“See how mellow you are when some asshole accuses you of murdering two women.”
“That’s part of my point. Exactly my point, so we agree there. Sheriff Tate warned him off you, specifically and justifiably. He didn’t listen and, from all I can see, took it on himself to come at you at work, and in front of another employee, one you’re charged to supervise. I think the sheriff wouldn’t be happy to hear it.”
“That’s not for you.” He rounded on her, eyes a fired-up blue. “It’s not for you to go running to Tate, and it’s not for me to come running to you.”
“That’s hard and hotheaded under the mellow. I won’t go to the sheriff on it. That comes from growing up around men, working with them, living with them, and understanding—maybe even appreciating—how doing that translates in the male brain as an insult to your mighty balls, but—”
“It’s got nothing to do with … Okay.” She had him there, and he wasn’t one for lying. “Okay, that’s one part of the whole of it. The rest is just what I said. This is, always has been, between me and Clintok.”
“Which also comes back to the massive and mighty balls, which is not said as an insult to your kind, Skinner, just a statement of fact. So I won’t go to Tate, but I will say what I know and what I think should the sheriff hear about it and ask me.”
Maybe it irritated the crap out of him—and made his balls itch—but he couldn’t rationally argue with any of it. So he dropped back on the couch. “That’s fair enough.”
“And I’m asking you as the manager of the resort, as your friend, to tell me if Clintok comes back at you again. I need to know what happens on my place, and I know under the mad, you understand that.”
Callen took another pull on the beer. “You’re pretty goddamn good at this.”
“I’m exceptionally goddamn good at this. I’m asking you to trust me, and to stop being so bound up in stupid macho pride you can see telling me about his threatening bullshit isn’t running to some female. You do that, you keep me informed so I don’t have to hear bits and pieces as it travels around the resort or the ranch, I’ll let you handle it your own way.”
“Exceptionally is probably understating.” He hissed out a breath. “You’re so all-fired reasonable, I can’t hold my own line without looking like a fool.”
“You’re nobody’s fool, Skinner, and never have been.” Leaning over far enough, she gave his leg a light punch. “And from what I’ve seen, you’ve gotten exceptionally goddamn good about how you handle assholes. Now, have we got a deal?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” And with it struck, he felt free to cut some of the anger loose. “Christ, he pissed me off. Pushing at me, insulting me—and the rest of you, you were right about that—doing what he could to provoke me into taking a swing at him.”
“There was a time you would have, with less provocation. When did you learn to coat that renowned temper of yours with mellow?”
He thought now of how close he’d come—five seconds—to taking more than a swing. But …
“If a man doesn’t learn a few things along the way, he’s wasting his time. Which is a pretty good description of Garrett Clintok. The son of a bitch hasn’t learned a damn thing. He’s just acquired a badge so he can bully from behind it.”
Callen shifted his gaze to hers. “I want another part to the deal.”
“We already struck the deal.”
“We didn’t shake on it.”
Bodine only rolled her eyes. “What would the other part be?”
“If he goes at you or your family about me, you tell me.”
Leaning over again, Bodine held out her hand. “No problem at all.”
They shook. Callen flopped back.
“I’m going to admit something. I’ve been stewing about it ever since. Just couldn’t pull the damn thorn clean out of my side. Because whatever Clintok is, I get the feeling he believes I could’ve done this. He actually believes it.”
Bodine started to disagree, thought better of it. “You might be right on that. He hates you, and always has. It’s irrational and genuine so he’d need to believe the very worst when it comes to you. And he’s never known you. Anyone who knows you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Maybe not, but he was so wound up about it Easy felt obliged to step in and cover for me on the timing, and not altogether truthfully. That doesn’t sit well, either.”
“I expect Ben would have done exactly the same.”
“Maybe.” He scowled into his beer. “Yeah, hell, he would’ve. That doesn’t set very well, either.”
He studied her as she studied him. She’d taken her hair out of the braid so it lay loose and a little wavy from the twining, ink black over her shoulders.
The tone, mirrored in her lashes, deepened, enriched the green of her eyes. In those eyes he read understanding, some sympathy rather than the hard-line, no-bullshit he’d seen in them when they’d started this round.
“I’m going to admit, having this out with you? I don’t much feel like stewing about it anymore.”
“You’re family, Callen.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think about you like my sister anymore.”
She snorted. “You never thought about me like your sister.”
“I thought about you like my best friend’s baby sister. It comes to the same. Now I look at you, and can’t leave it at that. There was this wrangler I knew back in California. I’ve never known anybody as attuned with horses. I used to say he’d likely been one in a past life. He loved horses, a good whisky, and the company of men. But now and again, he’d say to me: ‘Skinner, I’ve got a hankering for a woman.’”
Bodine snorted again, and Callen grinned. “His words. So, he’d find one, and take care of the hankering until the next time it gave him an itch.”
She saw, appreciated, the simple logic and organization of the method. “Is that how you handled an itch?”
“A man has to consider his massive, mighty balls.”
She had to laugh. “You turned that one around on me. Point for you.”
“The thing is, since I’m in the admitting mode, since I’ve been back I’ve had a hankering for a woman.”
He watched her eyebrows cock up, that little smirk move on her pretty lips.
“But the only hankering has been for you.” And watched the smirk vanish. “And reminding myself you’re the sister of the best friend I’ve had, ever will have, hasn’t dulled it one damn bit.”
All manner of things stirred up inside her. Stirred hard and hot enough she wished she’d taken that beer. “That’s a bold admission.”
“Well, you said yourself, I’m no liar. I want my hands on you, Bodine. I’m going to get them there before much longer.”
“I got over my crush, Callen.”
“I think we both know we’re past teenage crushes on this. You’re no liar, either.”
“You’ve got a point, and I might like having your hands on me just to see what it was like. Sex is simple enough if you’re honest about it.”