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

by Gemma Weir

  Sliding my feet into my shoes, I grab my coat and purse and follow Bonnie out to her shiny new SUV. She’s chattering away, not really needing much more than nods and hums of agreement as we pull onto the now familiar road down into Rockhead Point.

  “You okay? You’re kinda quiet?”

  “Fine,” I try to assure her. “I think I’ve got a migraine starting, I’ve got some of my meds left over from a while back at my mom’s, I’ll go grab them and I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “You should have said, I would have grabbed the meds and you could have stayed in bed.”

  “I’m gonna let my mom fuss over me for a while, she makes me the best grilled cheese when I’m sick.”

  Bonnie reaches over and squeezes my arm, then lapses into silence, the quiet radio the only noise for the rest of the journey.

  “You want me to take you over to your mom’s or the store?”

  “The store please, she’s working today so I’ll go there first.”

  Nodding, she slows to a stop outside the store. “I can wait ,then take you back up the mountain.”

  “No, it’s fine, thank you for the ride down, I’m gonna curl up on my mom’s couch for a while, I’ll get her to bring me home later.”

  “Okay, well if you change your mind just let me know, I can come get you, or Huck will, you know he’ll be freaking out if he thinks you’re sick and on your own.”

  I force a brittle smile to my lips, Huck probably would freak out, but is that because he’s worried about me, or worried that I might take something that could hurt the baby he’s tricked me into carrying? “I’ll see you later.”

  Climbing out of the car, I wait at the curb for her pull away, waving quickly as she turns around and leaves heading back through town. Rockhead Point is a small place, and there’s no way I can buy a pregnancy test in this town without it being on the gossip mill ten minutes later, so instead of going to the small local pharmacy, I turn and head to the bus station on the edge of the main street and get on the next bus that’s heading towards a city.

  An hour later, I disembark and head into the bustling streets of downtown Bozeman where no one has any idea who I am. I wander aimlessly for a little while before I spot a Walmart and walk in, purchasing a pregnancy test and a large bottle of water. The store has bathrooms, but the idea of finding out I’m going to have a baby in a grocery store bathroom is just too depressing to contemplate, so instead, I grab my cell and book into a Marriott hotel right in the center of Bozeman.

  The guy behind the booking in desk doesn’t comment on my lack of luggage as he passes me my room key, Wi-Fi password, and the info package about room service and breakfast times and before I know it, I’m sitting on the generic white bed staring at the box in my hands.

  My cell starts to ring and I glance at it, noticing Huck’s name on the caller i.d. Swiping, I lift the cell to ear. “Hello.”

  “Peaches, are you okay? Bonnie says you’re sick, do you want me to come home? I know you’re with your mom, but I can come pick you up and bring you home and tuck you in bed. Why didn’t you tell me? I only just caught up with Beau, I didn’t even know you weren’t feeling good, baby.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, trying hard not to let my emotions be heard through my voice.

  “You don’t sound fine,” he growls. “I’m coming to get you, just stay put and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “No,” I say a little too quickly. “I took my migraine medication, I’ll be asleep soon and I’ll wake up and feel better. There’s nothing you can do, so just stay at work. I’m on the couch in a blanket, my mom made me tomato soup and grilled cheese, I promise I’m fine, just tired.” The lie slips so easily from my lips that for a minute I wonder if it’s been as easy for him to lie to me every day for the last five weeks. Did he ever consider telling me the truth as he was handing me that tiny pill every day?

  I hear his sigh through the line. “I don’t like you going to your mom’s when you’re sick, Peaches. I don’t like having to hear you’re not feeling well from someone else, I want you to come to me. I’d have come home and taken care of you, I’ll always take care of you, baby.”

  His words sound so honest, so earnest, that for a moment I almost doubt myself and the pill packets I’ve seen and held in my hands.

  “I’m fine, I promise, but I’m gonna go, because I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll call you when I wake up in a few hours.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to come?”

  “I’m fine, I swear. Bye.”

  “Bye Peaches, love you.”

  Ending the call without telling him I love him too, I drop my cell to the comforter and sigh, staring down at the test still gripped tightly in my hand. What am I going to do if it’s positive? What am I going to do if it’s not? Regardless of what this test reveals, my relationship with Huck is ruined. How can I ever trust him again?

  But I just had the opportunity to call him out on his lies and deceit and I didn’t. What does that mean? Can I forgive him? Should I forgive him for this?

  Covering my eyes with my hand, I fall back onto the bed and try to make the tears that are just behind my lids fall, but they won’t come no matter how much I need the cathartic release of a good cry. If I lose my shit now, I’ll never take this stupid fucking test and my annoying body knows that. Reluctantly, I roll to my side and clamber up from the bed.

  Padding into the bathroom I open the box and read the basic instructions on the back of the package before ripping it open and pulling the test out. I’m not dumb, I know I have to pee on the stick, so I pull down my pants and panties and shove the tiny stick between my thighs, trying to hold it close enough so I hit it when I pee, but not so close that I pee on my hand.

  After a bit of moving it around and staring between my legs, I replace the lid on the stick and place it carefully on the counter. Washing my hands, I stare at the tiny stick like it’s either going to jump up and attack me or possibly just change my life forever, which it totally can.

