Denim Blues: Montana Heirs 1

by Ashley Kay

  Abruptly my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a deafening pop before Shelby and I skid across the slick road. He corrects the steering wheel, pumps the brakes, and we come to a complete stop within seconds. My hands are gripping the handle above my head, and I’m panting. “What was that?” I stare over at Shelby, my eyes wide.

  “Well, sir, that’s a popped tire. Must have hit a rock or somethin’.” He shrugs, shutting off the engine. He hangs out for a beat before turning his attention to me. “The tire will need to be changed and I, uh, I’ll need your help.”

  “What do you mean?” I narrow my eyes.

  “I have bad knees and I can’t bend down too far to change it. I’ll help hold the tire iron for ya though.” He grins, getting out, letting in cold air.

  Fuck me.

  Outside, it’s spitting rain and ice. A few frigid shards fall down my coat collar, causing me to curse when they touch my skin. Shelby’s around the back and has the spare propped up next to the blown-out tire.

  My feet slip and I reach out to grab onto the side of the bed, but it doesn’t matter. The ground rushes up to meet me and I splash into a puddle of slush. Pain shoots up my legs and water soaks through my thin pants, my skin so cold it burns. Great, just perfect. I fucking hate this place.

  Standing, I brush off what muck I can and hobble over to Shelby, my legs and ass sore from the fall.

  “You all right, sir? It can get pretty slippery out here. Those fancy shoes won’t hold up well around these parts.”

  I roll my eyes at his amused expression. “I’ve gathered that, thanks.”

  “Right. Ok, well, I have the tire ready. I can walk you through the steps. You can do it, I believe in ya.” I look up at him, squinting through the onslaught of sleet. He has a smirk on his face, like he doesn’t believe I can do it. A flare of competition flashes through me, and I accept his ill-timed challenge.

  After an hour of me attempting to change the tire and Shelby unsuccessfully hiding his hilarity over my incompetence, it’s secure and we’re back on the road. The sleet eases up, and the sun tries to peek through the clouds. Miles of flatland dotted with random plots of trees and scattered wildlife is a far cry from the ever-congested streets of Manhattan.

  Thirty minutes later, after many straightaways and curvy off-roads, we arrive at SoS—thank god—and pass through the front gates of the facility. A tall metal sign with the name scrawled in script lettering and a mountain range etching greets us. Hours are posted and we’re here before opening. Cars, lifted trucks, and a multitude of sporty SUVs line the parking lot and people head into a building directly in front of us. Must be the employees.

  Shelby pulls into a reserved spot and comes around to yank again on the passenger door so I can exit. That’s worse than a child lock. After grabbing my bag, I stop to inspect the bottom of my shoes for traces of whatever littered the floorboard.

  “Mr. Lee, um, Preston, Greyson told me to have you meet him inside the rock-climbing building. It’s straight ahead.”

  “Where will I be staying? I was hoping to leave my stuff before the meeting. Maybe change since I look like a wet dog.” Probably smell like one too, given the smorgasbord of old food in Shelby’s truck.

  “Yeah, I don’t know that answer. You’ll have to talk to Greyson. Sorry.” He lifts his shoulders and shrugs. Then he just walks off.

  Halfway across the lot, he looks over his shoulder, giving me a shout. “You did good, sir. The tire didn’t fall off once on the way here!” He saunters back toward the building, whistling. Please tell me everyone here is not that annoyingly optimistic.

  Shivering as the wind bites into my exposed skin, I crane my neck to take in the structure in front of me. An enormous wall of rock, basically a mountain, is half in, half out of the building. Glass from floor to ceiling separates the outside from the inside and long ropes dangle in the air. No way my ass is getting on that wall.

  When I pull open the front doors, the sharp smell of granite and nylon saturates the air. A long desk with a computer and phone—plus a woman frantically searching for something among the mountains of paper—is in front of me. She glances up quickly before resuming her hunt.

  “Oh hey, Grey, hang on a minute, I will have that itinerary you were requesting coming right up.” She pops her head up again and her hands stop the agitated movements.

