Her Unexpected Hero--A Clean Romance Page 14

  “That she created,” Macy said loudly. “I want to know why.”

  Everyone at the table swung back to Winter, and Caleb wanted to wrap his arm around her shoulders. He’d been in her spot often enough, as the person everyone was watching as they waited to hear an explanation. “She wanted to protect the reserve without losing everything. How can she say it any plainer? She had her own plans, a wedding, a job. She wanted to keep those things. If you can’t understand that, then you need to consider long and hard,” Caleb said and leaned back from the table. It was a risky position to take, surrounded by the family, but she shouldn’t have to face all this alone.

  The risk was doubled when he realized Winter had never asked him to stand up for her. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d shrink away. He turned to defend his actions, but under the table, Winter reached for his hand and tangled their fingers together. All right. She didn’t need him. But that wasn’t the same as having an appreciation that he would stand by her.

  He got that. He was the same. Could he fight his battles? Yes. Not having to do it alone was sweet.

  Macy smacked a hand on the table. “Oh, okay, if you want to go and make a sensible case or something.” She crossed her arms in a huff and then collapsed into Ash’s side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

  “That’s not the Kingfisher way, sneaking around like that. Face your fears head-on. Do the right thing without hesitation.” Winter’s father had braced his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. Caleb wasn’t going to do it. No one in this family would be happy if he made any move to touch Winter. He didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, but when her shoulders slumped under the weight of her father’s words, he wrapped his own arm around her shoulders. Instead of shrugging him off, Winter straightened. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Her father waved his hands. “Then we’re done with that. Now we make it right.”

  How the tense silence started to ease away caught Caleb off guard. At the Callaway house, Senior’s frown would continue, unabated, until some other infraction took the pressure off the previous offender. Here, everyone settled into their seats, ready to move on to phase two—making things right.

  Caleb shook his head as he sipped his margarita.

  “I have a plan to get everything back on track.” Winter gulped her own drink. “Caleb needs to finish the lodge on time and ahead of schedule. He’s giving up a lot to be here in Sweetwater when he needs to be in Knoxville building his own business. He’s doing that because he agreed to take the heat off me. So, we’re going to dissolve the media interest in the lodge.” She shifted forward to meet Ash’s stare. “Media days. Once a month until the lodge is complete. I’ll give you a list of contacts and create the press releases. You send everything out so it’s nice and official. If you’re being completely transparent about the lodge and the progress, then there’s no need for reporters to ambush your crew, Caleb.” She smiled.

  “We’re going to invite Richard Duncan to the first media day, though urge him with all our mental strength not to show, because Whit Callaway will be there, grinning happily from behind the podium. Ash Kingfisher, Whit Callaway, everything aboveboard. There is no more story. There is only positive publicity. The Callaways will return to the public eye and that should return some of Whit’s momentum.” She tapped her chin, the wheels turning quickly in her mind. Caleb had always loved watching her think. It was beautiful, and any moment now, she’d surprise them all...

  “The other thing we could do,” she continued, “is make sure Sweetwater is on board with the Callaways. The first step involves the gallery, which Janet will love, but I have to make sure it’s right for everyone before...” She trailed off as she considered all the options.

  Caleb glanced at each of them. Ash shrugged. “She does this. It’s like her brain moves ahead while the rest of her has to catch up. Scary, but you get used to it.”

  The laughter around the table felt so good. Comfortable. Like a family might.

  Then he noticed Winter’s mother watching him again and remembered that his arm was still around Winter’s shoulders. Should he move it or no?

  “A Callaway who did the right thing when the cameras weren’t rolling.” She pursed her lips. “Interesting.”

  Caleb nodded. “Callaways don’t always make the right decisions, but even we get lucky sometimes.”

  Her mom’s lips curled and Caleb was certain he could run all the way to the top of The Aerie without dying. That’s how strong he was in this moment.

  Then Winter squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. “You just have to find the right Callaway.”

  After a lifetime of being the “least of” the Callaway family, it was a new experience to get respect, and from such a tough crowd.

