Denim Blues: Montana Heirs 1
Page 30
“I’ve got flights scheduled for our return.” Grey puts away his phone where I assume he just made arrangements and stands up. “It’s not for a few days, though. I thought we could go to the office and scout out some replacements for your Manhattan office.” I stare at him as he shrugs. “Judging by how antsy you are to get out of here, I figured that meant you might stay in Montana for good.”
“Was that your plan all along? You missed me that bad, little brother?”
Coming over to put me in a headlock like when we were kids, he growls playfully, “By one minute, you’re older by only one minute!”
“It still counts.” I dodge his arms and instead pick him up, throwing him over my shoulders.
Just then the door opens and the doctor strolls in, a scowl prominent on her face. “Gentlemen, this is a hospital.”
I drop Greyson to his feet and glance over at our mother to see her shielding her quirked up mouth with her hands. “Boys, go do what you need to do. I’ll be fine. I love you both.” Blowing us kisses, she shoos us out.
Walking down the hall, I turn to Grey, stopping him with my outstretched hand. “Did you mean what you said? About me staying in Montana permanently?” I loved my Manhattan office, but the thought of coming back alone—it doesn’t hold the same appeal anymore.
“Yeah, I meant it. I could use your expertise in developing things further for the company, and your number sense has always been above mine. But, only if you want to, and only if you’re serious about Savy. I won’t have you stringing her along.”
I pull him around to face me. “I’m serious, Grey. I love her.” I search his eyes for any trace of disbelief. “Besides, Montana is kind of fun.” I shrug and push him away to keep walking.
“You and Montana? Fun? What have you done with my brother? Just kidding, I like this version better. Let’s get you back so you can tell Savy how much of sap you’ve become. I’m tired of being her sounding board, it’s your responsibility now.” He winks, flashing his pearly whites, and I roll my eyes, but I don’t care.
I’m ready for it all.
27
SAVANNAH
It was Tia who informed me both Greyson and Preston had left to fly to New York. Their mom was in an accident and it hadn’t looked good. I spent the last twenty-four hours clutching my phone close, waiting for a call about her condition. I met her a handful of times, but it was all I needed to know she was vital to the both of them.
I’m just finishing up a session with a client when my back pocket buzzes. Whipping out my phone, I frown when I see it isn’t Preston. I don’t know why I thought he’d call. He hasn’t contacted me in weeks, but it didn’t stop me from wishing he would. However, if he did, he’d soon wish he hadn’t because of all the anger I’d unleash on him for running when things got tough.
Before answering, I jog to a conference room for privacy. Out of breath, I sag into a chair. “Greyson. Tell me everything’s ok.”
His voice comes through the phone, clear and unbroken. “She’s doing fine. It looked to be a lot worse than it was. Broken leg and a few ribs. But other than that she’s in good health and spirits. She’s a tough lady. Kicked P and I out, said she was fine without us.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. I was so worried.”
“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner, it’s just been a little nuts.”
Spinning in the chair, I bite my lip. “And Preston?” I hate to ask. I feel weak, like I can’t handle if a guy wants nothing to do with me.
“He’s fine now that he knows mom is ok. He’s so prickly when he’s worried. Scratch that, he’s prickly all the time.” I can hear the sarcasm in his voice. “He’s staying in New York—”
If he said anything else, I don’t hear it. My heart drops to the floor and I run over it with the chair as I shove back from the table. So, that’s it, he’s staying. Anger and frustration and hurt bubble up along with my tears.
“Savy? Why are you crying? Did you hear anything I said?”
Sitting back down, I sniff before replying, “No, you said he was staying in New York. What more did you need to say?”
He sighs loudly into the phone. “God, you two … I said he’s staying for a few more days to tie up some loose ends here.”
What kind of loose ends? Other women?
My blood pressure rises, but my plotting of a specific murder is cut short when Grey reprimands me, “Savannah Jo Martin. Jesus. Quit muttering, I can hear you. It’s nothing bad. It’s good. I just need you to be patient a little longer and let him explain it all when he gets back. We have the retreat in three days. I need you to get with Tia and complete the details. I’ll be back tomorrow and can go over them with you. P should be back just in time to take part. He said he was actually looking forward to it. Can you believe that—”
I again block out what my friend is saying. The only thing my head processes is that Preston is coming back. He wasn’t leaving. I try not to get excited about it. He could come back to just end things like a gentleman instead of over a text, but Grey said it was good and he wouldn’t joke with me over something like that.
Excitement flutters in my belly. The retreat, Preston coming home, it all flows up and over into a burst of adrenaline.
“Listen, Grey, I gotta go. Lots to do before you get back. Give your mom my love, I’m glad she’s ok. Bye!” I hang up without waiting for his reply and leap out of the chair. I really did have a lot to do for the retreat. I spent too much time putting off what needed to be done because of my stupid feelings. I can’t help the tiny jitters marching around in my body, though.
He’s coming back.
I still haven’t heard from Preston and to say my nerves are in overdrive would be an understatement. Greyson arrived home last night, morphing into a drill sergeant about the retreat, so I’ve had little time to think about anything else. Of course, this doesn’t stop me from looking out my window every chance I get, or from glancing up to his office multiple times a training session just to see if he’s back yet.
