Denim Blues: Montana Heirs 1

by Ashley Kay

  “I’m doing the best I can, sweetheart, which is what I want you to do, ok? I’m glad you met Theo, no matter the circumstances, I’m just glad you finally met him.”

  I smirk. Wait until she hears how that introduction went over. We exchange a few more pleasantries and I tell her goodnight after she’s made me promise to be on my best behavior. Once a mom, always a mom.

  I end our call and rummage through the refrigerator, not at all surprised at Savy’s grocery shopping skills. She left enough food in here to feed five of me and the way she harped on about that Mae’s Diner tells me she likes to eat. Good. No man wants a stick of a woman in bed with him.

  Rolling my eyes, I make myself a sandwich and think of ways to get that sassy arrow-wielding brunette out of my head. Exhausted, I finish my food and climb into bed. I’m out within minutes, inhaling the spicy, intoxicating scent of vanilla and mint.

  “Seriously?” I press the power button a few times, but my laptop doesn’t turn on. Leaning my head back against my wobbly desk chair headrest, I shut my eyes. I keep a spare laptop with me in case this happens, but today I left it at the house. I have to go get it, which is fine by me, there’s only so much of Greyson’s face I can handle in one morning. Whose idea was it to install so many glass walls?

  The offices are pleasant; I enjoy looking outside and it has the same modern feel of my Manhattan office, but I dislike the lack of privacy or being within fifty feet of my brother. Shoving back from the desk, I snatch up the dead laptop and head out.

  The sun is midway up and only a smattering of clouds dot the sky. It’s deceiving. You look out, believing it’s a balmy seventy degrees only to step outside and figure out it’s subzero. Sort of like most people I know.

  Reaching the house, I pause once I step into the foyer. My ears perk at the sound of running water. Setting my laptop down on the couch, I stroll down the hall toward the source of the sound: the bathroom. If this is an intruder, why would they be taking a shower? Unless they killed someone and need to wash off the evidence. Scoffing at my dramatics, I grip the doorknob and open it in measured movements.

  “What the hell?” I murmur more to myself once the fog evaporates and I see who it is. I’m immensely relieved it isn’t a man. She doesn’t sense me yet, but I clearly see her through the clear glass doors just barely frosted over in condensation.

  There’s Savy, naked in my shower, rinsing out her hair with her eyes closed and humming some melody I don’t recognize. It doesn’t take her too long to notice she isn’t alone, but it’s enough time for me to get more than an eyeful of her luscious body. The water runs down her beautifully rounded breasts, over the curve of her waist, and between her toned legs. My dick jumps in my pants and I swiftly adjust myself.

  “Ahh! Oh my god, Preston!” she screams, covering herself with her arms. Before turning around, I grab the towel sitting on the toilet and toss it to her once the water is shut off and the doors open.

  “What are you doing?” I’m still turned around, and the dampness of the room saturates my face.

  “Taking a shower.” The rustling of the towel tells me she’s drying off.

  “That’s obvious, but why are you in my shower?”

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  I sneak a glance, she’s fully clothed and a small part of me is disappointed. I bat that thought away and stand there, hand on my doorknob, waiting for her explanation.

  Swiping back her wet hair, she smooths down her wrinkly shirt and casts her eyes at her bare feet. Straightening up, she shrugs her shoulders. “I’m so sorry for using your bathroom.” Her face turns a pretty shade of pink and I hide a smile that tries to tug on my lips. She’s stunning, all flustered.

  “My water stopped working when I was showering at my place and I had shampoo still in my hair. The sinks weren’t working either, and I figured you were at work so I thought I could come over here real quick before you’d notice.”

  Crossing my arms and feeling the urge to tease her, I ask, “You didn’t think I’d notice my bathroom smelling like strawberries?”

  Wincing, she apologizes again, winding a finger through her wet strands. “Preston, again, I’m sorry, I never would have—”

  “I love strawberries.” I interrupt her, taking her used towel and shoving it in the laundry basket. “And vanilla mint,” I whisper that to myself before continuing. “I’m not mad, just wasn’t expecting it. Do you need me to call someone to come look at your pipes?”