  “Well, Caleb,” Winter’s mother said slowly, “I underestimated you. That doesn’t happen often, I’m happy to say, but I appreciate your patience. Thank you for helping Winter when she needed it and Ash when he didn’t even know to ask. That’s the kind of thing family does. You’re invited back for dinner. Tomorrow we’re having tofu, my weekly attempt at convincing my family that vegetarianism is an option.”

  “Not for me.” Ash shook his head slowly.

  Macy shrugged. “I only know how to cook eggs. I’d starve, Donna.”

  Winter’s mother turned back to him, her eyebrows raised as if she was expecting him to make a flimsy excuse.

  Thankful to have one and a real one, Caleb pointed at the remaining tacos. “I’d be happy to give it a shot, Mrs. K...” He waited for her reaction. Her twitching lips were a positive sign. “But I have Sunday dinner at my mother’s. I’ll be making the drive to Knoxville.”

  She relaxed a bit. One mother could appreciate a son going home, obviously. “Is your mother a good cook?”

  Caleb paused to consider that. It had been so long, he wasn’t sure. “We have a cook. Marcus is a great chef, but sometimes I miss family favorites. You know?” He met her gaze and something clicked. In that instant, he was afraid she could see inside his heart. He missed sitting at a table with his mother, cutting coupons and being easy and comfortable. Everything at the Callaway house was formal. Stiff. Easy to skip because it was less about family and more about obligation. Did that make his mother happy?

  “Well, I guess you’re in for another surprise. Here, in my house, the cook doesn’t clean.” She picked up her plate and handed it to him across the table. “Under normal circumstances, I’d say guests don’t, either, but...” She studied Winter for a second. “You’re not a guest, are you?”

  Caleb took the plate, happy to have a job, something he could perform, check off a list and expect reasonable results.

  “I’m happy to clear the table.” Caleb stood and took Winter’s plate.

  “Ash will wash. You can clear and dry,” Donna Kingfisher said cheerfully. “Martin, you just...go, too. Okay?”

  Caleb laughed. He couldn’t help it. The Kingfisher and Callaway dinner tables couldn’t have been further apart in terms of style, but one thing was absolutely the same: Mama made the rules.

  “Yes, dear,” Martin Kingfisher drawled as he picked up the platter.

  “And make sure to pack up the leftovers for Caleb to take home. I like his appreciation, thank you very much.” Her cheerful voice was such a difference that Caleb paused in the doorway.

  “Come on, son, there’s no sense in trying to puzzle it out. Been married to the woman for forty years and I can’t tell you whether she’s going to zig or zag next.” Martin Kingfisher sighed happily as he turned on the hot water. “Life is grand because of it.”

  The thing about washing and drying dishes by hand in the Kingfisher kitchen was that there was something satisfying about occupying a space in the old-fashioned cramped space with two men who barely moved from their appointed spots, much less talked. He could get used to it.

  Until t
hey’d put away everything and Ash moved to block the exit from the kitchen—he was an immovable, solid object.

  “I appreciate you helping Winter, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more here than meets the eye.” Ash crossed his arms over his chest and Caleb noticed Winter’s easygoing father had the same implacable expression. “Callaways aren’t known for their charity or their honesty. What are you doing?”

  Caleb talked himself out of the flash of anger. Ash was a big brother, watching out for his sister.

  “I’m here to make my family proud.” Caleb shrugged. It was true, but there was more, if he was honest. “And every day I’m here, the more time I spend with Winter, the more I realize how dumb my brother is. If I’d managed to convince her to agree to marry me, nothing would have shaken me. The minute she’d said ‘stop’ on the lodge, I would have moved the mountain to save The Aerie if I had to. Right now, my job is clear. Get the lodge built. Make all this worth it.”

  “And what about Winter?” her father asked. “How do we restore Winter?”

  That was the harder question.

