Owned By The Mountain Man (Montana Mountain Men Book 2)

by Gemma Weir

  Cameron Cunningham answers the door, his hand ruffling his sleep messy hair, wearing just a pair of basketball shorts and a scowl. “What?” he asks without looking up, his eyes still half closed.

  “Hey,” I say.

  Rubbing at his eyes, Cam stares at me for a moment, blinking. “Huck Barnett?”

  “Yeah, how you doing, Cam?”

  “I’m good, bro, living the dream, you know,” Cam says with a laugh. “So, what’s up?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about your sister,” I say coldly.

  “Cora?”

  “Yeah, Cora.”

  “Sure, okay. You want to come in?”

  He turns and wanders back in the apartment that smells faintly of stale pizza and burnt coffee. I follow him in and when he gestures to a chair, I sit down opposite him.

  “I didn’t know you and Cora were friends?” he says, leaning forward in his seat his now fully awake, eyes narrowing on me.

  “We’re not.”

  “Okay, so…” he trails off.

  “Did you know that Beau and Bonnie Williams are together now?”

  “Is that right? I heard mention, but I didn’t think it was true.”

  “Oh, it’s true, they’re real hot and heavy. The girls went out last night, so Beau went to keep an eye on Bonnie and the rest of us went to keep an eye on Beau.”

  Cam chuckles and I smile. “Yeah, he ‘bout lost his shit when some guys went to dance with them.”

  Cam chuckles again, then his expression turns serious. “Bonnie’s a good girl, Beau’s too old for her, but I’m happy for them. I don’t think you’re here to let me know that your brother has a new girlfriend though.”

  “Did you know your sister keeps her house key under the door mat?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I guess, she kept losing it so I told her just to stash it,” he says dismissively.

  Anger bursts to life inside of me and I feel my hands curl into fists. “You didn’t think that it was dangerous for her to have a key to her home so out in the open? That maybe anyone could just take the key and let themselves in?” I say curtly.

  “Dude, this is a pretty safe apartment building, and plus she won’t be here for much longer, Mitch’s place is sweet so I’m sure she’ll move in with him.”

  “Mitch?”

  “Mitchell Holstead, his daddy owns the car dealership.”

  “He’s Cora’s boyfriend?”

  “They’re on a break I think, Cora’s being a bitch, but she’ll take him back. His family are loaded, he’s a great guy, drives some beautiful cars, he’s gonna get me a deal on a sweet mustang in a couple of months.”

  Cora has a boyfriend, a fucking boyfriend. I’m lusting over her like a fucking teenager and she’s fucking taken. This is better. Takes away the temptation, not that I’d ever touch her. But this way, there’s no option. Only if she has a boyfriend, why isn’t he taking better care of her? Why wasn’t he at the bar last night making sure she was okay, making sure no guy was trying to take what was his?

  If she was mine, I wouldn’t let her get drunk then stumble home alone, I’d take proper care of her.

  “So, where the fuck was Holstead last night when she was so drunk she could barely walk? I had to carry her out, then take her home and wait while she locked up.”

  “Jesus, she’s such a lightweight,” Cam chuckles.

  “So, you don’t care that she put herself at risk, that if me and my brothers weren’t there it could have been anyone who took her home? That it could have been anyone who let themselves into her apartment while she was drunk and completely defenseless?”

  “Dude, calm down, Cora’s a little reckless sometimes, but she’ll calm down when her and Mitch tie the knot. It’s not like she goes out drinking every night, and everyone’s allowed a night to let their hair down every now and then. If she was out with Bonnie then she wasn’t alone, seems like you’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Cam says, leaning back into his couch, his body language relaxed.

  “Look, maybe you don’t give a fuck, but if it was my sister I’d want to know when she was putting herself at risk. I’d do something about it, especially if her man didn’t give a fuck either,” I snarl.

  Sighing dramatically, Cam nods. “Fine, I’ll have a word, appreciate your concern.”

