Fated for Love Read online

  “There’s a reason I don’t go to places like this.” Callie stalked away, irritated and feeling duped. “I happen to like my life as it is. A dude ranch? Really, you guys?”

  “Yeah, we know you love the library, and you love your apartment.” Kathie picked up Callie’s bag and dug through it. She held up a romance book and her Jillian Michaels DVD. “Cal, you’ve slept with exactly three men in your life, two of whom were nerdy math students. Your sex life is fictional and your exercise is…” She eyed the DVD. “Okay, it’s tough and efficient, but it keeps you locked in your apartment. We just want you to be happy, and we want you to meet a guy who will adore you. And you can’t exactly do that in a library.”

  “I meet men.”

  Kathie rolled her eyes. “Where? Because last I heard, your daily pattern was pretty much apartment to library to apartment. Rinse, wash, repeat.” Kathie pulled her down to the bed again. “Sweetie, we love you. You’re a beautiful twenty-six-year-old woman, and we don’t want you to end up a beautiful fifty-six-year-old cat lady having fictional sex. Especially when all it takes is knowing you can handle anything so you’re confident enough to go out without us and meet real men who give real orgasms.”

  Callie felt her cheeks flush. “I’m allergic to cats, so no worries there, and you know I hate the whole idea of going out to meet men.” She couldn’t dispute the rest, and it had been way too long since she’d had an orgasm that wasn’t self-administered.

  “We do know that, Cal, but it’s not like many young, single guys hang out at the Trusty Town Library. This is all going to be fun,” Bonnie assured her. “We’re going horseback riding, fishing, shooting.”

  Callie didn’t care if many men hung out at the library. The only one she wanted did, and that was enough for her. Even if she never did more than talk to him once a week, a few minutes of Wes Braden was enough to fuel her fantasies at least seven days.

  Callie flopped back on the bed. “All of which you guys will do really well and I’ll stink at.” She threw her arm over her eyes. “Just take me home. You can enjoy your little dude vacation, and I’ll go back to work, where I should be.”

  “No way.” Kathie pulled her back up to a sitting position. “You’ve spent years hiding in your books, Cal. We love you, but just because our parents were more rural and yours were more academic doesn’t mean you’ll stink at these things. You just haven’t been exposed to them.”

  “I hate being around deep water. You know that. I’ve never even ridden a real horse. A pony on a lead years ago, but…” Callie sat up and gave Kathie a deadpan stare. “And shooting, Kathie? Just the thought of guns makes my stomach hurt.”

  Callie wondered what her parents would think about her being at a dude ranch, much less shooting a gun. They’d supported her move, but she knew they missed her. She was an only child, and they’d always treated her more like a mini adult than a child. They’d taught her to play Scrabble when she was eight, and the three of them used to read in the evenings when other kids were watching Nickelodeon. It never even would have occurred to them to vacation at a dude ranch.

  Christine went to the window. “Cal, come here.”

  Callie tried to fall back on the bed again and Kathie and Bonnie dragged her from the bed to Christine. She had to admit, the view was spectacular, and the horses were beautiful, but the serenity she’d thought about downstairs was blown apart by the image of guns and fishing and whatever other crazy things they wanted to torture her with.

  “Look how serene it is out there. You can sit on the front porch and read all evening if you want.” Christine turned to face her. “All we want is a few hours of each day to get you out of your shell. They have live music at night, campfires, beautiful horses…and every ranch has sexy cowboys.”

  “Can’t I get out of my shell at a real spa, without fish hooks and guns?” She remembered what Wes had said about spiders and snakes, and her stomach plunged again.

  “I’ll tell you what. Give us twenty-four hours. Just one day of whatever they have planned for us, and if you truly hate it, we’ll leave and you can go home and bury your nose in a book and fantasize about Mr. Darcy, Prince Charming, or that Shades of Grey guy.” Christine’s big brown eyes held the hope and love only a best friend’s could. She saw the shiny side of a rusty dime, and she brought that positivity to the group. There was no way Callie could turn her down.