But, as the hours go by, my mind whirls and twirls, tumbling over itself. Can I trust him again? He clearly had no problem ripping my heart out and stomping on it as he ran away. Because that’s what he did—he ran away like he did seven years ago. What if down the road something else happens? Will he just retreat and leave because that’s easier than facing the problem? My gut churns and I ride out the nausea so I can get through my training session.
After hanging up the gear from my last client and grabbing my bag, I leave the facility for home. Thoughts of the retreat distract me. It’s tomorrow and no matter how many times we’ve done it, I still get a little anxious. Three days in the woods with nothing but yourself and your survival skills really puts to test your abilities to persevere and face adversity. Here, wild animals may or may not want to rip your face off and eat it for dinner. No big deal.
I’ve barely made it to the small sidewalk in front of my house before I finally look up from my scuffed training sneakers. My hand flies to my throat and my breath leaves my body in one fell swoop.
Preston sits on the front steps, his forearms resting on his knees, just watching me. When my toes touch the first step, he stands up, his large frame forcing me to crane my neck as I travel from his tight torso to his face. His expression is what gets me. His eyes are clear and sparkling with—I don’t know what, but I’m not having it.
You don’t get to just come back and look at me like nothing happened.
I know I waited and moped around, but if I’m being completely honest with myself, I’m so angry, so incredibly hurt over him running away, dismissing us and what we shared.
Stomping up the steps, I shove past him, only for his hands to reach out and grab ahold of my wrists, yanking me to his broad chest. I refuse to wrap my arms around him, no matter how much my body wants to. I hold strong, tensing up when he moves his head down to whisper in my ear.
“Savy. Please. Let me talk to you.”
P
ushing off his chest with my hands, I angrily swipe at the tears that treacherously spill down my face. “You’ve had plenty of time to talk to me, yet you ignored me for weeks. Passed by me in the halls like I was a ghost. You didn’t believe me. You didn’t trust what I said was true, that I didn’t know about Scarlett, or Turtle, or whatever hell her name is, and who she was to you.” The salt from my tears runs into my mouth, but I’m too agitated to care.
His face screws up and he tries to reach for me again, but I back up to my door, thwarting his efforts. “No. Please don’t,” I plead. If he touches me, it’s game over. I’ll cave. “When Greyson said you were coming back, I was so happy. I sat around and waited. But all the waiting made me go crazy. If you could run away from this, from us, what else would you run away from, Preston? I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep making excuses, like you were just hurting and needed time. We all get hurt and we hurt others unknowingly. Our words cut those we love, but we stick around. We fix it with our actions, with our statements of truth. You didn’t do that. I have to let it go, us go, before my heart gets crushed again.”
My face crumples and I try so hard to hold myself up high, but the floor catches me as I slide to the ground. I yank my bag off my arm, tossing it across the porch. My poor heart has been through plenty over the years, but this man in front of me has broken it.
Preston silently crouches down and picks me up, despite my muted protests. He holds me close as he opens his door and kicks it shut with his foot once we’re in. Walking around to the couch, he sits down with me in his lap. His hands band so tight around me there’s not one iota of space to move. I stare past his shoulders, avoiding his pained expression, because my life depends on it. He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. The vulnerability is raw in his deep denim blues and a sheen of liquid pools in the corners. I quickly drill my eyes into his chest, because I know I’ll lose it if he cries.
I’ve known for several weeks how I really feel. I love him. I love him so hard and so deep. I didn’t want to admit it to myself back then because then it made it real—it made the pain of this reality real.
“Baby, look at me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter upon hearing his throaty voice. The pressure on my chin grows until I let him guide my face up. He brushes away the tears and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. My heart races, my brain telling me to flee before it gets too messy, but the rest of me anchors to shore. I open up, frantically search his eyes, desperately looking for something, anything, to make my convictions true—that this needs to be the end so we can walk away unscathed.
“Please tell me it’s not too late.” He strokes my cheek, and I force my hands together in my lap.
“Too late for what?” I ask, my voice gravelly from unshed tears.
“To tell you I love you. That I’m in love with you.” He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. I let him and just breathe through my constricted lungs.
“I’m so sorry, Montana. I was such an asshole saying those things and not believing what you had to say. These last few weeks without you have been harder than all those years I spent with no kind of relationship with my brother. I never want to be without you, I never want to wake up without you beside me in my bed, and I will do everything in my power to show you I mean it and that you can trust me with your heart. You bleed sunshine, Savy. I noticed it the first time I saw you at my father’s funeral. Despite that dark day, you were the brightest thing there. I love you so much, it sometimes hurts. I’m not expecting you to say it back, I just need you to know how I feel.”
The last of his words is a whisper against my lips. I absorb them, infusing my body with them.