  Grabbing the box, I read the instructions again, then a third time to make sure they haven’t changed since the last time I looked, then I turn my attention and stare at the small innocuous blue and white stick.

  “I’m not pregnant,” I say aloud, needing to say the words to actually believe them. Turning away from the test, I shove my hands into my hair and pace forward to the door, ready to throw the stupid test away, but before my feet make it to the doorway, I’ve spun back around, one arm banded around myself to peer down at the test.

  A digital timer is flashing on and off, taunting me with the answer I both need to know and don’t want to know, to appear.

  “I’m not,” I say aloud, scoffing loudly at the absurdity of this whole thing.

  Turning away again, I try to leave, but this time my feet don’t even shuffle, like my entire being is now linked to this stupid plastic stick.

  Spinning back around I close my eyes, inhaling ragged, shaky, shallow breaths. When I open my eyes, the timer has gone and in its place is one word. One word that changes everything.

  Pregnant.

  18

  Huck

  Something is wrong. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel the dread settling in my stomach as I try to pay attention to the seam of trees I’m working on. Everything she said on the phone sounded true, but I could practically taste the lies as she was saying them.

  If Bonnie hadn’t have told me she looked ill and was unusually quiet, I might not have believed the migraine story at all, but there’s more to it, I just know there is. For a moment I wonder if she’s realized she’s late, if she’s freaking out about possibly being pregnant, but I think if she was, she’d have wanted to see me, to tell me rather than going to her parents’ place.

  I’ve been trying to get Cora to try driving again, but right now I’m glad she’s point blank refused. Bonnie dropped her outside her mom’s store a couple of hours ago and she doesn’t have a car, so unless someone gives her
a ride she’s not going anywhere.

  Even knowing where she is, doesn’t stop the almost overwhelming need to track her down and drag her home. I love her. So much more than I expected, so much more than I even thought was possible. She is home to me and that’s what drives me to pack up my tools and radio to my brother that I need to leave and take care of my woman.

  Not bothering to wash up, I thank Derek the team’s mechanic for the ride back to base and quickly change my mud coated boots for the clean ones I keep in my trunk, then jump into my car and tear off down the road and towards town.

  I head straight to Cora’s parents place, expecting to find either Vivian or Jerry’s car in the driveway, but it’s empty, the house quiet. Parking my car at the curb, I jump out and make my way up the path to the front door, ringing the bell and waiting for it open, but no one comes.

  Stepping off the front stoop, I peer in through the front window, but the room is still, the couch empty. I return to the door and ring the bell once more, just in case she’s upstairs, but again no one answers and I rush back to my car.

  Pulling to the curb outside the store, I barge through the door and stomp inside, not bothering to glance at the startled customers that are browsing through the rails of upmarket clothing Cora and her mom sell.

  “Huck, sweetheart, is everything okay?” Vivian asks, her brow furrowed.

  “Where’s Cora?”

  Her lips turn down into a frown. “Isn’t she at home?”

  “She said she was at your place, that she was sick and you were taking care of her,” I growl.

  Vivian’s expressive face scrolls through several emotions in the blink of an eye, settling on worry as she shakes her head. “I haven’t seen her at all since I popped in yesterday lunchtime to show her the itinerary for the trade show I want us to attend. I’ll get my cell from my purse, maybe she’s been trying to reach me.”

  I watch her retreating form as she scurries to the back of the store, disappearing into the small stockroom and office. She returns a moment later, her cell in her hand. “I don’t have any missed calls, but I don’t know how to check to see if she’s tried to contact me,” she says, holding her cell out to me.

  Taking it from her, I quickly check her call list, but the last time Cora’s name appeared was two days ago.

  “Let me call her,” Vivian offers, taking her cell back and quickly hitting call on Cora’s number.

  I watch her as she stares at me while it rings, then I hear Cora’s voice fill the line.

  “Hi Mom, is everything okay?”

  A relieved breath bursts from me from the sound of her voice. At least I know she’s okay, even if she’s not where she said she was.

  “Hi sweetheart, are you okay? Where are you? Huck said you were ill, he thought you were with me.”

  Even though the cell is pressed to Vivian’s ear, I can still hear every word Cora says.

  “I’m fine, Mom, I’m at home.”

  “Home?”

  “Yeah, I’m in bed. I’m gonna go back to sleep, okay, and try and get rid of this migraine. I’ll speak to you later.”

  “Okay sweetheart, feel better soon.”

  Vivian looks up at me, the worry not gone from her face even after having Cora tell her she’s fine.

  “Why would she tell me she’s with you?” I ask.

  “Maybe she’s confused, sometimes the migraine medication can make her a bit loopy.”

  “I don’t even know how she got home; Bonnie dropped her off outside the store a couple of hours ago.”

  “Are you going home to check on her or do you have to go back to work? I can close the store and go and make sure she’s alright.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I interrupt her. “I’ll go back home and I’ll call you and let you know she’s okay.”

  Vivian nods, wringing the cell between her hands, her lips pursed together as she watches me leave.

