Her Unexpected Hero--A Clean Romance Page 16

  The muscle in Ash’s jaw clenched. “Might as well call me Ash, Callaway. I have a gut feeling this isn’t going to be short-term relationship.”

  “Fine. Then I’m Caleb.” What did Ash mean? Was he brave enough to ask?

  “Want to know how many people, man or woman, my sister has invited over to be subjected to dinner at my parents’? Just two. Whit, which was never a success. Not with my mother, anyway.” Ash held up one finger. “And you. Don’t know what that means yet, but I know what it meant when I did it.” Their eyes met for a split second before Ash returned to staring into the gallery and Caleb glanced back at the cash register, where the blonde was pacing.

  His experience at the Kingfisher house had been fun, but apparently it was rare. The Kingfishers were hard to impress, but Winter had invited him in. Ash’s one invitation had to be Macy, since she was glued to his side now.

  But Winter had done it as an efficient way to get their plan for a media day underway, nothing more. Right? Caleb wasn’t convinced, but the pleasure he felt at being one of the few in the Kingfisher inner circle made him smile.

  “You see who Winter’s talking to?” Ash pointed with his cup. “Bailey Garcia. Your brother would have elbowed his way up to the front of the room to make sure he got in some camera time.” Ash’s eyes were assessing when he turned back to Caleb. “What are you going to do?”

  Good question. What was he going to do? From where he stood, he couldn’t hear anything of what Winter was saying, but she’d given him her promise. The way she was motioning at a truly spectacular painting behind them convinced him that she was doing her best to sell the artist, the work and the gallery.

  Had she taken her notoriety and intended to use it for the gallery’s publicity?

  Of course she had. She was that clever.

  That didn’t mean she was also using her time to trash the Callaway family.

  “If Winter asks me for something, I’ll do my best to make it happen. Simple as that.” He wasn’t sure what else he could say. He was ready to be rescued. Caleb checked on the blonde again. She’d rounded the counter, but both hands were tightly clasped under her chin. Was she praying? “Winter and I know where we stand.”

  “And where is that?” Ash drawled. “You don’t act like a man who is passing through town, not around my sister. A normal guy, presented with the potential to show up at the family dinner or attend a new business opening in a place he’s only visiting, would probably make some excuses. But here you are.”

  “We’re...” Caleb sighed. Wouldn’t he like to know the answer to that himself? Telling her brother that she was the first woman in a long time to make him stutter and sweat seemed like a bad idea. He refused to even think about the kiss, just in case Ash Kingfisher had any psychic ability. He and the Kingfishers were getting along. He had a feeling that might change if they knew, rather than suspected, that he and Winter had turned a weird corner into...something. “Business colleagues.”

  “Business. Colleagues.” Ash didn’t believe him. It wasn’t a great answer. There was no hint of satisfaction or relaxation in the man’s face, but Caleb figured Ash wasn’t willing to escalate the conversation in the middle of the party. When Macy stepped away and crooked her finger at Ash Kingfisher, he didn’t even hesitate but sliced through the crowd. Whatever her question was, Ash pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

  “That’s about me,” the blonde said and vibrated with nervous energy. “This is when I miss alcohol the most. When I needed to be brave, it never let me down.”

  “Want me to get you out of here?” Caleb wasn’t sure who she was or what her story might be, but terror was easy to read on her face. “I’m Caleb Callaway. We weren’t introduced the first time we met.”

  “I wasn’t sure you even saw me. Your eyes were locked on Winter. Your business colleague.” Her dry tone was impossible to ignore. She managed to look up in his face. “I know who you are. We all know who you are.” She offered him her hand and watched closely to see what he would do. “Leanne Hendrix, one of the few people in town who knows how rough it can be when people can identify you but aren’t sure whether they like you or not.”

  Caleb shook her hand carefully, afraid too much pressure might shatter her in a million pieces, and said, “The artist. Right?”

  Her eyebrows shot up and her expression transformed from terror to confusion and stayed stuck there. What had he said?