  My jaw tenses as I push up from my seat and march to the door, opening it and letting myself out before I end up punching Cam for being an asshole. The guy’s a deputy in the sheriff’s department too, he should know better, he should understand how dangerous it can be for a woman, or for anyone who gets themselves in that kind of a state and not have someone looking out for them.

  “Bye,” Cam calls a moment before I hear the door being closed behind me.

  Seething, I take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, but by the time I push out of the lobby door and into the bright lunchtime sunshine, I’m still furious. The urge to turn around and go back to her apartment is almost overwhelming, but I know I can’t. She has a boyfriend, a serious boyfriend, so serious that Cam mentioned them getting married and her moving into his place.

  This isn’t any of my business, she isn’t any of my business. But if that’s true, why am I already thinking about the next time I see her, about making sure someone’s watching over her, about all the ways I’d look after her if she were mine?

  3

  Cora

  What the hell was that? Huck is kind of insane. Totally hot, but insane. He scolded me like I was a misbehaving child, he refused to leave, then pinned me to my door. I mean seriously, what the hell was that?

  Exhaling shakily, I slump against the closed door and try to figure out what his visit means? Did he really drive all the way down the mountain just to tell me off? Not even my parents would drive nearly an hour round trip just to tell me I need to grow up, and isn’t that exactly what Huck just did?

  Shaking my head, I cross back over to the couch and flop down, kicking my legs up and try to figure out how my morning got to be so weird. My cell beeps, so I grab it from where I put it on the coffee table and click into my texts. I quickly scan the ones from my mom, dad and Bonnie and then see the latest one, it’s from Mitchell, or as I have him saved in my phone contacts as All the gear no idea, because he obviously has all the equipment to be an amazing lover and get the job done, but he has no idea how to use it.

  All the gear no idea – Hey baby, let’s go out for lunch, my treat, I have a sweet convertible for the weekend, we could head towards Cut Bank and go to that outlet mall you like so much on the way back.

  Rolling my eyes, I scowl down at my cell. Firstly, we’re not together, so why does he think I’d be interested in going out with him? And secondly, I hate outlet malls. My family own a boutique, I work in a clothes store and handpick all our stock direct from the supplier, why the hell would I want to go to a generic mall with two hundred shops full of last season’s clothes and absolutely no personalized service?

  This message is just another example of how little Mitchell knows me. I hate driving for the sake of driving, I have zero interest in cars other than as an absolute necessary evil to get places, and I always have dinner with my family on Saturdays.

  It’s so tempting to just ignore him, but instead I type out two words and hit send.

  Me – No thanks.

  My hand lowers to drop my cell onto the cushion beside me, but instead I find myself looking back at the barrage of texts Huck sent me this morning. He saved himself as HB in my contacts, so I go in an amend it to Bossy elf, chuckling as I hit save.

  His texts look so much more fun coming from Bossy Elf.

  Bossy Elf – Text me if you get sick.

  Bossy Elf – Getting that drunk is dangerous.

  Bossy Elf – You need someone to take care of you.

  Bossy Elf – Make sure that key doesn’t go back under your doormat.

  Bossy Elf – I’m so pissed about that key, Peaches.

  Bossy Elf – Why isn’t anyone taki
ng care of you?

  Bossy Elf – Why aren’t you answering your cell?

  Bossy Elf – Peaches?

  Bossy Elf – Text me so I know you’re okay.

  Bossy Elf – I’m coming over if you haven’t text or called me in the next ten minutes.

  “Bossy Elf says drinking cocktails is dangerous. Bossy Elf says don’t leave your key under the door mat,” I say in my best snow white voice, picturing Huck with his rugged good looks wearing an elf hat and scowling with disapproval.

  I waste the rest of the afternoon catching up on reality tv and eating the entire packet of cookies that I promised myself I’d only have two of. At six thirty, I slide my feet into my flat leather Chelsea boots and assess my reflection in the mirror. I look cute in ripped skinny jeans, my black silk blouse tucked in at the front and my oversized boxy emerald green wool coat, my hair smoothed into a sleek ponytail at the base of my neck that curls over one shoulder.