  “Uh, oh, wait…” She angles her head, her big, brown eyes widening on her oval face. “You’re not Greyson. Preston, right?”

  “What gave it away?”

  She cocks her head, contemplative, rolling a pen in between her hands. “You’re too put together, too shiny. Greyson looks like he just rolls out of bed every day.”

  Yep, sounds like Greyson. All play and no work. “And you are?” I ask, quickly shaking her outstretched hand.

  “I’m Tia Lopez, the front desk admin assistant. I was told to be expecting you, but I was surprised, you and Grey look so much alike.”

  “Yes, being a twin leads to that.” I deadpan. Am I really that far out in the country where no one has heard of identical twins?

  “Yeah … right. Ok, well, follow this hallway, and you should see Savy in the archery yard. Greyson should be here shortly.”

  I adjust my suit jacket, aware of the water dripping from my pant legs onto the tiled floor. “Savy?”

  “Yep, Savy, or Savannah. She assists Greyson with a lot of things around here so she volunteered to get you acclimated.” I bet she did more than help, if I know my brother at all.

  The concrete floor squeaks underneath my wet shoes, amplifying my irritation at not being able to change. Each step echoes off the thin white walls, bouncing around the high ceilings of the extended hallway. It opens up into a massive room containing the rock wall to the left, ropes dangling from the ceiling, and people climbing like spider monkeys.

  To my right boasts a lengthy wall of targets, various sized boxes with large round bullseye painted on the fronts, and lines on the ground spaced evenly apart, denoting where people should stand. Tubes anchored to the ground contain arrows, the feather side up, and a t-shaped frame off to the side showcases practice bows. Sounds of whooshing and multiple chunks punctuate the expansive space, reverberating with each hit off of my bones.

  I’m an intruder here. An alien, a foreign entity that doesn’t belong, like a virus floating around the body, latching on to anything familiar, or merely looking for a hostile takeover. I don’t want to take over. I want to go back to the security of sky rises and streets full of strangers no more worried about me than I about them.

  My skin, growing uncomfortable under my wet clothes, prickles when my gaze lands on her.

  Her elegant fingers pluck an arrow from its holder, placing it carefully on the bow. Tension rolls through her sculpted muscles as she pulls the arrow taut in her fingers. Her glossy, brown hair, braided, almost touches the top of her fit ass, messy like she just threw it together haphazardly. Or fought heroically with a pillow.

  Most women I encounter, especially on my side of New York, wouldn’t be caught dead in public with less than perfect hair and make-up, resulting in barbie doll wannabes and shallow conversations. Not that I was doing much talking with them. I have a feeling this side of Montana will not offer the same perks.

  Mesmerized by the way she concentrates on the task, her ample chest rising and falling evenly, I don’t realize that I’m standing right next to her until the breeze from the released arrow grazes my arms.

  Her brows raise in alarm, a hand slaps her chest, and she lets out a squeak. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Wow, you’re standing awfully close.” She narrows her large, iridescent hazel eyes and brushes aside a stray hair while stepping back. “Wait, I know you.”

  And you’ll end up hating me like all the rest.

  Recognition flares in my mind as well. The woman from the funeral, the one with Greyson.

  “Are you Savannah?” I tilt my head up, looking down my nose at her. Her mouth quirks, and I guessed right.


  “Yes, but you can call me Savy. Everyone does.” She swallows and that blue vein pulses in her neck, sending a zing down to my groin because it has a mind of its own.

  “I’m assuming you’re Preston. Nice to meet you.”

  “You shouldn’t ever assume anything, but considering we look identical, you’re right in this case. Other than that, we’re nothing alike. It would do everyone good to remember that.”

  Savy raises an eyebrow at my harshness and the hint of a scowl touches her petal-pink lips. Goddamn, I want to bite into one, feeling its plush curve under my teeth. Stop it, she’s off-limits.

  “Duly noted,” she replies sarcastically, before concern furrows her immaculate eyebrows. “Why are you so wet?”