  I’m surprised. Surprised at my niceness. The last time I was nice it didn’t go over so well.

  “Come on, let’s go at least make sure we turn your water off in the bathroom so when it comes back on, it’s not spraying everywhere.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she ducks under my arm that’s clutching the door frame and heads toward the adjoining door.

  “How do you know anything about pipes?” Her tone takes on a suspicious edge.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I follow and wait for her to open the door. “I work in real estate. Sometimes I go on site and need to know a few things. You want the help or not? You were the one trespassing, I’m doing you a favor.”

  She spins around, pinning me with a fierce glint in her eyes and a finger jabbed to my chest. “You’re mean, you know that? I already apologized and I promise you it won’t happen again.”

  “So I’ve been told.” She’s close to me and the same reaction I had back at the rock-climbing competition yesterday flares to life. The scent of her shampoo wafts up, and I wasn’t lying when I said I loved strawberries.

  Every nerve comes to life as her hazels slide over my blues, and I feel every angle of her pointer finger on my chest. It burns a hole through my shirt, penetrating deep into my skin. Her lips part, turning down, and it takes the better part of me to create some space, while the sordid, darker side wants to decimate that frown with a kiss.

  Stepping back so she doesn’t accidentally graze my burgeoning hard-on, I hold a hand out before saying, “After you, Montana.”

  Reluctantly, she lets us into her side of the double and walks straight into the bathroom. When sliding past her and brushing against her arm, a tingle rushes up my hand as I crouch under the sink and toilet. Pausing, I steady my breath, before turning the valve to off.

  “You should be good for now. Just get someone out here soon unless you want to be taking another shower over at my place.” I grin at her, moving to post myself against the bathroom door.

  Shoving past me, purposely avoiding contact, she grabs her phone and thumbs through it. “No thanks, I got this now. I’ll see you later.”

  That’s my cue to leave, and I chuckle all the way to the door. If I can’t have her, I might as well enjoy teasing her. This year might not be so bad after all.

  I spoke too soon. A solid week in and my bubble of mild contentment has burst.

  This morning, my alarm didn’t go off; the charger wasn’t completely in my phone port, so my battery died, and I didn’t have a backup. My clothes were wrinkly because I hadn’t gotten them out of my suitcase. My other items have yet to arrive, and I had to spend thirty minutes on the phone only to find out that they rerouted my stuff to Alaska. Karma is a grade-A bitch.

  Among my missing things includes my coffee maker, so I had no choice but to use the one shoved far back in a cabinet. I came away with a machine from the eighties and a handful of cobwebs embedded in my hair. After an epic battle with a nest of spiders, I abandoned the artifact and made coffee at work. To top it off, someone already brewed coffee in the lounge with half the grounds left in it, so I chewed it rather than drank it.

  Karma wasn’t finished with me just yet. In my office, I was working on my laptop when the desk chair broke … while I was sitting in it. And, with all but two walls of glass, it was a big spectacle. I even saw Greyson smirk from his office. All we’ve done this week is scowl when we pass each other in the hall or send passive-aggressive emails back and forth. If it keeps him away from me, then I can accept
it. I flipped him the bird instead of throttling him into next Tuesday and went to search for a new chair in the storage room.

  I was now standing in the storage room with my hands on my hips and a headache surfacing. When I finally locate a chair, it’s a fold-out one with cacti in cowboy hats, taunting me with their cheesy grins.

  What the actual fuck? Where the hell am I and where are the normal human beings living so I can join them? Sighing, I put the lawn chair at my desk and promptly order a new one. Delivery in two weeks. I groan out loud because, of course, why not?

  If I could shove myself away from the desk, I would, but as it is, all I can do is hobble it back and pray I don’t tip over backward. My sour mood turns downright salty, and I kick the chair once I get up. I need to get out of here. Not to mention, I haven’t seen Savy all week, and after our little shower episode, I shouldn’t be surprised, but I find myself dismayed. It’s not my style to lust after a woman who’s spoken for, but she won’t leave my head. The annoying part is I’ve been an asshole for most of our interactions and less than desirable to be around.

