Part 11 (1/2)
And then the doors had shut and he'd lost- The sound of boots on the floor outside pulls him out of his thoughts. He rubs away the wetness that's developed in his eyes. He's fine. He'll be completely fine.
There's nothing to do now but get back to work, and make sure that if the plans to sell don't work out, he's going to have some kind of backup plans.
There's one other place that he can get money. Probably a h.e.l.l of a lot more than twenty or thirty measly grand.
He loves the ranch. No doubt about it. He'll fight as hard as anyone can, if it means protecting that s.p.a.ce. If it means protecting Sara's home.
But if it's a choice between the dirt and the boys, well... Somebody's got to be on their side.
Chapter Twenty-Six.
The last thing that Morgan Lowe expected, after giving him a week to himself, was a phone call. She'd only actually managed to get him on the phone once before, but as she looked down at the caller I.D. to confirm to herself again, there was no mistaking it.
Phil Callahan, who she'd privately decided wasn't a concern any more, because she wasn't going to take away the land and the only things he had left of his wife and daughter, was calling her cell.
For an instant, she thinks about not answering it. Should she? Her thumb moves automatically to the green b.u.t.ton and presses it. The call connects and she puts it to her ear. Her muscles move for her, which is thankful because her brain is too caught up to make clear decisions.
”h.e.l.lo?”
Callahan's voice on the other side comes through clear. He sounds a little different on the phone, but it's not an unappealing sound.
”Is this Morgan Lowe?”
”Speaking. How can I help you, Mr. Callahan?”
”Are we back on last names again?”
She laughs a little. ”Do you want to be?”
”I want to talk with you. Just talk.”
”What did you want to talk about, Philip?”
She leans back in her chair and allows herself, just for a moment, to imagine the sort of talking that they could get up to. Gooseb.u.mps raise in her skin almost the instant that the thought runs through her head, and her face flushes deep red.
”About anything. I need some time to myself, and I know that you've been about the only one who I've been able to talk to the past few days.”
”That's sweet of you to say.” Her face flushes a little deeper. The man knows how to give praise, she has to admit.
”It's the truth.”
”So when did you want to have this chat? And where?”
”Whenever and wherever. I just need a night off.”
Her mind's already started twisting with possibilities that she doesn't dare consider any further. ”Alright, then. Tonight?”
”Tonight sounds wonderful. Any ideas where you'd like to go?”
”Anywhere.”
”Anywhere sounds wonderful, but I need a specific where.”
She doesn't take long to think about it. She's pa.s.sed by the little Italian place a thousand times. She can hear something in his voice when she suggests it. Something that makes her wonder if she's made a mistake by mentioning it. If she has, though, the mistake is already made.
”That's fine. You want me to meet you there? Or I can pick you up from the site.”
”I don't need a ride, Mr. Callahan. I've got a very nice one of my own.”
”I've seen it. How do you keep mud off, way out here? You'd think-”
”I wash it. It's real easy, you just use a hose, and...”
She tapers off and there's a little silence where Philip Callahan's smile fits in.
”Alright, smart-a.s.s. Seven o'clock sound good to you?”
She should be ready well before then. But if it's a date-and he's making it sound very much like a date-then she can be busy as late as he needs her to be.
”Sure.”
She sets the phone down and makes a distinct effort not to read into any of it. This was all about making sure that he was in a good mood, making sure that he had what he needed to keep going. Her feelings didn't enter into it in the slightest-nor should they.
But that didn't mean that her heart wasn't flapping around the room, now. It didn't mean that she could keep the smile off her face. It didn't mean that she could keep her thoughts out of the gutter, either.
She tapped the desk. Just another few days. Easy days. Nothing to worry about. The walls were already up. Now they just had to build out the inside, and then they'd have a couple weeks installing the machinery.
Six months from now, there would be people working there who had already settled into the daily routine. People who would already be used to it.
She smiles at the thought. Not much longer, now. Not much more to wait for. Not for them, anyways. Not for her business. But for her, personally... tonight was all that she had to look forward to, and it was already far, far too much.
She clicks her teeth together in antic.i.p.ation. She checks her e-mail again. A hundred new messages, not one of them particularly important. She starts combing through them. By the time she finishes, they'll have replenished themselves.
And then, after she's done that a few more times, after she's made a call or two to make absolutely certain that everything is on track, it'll be time to cut out of here. She'll go right straight home and get dressed, and then...
She doesn't dare to think about it. She shouldn't be imagining any of it. She shouldn't even think about what it's going to be like sitting at the table with him.
The thought of a repeat performance, of laying down in the back of his truck with a little blanket under her to cus.h.i.+on her shoulders?