Ford: 7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Read online

  Long, tousled honey-blonde hair, big blue eyes…damn. He tilted the phone and took in her flannel pajama pants and ribbed tank top and…double damn. When his gaze hit her face again, Ford noticed the flash of annoyance there. That’s when he opted to put the focus on himself so she could see he was who he claimed to be. Her soft gasp told him she recognized him.

  If only he could say the same of her…

  “Okay,” he said calmly. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but…as you can see, I am Margaret’s grandson. I know it’s late but…you’ve got to go.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest—which was a shame—and continued to glare at him. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said defiantly. “I’m renting this house from Margaret, so if anyone’s going to leave, it’s you.”

  “You rent this place? Since when?” As he spoke, the light of the phone seemed to get her right in the eyes, because she instantly shielded them. And as much as he wanted answers, Ford was fairly certain he could get them without blinding her.

  “For the last three months,” she said as she sat down on the corner of the bed. “No one mentioned you were coming to visit.”

  “I hopped on a plane as soon as I heard about Grams’ accident,” he explained, wondering how they were being so calm when everything was so confusing. “And no one mentioned you were renting this place.” He paused. “Who are you?”

  With a smile that was tinged with disappointment, she said, “Callie James.” When he didn’t react, she went on, “My mother used to come and clean for Margaret and Ben once a week when I was younger.” He still didn’t say anything, and her disappointment turned to annoyance. “You were about four years ahead of me but we went to school together…”

  Blaming his befuddled mind on exhaustion, Ford did his best to rack his brain for what she was saying to him and then…

  “Wait, you’re Ruthie’s daughter?”

  She nodded. “Yup. That’s me,” she said, forcing a smile. “I spent a lot of time here when I was younger, and when I got the job teaching kindergarten at the elementary school, your grandmother offered me the guesthouse to live in.” She shrugged. “Saves time on the commute and all.”

  Ford nodded. “I’ll be honest, I had no idea anyone was living out here. Grams didn’t mention it, and I just assumed I’d stay here while some of the work was being done on the house.”

  “Looks like you need to have a Plan B.”

  Raking a hand through his hair, Ford sat down on the bed beside her. Well now what was he supposed to do? Obviously, they knew each other—sort of—and it was completely plausible that Grams had rented the cottage out to her, but…where did that leave him?

  “How did you even get in here?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Key in the flowerpot.” With a loud yawn, he fought the urge to lie down and pray for this to just be a dream.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but…”

  Yeah. He knew what was coming. Standing up, he reached for his jeans and was about to slide them on when she spoke again.

  “It’s really late,” Callie said. “And knowing how you probably came here right from the airport, no doubt you’re exhausted.”

  “That I am.”

  “I don’t think there’s any damage to the main house other than the front porch—”

  “Until I can look at it in the daylight, there’s no way to guarantee it’s safe,” he interrupted.

  She sighed. Loudly. “Margaret would probably kill me if I kicked you out. And after everything she’s done for me…” Callie stopped and seemed to consider her next words. Ford held his breath and prayed he wasn’t going to have to go searching for a place to stay. “There’s a mattress upstairs in the loft. If you wouldn’t mind…”

  Relief washed over him, and he had to fight the urge to hug her with gratitude. If push had come to shove, he would have left and gone to his parents’ house, but it was a good thirty minutes away and considering how tired he was, it wouldn’t have been a safe drive. “Say no more,” he said. “I have no problem with sleeping up in the loft.” Swiftly, Ford stood and put his jeans on.

  “There are sheets and blankets on it,” Callie stated. “It’s not much to look at, but I like having it made up rather than sitting up there bare on the floor.”

  Even if it had been bare, he would have made do. “Considering it’s completely dark up there, I don’t think I would have noticed.”

  “Can you find your way?”

  He laughed softly. “I’ve been here enough times that I can definitely navigate it in the dark.”

  And he could.

  When it was his grandmother’s furniture here.

  He’d gone all of three steps when he crashed into something and cursed.

  Somewhere behind him, Callie let out a low and husky laugh. Rather than risk doing any more damage, he used his phone to illuminate his way up the stairs to the loft. She must have followed him out of the bedroom, because when he looked down at the room below, he spotted her looking up at him.

  “You okay?” she asked with a small grin. “Are there enough pillows up there?”

  Turning, Ford looked at the bed and then back at her. “It looks just fine, Callie. Thanks.”

  “If there’s anything else you need—”

  He held up a hand to cut her off. “I think right now, all I need is about eight hours of sleep.”

  “That makes two of us,” she said, and yawned. “Good night, Ford. We’ll straighten this out in the morning, okay?”

  As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t much to straighten out. This was obviously her place and he was going to have to come up with an alternate plan.

  Add that to your to-do list, he thought miserably.

  With any luck, the main house wouldn’t be in that bad of shape and he’d be able to live in it while the repairs were being done. That was preferable to staying in town. The less he had to interact with the good people of Eagle’s Ridge, the better.