  Then she nodded slowly. “The artist. That’s my painting.”

  She moved forward one step. “I’m proud of it, and I haven’t had a lot of things to say that about. My kids. That’s it. But I do love that painting.”

  “You should. It’s amazing. You’re talented.” He watched her straighten. Caleb realized everyone in the crowd had craned their necks to check out the back of the room. Where he was standing. Talking to the artist. “You’re on. I heard you’re going to be interviewed. Are you ready?”

  She gulped. “No.” Then she straightened her shoulders and marched to join Winter in front of the camera.

  From his spot on the edge of the crowd, he watched as Winter seamlessly transitioned whatever she had been saying to an introduction of Leanne Hendrix and wondered how she’d developed that skill. It was part of what made her so good at her job—the ability to roll with new developments. He admired it.

  “So, Winter tells me you’re about to make us an offer we can’t refuse. Got your painting picked out yet? The big one, the one she’s standing in front of, sure would be pretty over your fireplace,” Janet Abernathy whispered from her spot next to him. When she’d landed there, he had no idea. “That Winter, she’s magnetic. Can’t take your eyes off her, can you?”

  Was she asking in a general way or him specifically?

  “You ever meet her parents? Dad’s an artist. You’re going to want some of his baskets, too. Let me introduce you.”

  Before Caleb could confess he knew Winter’s parents, Janet was towing him across the room by one sleeve pinched between bright red fingernails.

  But at least he wasn’t standing alone anymore.

  And no one in the crowd was glaring at him.

  This would be fine, after all.

  * * *

  “LEANNE IS A lifelong Sweetwater resident, but she’s only recently discovered her natural talent for capturing the beauty of the mountains here.” Winter gave her favorite polished smile. “Anyone who spends the day on Otter Lake or the trails of the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve will need to stop by Sweetwater Souvenir and Art to find the perfect keepsake to remind them of the day.”

  Bailey Garcia’s expression had transitioned quickly from confusion to irritation to...cold displeasure. At some point, she’d realized that Winter had agreed to the interview she’d been requesting for weeks for her own reasons, but Winter had never promised to answer the questions Bailey wanted to ask. That was a PR tactic she’d picked up in the early days at her first job out of college. Working for an electric company had never been a dream, but in terms of controlling bad press, it had been a graduate course in public relations.

  “On that note, I’ll send it back to you in the studio, Harry.” Bailey paused for a long moment while Winter braced herself. As soon as she could, Bailey thrust the microphone she was holding to her producer and turned on Winter. “What was that, Winter? We had a professional relationship here. Pulling a bait and switch like that? It’s the easiest way to build a bad name for yourself.” Bailey crossed her arms over her chest, as if she was prepared to wait for an answer.

  Leanne’s arm brushed Winter’s and she was reminded that the world around them hadn’t stopped. She patted Leanne’s back. “You did so well. Enjoy the party. That has to be easier than having a camera pointed at you.” Since she hadn’t seen Leanne speaking to any single person all night long, she had her doubts that it was, but she didn’t need to be involved in this argument, either. When
she saw Caleb’s head over the crowd, she relaxed. He would help. A second before she waved to get his attention, he turned toward her.

  As if he knew exactly where she was in the room and even that she needed him. Why did that send a warm shot of emotion through her?

  It was nice not to be standing alone in front of the crowd, even if Caleb was halfway across the gallery. If she called him, he’d be there for her.

  His dark eyes were assessing and then he nodded. When he was halfway through the crowd, Leanne surprised her. “I’ll go talk to Caleb. I’ll be fine.”

  She watched until Leanne met him in the crowd.

  Then she realized who he’d been talking to: her parents.

  Oh, boy.

  “Is that Caleb Callaway over there with Ash?” Bailey Garcia asked, her voice a slow drawl that did not match the new alertness in her expression. It reminded Winter of how a napping bear might perk up and sound about half a second before it ate your face for having disturbed its winter hibernation. “And Macy Gentry, I see. Are those your parents?”

