former robust self.
Big Dan hadn’t wanted the ranch repaired and fixed to the way it had been. He’d wanted it left the same as the second his beloved wife died. It had been left the same, until Hurricane Daphne hit soon after. Then Big Dan was about to lose the ranch to taxes.
That was when the Three Musketeers had stepped in, pooled their money and become the owners of the ranch.
He marveled at the comfortable silence between Callie and him. Any other woman would find it necessary to fill the quiet with mindless chatter.
Reed was simply content to ride through Beaumont with Callie, seeing old haunts and marveling at new construction—new to him at least.
His stomach growled and Callie laughed. “I think you’ll like Poppa Al’s Restaurant, Reed. Their specialty is chicken parm. It’s delicious.”
“Chicken parm sounds good to me,” he said.
They both got out of the car and, as he retrieved his crutches, he cursed the famed Cowabunga under his breath for his damaged knee.
“What’s the matter?” Callie asked. “You doing okay?”
“I’m sick of these crutches already. I could go without them, but it hurts like the devil. Hell, it hurts like the devil with them.”
“Then use the crutches, Reed.” Callie jogged a few steps ahead and opened the door to make it easier to pass through.
He walked through. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
A man came out from behind the bar, took Reed’s hand and began pumping it. “Well, if it isn’t Reed Beaumont, the great bull rider! It’s about time you visited my place.”
It took a split second for Reed to recognize Alphonse Giacomo. They’d played football together on the high school team. According to the Beaumont Bulletin, which he read online to keep current with the happenings of his hometown when he was on the road, Al had gone on to play professionally, but an injury had forced him to retire.
“And Callie Wainright!” He pulled Callie into a big bear hug. “It’s good to see you again. My Susan was just talking about hiring you to keep our books straight. She doesn’t trust me to do it correctly and thinks we’re going to land in federal prison. That’s my wife, five feet three inches and one hundred twenty-five pounds of total worry.”
They all laughed.
“Have her call me.” A business card appeared in Callie’s hand and she held it out to Al. He took it and slipped into the pocket of his checked pants.
“We’ll call you for sure, Callie.”
“So, you’re Poppa Al?” Reed asked, adjusting his crutches.
“Guilty as charged. I only wanted to open a spumoni stand, but look at this!” He spread his arms wide to show how big his place was. “I can hold two wedding receptions at the same time—or one huge one.”
Al looked from Callie to Reed and back again. His thick black eyebrows rose as he rubbed his hands together in glee. “So, are you here to book your wedding?”
“Uh...um...” Callie began, a blush starting on her neck then settling on her cheeks. “No.”
Reed just laughed. “We’re here for your chicken parm.”
“You’ll love it,” Al said. “I make it from scratch. And I’ll make you an antipasto to share. It’s on the house. Now sit. Sit in the first booth. It’s very romantic.”
Al disappeared through swinging metal doors and Reed turned to Callie. “Shall we sit in the romantic booth?”
Callie shrugged. “Al seems to have made up his mind that we’re to sit there.”
Unlike Reed, Callie didn’t seem to be enjoying Al’s funny misunderstanding. Reed winked. “Then let’s not disappoint him,” he said as he hung his crutches from the coat hook.
They both slid into the red vinyl booth with the white Formica table. “I hope we don’t get indigestion from the romantic booth,” he added, grinning.
“It’d be a shame if we did. It would spoil the experience.” Callie’s eyes twinkled.
Reed enjoyed her lighter mood.
He looked around and was impressed. “I didn’t know Al Giacomo owned this place.”
“Al just opened a couple months ago. In another hour, there’ll be a line around the building. The word is out that if you want a good meal in Beaumont, go to Al’s.”
“This is a nice surprise, Callie. I’d lost touch with Al. Actually, I’ve lost touch with many of my pals in Beaumont. Too much traveling, another circle of friends and I don’t get home all that much.”
“How long are you going to be here this time?”
“Probably three months. I’m planning on going back after the summer break. Since I’m healing, I figure it’s my turn to work on the ranch. Luke did the majority of fixing up the ranch house after Hurricane Daphne, along with the barn. I am going to do more work on the barn and supervise fixing up the ramrod’s house. Luke said it needs a new roof and some remodeling inside. Then Jesse will take his turn and work on an addition to our bull breeding facility, and a new bunkhouse for the hired hands. The old one’s coming down.”
“You’re just about rebuilding the whole ranch.”
A waitress came and dropped off frosty classes of water. “Hi, Callie.”
