07 It Had to Be You Read online

  She shivered at the edgy, underlying danger in his voice. “I’ll find out.”

  “Maybe you’re forgetting whose place this is.”

  “Trust me, I have never forgotten whose place this is.” She shrugged her shirt back on, buttoned it. Then moved to her front door and opened it, hinting for him to leave.

  “Callie—”

  “I’ll meet you at the big house.”

  He came close, put a hand over hers on the handle. “You’re ready to get rid of me. I get that. We rub each other the wrong way. I get that, too. Just…don’t go to sleep, okay?”

  “Of course not.” She straightened her spine. “I know what time it is, and what has to be done—”

  “I don’t mean—Jesus, you’re hard-headed. I meant because of your head. I don’t think you have a concussion, but sleeping isn’t a good idea.”

  “Oh. Right. Jake—”

  But he was already walking away.

  She stripped in private this time, showered gingerly, and dressed carefully, already feeling as if she’d been hit by a Mack truck. She couldn’t find any aspirin, so she went to Marge and Lou’s cabin.

  Marge had two boys, both grown and on the rodeo circuit, but she’d always pined for girls, and loved to mother Callie. She was of average height and build, her long brown hair streaked with gray always in a ponytail. She wore jeans and T-shirts that hid the fact she was built enough to lift a calf and budge the most stubborn of horses. When she heard what had happened, she smothered Callie in affection, clucking worriedly as she doled out aspirin. By the time Callie escaped the older woman’s clutches, another half hour had gone by. She had until noon before their guests arrived, but mornings on a ranch were never idle, not even a dude ranch.

  And she still had to figure out what the hell had happened to Sierra last night. She checked on the horse, and found Eddie with her. The twenty-five-year-old led all their hiking and camping expeditions, and assisted with the animals when needed. He had the build of someone who’d spent his entire life working hard outside, and the good fortune to be as pretty as a cover model, which only added to his playful, charismatic persona. Hands down, he received the most fan mail from their guests. It amused the rest of them, who teased him mercilessly about it, not that he cared. He liked his reputation, and in fact, spent a lot of money to keep it. Fancy truck, fancy horse and gear, expensive exotic dates with a variety of women…

  The laid-back guy rarely got too riled over anything, but he whirled on her now, eyes flashing with a fury she’d never seen from him. “What the hell is this?” He gestured to Sierra’s bloody flanks. “Jake said someone did this on purpose.”

  “Looks that way.” She entered Sierra’s stall and, ignoring her aching ribs, hugged the horse tight. Sierra set her big head on Callie’s shoulder and huffed a soft, welcoming breath in her ear. Her throat closed as she held on.

  “No one here is that stupid or cruel,” Eddie said. “No one.”

  “I don’t want to think so, either.”

  Eddie ran an aggravated hand through his hair, then touched her arm. “Jake also said you got knocked around some. You okay?”

  Reluctantly, she pulled away from Sierra. Her head throbbed. “Nothing a good soak in the hot tub won’t fix.” She kissed the horse’s forehead, then left her to Eddie’s care. She made her way to the big house and let herself in the front door. Normally the first thing she did was make a huge pot of coffee. The scent would draw in her crew one by one as they went about their own chores. Several times over the past week since Kathy had left, she’d even attempted breakfast. Everyone ate, but they finally begged her to stick with coffee. She’d happily complied.

  But today as she walked down the wide hallway toward the kitchen, the scent of coffee already filled the air. Coffee and something…cinnamony. Mouth watering, she pushed open the double swinging doors.

  Amy stood in front of the stove stirring something, but when the double doors swung shut behind Callie, clanking together, the young woman jumped as if she’d been shot.

  Callie’s easy smile faded. Had that been guilt flashing across Amy’s face? She moved closer. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” Amy mumbled, turning back to the stove.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure.” Barely eighteen, Amy had shown up on the ranch in much the same way Callie herself had.

  Poor and homeless.

  And, Callie guessed, apparently afraid of her own shadow. Callie looked at the petite, dark-headed, skinny girl with the most wounded eyes she’d ever seen and tried to picture her as someone who could hurt a horse. She couldn’t. “Something smells heavenly.”

  “Yeah. Cinnamon rolls.” Amy wiped her hands on a towel she had slung over her shoulder. Her jeans were threadbare and had holes in the knees that had nothing to do with being fashionable. She wore a T-shirt that invited the general public to GO TO HELL.

  Callie looked at it and grimaced. They hadn’t discussed suitable attire for the ranch when they had guests; she hadn’t thought to. “How long have you been up?”

  “A while.”

  “Have you been in the barn?”

  “What?” Amy looked at her in surprise. “No, why?”

  “Someone went in there late last night, or early this morning, and put on Sierra’s saddle.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, but it really spooked her. She rubbed her sides raw—”

  The oven buzzer went off. Amy pulled out a large glass dish, her face red from the heat, her thin arms bulging with surprising strength as she lifted the dish. Blowing a loose strand of dark hair out of her face, she set the dish on the stove top and stared at it as if looking for flaws. “It’s an egg and sausage and potato casserole, but we didn’t have potatoes, all we had was frozen Tater Tots…”

  The scent alone drew Callie close. “I love Tater Tots. Listen, about Sierra. I’ve got to figure out what happened—”

  “I never went in there, I swear.”

  Callie looked into Amy’s uneasy face, and managed a reassuring smile. “Okay.”

  “I was in here until late last night, getting used to where you keep everything, and making lists and stuff, and then I went straight to my cabin. Is Sierra going to be okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Nodding, Amy took out a serving spoon, set it in the casserole. In spite of herself and her aches and bruises, Callie’s stomach leapt with anticipation. She’d tested Amy’s cooking abilities the other day when she’d first hired her and had been excited at the stew she’d whipped up on the spot with what they’d had in the pantry. “You know you didn’t have to cook until tonight.”

  “I know.” Amy bit her lower lip. “But I noticed yesterday everyone just grabbed junk for breakfast, and I thought you guys might want something better—”

  The kitchen doors opened. “God-almighty,” Tucker exclaimed. “I’ve died and gone to a ranch where someone knows how to cook.” He followed his wriggling nose to the steaming casserole dish. “Man, that’s going to make up for a really bad morning.”

  Amy, who barely came up to his shoulder, started to back away but he snagged her wrist in his hand.

  That was all he did before Amy grabbed his arm with her free hand, whipped around, and with a grunt, tossed him right over her shoulder.

  Callie gasped.

  Tucker landed with an oomph on his back on the kitchen floor, blinking somewhat confusedly up at the ceiling.

  “Ohmigod,” Amy said, and clasped her hands over her mouth.

  Callie leaned over Tucker lying there, all gawky and long-limbed, and offered him a hand. “I think it’s safe to say, hands off the cook at all times.”

  “Yeah.” Tucker carefully got to his feet, then glanced over at Amy, who’d backed herself against the oven, hands still over her mouth. Above her hands, her eyes were wide as saucers. She looked sick.

  Any flash of amusement fled Callie’s chest. When she glanced over at Tucker, she could tell he felt the same.

&n