  What did that matter? It was a small town. He had to run into all of them in a crowd this size. Deflect the attention. Change the story.

  “He’s staying in Sweetwater while he oversees construction on the lodge.” Winter moved both hands behind her back. She was about to start gesturing. Almost everyone who addressed the media had a tell—something that betrayed nerves. Her hands were her weakness. She would start pointing and motioning dramatically in order to convince Bailey that everything was exactly as she said. “But you already knew that.” Of course she did. She’d interrupted work at the site. “How about this? I’ll give you a recorded interview. We can talk about the lodge project. It’s moving quickly.” And she would sing Callaway praises.

  “Are you also prepared to tell me why Caleb Callaway is doing your bidding? You were asking for his help, right? Across the room?” Bailey stared over the crowd at Caleb. “And he responded almost like a boyfriend might. Are you two dating?” Breathless excitement was the worst setting on a news reporter.

  “Of course not. My history with the Callaway family is...rocky enough.” This was where it got tricky. Caleb had asked her to speak well of Whit. What he didn’t understand was that Bailey would keep coming until she discovered something else to dramatize.

  “Caleb and I have discussed the lodge several times. He is here tonight because I suggested a visit to see more of what Sweetwater has to offer. This town owes a lot to the Callaways, so it’s good to have a strong relationship with everyone in the family. This gallery is a huge new opportunity for this town and the area. I believe that he, in particular, and the other Callaways in general are recommitted to the protection of the land and history of the reserve. I’ll be happy to say that again on camera. That’s a great sound bite.”

  “Sure, because everyone loves it when a juicy feud ends with adult behavior and calm consideration.” Bailey sniffed. They both knew that wouldn’t entice viewers to tune in.

  A story about Winter Kingfisher switching Callaway brothers? Ratings bonanza.

  “Well, that’s the story we have.” Winter tangled her fingers together into a tight knot. When Bailey’s eyes dropped to her hands, Winter had the sinking feeling that this reporter had done a close enough study to know her weaknesses.

  Meeting Bailey’s suspicious stare wasn’t easy, but this was the part where training paid off. Any second, she’d get frustrated and leave.

  “You don’t mind if I hang around. We’ll get a few crowd shots to show in the package that we put online.” Bailey smiled slowly.

  Almost as if she knew Winter was counting the seconds until she left.

  “Please do. Have some punch. I made it myself.” Winter did her best spokesmodel hand wave toward the refreshment table. “And when you’re ready to buy some of Sweetwater’s finest art, let me know. I’m working on commission here.” Her hearty laugh was fake, fake, fake. And everyone had to know it, but she needed a few minutes to catch her breath.

  Then she’d have to rescue Caleb from her father’s enthusiasm and warn him to be careful around the reporter. The Callaways wanted to squash the news. A hint of something between the two of them would pour gas on the flames and build a fire it would take years to put out.

  Determined to pretend that everything was fine, Winter worked the room on her way over to the display she and Leanne had built of her father’s baskets. While she wouldn’t call the firefighting group of park rangers close friends, it was nice to see several of them and their significant others, as well as the law-enforcement rangers scattered throughout the room. Christina and Brett Hendrix were bundled together in one of the quieter corners of the room. Were they talking? Winter studied them more closely. It seemed they were only staring at each other and happy to do so.

  Reminded of Christina’s teasing at their first girls’ night out, Winter considered barging in between them. Getting even would be fun.

  Sadly, she decided to do her duty and went to join her parents.

  “If you’re of a mind to offer classes, you know, fun activities at the lodge, birdwatching or nature photography, I’d be happy to throw my name into the ring for consideration. I know my way around the park.” Martin Kingfisher shoved his hands nonchalantly in the pockets of his dress slacks. “Or there’s always my basket-weaving class. It’s calming. Therapeutic. I could include history, tell stories about my mother and hers. My grandmother made her own dyes, but I haven’t gotten the hang of it. The trick seems to be—”

  “What’s the completion date for the lodge?” her mother interjected as she wrapped her hand around her husband’s arm. Her teasing look and his chastened-but-amused one were so familiar, but it was sweet to be reminded that, in a world where things fell apart easily and often, her parents had been solid for forty years. One short sweet wedding in front of Yanu Falls was all it had taken. Her dad talked too much. Her mother loved him for it but did her best to be sure others loved him, too. “Why didn’t we talk about this over tacos? We must have been preoccupied with other matters.”