  My mom is the most effortlessly chic person I’ve ever known. She can make dirty pajamas look like the latest fashion trend and as much as I try, I know I’ll never look as good as she does, but even though my fashion choices don’t always match with hers, I like my style.

  Grabbing my cell phone and house key, I turn to the door, opening it and stepping out into the corridor before closing it behind me. Out of habit I bend over and tuck the key under the mat, then I pause as Huck’s stern voice echoes through my thoughts. Glancing from side to side I look at the doors of my neighbors, all of them closed, the corridor quiet and empty.

  The apartment block I live in is quiet and full of long-term tenants. It’s situated not far from town, has a lobby, rent control, and the people I share a floor with are mostly nice. It’s safe for me to leave my key here. Isn’t it?

  Before I can consider my actions, I bend down and pick up the key from its usual hiding spot. I can almost hear Huck’s smugness from the other side of the mountain, but I refuse to admit I’m not leaving my key in its usual place because of him.

  Pushing the key into the pocket of my jeans with my cell phone, I head for the elevator and out of the building. My parents’ house is about a twenty-minute walk from my home, so I slide my airpods into my ears and allow music to fill my thoughts as I make the familiar journey.

  The air feels crisp and cool by the time I reach the sidewalk outside my childhood home, fall has set in, the warm days morphing into brisk nights that make me wish I had a porch or a balcony I could snuggle up on with a blanket and a hot drink. Most people prefer the heat of summer, or the beauty of a snowy mountain winter, but for me, fall is by far the best season.

  Looking up at the house I grew up in I can’t help but smile, the lights are lit in every room, giving the house a welcoming feeling, greeting me like a long-lost friend. I push open the white picket gate and walk up the path, through the garden my mom spends hours tending, and to the front door. Turning the handle, I let myself in, sliding my boots off and hanging my coat on the same hook I’ve been using my entire life.

  “Hey,” I call, heading for the family room where I know my dad will be watching whatever game is on the tv.

  “Hey honey,” Dad says, not taking his eyes from the screen where a baseball game is playing.

  Sliding down onto the couch next to him, I lean forward and take a handful of popcorn from the bowl that’s sitting on the coffee table in front of him and pop a piece into my mouth. “Who’s winning?”

  “Cubs,” he replies, almost on autopilot, all of his attention fixed on the screen.

  Chuckling quietly to myself, I pop another piece of popcorn into my mouth and settle back into the cushions beside my dad to watch the game.

  “Hey sweetie, I thought I heard you come in,” Mom says, sashaying into the room, looking flawless in a long sleeve silk wrap dress that floats when she walks.

  “That dress is stunning,” I say, jumping up from the couch and kissing her cheek before I run my hands over the smooth silk.

  “That new supplier you found bought over some sample pieces this morning, I couldn’t resist,” she laughs.

  “If this is an example of the quality, then I can’t wait to see the rest,” I gush.

  “Did you have a good night with Bonnie?”

  “We did, it was fun. I was suffering a little for it this morning though,” I cringe.

  “Al’s cocktails never hit you until you’ve drank one more than you should,” Mom laughs, reaching out and cupping my cheek. “It’s pot roast for dinner, I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starving. Can I help?”

  “No, sit, your brother will be here in a minute.”

  The door opens and we all turn and watch as my brother Cam saunters into the house, kicking off his ratty sneakers. “Hey sis,” he says when he sees us standing in the doorway of the family room. “I bought you a surprise.”

  Mitchell steps in from behind my brother and I feel the frown form on my lips.

  “Mitchell,” Mom says cautiously, stepping into the hall and towards my pain in the ass ex. “How lovely to see you.”

  “Hey Mama Cunningham,” Mitchell greets my mom, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

  Looking at Cam, I narrow my eyes and mouth, ‘Why would you bring him?’ but he just ignores me, slapping Mitch on the shoulder as he steps forward, passing me as he walks into the family room and flops down onto the couch next to my dad.