  I don’t know how fast I drive, but I make it home far quicker than I would have if I’d been driving the speed limit, and I’m racing in through the door and into our bedroom a moment later. Skidding to a stop I stare down at the perfectly made bed, the perfectly made, empty bed, and swallow back the growl of anger and frustration at this cat and mouse game she’s got me playing.

  Pulling my cell from my pocket, I dial her number, ready to get into it with her for making both me and her mom freak out, but her cell only rings once before I’m listening to a robotic voice telling me to leave a message after the tone.

  Striding angrily into the bathroom, I check that the tub’s empty, then spin to check the rest of the room… and that’s when I see them. Five packets of birth control pills, only the placebo sugar pills missing all sitting out on the counter.

  “Fuck.”

  Dialing again, I wait for her to answer but all I get is her voicemail. Ending the call, I try again and again, but each time all I hear is that robotic voice taunting me with all the ways I’ve fucked things up. She knows. She knows I’ve been giving her the wrong pills. She knows I’ve been trying to get her pregnant. She knows and I have no idea what to do. My inner fucking caveman is telling me to hunt her ass down, drag her home then tie her to my bed and fuck her into submission, but that’s pretty hard to do when I have no fucking idea where she is.

  If I knew more about computers, I’m pretty sure I could track her cell or her credit cards or something, but I’m a fucking lumberjack and the only thing I know how to do is swing an axe and drive machinery.

  “Fuck,” I shout, grabbing my hair with my hands and pulling uselessly at the strands. She knows what I did and she’s gone and I have no idea how I’m going to get her back.

  This is my fault, my own fear and worry that I’ve pushed onto her and made her problem when it’s not her, it’s all me. Anger pulses through me, but it’s not at her it’s at myself, at my own stupidity. But I’m not angry for what I’ve done, I’m angry at how she found out, angry that she’s gone and I don’t know where she is, angry that I don’t know how to fix this and bring her home.

  My girl is out there, more than likely pregnant with my kid that I tricked her into making. She’s angry and scared and alone, and I caused that. I knew she’d be furious when she found out, but I figured she’d scream and fight and make me suffer, but the idea that she would leave never really crossed my mind. Cora isn’t someone who runs, she’s the type of woman who puffs out her chest and would square up to the biggest guy because she’s not scared of confrontation. So the fact that she’s not here speaks volumes on how much I’ve fucked up.

  I don’t know what to do, she’s not in town, she doesn’t have a car but she could have gotten a cab, or a bus, she could be anywhere by now and I have no idea what to do. How do I find her if she doesn’t want to be found? And how do I fix this if she won’t let me find her?

  A wave of hopelessness washes over me, but I mentally bat it away, feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to help. That isn’t what she needs right now, and I don’t deserve to dwell when I’m the one who caused this problem.

  Grabbing my cell, I dial her number again, but she doesn’t answer so instead I open up the text message app and type out a message.

  Me – Where are you? Are you okay? I know you’re pissed at me right now, but please just let me know you’re okay.

  I expect her to ignore the message, but the three dots appear at the bottom of the screen almost instantly. They disappear almost as quickly, then reappear and hope blooms in my chest. I wait for the angry, verbal barrage but instead when her reply appears it’s a single word.

  Peaches – Why?

  My breath stutters in my chest, she wants to know why and she deserves an answer, but the only response I can think to give her seems so woefully inadequate.

  Because you can’t leave if you’re growing my baby.

  Because I want everything with you and I’m too selfish to wait.

  Because the neanderthal caveman that controls my brain whenever I’m near you thought this
was the best way to tie you to me for the rest of our lives.

  Because I wanted to claim you in the most basic way I could think of.

  Because I’m an asshole with control issues and I wanted to own you so completely you can never leave me.

  Now that I’m thinking about it, none of those reasons seem good enough to explain why I took away her choice, why I forced a pregnancy she isn’t ready for on her, but they’re all I’ve got, so I send them all to her and hope that at least one of them will make her not hate me, or the baby I hope is growing inside of her.

  Me - Because you can’t leave if you’re growing my baby.

  Me - Because I want everything with you and I’m too selfish to wait.

  Me - Because the neanderthal caveman that controls my brain whenever I’m near you thought this was the best way to tie you to me for the rest of our lives.

  Me - Because I wanted to claim you in the most basic way I could think of.

  Me - Because I’m an asshole with control issues and I wanted to own you so completely you could never leave me.

  I sit down on the edge of our bed, my cell cradled in my hands as I wait for her reply, but nothing comes, then all of a sudden the three dots appear and I gasp a relieved, shaky breath.

  Peaches – So this is all about you and what you want and need? What about me? Did you even consider me at all when you were making decisions about my life and body?

  The truth hits me like a train, I didn’t think about her, not really, or at least not in the way she’s asking me. I only thought about her in terms of what I wanted, not about what I was doing and how it would affect her.

  Another message pops up and I look down at the screen. It’s a picture of a pregnancy test and the word pregnant is clear in bold black text. She’s pregnant. She’s having a baby, my baby. Our child is growing inside of her and even though I know she hates me right now, I can’t help but want to whoop with joy, because our baby is safe in its mama’s belly, getting bigger and stronger every day.