  “Fine,” she relented. “One day.” She put her DVD and book back in her bag and carried it to the other bedroom. A dude ranch. What the heck was a dude ranch, anyway? She pulled out her computer to research The Woodlands while the girls showered and dressed for the barbecue, and of course, there was no Internet. She pulled out her iPhone. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

  She typed in the name of the ranch and the search results began to populate. Then stopped. She did it again, and again it stopped. She held the phone up toward the ceiling, hoping for service, and paced the floor. Bonnie returned from the shower wrapped in a thick towel.

  “The service here is really spotty, almost nonexistent. They told us that when we registered. Actually, I think their exact words were, Might as well not even try. Sorry, Cal.” She unpacked her bags while she spoke. “We didn’t mean to dupe you.”

  Callie glared at her.

  “Okay, we did, but out of love. When you were in Denver, you had a life. You went to the park; you met us for drinks and to go shopping. And now that we’re so far apart, and we’re all married…We’re worried about you in that little town all by yourself.”

  If she was honest with herself, Callie would admit that she’d been a little worried, too. She missed her friends, and she missed their nights out. Texting and talking on the phone helped, but they all had husbands, and she knew that when they weren’t working, they didn’t need her bothering them all the time—sometimes, maybe, but not every night. She was a little lonely, even with her book boyfriends.

  “The town is really cute, and the people are nice. I like it there.” That much was true. She liked Alice, and the people she’d met in the library—and ogling Wes every week. She hoped that she’d settle in and eventually meet a girlfriend to hang out with, maybe find a place outside to replace her favorite spot at the park in Denver. And when she was really feeling generous with her bucket of hope, she allowed herself to hope Wes might see her as something more than a girl who knew her books.

  Callie enjoyed the small-town feel of Trusty, maybe even more than she liked Denver. If her friends were there—or if her dreams about Wes ever came true—she would definitely put Trusty ahead of Denver. “It’s typical small town, you know? Everyone waves to each other on the street, and in the diner they ask after family members.” She shrugged. “It’s like they’ve known each other forever. It’s nice and quiet, too, which you know I love.”

  “Oh yeah, I know. How about guys? Last time we talked, you hadn’t really met anyone who was even slightly appealing.” Bonnie began brushing her hair. “Well, unless you count that guy you refuse to make a move on.”

  She thought of Wes and sighed. “He’s so out of my league, it’s crazy. I’ve never seen anyone like him, at least not in real life.”

  Bonnie pointed her brush at Callie. “First of all, no guy is out of your league. You’re gorgeous and smarter than all of us put together.” She flicked on the hair dryer and yelled over it, “He’s really that yummy? So what’s the problem?”

  Callie shrugged as she unpacked her bags. The reality of having not packed jeans or even shorts and being stuck at a dude ranch settled heavily on her shoulders. “Probably that I turn into a bumbling idiot around him.”

  “Who’s yummy?” Christine came into the room wearing a black shirt with SINGLE SLAYERS emblazoned across her chest.

  “What is that?” Callie pointed to Christine’s shirt.

  “They’re called boobs.” Christine’s eyes widened in feigned surprise as she pointed at Callie’s chest. “Look! You have them, too.”

  “Did I he
ar yummy?” Kathie joined them, wearing an identical SINGLE SLAYERS shirt.

  Callie turned, and sure enough, Bonnie wore a matching one. “What the heck is this? Did you hire a guy for me, too?”

  “Damn. We should have thought of that,” Kathie said. “No. We’re just having fun. You’re the last single one of us. We’re just going to help you cut loose, so you can move forward and slay as many single men as you want.”

  Callie shook her head. “I am not going anywhere with you dressed like that. You can just forget it.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s all in fun,” Kathie urged.

  “Slay men? I don’t slay men.” Callie shook her head. “Nope. I’ll leave right now if you plan on wearing those stupid things. You might as well have shirts that say, Please help us find a man for my loser friend.”

  “First of all, you’re definitely not a loser.” Kathie whipped her shirt off. “Second of all, this is definitely not a man-seeking mission. This is just the opposite.”

  Christine and Bonnie took off their shirts and tossed them on the bed. All three of them now stood in their bras and jeans with their hands on their hips, like Charlie’s Angels without the guns.