  My pants are still dripping water on the floor, but I ignore her question and clench my jaw. “So where is my brother, anyway? He didn’t even tell me where I’m staying so I could drop off my things before meeting him and everyone else here.” I hazard a glance around the place before coming back to Savy’s heart-shaped face.

  Her mild voice wavers as her eyes dart back and forth. “He’ll be here soon. I’ll let him explain where you’re staying.”

  She’s acting strange. Or maybe she’s just weird. I wouldn’t put it past Grey to date someone who’s a hot oddball.

  “You’re an archery instructor here?” I ask, filling the silence so I don’t stare into those big eyes and look like the village idiot.

  She smirks, pointing a finger to her bow and employee badge. “Well, sir, considering I have a bow and a name tag, you can safely assume that I indeed work here as an instructor.”

  Ah, fiery. And her voice. Raspy with a slight country twang. It crackles right through me. I hate that I like it. A lot. My lips pull into a straight line, hiding any attempts at smiling.

  Flicking my gaze behind her, Greyson’s rigid form approaches us slowly, like an animal attempting to outsmart a predator. I stare blankly, my brain on the fritz. I don’t even know what to say to my brother. Seven years ago was the last time I spoke to him other than the funeral, and that night ended with a right hook and broken family ties.

  He shoves his hands into his jeans, rocking back on his boot heels after he’s stopped next to Savy. His flannel shirt is unbuttoned with a SoS t-shirt underneath. The invisible thread of tension between the two of us is unraveling. I silently will a pair of scissors to appear and snip it.

  “Preston, I take it your flight went ok?” he grunts, eyes everywhere but on me.

  “Yep,” the p popping off my lip. “Thought I was going to end up like dad for a minute there.”

  He blanches, his mouth set in a straight line.

  “Too soon? My bad.”

  He gawks at me like I’ve sprouted devil horns. Perhaps I have.

  “P … I see you’ve met Savannah already, she’s a big help to me here, so if you have questions and can’t find me, you can always ask her.” He smiles, chucking her in the shoulder. She smiles back and a swell of irritation enters my chest cavity, pressing against my lungs.

  “I’m sure she’s a real big help to you, alright. I won’t be touching that so you can rest easy,” I say with a bite. Her eyes go wide as her mouth falls open at my insinuation. Tiny fists stiffen at her sides and I know I’ve struck some sort of nerve.

  Greyson blows out a breath, ruffling the wavy hair above his eyebrows. “Dude. We have to work together, please try not to scare away all the employees on your first day here.”

  “If they can’t handle it, then they can leave anytime.” I shrug my shoulders and clasp my hands in front of me. I’m goading him, but I can’t seem to help being petty.

  “I’m not doing this with you right now, there’s too much to do today. Would it kill you to just be a normal human being? For once?” I twist up a corner of my mouth, enjoying his frustration.

  “After the meeting today, you can take your stuff to Savy’s. You’ll be staying next door to her. It’s a double house, and it’s available for you. The hotels are booked for ski season and it makes it easier to be close to all the facilities here. My place is … unavailable for anyone else right now.”

  Stay next door to his girlfriend? “You’re telling me I’m to live next to your pretty little girlfriend because your place is unavailable?”

  Savy steps forward with her finger up to interrupt, but Greyson speaks first. “It’s that or the barn. Take your pick. I’m done with your bullshit and it’s only nine am. Let’s not keep everyone waiting, shall we?”

  He stalks off toward what I guess is the meeting room. I reluctantly follow him, taking note that he’s not dressed professionally. Savy trails behind me and I’m acutely aware of her presence, the hairs on my neck at attention. Shit.

  This is going to be a long fucking year.

  PRESTON

  FRESHMAN YEAR- HIGH SCHOOL

  Dances in high school are the worst, especially freshman year. You have to dress up in a stuffy suit, wear a girly flower on your lapel, and try not to look like an idiot dancing with a chick, when all you really want to do is stay at home, play video games and eat junk food. But, enter Ava into the equation and I’m willing to chuck all that into the trash if it means I get to hold her hand, smell her perfume—maybe even get a kiss.