  That was not something he wanted to think about right now—especially if he wanted to get any sleep. As it was, it was going to be hard to unwind. Callie’s scream had woken him right up and everything felt weird now. He wasn’t relaxed, and even as he stripped back down to his briefs and crawled onto the mattress, he felt an overwhelming sense of unease. Whether it was the loft, the house or the current situation of knowing he was sharing this small space with a beautiful stranger, he couldn’t be sure.

  Well, Callie wasn’t really a stranger, but still…

  Forcing himself to relax and close his eyes, he found that his body’s need for sleep was paramount to his need to over-analyze his current state of affairs. And as sleep started to claim him for the second time that evening, the last thought to come to mind was how beautiful little Callie James had grown up to be.

  * * *

  I was in bed with Ford Garrison!

  If she could be certain that Ford wouldn’t hear her, Callie would be squealing with excitement as her fourteen-year-old self had a field day with the night’s events. But it was a tiny house, and just as she was pretty sure she could hear him breathing, she was also pretty sure he’d hear her if she opted to jump up and down on the bed as she lived out her teenage dreams.

  Ford Garrison. Here. In her house.

  And for a few brief moments, in her bed and in his underwear.

  Yeah, her fourteen-year-old self was having a bit of a heart attack at the thought.

  Then again, so was her twenty-six-year-old self.

  Okay, she had to stop thinking about that because at this rate, she wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. Although she had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t going to happen anyway. It didn’t seem as if her heart rate was ready to return to normal, and there weren’t enough sheep to count to help her either.

  With a small groan, Callie rolled onto her side and forced herself to think about something other than how briefly terrified she’d been to wake up to a stranger in her b
ed. Well, not a stranger, but still. For a few minutes there, she had cursed herself for not taking those self-defense classes her mother had wanted her to, and for thinking it was a good idea to live out in the middle of nowhere—even though the middle of nowhere was still closer to her job than her previous home.

  Renting Margaret Garrison’s guest cottage had been an answer to a prayer. Not that living with her mother was a bad thing, but once Callie had accepted the job at Eagle’s Ridge Elementary School teaching kindergarten, she wanted to be closer to the school. The amount of time required of her, added to the commute, meant she would have had little to no time to herself.

  It had been fate that she’d run into Margaret at the library. As a former teacher herself, Margaret had been thrilled to hear of Callie’s new position and offered to help in any way she could. As soon as she mentioned wishing she lived closer, the offer of the guesthouse had been made. It wasn’t an offer so much as a command. Just the memory of their conversation brought a smile to her face.

  No one said no to Margaret Garrison.

  Including her grandson, apparently.

  She was just about to close her eyes when an odd observation came to mind—why hadn’t Margaret mentioned Callie renting the guesthouse to Ford? She knew the two of them talked often, and Callie had been in the house for a little over three months so…why hadn’t it come up?

  For an hour, she tossed and turned, huffed and puffed and willed herself to go back to sleep, but no matter how hard she tried, all she could think about was Ford sleeping right above her.

  “Dammit,” she muttered and punched her pillow. Normally, Callie had no trouble falling and staying asleep, and if she happened to wake up in the middle of the night, it was never a problem going back to sleep. Of course, this was the first time she’d woken up and thought someone had broken into her house, so…

  “Okay, this is getting me nowhere,” she whispered to herself, and then closed her eyes and began to count backwards from one hundred.

  It must have worked, because the next time she woke up the sun was shining. Rolling over, she looked at the bedside clock but clearly the electricity hadn’t been restored yet. There was a definite chill in the cottage, but nothing she wasn’t growing used to. For a few moments, she lay completely still and tried to hear if Ford was awake. Maybe he was a late sleeper or—for all she knew—he woke up with the sun and was already gone.

  Just the thought of that made her a little sad. It would have been nice to see him in the light of day and—

  She gasped. As much as she wanted to see him in the light of day, she would seriously prefer if he didn’t see her just quite yet.

  Mornings weren’t her strong suit.

  After not hearing a sound for a solid five minutes, she kicked off the blankets and decided to get up. With little more than a stretch and a shiver, Callie reached for her robe before going into the bathroom to do a little damage control.

  You know, just in case.

  After she brushed her teeth and opted to put her hair up in a ponytail, she stepped out into the living room and waited. Looking around, she didn’t see any sign of him and figured he must have gotten up early and gone over to Margaret’s to start assessing the damage.

  It hit her how, without any electricity, there would be no coffee.

  So not the way to start her day.

  “Juice it is,” she said to herself, and prayed that none of her food had gone bad yet. She had plenty of ice that she’d packed around the perishables, but it had been well over twenty-four hours and—

  “Did you know if you put a quarter on a frozen cup of water, you’ll be able to tell if your food has gone bad?”

  Callie almost jumped out of her skin at Ford’s comment. He was coming down the stairs—and she had to remind herself to breathe.

  The man had seriously gotten better looking with age.

  There was a real possibility she was simply reliving her childhood crush but…no. It actually wasn’t possible. Ford Garrison was just that attractive, and by the way he was looking at her right now, there was a good chance she was staring.