  “This is a confidence-building mission so you can take Trusty, Colorado, by storm,” Kathie explained.

  “Yeah. Then you can go after Mr. Hottie…What’s his name again?” Bonnie asked. She picked up her camera and clicked off a shot of the pile of T-shirts. “Gotta have memories.”

  “Wes. Wes Braden.” Her stomach fluttered as she said his name.

  Charlie’s Angels shared another glance that made Callie sweat. “Oh no. What?”

  A loud bell rang in the distance, and Christine gasped. “Calling all fillies! That’s the dinner bell. We gotta get dressed, and, Callie, you haven’t showered. Hurry.”

  She ushered Callie toward the bathroom.

  THE RUSTIC LODGE was made of logs and stone, with exposed-beam ceilings, hardwood floors, and wooden railings that led up to the guest rooms. The Woodlands had a small staff, including a receptionist, a housekeeper who also helped bartend, a barn manager, and two ranch hands who assisted on outings, cooked, took care of the animals and the ranch, and pitched in just about anywhere they were needed.

  Wes greeted a young couple by tipping his Stetson. He amped up the Western hospitality that folks from out of town loved so much. Howdy, ma’am. Yes, sir. Y’all enjoying your stay? Then he headed out to the barbecue area by the barn to meet the women he’d be guiding over the next few days. As he crossed the lawn toward the barn, with the sun setting behind the mountains and Sweets trotting by his side, his mind drifted to Callie.

  He wondered what she was doing at the spa with her friends. He imagined her dressed primly, sitting poolside and drinking froufrou cocktails. He wondered if she wore a bikini or a one-piece bathing suit. He’d bet his bottom dollar on the one-piece, given all those tiny buttons that ran up the center of the blouse she’d had on that morning. His mind immediately retrieved the image of her nipples becoming taut peaks beneath the sheer white material of her blouse. He had to stop thinking of her like that. She was definitely not the kind of girl who would want him to rip those buttons off with his teeth. He stifled his desirous thoughts as he came to the picnic area.

  The twelve-foot barbecue pit was built of indigenous rock at the base of a hill on the east side of the entertainment barn, where the barn dances were held. Wes spotted four women talking to Cutter Long, the barn manager. At twenty-eight, Cutter had a youthful face and a rich tan. In his leather chaps and Woodlands T-shirt, with a perpetually unshaven face, piercing blue eyes, and pitch-black hair he wore a little long, women flocked to him. Wes shook his head at the common sight. The employees knew how he felt about hooking up with guests, and as far as he knew, they respected that thin gray line.

  Wes joined Butch Armstrong, one of the ranch hands, by the barbecue pit.

  “Hey. Butch. How’s it going?” Butch had worked for Wes for six years, since his wife of thirty-seven years passed away. He’d since sold his property in a neighboring town and moved to the lodge full-time. Butch was even-tempered, known for seeing and hearing everything that went on at the ranch, and the spitting image of Ed Harris—nearly cue-ball bald on top with a few sparse white hairs above his ears. He had vibrant and wise blue eyes, weathered skin, and a quiet way about him.

  Sweets stood beside him, completely oblivious to the delicious aroma wafting around her.

  “Mighty fine evening, Wes.” Butch patted Sweets on the head. “Looks like you have a fine group.” Butch nodded toward the women talking with Cutter. He added barbecue sauce to the chicken and steaks on the grill. It sizzled and popped from the drippings.

  “Smells amazing, like usual.” Wes bent down to pet Sweets. “Tonight you’re really missing out, Sweets.”

  “I’m still not used to a dog who can’t smell and doesn’t beg for food.” Butch stirred the vegetables in an iron pot and shifted the foil-wrapped biscuits to the outside of the fire. He took a piece of chicken and set it to the side to cool before holding it out for Sweets to gobble up.

  “Thanks, Butch. Time to meet the girls.” Wes did a quick visual survey of the women as he approached. Two blondes, two brunettes. All but one wore jeans and boots, the fourth, the petite brunette—with sweet curves—wore a moss-green dress that stopped just short of her knees, belted at her narrow waist and accented by a fancy pair of cowgirl boots. Simple. Sexy. Off-limits.