  My obvious crush on Ava hasn’t waned since 3rd grade, when we were placed in the same group for English and I got to hear her sweet voice read some Junie B. Jones book. One peek into her clear blue eyes, golden hair, and freckles sprinkling her nose … I knew was a goner.

  We became fast friends even though I wanted to be more. Ava wasn’t afraid to get dirty playing football with us boys and could kick our asses in video games, much to Greyson’s irritation. She was a free spirit, another reason I fell over backwards when she asked me to the upcoming dance.

  Literally. I tripped over a soda can on the sidewalk when she asked. Face flaming, I squeaked out a yes as she giggled into her hands. Heaven couldn’t compare to that pure girly sound. However, she always struck me as the type that didn’t buy into all that hype. I guess sometimes a girl is a girl deep down and they long for that fairy tale with princes, white horses, and all that crap. I’m willing to give it to her.

  I adjust my black tie using the full-length mirror and the nerves creep in, sweat ringing around my underarms. Reapply deodorant, check. Cologne, check. Fresh breath, check. I run my hands through my hair, cursing when my fingers stick in the gel I just applied.

  “Looking good, bro.” Greyson is buttoning up his black shirt while checking himself out in the mirror.

  “Yeah, thanks, let’s hope Ava thinks so too.” I nervously fix my hair and eye my brother’s identical face.

  “Come on man, you look just like me, she’d be crazy not to.” He grins as he grabs his toothbrush.

  “Jackass.” I shove him in the shoulder. “You’re lucky you look just like me.” I rib right back.

  Identical twins but completely different in personality, it’s hard to believe we’re as close as we are. Grey’s the outgoing one. I prefer the quiet moments in between the chaos. He invites the chaos, but we always meet in the middle with him at my back. He’s the guy everyone envies and wants to be. Hell, I want to be him most days. His loyalty, especially to me, is admirable. I struggle to stand up for myself, and he’s always there to help.

  Our mom peeks her head into the bathroom. “Look at you boys, so handsome!” She tries to pinch our cheeks like we’re infants, but we both duck under her arms, squeezing her into a hug instead.

  “Thanks, mom. We got our good looks from you, don’t tell dad.” Greyson pecks her on the cheek before turning to bound down the stairs.

  Mom shifts to me. “Preston, please try to have a good time.”

  “I will.”

  Apparently, being an introvert means you can’t have fun. She’s probably right. I have an excellent novel I’m in the middle of reading, however, I will tell no one that.

  “But can you do me a favor? Please watch out for G
reyson, you know how he gets with these things. I’ll send the driver to pick you guys up after the dance. No going anywhere else, you hear me? Remember the last school dance? He’s lucky he’s getting to go this time.”

  “I can hear you, mom!” Greyson calls up from downstairs.

  Good. The last shindig was a shit show. Grey thought it would be fun to spike the punch. Classic, right? Straight out of the stupid movies Ava roped us in to watching. I don’t even know where he got the alcohol—we were only thirteen years old. Guess what, it didn’t end well. Suspension and getting benched for the rest of the baseball season. He swears he learned his lesson, but ever since, mom and dad have put me on babysitting duty.

  “It’ll be fine. We got this. Ava will be there, she can help keep him in line,” I chuckle, jogging downstairs to grab the corsage and wait for Ava and Grey’s date, Remy, to arrive. We’re going to take a limo to the dance. Fancy. Hope she thinks so.

  The school is lit up by soft white lights with music pumping out of the speakers that can be heard all the way out in the parking lot. The girls walk ahead of us, giving me and Grey a glimpse of things we only dream about. Remy is a sweet girl. Not sure how she ended up with my brother—he’s abrasive—but I guess that lends to his appeal. Either way, tonight should be fun.

  We enter the gymnasium and it’s painfully obvious we kids are still thriving in that awkward stage. Boys on one side, girls on the other, teachers lining the wall with arms crossed, waiting for one of us to mess up. Not saying they’re wrong; someone will inevitably do something crazy or stupid. We’re teenagers, it’s bred in our DNA to do ludicrous things.