The Bully （Calamity Montana #4）
Willa Nash
PROLOGUE
CAL
The new guy on SportsCenter was annoying as fuck.
I grumbled at the screen, the remote clutched in my hand, as he attempted to crack jokes with the other announcer. “Can we just get to the leading story?” Me.
My retirement had been breaking news today, but for the most part, I’d avoided the media. Maybe because I still wasn’t sure if I’d made the right decision. Maybe because if I didn’t hear it reported on ESPN, then it wasn’t real.
“All right, let’s get to the news.” The camera zeroed in on the new guy and in the upper left corner of the screen, there was my face. “Cal Stark is leaving the NFL as a champion. Big announcement today from the Titans. Three weeks after winning his second Super Bowl with the franchise, the star quarterback announced his retirement, ending his ten-year career with Tennessee.”
The camera swung to the other announcer. “Stark has made quite the reputation for himself in the past decade, not only on the field but often with his, uh . . . colorful sideline and post-game antics.”
The new guy snickered when the screen cut his way again. “Colorful is one way to put it.”
Dickhead.
The other announcer came on screen again and started reciting my stats, but the numbers—passing yards, touchdowns throws, sack percentage—faded to a murmur behind the rush of blood in my ears.
Retired.
I was retired.
I’d quit a winner before injury or age could taint my career. But without football, what the hell was I going to do with my life?
No idea. But I wasn’t staying in Nashville, and I wasn’t moving home to Denver either.
My phone rang on the coffee table. The damn thing had been ringing all day since my announcement had hit the wire. I’d declined a dozen calls from my agent. Five from my manager. Two from my mother. And a handful from reporters.
Pierce’s name flashed on the screen.
I didn’t want to talk to anyone but I’d make an exception for my friend. “Hey.”
“How are you doing?”
“Truth?” My voice cracked. “Not great.”
“Give it time to sink in.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “What’s new with you? How are Kerrigan and Elias?”
“Everyone’s great. Kerr had a checkup today. She’s healthy. The baby’s healthy. Elias is ready to be a big brother.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m excited for you guys.”
“Have you given any thought to Calamity?” Since Pierce had moved to Montana, he’d been pushing for me to consider his small town after my retirement.
So far, I’d resisted because the retirement concept hadn’t been real, just an idea shared with him and only him. Pierce had been my best friend since high school, and I’d told him about retiring before I’d told my agent and my manager. But as of today, the entire world knew I was done with football.
Retired.
But retirement in Calamity? Sure, it would be great to be closer to Pierce. His family was my family. I’d walk through fire for him and take a bullet for his kid. And today, when my entire world had turned upside down, he was the friend—my only friend—who’d called.
Maybe Calamity was the obvious choice, except unlike me, Pierce had other friends. And he’d already convinced her to move there.
Nellie.
The woman who lived to toss those colorful antics in my face as retribution for the wrongs I’d done as a teenaged bully. She’d be moving in the spring to work at Pierce’s new office. Living that close to Nellie was destined for disaster. But where else was I going to go?
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
Calamity, Montana.
Could it be my next play?
I didn’t hate the idea.
CHAPTER ONE
CAL
“Welcome home.” Pierce parked in a space on First Street and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Thanks.” I grinned and hopped out of his SUV, breathing in the clean Montana air.
The sidewalks were teeming with tourists out exploring and shopping. Red, white and blue flags decorated storefronts and lampposts for Memorial Day weekend. Nearly every parking space was taken, and traffic rolled at a leisurely pace on the street.
I’d visited Calamity a few times since Pierce had moved here, but we’d usually escape to his cabin in the mountains. Those vacations hadn’t been about the town itself. Today was different. Today, I captured every detail of my new hometown.
The buildings along First had a rustic charm. The grocery store was shaped like a barn, complete with a gable roof and crimson paint. Most of the storefronts had square faces sided with graying barnwood. Others were built from brick, the red blocks faded from decades beneath the sun.
Yeah, this would work. This town was where I’d play the next quarter in my retirement game.
“Sure you don’t want to stay with us?” Pierce asked as he joined me on the sidewalk.
“Nah. You guys have enough going on. You don’t need a houseguest.”
“No, but I do have a guesthouse.”
I chuckled. “If the motel is a bust, then I’ll take you up on it.”
The last thing I wanted was to wear out my welcome before I even had a Montana address. Besides, hotel rooms had become a constant over the years. Before games. After games. I’d spent countless nights sleeping on borrowed pillows.
“Kerrigan’s on her way to meet us,” Pierce said. “She took Elias to the park while we were on the road.”
“’Kay.” I did another sweep of downtown, capturing names of stores and restaurants.
Pierce had picked me up from the airport in Bozeman earlier, and we’d spent the two-hour trip to Calamity catching up. Next time, I’d have my charter fly me directly here like I had on my other trips, but I’d wanted to scope out the larger airport today and get a feel for the surrounding area.
If I was going to live here, I wanted to recognize streets and neighborhoods. I wanted to find the best spot for breakfast and join Kerrigan’s fitness studio. I turned around and faced The Refinery. Kerrigan had designed it with a modern vibe, a hint of new in this old town with large, gleaming windows that overlooked the street.
“I’m going to pop in to The Refinery. Grab a class schedule,” I told Pierce.
He nodded. “I’ll wait out here.”
I weaved past people and ducked inside the studio, dragging in the scent of eucalyptus. This past year, my lower back had been bothering me, and my trainer had recommended yoga. According to Pierce, The Refinery was the only place in town with classes, so I’d be their newest member.
“Hi.” The receptionist greeted me with a smile. “Can I help you?”
“Just looking.” I scanned the space, taking in the mirrors on the longest wall and the metal cage jammed with exercise balls. I’d spent a good chunk of my life in gyms, and while this one was smaller than most, it was clean and airy. Perfect for a weekly yoga class. “Do you have a schedule?”
“Sure.” She plucked a business card from a holder on the counter, handing it over. “If you scan that with your phone, it will take you to the updated schedule on our website.”
“Thanks.” I tucked the card away, took one last look around the space, then walked outside, ready to rejoin my friends.