  Tapping my watch on the side, lighting up the numbers in a nervous gesture, I decide I deserve a break. I am one of the bosses, after all.

  Outside, the crisp air coats my lungs, but it’s cleansing. Not at all like the thick, smoggy air back home. I wander around, cursing my choice in shoes when the gravel bites into my heels. My boots will arrive, hopefully soon, and I can’t wait to show Savy. Scowling, I shake my head. I shouldn’t care at all what she thinks about my clothes. Or anything else about me.

  Before I know it, I’ve planted myself in front of the horse stables. I haven’t been around horses in years, but I recall them being calming to some. From whom? I don’t know, could have been a quack, but I’m wound up enough to find out.

  I smell them before I see them. Manure invades my nose and I breathe through my mouth, retching when I realize that’s just as revolting.

  Stepping around the side of the cliched big red barn, I stop by the chest-high wooden fence separating me from the colossal beasts. Leaning my arms on the fence, my breaths escape in puffs as I study the massive animals grazing on the grass that’s poking up through the pockets of melting snow and dirt. There are two steeds close to me, both wearing coverings over their backsides—a jacket for horses. I chuckle.

  “Something funny there, Mr. Lee?”

  I pivot and Shelby exits the barn, joining me, arms over the fence clutching a pair of work gloves.

  “Just admiring the horses’ coats … their cold weather jackets, not fur. Even though that’s nice too.” I realize how stupid I sound, but Shelby doesn’t seem to notice. “Call me Preston. Please.”

  “You ever been around horses, Preston?” His blue eyes crinkle underneath his bushy, blond eyebrows. Those things are wild, like fuzzy caterpillars crawling above his eyeballs.

  “Nope. Never. I didn’t realize how big they were up close.”

  “Ya get too close to Bandit over there,” he points to the chestnut brown horse next to the black horse, “and you might lose a leg from her kicking ya. She has a temper.”

  “After the hell of a week I’ve had, it’s probably on the list of things to happen to me.”

  Shelby glances at me again. “Rough first week, huh? Maybe you’re fighting it too much.”

  Confused, I ask, “Fighting what?”

  “The pull of Montana.”

  Which Montana are we discussing here? As for the gorgeous brunette that’s snatched my brain and scrambled it with her country charm, well, I don’t blame her if she’s the one avoiding me this past week. My surly attitude has upset the balance of the universe and it’s all coming crashing down on me in just the short time I’ve been here. I still smell her through the walls. I think she burns the same candle every day. The thin barriers have soaked up the scent like a sponge. I can’t get her out of my mind and I need to—she’s my brother’s girlfriend.

  “Why does everyone seem to love it here?” I gaze out at the horses again, taking a step back when Bandit awards me with a stink eye. “I’m ready to pack my bag and go back to Manhattan.”

  “I didn’t take you for a fella to give up so easily. I mean you changed your first flat tire just the other day.” He turns, patting me on my back. “Let go of your expectations, Preston. Just enjoy your time here, away from all that noise in New York. You’re in god’s country right now, let it talk to ya. Instead of honking taxis and smoggy mornings clogging your brain, breathe this in.”

  I can’t decide if he’s a sage or plain cuckoo.

  “I’ll admit it, it is beautiful here. Like an oil painting I’d probably hang up somewhere.” I wave a hand at the mountains capped by pristine snow.

  “Why a painting, when you got the real thing right here.”

  “It just doesn’t feel like me.”

  “Give it time, son. You’ll soon feel at home here more than anywhere else. I guarantee after your year here, you’ll be beggin’ to stay.” He chuckles with a deep laugh and stares off into the space between the mountains and the forests.

  Begging to stay? I highly doubt that, but I entertain the man if only to be polite. “How long have you been here?”

  “Seven years. I helped your brother get started. I have been ranching all my life and Greyson’s dream included having horses so that people could learn how to ride. He asked if I’d help him, and then before I knew it, I had a job here as well.”

  “And you moonlight as a chauffeur?” I lift an eyebrow in amusement. He barks out a laugh, sending steam up into the frigid air.