  “Tell me what you want. Her old job at the reserve back? I can manage that.” He could, probably. She’d set up these media days, the campaign would be back on track and the other Callaways would be too busy to bother with reserve business. The Kingfishers were focused on the reserve. It was the perfect solution.

  “A job is easy enough to find. Winter can do anything she wants. You think she needs the Callaways?” Her father shook his head. “Not nearly as bad as they needed her. The reserve? She did more for that place than just about anyone else.” He clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Winter doesn’t need you or your family, but most of all, she doesn’t need any more trouble from men who have their priorities messed up.” His serious expression was so different from his amusement at the table.

  All along, Caleb had kept his eyes on Winter’s mother, ready to run for his life.

  Her father was no joke.

  Donna Kingfisher was fiery explosions. People knew where they stood with her.

  Martin Kingfisher was patient, waiting for his opening. No man would see him coming if he messed up big enough to make him an enemy.

  Then there was Ash, who actually had a gun and wore it every day.

  Caleb’s brother was lucky the Kingfishers had such high moral and ethical standards.

  “What do you want from me? Name it. I’ll do what I can to see that Winter gets it.” Unless it was a reunion with Whit.

  “Ask her. Then give it to her.” Ash offered Caleb his hand. “And good luck digesting my mother’s leftover tortillas. They stay with you a long time. Good news is, she’s a great cook. Bad news is, she never gives up, either. One bad recipe and it hangs around until she perfects it.”

  Caleb gripped Ash’s hand. This was the kind of conversation he could appreciate. Honest, tough, loving. This was family as he imagined it.

  Now that it was time to go home again, what could he do or say to make the Callaway experience go differently?

  If he was learning anything from his time in Sweetwater, it was that everything could be changed for the better. Sometimes it was slow progress, like with the lodge. Other times, it went from fearing for your life to being sent home with leftovers over the course of a dinner. Change could happen. He wanted that for his own family, too.

  As he was walking down the driveway, with a container filled with leftover tacos and Winter trailing behind him, he couldn’t remember a better day. Not in a long time. “Thanks for this, Winter. Without you, I’m not sure I ever would have loved a day in Sweetwater the way I have this one.”

  She stopped suddenly. “A hike. A family dinner. That’s all it took to win you over? No more scowling like you’ve hit the end of the road?”

  Testing the waters, he stepped closer to her, the cold night fading as he stared into her dark eyes and wished for more than starlight. “Pretty sure all that had a touch of Kingfisher magic about it. That was the winning combination.”

  Her mouth dropped and the urge to kiss her was strong. So strong. “You’re drunk on weird tortillas and the offer of a press conference.”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was right but there was so much more.

  “Your family is awesome. I’ll wake up with cold chills when I remember your mother’s eyes ten years from now. She’s fierce. Like you.” Caleb took her fingers between his, giving her hand a small shake. When she squeezed and then tangled their fingers together, he wanted to whoop in victory.

  “Yeah, we’re usually fiercely arguing by the time dinner is over. Ash and Dad go quiet and Macy watches like it’s a drama on the big screen. I always wonder how my parents have made it this long when she’s so intense and he’s so easygoing, but it works.” Winter sighed. “They took everything better than I thought they would. You had something to do with that.”

  Caleb decided not to mention the deadly, unspoken warning her father had issued. “I like knowing where you come from. Understanding Winter Kingfisher is one of those long-term goals a man might never accomplish but he’d also never regret the effort.”

  Maybe he shouldn’t have been so honest. Winter blinked in surprise before looking away from him.

  “You wouldn’t be saying that to improve Callaway-Kingfisher relations, would you? I’m already on board to assist with the lodge.” She licked her lips, a nervous gesture that only made it more difficult to put any space between them.

  “The only Kingfisher I’m concerned with is you.” Caleb leaned in closer. “And the only Callaway I want you to relate to is me.” Something clicked as soon as he admitted that. It was true, so true, but his emotions didn’t matter until Winter felt the same.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to support the arts in Sweetwater.” Winter took a step closer and tugged on his jacket. “The gallery could use a wealthy benefactor like you to attend the grand opening next Saturday. Bring your checkbook, of course.”