  Winter quickly checked to see who might be close enough to hear, but the news crew was close to the door.

  “No later than July first. The Callaways are planning a big Independence Day picnic to celebrate the grand opening.” Caleb met Winter’s stare. He didn’t smile, but something about his expression reminded her of the way her father looked at her mother.

  Like they might be able to guess what the other was thinking if they spent forty years exchanging similar glances.

  “No fireworks.” Ash shook his head slowly, his lips a tight line. “Fire hazard.”

  That wouldn’t go over well with the Callaways, who always went with bigger, better and louder for their party aesthetic.

  Whatever his first answer was, Caleb changed his mind and held up both hands in surrender. “Nothing goes forward without the okay of the head ranger. Speeches and tours, food of some kind. My mother is in charge of the party. I’ll tell my father to cross off anything requiring lit matches.”

  “Indeed, and since construction is notorious for overruns of money and time, you might tell ’em to be considering a Labor Day celebration. Thanksgiving.” The twinkle in her mother’s eyes convinced Winter to stand down. She’d been prepared to argue on Caleb’s behalf. He was working hard to meet the schedule. The evidence was there in the fatigue around his eyes.

  Callaways never had been ones to dodge difficult jobs, even if her mother didn’t quite approve of the rest of the family’s ideals.

  “I have my orders, Mrs. Kingfisher. Whit Callaway, Sr., will have my butt if I allow this project to run long.” Caleb shifted back. “It got off to a slow start. That’s why I’m here. My stepfather wanted someone committed to meeting the timeline and goals of the project here in town.”

  Her mother softened. “I get that. Some things are so important we only
trust the people we really care about to handle them. The stuff that matters requires the best of the best. Your stepfather must have a lot of faith in you. We know this lodge matters. At least enough to go to political war over.”

  Caleb frowned as he listened. It was too bad they hadn’t spent more time with nonverbal communication. Winter wanted to know what that frown meant.

  “Caleb’s been busy sourcing local, sustainable, green products, Mama. That’s what he did with his company. This is going to be a lodge that Sweetwater can be proud of.” Winter wasn’t sure why she said it, except that she remembered other occasions when she was the only Kingfisher in a crowd of Callaways. Caleb, when he’d managed to show up, had been an ally.

  He’d also sat shoulder-to-shoulder with her at her mother’s picnic table, ready to defend her if the heat got to be too much. Winter battled the desire to slip her hand into his. In this crowd, such a gesture would send a whispered report around in an instant, alerting everyone, even her family, to the...whatever it was between them. Instead, Winter knotted her hands together tightly at her waist.

  “Funny how sons in the same family can be so different.” Her mother pursed her lips. “Man who wears those boots to an art gallery is showing people who he is, I guess. I appreciate that, almost as much as you clearing out my leftovers, Caleb.”

  Caleb squared off face-to-face with her mother. “Thank you. Whit has made some mistakes. I have, too. He’s got a good heart. He’ll do the right thing.”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed and she nodded. “Fine. I accept that. Good people make bad decisions. Handling the consequences, though, that’s where the real story lies.”

  Caleb’s eyes met Winter’s. He’d saved her from some consequences. Was he reminding her of that?

  “Well, now that the serious portion of our evening is over, Martin, why don’t you tell us how you create these baskets? Everybody, hit up the refreshments table. This is supposed to be a party. If the cops don’t roll up with noise complaints soon, I’ll know it’s a pure failure.” Janet Abernathy clapped her hands, and the frozen crowd resumed mingling.