  “I do favors every once in a while, too. Even chauffeur the boss’s moody brother.” He winks. He’s right, though. I can be a broody son of a bitch.

  “Sorry, being here with my brother just brings up a lot of history that I’d rather not think about too hard.”

  “Well, a word of advice, if you wouldn’t mind hearing from an old man like myself.” I nod for him to proceed because I think he’d continue talking no matter what I said.

  “Learn to let go. You only have one life to live, don’t waste it harboring regrets or anger toward the important people in your life. Right now, the person who is making you miserable is yourself. Look around, Preston, everything is moving, living, breathing, evolving, all while you’re stuck in the mud you call life. I’m not telling you to forget or forgive everything your brother did, and clearly it was enough to make you so bitter, but just ask yourself if it’s all worth it to be in constant misery.” He hikes up a shoulder and goes back to contemplating the universe.

  “Thanks for that enlightening advice.” Annoyed, I stubbornly tuck those little nuggets of wisdom into my back pocket. I’m starting to like the old man and it’s making my mission of a smooth exit out of Montana bumpier.

  “Anytime.” Slapping his gloves off his overalled thighs, he winks at me. “Welp, I gotta get back to mucking out those stalls. Whenever you feel like doing some proper work instead of typing away at that fancy computer of yours, you find me.”

  I bark out a laugh and back up to head to the office. Something squishy spreads out under my foot, and I curse. I stepped right into a pile of horse manure.

  Ugh, fucking gross. I shake my shoe, trying to loosen the crap from my loafer, and groan as Shelby cackles from behind me.

  “It’s just shit, kid. Yesterday, it was food. It’s all in how you look at it.” He howls in laughter once again as I trudge home to change into clean shoes.

  Scowling, I kick at the slushy snow, only to have some make its way up my pant leg, wetting my sock. Great. Just great. I send a text to Nico highlighting in a not-so-subtle way that he needs to clone me so I can get the hell out of here.

  My mood goes from ripe to just plain rotten. Stomping up the steps to the house, my foot breaks through one step and twists. The loud splintering sound overrides my shout as I fall onto the wide part of the porch, slapping off the slippery wood with my hands. Groaning, pain lances up my leg, and my hands scre
am at me from the impact. I wince before righting myself and scoot as much as I can into a sitting position. I gingerly pull at my leg, feeling no give. It’s wedged in there tight and the ache intensifies with each minute movement. Bracing myself for the inevitable pain, I hold my breath and tug slightly at a different angle.

  “Damnit!” I roar as the wood scrapes against my ankle, causing blood to seep out from a deep scratch. Taking another big breath, I yank it out, moaning as I make the wound deeper.

  The door squeaks open behind me, and I close my eyes. I was hoping she wasn’t home, so I could tend to my injury and embarrassment alone.

  “What is goin’ on—Preston?” She strides out her door and rushes over to me. Kneeling, she rakes her gaze all over me. Her hair falls into her face and she quickly shoves it behind her ears. Her eyes well with concern as she surveys my bloody ankle that’s quickly turning purple and swelling over my shoe.

  “Oh my god. That stupid step, I keep telling myself to fix it before someone gets hurt,” she continues to ramble until I put my hand on her arm, effectively shutting her up.

  “I’m ok, it’s just a scratch. No big deal, I can take care of it myself.” I shift to stand, letting out a hiss.

  “Just a scratch? You’re crazy, your ankle is swelling, we need to get that shoe off and put ice on it. You might have to go to the hospital, it could be broken.”

  “It’s not broken. I broke the other one in high school and this feels nothing like that.” I flinch when I move it a little.

  She purses her lips, pinning me with a glacial stare, hands on her hips. “Stop being a macho dude right now. We need to ice it and clean up that scrape. Come on, I have a first aid kit.”

  She doesn’t wait for a reply and instead wraps her arms around my waist to help me up. It’s distracting. Her toned arms around me cause my stomach muscles to contract and my breathing becomes labored.

  “Are you sure you’re ok? You’re breathing kinda heavily.”