  “I’ll be there.” He needed to go. She should walk back inside, where it was warm, but she wasn’t moving away. Not even after he gave her the answer she wanted.

  “Don’t buy the bunny painting. That one’s mine.” She smiled up at him and it was impossible to stop. Caleb tilted his head slowly, carefully, and pressed his lips against hers. Warm breaths mingled in the night and she blinked slowly when he stepped back. “Why, Caleb?”

  “I had to. I’ve wanted to, so I had to.” He waited for her to get mad. Instead, she pressed her hand over her lips. “Should I apologize? I don’t want to, but I will. I won’t do it again.”

  She didn’t agree, but he waited patiently as she studied his face. Instead of answering, she ran a hand down his arm to squeeze his fingers.

  Winter glanced over her shoulder as she turned to go back inside. “See you Saturday.”

  Caleb ran a hand through his hair, frustrated and more alive than he could remember. Confused, too. She was the kind of woman who’d keep him spinning forever and love every minute of it.

  But only if the whole world faded, leaving the two of them alone, without a single remaining Callaway to be found. Neither Senior nor Whit would appreciate that kiss.

  Caleb had some hard thinking to do. If Winter did appreciate a sweet kiss that made him instantly want more, how much did Senior or Whit even matter?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WORKING FOR JANET Abernathy had been an eye-opening experience for Winter. In a short time, she’d made a few discoveries. First, no matter how many decades Janet had on both her and Leanne, she could work circles around them both. She never hesitated in her decisions. Basically, Janet Abernathy had no time for the world to give her trouble. She was onto bigger and better things.

  Second, arranging art had only a little in common with any home decorating Winter had ever managed in her own apartments. In the gallery that was taking sh
ape beside Sweetwater Souvenir, she, Janet and Leanne had arranged and rearranged pieces until Winter was afraid they’d come full circle, right back to how they’d started.

  But together, they’d done it. The gallery was complete with a striking window display certain to draw in the few tourists wandering Sweetwater’s streets. When summer came? The gallery would become one of Sweetwater’s main attractions. Bold colors framed the delicate beauty of Leanne’s painting of The Aerie from one direction on the sidewalk. Pedestrians who came from the south would get to enjoy the same bold stained glass pieces, but also see a featured display of her father’s baskets.

  And all the hours of arranging the pieces, moving them to try another layout, figuring out the fancy hanging system and the tools for framing and the inventory system... All of that had been a challenge Winter enjoyed. She and Leanne had worked well as a team, with Janet buzzing in and out.

  She’d needed a busy week. Sweetwater Souvenir and Art had provided it.

  Thoughts of Caleb and his kiss had filtered through all the noise too often, and if she’d had less to distract her, she might have done something silly. Sweetwater was small enough that she could find Caleb easily enough. She missed him, which made no sense. It had been too easy for him to slip past her guard. If he was a different kind of man, one who would use every one of her weaknesses to his advantage, she would be in serious trouble.

  “Shelves are done. Table’s set,” Leanne mumbled as she paced back and forth in front of the old wooden desk Janet had insisted on painting. Gone was the scratched dark wood. Instead, distressed white paint helped the desk fade into the background.

  Janet crowed when she marched in from Sweetwater Souvenir. “Even better than I imagined, ladies.” She clapped her hands. “This place is perfect. Absolutely perfect.” She studied them both. “How are we feeling?”

  The question was directed broadly at the room, but Winter was certain that Leanne was the intended target. She hadn’t stopped moving since Friday afternoon. Nervous energy radiated from her. “Fine. Fine. Fine. Everything’s fine. I’ve been down the list. Checked everything off.” She tapped the clipboard. “Macy uses a clipboard when she’s running events. I borrowed her lucky clipboard. This is all going to be fine.” She wrapped an arm across her stomach. “How would you feel if I called in sick? I’m going to vomit in the wastebasket so it won’t even be a lie.”