  “Mitchell, can I get you a drink? Dinner’s almost ready, so why don’t you go take a seat in the family room.”

  “I would love a vodka-tonic,” Mitchell tells her, his smile all polished politeness.

  “Of course,” Mom says, turning away from him and flashing me an apologetic look before she disappears back into the kitchen, leaving just me and my ex lurking in the hallway.

  “Baby,” he coos, closing the distance between us, his arms spread wide like he’s expecting me to run into them like we’re in some cheesy movie.

  “What are you doing here, Mitchell?” I ask, taking a step back when he gets closer.

  “Having dinner with your family. Cam invited me, he knows we need a chance to talk, to sort things out,” he says, his tone calm and cajoling.

  “It’s weird that you’re here.”

  “Why? I’ve been here for dinner before.”

  “When we were together, yes, but we’re not together,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “But we should be. We’re perfect for each other, you’re so beautiful, our kids are going to be models,” he laughs, reaching for me before I have a chance to retreat further, his hold unrelenting, despite me trying to pull away.

  “Look, Mitch, we had fun, but it’s run its course, we’re totally wrong for each other.”

  “You’re wrong, baby, I know you want me.” Pulling me towards him, he bends down and whispers into my ear. “I know you miss me, miss the way I touched you, kissed you, fucked you. I know you miss my dick pounding into you, making you scream with pleasure. No one else will ever make you feel the way I do, no one else will ever compare to how good it is between us.”

  I choke on air, coughing and spluttering as gob-smacked outrage consumes me. Is he serious? Surely, he can’t honestly believe the bullshit that just spewed from his mouth. This is enough, I’ve been nice, tried to spare him from the truth that he’s terrible in bed, but no more, I can’t keep pretending, especially not now when it seems like he’s just not going away.

  Parting my lips, I inhale, readying myself to be brutally honest, when Mom walks back into the hall, interrupting the epic speech I was just about to make.

  “Dinner’s ready, everyone.”

  Yanking myself free of Mitch’s hold, I turn and walk away from him, swallowing my rant and the bitter taste him being here has left in my mouth. As I sit in my usual spot at the table, I close my eyes and grit my teeth, fighting back a groan of frustration when Mitch sits down at my right, draping his arm across the back of my chair.

  The next hour is the longest one of my life while my
dad, brother and ex chatter on like the best of friends, making plans for fishing and golf and test driving the ridiculously ostentatious cars Mitch plans to brings home from his dad’s dealership. I don’t say a word, never glancing in Mitch’s direction and focusing all of my anger on my brother, glaring daggers at him while he obliviously ignores me.

  I’m counting down the minutes until dinner’s over, wishing I could turn down dessert and make a run for it, when Mom appears with my favourite treat, her homemade caramel Bundt cake and whipped cream.

  Handing me my plate, she smiles at me sympathetically, before passing out the rest of the desserts and taking her seat to my left.

  “Hey, do you think if you guys get married your dad would let the groomsmen borrow some cool cars to drive to the wedding?” Cam asks.

  The cake gets lodged in my throat and I wheeze, trying to suck in air through the ball of dense delicious cake that’s trying to kill me. The men at the table all turn at stare at me, watching as I splutter, gasping for air and trying to cough. Mom’s the only one to jump to action, leaping up from her chair and slapping me on the back until the cake finally moves and I’m able to breathe again.

  “What the hell, Cam?” I shriek.

  “What?” he asks, completely oblivious to how much of an asshole he’s being.

  Mitchell chuckles, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Cora and I haven’t really talked about the wedding yet,” he says, like us getting married is a foregone conclusion. The urge to scream in his face, to scream in my dad’s and brother’s faces is so overwhelming that I excuse myself from the table and rush to the bathroom, just for an excuse to get away from all the male idiots in the dining room.

  Splashing some water on my face, I force myself to inhale, then slowly exhale once, twice, then again. Lifting my chin, I spot my reflection in the mirror. I look crazy. My eyes are red and slightly bloodshot from my near choking, I’m flushed and I can see my teeth grinding with anger in my jaw.