  Cutter met his gaze and cocked a crooked smile. Over the years, Wes had learned to read Cutter’s looks as accurately as Cutter could read his. The way he was eyeing the girl in the green dress told Wes that she was just as hot from the front as from the rear.

  “Here’s Wes now. Wes, these are your—” The rest of Cutter’s introduction was white noise as the women turned to greet Wes. Callie? Calliope Barnes. He replayed their earlier conversation. Spa. Girlfriends. Surprise.

  Holy hell.

  Callie’s eyes widened and she bit her lower lip. Her fingers began doing the fidgety thing he’d noticed her doing at the library, playing with the fabric of her dress.

  Sweets bounded forward.

  “Aw, look at the puppy.” The blonde with the short, straight hair knelt to pet Sweets. “What’s your puppy’s name?”

  Wes couldn’t look away from Callie. “Sweets.”

  “Sweets? That’s her name?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Wes was still trying to wrap his mind around the buttoned-up and intricately bunned librarian he knew from the library and the woman before him being one and the same. She looked even more beautiful with her hair framing her face in silky waves and that sexy dress with the open neckline, revealing a path of milky skin that looked good enough to taste. His pulse accelerated at the thought.

  “Hi,” the other, taller brunette said. “I’m Kathie Sharp. Your ranch is gorgeous.”

  “Oh, I’m Christine, by the way,” the short-haired blonde said as she petted Sweets.

  “Oh my God. She’s so cute.” The other blonde, who had thicker, wavier hair, took pictures of Sweets as she fell to her knees. “I’m Bonnie. She’s so cute. I hope you don’t mind if I take a few shots.”

  Sweets rolled over on her back, giving them better access to her belly.

  Wes tipped his hat with a nod. “Not at all.”

  Callie was still nibbling on her lower lip.

  “Callie, I didn’t expect to see you here.” He was damn glad she was there, but equally as worried. How in the hell was he supposed to suppress what he felt every time he saw her? Talking with her for a few minutes in the library wasn’t easy, and he’d been lucky that there was always someone there to distract him when he felt himself wanting to reach out and touch her. He’d begun to need a Callie fix on Thursdays the way addicts needed drugs.

  “You know each other?” Kathie ran her eyes between them.

  “Callie works at the library where I live,” Wes explained.

  Bonnie gently nudged Callie. “
You didn’t tell us you knew Wes.”

  “Yes, I did,” she said quietly.

  “I guess it’s not exactly the spa you were expecting.” He wondered why her friends had thought this was a good trip to surprise her with. Callie didn’t come across as the adventurous type.

  She shook her head and licked her lips, then trapped her lower lip between her teeth again.

  Good Lord. You’re adorably sexy.

  “How old is Sweets?” Christine asked as she rose to her feet.

  “Our best guess is around three and a half months. I found her abandoned on a mountain trail.”

  That earned him a collective Aw and drew them all back down to shower Sweets with love and kisses—except for Callie, who was standing still as a statue. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. That wasn’t exactly true. He could think of plenty of positions he’d like to put her in that might make her a little uncomfortable, none of which included her being speechless or looking like she wanted an eagle to drop from the sky and swoop her away.

  She’s off-limits.

  Very off-limits.

  Wes forced himself to shift his focus away from her and pulled the itineraries from his back pocket.

  “These are your itineraries for the week. You’ll see that you have plenty of free time, and if you can’t, or don’t want to, take part in any of the activities, you’re welcome to hang out here at the ranch. There’s always someone around to talk to.” When he handed Callie her copy, she finally released her lip. He didn’t think it was possible for her to look even more alluring, but her high cheekbones gave the impression of a slight smile even when he was sure she wasn’t trying. Her nose wasn’t perky or perfect, but rather plain and small. It enhanced her Cupid-like mouth and full lips, reeling him right in. Callie had thinly manicured brows and slightly wide-set brown eyes, which gave her a refreshing hint of innocence that had drawn him in since the first day he’d met her a month ago and made Wes want to wrap her in his arms and remind her to breathe.