“I guess the place where I felt most out of place was in my own family,” Callum mused as they rode. “My parents were wonderful people, content living in a small town and running a store. They never understood why I was so eager to head off to college and see the world.”
“They were proud of you.” Jody had dropped by the feed store occasionally after he left, eager for news of his activities.
“I know, and I loved them a lot,” he said. “I wish I could have been the son they expected. It was hard on them, having their only child live so far away. But I took after my restless grandmother.”
Jody recalled his mentioning once that his father’s mother had been a painter from Chicago who arrived in town to capture the Texas landscape and ended up marrying a local man. “She must have found something special in Everett Landing.”
“I suppose she did, although she stopped painting after a while,” he said. “I think she romanticized the place to herself, and by the time she figured out that she’d boxed herself in, it was too late. But I’m just guessing. She died when I was little.”
“Did she paint the landscape in your parents’ living room?” Jody had admired it when she visited there.
He nodded. “She had quite a talent and a great imagination. Dad was nothing like her.”
“Your father had his own gift,” Jody said. “He always had a kind word or a joke to brighten my day. You’re more like him than you realize.”
She wondered if she’d said the wrong thing, because Callum changed the subject and began asking for details about the ranch. Or maybe he simply wanted to know more. He listened intently as she described how much she’d learned the last year as the cycle of seasons rolled past, from summer haying to winter repairs and spring calving.
While she talked, Jody felt both satisfaction and the heavy weight of responsibility. With her students, she’d been able to measure their progress, and she could count on a paycheck. A ranch struggled to survive. She no sooner finished a chore than it needed doing again, and there was always the risk of a natural disaster or other financial setback.
She tossed her head, letting her hair billow on the breeze. This was the life into which she’d been born, and she’d put down roots here.
Even so, she hoped right down to her bones that soon she and the boys would be kicking up their heels beneath the spires of Notre Dame. Although she might lack Callum’s daring, once in a while she got restless, too.
“YOU’RE HUMMING,” he said approvingly. Callum enjoyed the way Jody often hummed or sang under her breath as if a musical current ran through her veins.
She blinked in surprise. “Was I?”
He let the melody reverberate in his memory before identifying it. “It’s ‘Under Paris Skies.”’
“Oh.” She blushed.
All the while she’d been rhapsodizing aloud about her life as a rancher, she’d been dreaming of Gay Paree. “I understand how it feels to wish you were somewhere else,” Callum said.
“I don’t wish I were somewhere else!”
“You never wish you were in a classroom?”
“That’s cheating,” she told him. “I was able to indulge my dream for a while. Maybe I’ll do it again when I get too old for physical labor, although standing in front of kids all day isn’t exactly easy.”
“When we were in college, I half expected that you’d decide to come to California, too,” he said. “You seemed interested in the challenge of working in a larger school district, and you used to pepper me with questions about everything from Disneyland to the movie industry, as if I had some secret fount of knowledge.”
“I was just curious because you were going there,” Jody said. “I wasn’t interested for myself. I’ve always known where I belong.”
“You’ve always known where you felt safe,” Callum corrected. An unexpected thought occurred to him.
That didn’t make sense. They’d spent so many years apart that in some ways they hardly knew each other. Yet in other ways, it felt as if no more than a few months had passed since they’d attended college together.
“Let’s have our picnic over there.” Jody pointed out a stand of trees. “There’s a stream through the middle. It’s one of my favorite spots.”
“I’m sold.”
Inside the dappled grove, they set the horses free to graze. With their reins draped on the ground, the well- trained animals wouldn’t wander far.
There was no need for words as he and Jody spread a blanket on the ground and helped themselves. In addition to the sandwiches, they’d packed carrots and cookies, which vanished swiftly.
“Is my hair a mess?” Jody asked as they relaxed afterwards. She wore it loose, the way he preferred.
“A little tangled maybe.” Callum plucked a twig from one curly strand. “Hold on.” He retrieved a folding comb from his pocket and, moving closer, began to work through her tangles.
“You don’t have to do that.” Despite her words, Jody didn’t pull away.
“I don’t mind.” Sitting behind her, he slid closer until she fit between his upraised knees. “You smell like roses.”
“I smell like my shampoo.”
“Could you be a little less romantic?” he teased.
“We’re supposed to be testing our ability to remain platonic friends,” Jody reminded him.
How could a man remain platonic with a softly built honey of a woman grasped between his thighs? Callum knew better than to even hint at his response to her, though, or Jody would whisk out of his grasp so fast she’d take the comb with her.
He searched for a neutral topic. It wasn’t easy, because he kept picturing her in the shower, shampooing her hair with her arms raised and her full breasts thrust prominently the way she’d done after they made love. Correction: after the first time they made love and just before the second time.
“Do you think I should cut my hair?” she asked.
“It’s beautiful this way.”
“It’s messy and it makes me look like an idiot,” she said. “The reason I wear it all one length is because Louise can cut it.”
“You don’t look like an idiot,” Callum said. “I know actresses who would kill to have hair like yours.”
“You’re lying!” Even with her back turned, she radiated disbelief.
“With the split ends trimmed off,” he amended.
“I do not have split ends!”
Callum laughed close to her neck, and felt her quiver in response. “I made that up. Seriously, you have lovely hair. Lovely everything else, too.”
“No, I don’t. I could lose some weight,” Jody said.
“What?” To him, her womanly figure had always been the standard to which he compared all others. “You’re built just right.”
“I don’t look like a model, and don’t lie to me about it.” Although he couldn’t see her face, Callum imagined the way her lips must be twitching as she awaited his response.
“I agree. You don’t look like a model.” He played the comb lightly against her scalp, doing his best to tantalize her. “If I put my arms around a model, all I feel are bones.”
Her shoulders drooped. “You put your arms around them a lot, don’t you?”
“Hardly ever. Let me show you what I mean.” Setting the comb aside, he stroked Jody’s cheek and trailed the back of his hand along her jawline. When the tension eased from her muscles and she issued a small sigh, Callum bowed his head until his nose grazed her neck. “There’s no one else I want to be this close to.”
“Me, either,” she whispered.
He collected her in his arms. Although his body tightened instinctively, Callum didn’t want to rush. Every moment with Jody was precious, he mused as he kissed her earlobe.
The breeze sifted around them, filled with the scents of fields and trees. From nearby came the rustling of the horses as they fed. Callum didn’t remember when he’d known such utter peace.