When he believes I won’t flee from his embrace, he continues, this time talking into my hair, his hands rubbing up and down my back. “Greyson and Scarlett forced an intervention on me, and it hit me. I was the one holding myself back from living. Blaming everyone else around me, like I could control the world and the situations it put me in. I can’t. It wastes too much energy and time. I’d rather be spending these moments with those I love. With you. I recklessly refused so much of the time I could have had with Greyson and with getting to know my nephew. Instead, I hardened myself against everyone.”
He drew in a deep, tattered breath. “Until you. I have you to thank, baby, for showing me just how bright and beautiful the sun can be. How could I ever run away from that? Or you? Never again. I swear to you, I’m never running away again.”
As much as I was quickly losing control of my resolve, one more question had to be asked. “Why did you have to stay longer in New York? Grey said something about loose ends.” I hold my breath because whatever he says next will either make me or break me.
“I was interviewing replacements for my Manhattan office. I’m staying here in Montana. Grey offered me a permanent position here if I want it.”
My heart stutters over every word he uttered, each one hammering a nail and sealing my heart with him inside. Each beat, each drum, echoes with his name. He’s staying here. He’s choosing to leave New York for me. For us. Our future finally feels like it’s on solid ground instead of just floating in the present.
Smiling into his shoulder, my voice is muffled as I say, “Please write romance novels with all those beautiful, poetic words coming out of your mouth. Shelby would be proud.” I pull my head up and shake back my hair. His expression is hopeful.
A yearning from deep within tugs me to him. I wrap my arms around his neck and tangle my fingers into his hair. He unconsciously parts his lips, and I beam a victorious grin, never breaking eye contact. It’s time for my truth to unravel, and I finally feel safe enough to reveal it.
“I love you too, cowboy,” I say softly, brushing a finger lightly over his chiseled cheekbones. “My gorgeous and broody city boy. Who knew under that tough exterior lies a passionate man willing to get down and dirty for those he cares about?”
He tightens his grip on my waist, and I shift closer. “My life was dim before you showed up, then you blew into Montana with your shiny, swanky suits and moody attitude that completely sucked me into your orbit. I’m sorry for not coming to you right away. For masking what was really going on. I promise I won’t do that again. I’ll always be honest with you. Pinky promise.” Grabbing his finger, I curl it around my own, bringing it to my lips, branding it with a kiss.
After a beat, he crushes me to his chest, burrowing his head deep into my neck. Exhaling sharply, he squeezes me tighter. “I thought I was too late. You fucking scared me. I thought you’d never forgive me,” his voice chokes, thick with emotion.
Lifting his head, he slams his lips to mine, sealing the deal, clutching my head in his firm hands. He’s feverish, tearing into my mouth like I’m his last meal. I give it back with just as much fervor and passion.
I pause, gasping for air, amusement pulling at the corners of my mouth. “Do you have anywhere to be right now?”
He scoffs, tightening his arms around my waist. Straddling him, I feel the stirrings of his arousal through his jeans.
“No one could make me leave you in this moment, not even Milkdud.”
“Good. I’ve been worried I was going to have to buy stock in batteries for my vibrator if we didn’t make up.”
Winking, I extricate myself from his lap and walk backward toward his room. Crooking my finger, I give him the come-hither motion, biting my lip when a wolfish gleam flashes in his eyes. Like a predator stalking his prey, Preston advances on me and scoops me up before I can reach his bedroom door.
Laughing, I swing my legs back and forth, anticipation lighting up my body. No one has ever electrified my senses as much as he does.
Preston barges through his door, tossing me on his bed. Hair flings in my face, and I hastily sweep it back in time to see the feral look in his eyes before he rounds the end of the bed. Scrambling to the headboard, I rise to my knees, my thighs shaking in anticipation. I want him to possess me, claim me, burn only for me.
Methodically, I start with my socks, rolling them down before tossing them, watching the amused, yet impatient look in his eyes.
“Like this?” I ask as I then move to undo my watch, placing it slowly on his nightstand. Unbridled tension rolls through his shoulders as I painstakingly lag my movements, my fingers playing with the edge of my shirt, lifting it ever so slightly, exposing my stomach.
“Savy?” he drawls out my name.
Smirking, I reply impishly, “Yes, dear?”
“I hope you’re not overly attached to those clothes.” Before I can even retort, he launches at me and rips my shirt over my head. He then kneels in front of me, licking a line of fire from my breasts that heave over the cups of my bra up to my neck.
My pulse jumps when he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.
Christ on a cracker. The sting from his possession heightens my arousal and I decide I’m done torturing him with a striptease, because it’s also torturing me. Screw slow. Right now I want him to own me. He can make love to me later.
Sliding a hand up his chest, I nip his sharp jawline before kissing the corner of his mouth. “Permission granted to destroy my clothing.”
With no hesitation, Preston tears at my bra. The stinging of the broken straps will undoubtedly leave marks, but I don’t care. His palms engulf my heavy breasts, the pads of his fingers chafe my hard nipples, sending bolts of pleasure down to my core. I cling to his head, tangling my hands in his hair as his wet, hot mouth replaces his fingers, swirling that nimble tongue around my taut peaks. One hand around my back, he holds me while the other hand hooks into my leggings and panties, roughly pushing them down my legs.