“How are you doing, Darlene?” Callie said then turned to Reed. “Dar’s grandparents retired here and Dar is living with them for the summer. She’s working and going to Oklahoma State in the fall.”
“Nice. What are you taking up?” Reed asked.
Her cheeks turned pink. “Um, uh...in hospital...hospitality, I mean. Hospitality.”
Reed made eye contact with Callie, whose hands were over her mouth. She knew Darlene was having a hard time being a cool fan, whereas Reed was used to different reactions.
Some fans were terribly nervous; others were blatantly sexually aggressive. Luckily, more were nervous. He could deal with those fans, but the young ones who came on to him? Well, those made him nervous.
Darlene turned to Reed and giggled. “Uh... I’ve never done this before, but could I have your autograph, Reed?”
“Sure!”
“Wait here. Don’t move!” she ordered.
Callie burst out laughing then sobered. “We’re eating here, so we’re not going to move. Did she forget that? I wonder if it’s your celebrity or your handsomeness that has Darlene so overwhelmed.”
“It’s both. I’m sure it’s both,” Reed deadpanned, then raised an eyebrow. “But you think I’m handsome?”
“I...um...uh...”
Darlene returned out of breath and saved Callie from more stammering. She handed Reed a white foam take-out box.
“A take-out box?” Callie grinned. “But, Darlene, we haven’t had our meal yet.”
“I know, but this is all I could find for Reed to sign.” She handed him the box and a ballpoint pen. “J-just don’t press too h-hard or you’ll p-punch a hole in the top.”
He wrote his usual “Thanks for being a fan! Best wishes, Reed Beaumont” then added the city and date. He also added her name.
Smiling and holding out his hand, he waited several seconds before she realized what to do. She wiped her hands on her black apron and then held one out to him. They shook as she grinned widely.
“I am sorry to bother you again, but can I take a picture of you?”
“Absolutely.”
She positioned her cell phone and pushed the icon several times. “Thanks, uh... Reed.”
“But don’t you want to be in the picture, too, Darlene?” Reed asked.
“Can I?”
“C’mon.”
Without a word Darlene handed her cell phone to Callie.
Callie stifled another grin. “Sure, I’d be glad to take your picture with Reed.
Callie took four pictures of Reed sitting in the booth with Darlene next to him, then handed back the phone.
“Thanks, Reed.”
“You’re welcome, Darlene.”
Darlene scurried away, her cell phone next to her heart.
Every once in a while, Callie realized what a celebrity Reed was. Not only did he receive bags full of fan mail, but obviously women fawned over him. Everyone knew that he was a real athlete in a very dangerous sport, but to Callie, he was Reed Beaumont, the man who chose riding bulls over her. Reed sat back in the booth. “Sorry about that.”
“Sorry...about what? Oh, you mean about Darlene? You were very sweet to her. She’ll remember this moment for a lifetime.”
“I hope not.”
“I was her age once. I know.”
“Now, what were we talking about? Oh, yes. The PBR and you, I think,” she said.
“Since I had the summer off from the PBR, I wanted to catch a couple rides on some of the other circuits so I could boost my points, but my injury put a halt to those plans.”
Callie nodded. “If you do what you’re supposed to, you’ll be healthy for the PBR when things start back up. It’s only the end of May. You can do it if you’d stay off of it and rest.”
“Will you hold my hand if I have to go to the hospital?”
“Oh! The brave, big-shot bull rider is too chicken to have surgery!”
“No,” he said quickly, softly. “I’m just too chicken to go to the same hospital where my mother died.”
Callie met his eyes. “I’m sorry, Reed. I didn’t think.”
He put his hand over hers. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to blurt that out. I was the one who didn’t think.”
She put her hand over his. “Obviously it’s bothering you. You could go to another hospital.”
“And not go to the one that Great-Gramps Cyrus Beaumont built? I’d be drummed out of the family, or what’s left of it.”
* * *
SHE REMOVED HER hand when the antipasto came and he felt deprived of her warmth. He knew she was only embarrassed for what she’d said, but he liked the feel of hers over his.
He looked down at the large platter. A mountain of lettuce was heaped high, a display of various meats, cheeses, tomatoes, tuna and veggies artfully piled on top.
Reed sighed. “Does Al expect us to eat all this plus a meal?”
“Yes. He does.” Callie picked up the big fork and spoon on the side of the platter.
“No wonder it’s the romantic booth. We could live here in this booth for a week eating one meal.”
“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.