  Or leering.

  Possibly drooling.

  “Um…what?” she asked, remembering that he’d said something as he walked down the stairs.

  Nodding, he casually walked into her tiny kitchen area wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt. His dark hair was mussed, he looked like he could use a shave and his voice was gruff, and all she could think of was how she could not just go over to him and hug him.

  Or touch him.

  Or drag him back to her bedroom…

  Bad Callie…

  “It’s a trick to help you tell how long you’ve been without power and if your food is safe to eat. If the quarter is in the bottom of the glass, then the food is no good,” he explained.

  “But I know how long I’ve been without power.”

  He looked at her expectantly.

  “When the tree went down, it snapped the power line to the cottage and I’m guessing the main house. I made a quick note of it—you know, after the paramedics left. I went to the hospital as soon as I could and then spent the bulk of the day with my mom.”

  “Has the electric company been out here yet?” he asked, his tone going serious.

  “Um…I’m not sure…”

  Ford blew out a breath as he raked a hand through his hair. “Okay, that’s not a good thing. For all we know, there are live lines down on the ground that can spark a fire and—”

  “You think there’s going to be a fire?” she squeaked.

  He must have realized how panicked she was, because his whole tone and stance immediately eased. “I’m sure that’s not going to happen, but I need to get over there and check things out and get someone out here ASAP to start removing the tree and check the lines.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  He shook his head. “I have to see what I’m dealing with and then make the calls.”

  “You’re more than welcome to make your calls from here,” she said quickly. “You know, in case Margaret’s house isn’t safe.”

  And then he smiled.

  Ford had a great smile that included dimples.

  Don’t. Sigh. Dreamily.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” Looking around the kitchen, he added, “Have you checked the food yet?”

  “Oh, where are my manners,” she stammered and went to open the refrigerator. “Everything’s still pretty cold, so I think the orange juice is safe. And the milk. You know, if you’d like some cereal.”

  “Juice will be fine. Thanks.”

  Callie poured him a glass and then one for herself. “I hate that I can’t offer you some coffee.”

  He smiled at her again. “I promise to get the power back on as soon as possible and—” Stopping abruptly, Ford walked over to the front window and looked out.

  “Ford? Is something wrong?”

  He looked over his shoulder at her. “I believe my grandfather has a generator out in the workshop. I have no idea if it’s still there, but I can go out and see. If it’s there, I can hook it up and then you’ll have power to make coffee, and maybe even get some hot water so you can shower.”

  And boy did that sound good.

  “Really?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound too giddy.

  “I can’t make any promises. It’s been years since I’ve been out in the workshop, but I’m hopeful it will still be there. Give me about thirty minutes and I’ll see what I can do.”

  And then Callie did something she swore she wouldn’t do.

  She ran over and hugged him.

  Two

  Ford stepped outside and looked around with a profound sense of loss.

  His grandfather was gone, his grandmother was injured and their house wasn’t looking so good. Even without going any closer, Ford knew this wasn’t going to be a quick fix. Besides the damage from the tree, no doubt there were other issues with the house that he couldn’t ignore.r />
  This house was going to take every minute of his time for the better part of a month, maybe more. They were already into the last week of November, and ideally, he’d love to have it done by Christmas, if not sooner. Knowing that he was going to have to live in the construction zone did nothing to ease his irritation with this whole project. And on top of that, if the work ended close enough to the holiday, he knew he’d be guilted into staying until New Year’s.

  The walls were already starting to close in on him, and it almost felt like he couldn’t breathe.

  There was enough pressure on him without adding the holidays into the mix, and for the life of him, Ford was beginning to wish he hadn’t acted so impulsively or come home until after January first. It might not have been the best thing for his grandmother, but it would have helped him out immensely. Why didn’t he think to suggest that?

  Because there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his grandmother.

  And speaking of Grams, why hadn’t she mentioned that someone was living in the guesthouse?

  Callie James.

  It took him a minute to conjure up a picture of her in his mind as she’d been the last time he’d seen her, when she was maybe twelve or thirteen years old. If he’d seen her after that, he had no recollection. She’d been a sweet kid—always helping her mom—but beyond that, he didn’t know her. And considering how long Ruth had worked for his grandmother, it seemed doubly odd how there’d been no mention of Callie living there.

  In the last three months, he’d heard all of the gossip Hildie Fontana had shared with Grams—how the Martins needed a new fence because old man Martin came home drunk and knocked down a section of it; how there had been some snooty couple staying at The Broadleaf and they’d dared to comment on the lack of fine dining in Eagle’s Ridge; and the overall lack of school supplies being donated to the elementary school. And yet, no word of her renting out the guesthouse.

  Of course, it was none of his business what Grams did with the place, but he wasn’t sure it was in any better shape than the main house. Now that was going to weigh on him too, and he was even more hopeful that it wasn’t going to be an issue, because he would hate to kick Callie out while he renovated that space too.