The Monkey Jungle (The Bennt, Montana Series)

by Taylor Ryan

  He took the information like a slap in the face. Garth was sure he was gaping. She’d been that close to him for at least thirteen years?! He was stunned. She’d just broadsided him so casually he couldn’t comprehend it for a moment.

  “I’ve walked the train track up Noyo. Drank beer at the old grave yard at Caspar. And the one at Little River Airport Road. Caspar is better, it’s creepier. I’ve picked glass from Glass Beach, even been rock picking for abalone a few hundred times. And all before I was sixteen. I’ve ridden a horse from Mendocino to Comptche all the way up Big River. And once, I was lost in the sand dunes at Ten Mile. One time I stole a dinghy from a fishing boat in Noyo Harbor and went upriver. It was a bitch because the tide was out and I didn’t make any headway at all. I made it to Dolphin Isle and abandoned the boat.” Her smile was coolly amused. “Now you know.”

  “But that means—?” Garth was trying to regroup. She’d blazed through his history during her Margarita Bingo and never once had she hinted they came from within mere miles of each other.

  “It’s a small world, isn’t it?” she said casually, inwardly pleased he was knocked for a loop. “One time I was in Hawaii and bumped into a cousin who lived in Washington. Another time I was in Washington visiting that cousin and bumped into my crazy neighbor, Mrs. Peabody. I ran into somebody I met in Alaska at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. That was cool. Another time I ran into somebody in Little River I’d met on a cruise in Hawaii. They were from Canada.”

  Garth sat on the rock near her. Oh, they were going to talk! He was going to sit her down someday soon and ream her, then kiss her witless. She’d never recover. Who feels manipulated now?—his own voice snickered at him in his head. Who was cocky now? That same voice needed to shut up. “We know the same people,” he said as he tossed his line in the creek.

  “Maybe. Probably.” Mary Kathryn was cavalier, recalling her morning in the pantry when she’d Googled his name before the phone calls back home. “But remember, Fort Bragg and Mendocino schools had that ridiculous nasty rivalry. I think they still do. And I was pregnant and married when I graduated at seventeen. You were already four or five years gone living with Uncle Sam by then.”

  He was going to kiss her witless! Completely utterly witless! Then laugh his head off when she experienced the little death, came to and wanted to call 911. He might even let her; just to see her explain she’d passed out having an orgasm when the EMT’s arrived. He would sit back, watch, and hear their gentle explanation why she’d passed out. Watch her hem and haw. See her expression, just before she turned and scolded him in front of them, knowing he knew because he would be laughing by then. It was the only thing that kept him from falling into the creek. Garth used anticipation to brace himself from the shock she’d given him. He finally asked, “How did you and your sister end up in Montana?”

  “My husband’s grandmother left him a small inheritance when she passed away. Jason’s family had brought him here on vacations. He loved it here, so we came after he inherited. Heather came with us, to help in the beginning. She met Wilson and stayed.” She smiled fondly at the memories. “I loved it here from the moment I arrived. It could have been different. I thank God every day it wasn’t.”

  “But,” he was bemused. “I heard you say to Wilson that he made out with you under the bleachers at the local high school.”

  She laughed. “He was infatuated with Heather. I was sitting in the bleachers at a rally we’d been invited to attend, wearing her jacket. He was underneath trying to sneak a box of chocolates in her purse, which was on my lap.” She laughed again. “Not only did he touch, he was bold about it—I almost had a heart attack. Believe me, if I’d have had a gun then, he would have a gunshot scar. Those chocolates weren’t that good, either, but I ate them anyway.”

  Garth laughed. “Obviously it worked out for everyone. Are your parents still alive?” He could barely comprehend the common ground they had roamed as children. He’d been everywhere she’d mentioned.

  “My parents are kicking it up in the same house I grew up in, in Little River. They visit Montana every year. My dad drops my mother off with Heather or me, then disappears for a few weeks to go hunting.” She glanced at him. “He’d like you, an outdoorsy man. He camps at that place I pointed out where the road forks. Since before I was born he’s been coming here to hunt.”

  “Please don’t tell me I remind you of him.” The idea didn’t set well.

  “Heavens no!” she appeared astonished. “Far from it. Maybe you’ve heard of him, Drummond Construction?”

  Garth nodded, further astonished. “You’re a Drummond?”

  She grinned mischievously. “Now you know how I knew so much about you. Just a matter of making a few phone calls back home.”

  “Damn!” he whistled quietly.

  “The amazing thing was that Henry didn’t mention anything, his knowing we grew up in the same backyard. ” Mary Kathryn reasoned out loud. “Maybe he wouldn’t have thought of it, having lived here all his life. These petty truths I’ve admitted are nothing,” her expression become smooth. “Simple pebbles skipping on the surface of a placid lake.” With that enigmatic statement she cast her line out and sat down next to him. “Your friend, Peter Gregory,” she glanced at him. “I’ve known him all my life.”

  “He’s one of my best friends...”

  “I know,” she grinned impishly. “He told me. I called him and told him you were here, that I’d shot at you. One thing led to another and he started telling me stories.”

  “I’ll stuff a sock down his throat,” Garth grouched lightly.

  She laughed at his disgruntled expression. “Only because I led him. I needed a story you couldn’t possibly imagine I could know. The rules of the Margarita Club,” she sighed then muttered with aggravation about losing her crown.

  “What else did he tell you about me?”

  She cocked her head, contemplating him for a moment, her eyes glittering. “That’s for me to know.”

  His perturbed frown had her grinning. Garth eyed her warily. Everything he’d assumed, that she’d been born and raised in Montana, that she’d never really been anywhere else, vanished. Once again he was scrambling to catch up. He wouldn’t underestimate her again, which only made him wonder what else she was concealing. Hiding by omission, not concealing because she was devious in any way. He shook his head. What was he thinking? Yes, she was! But not duplicitous in a harmful way.

  Garth decided as he watched Mary Kathryn that she was the most private woman he’d ever met. Not those secrets she had revealed last night, but deeper than she wanted people to know. Distract with wit, keep her distance on a more personal level. Everything about her was calculated, yet she was still holding out. Why the hell was she still single? Better men than he had surely tried to catch her. There loss he was here now.

  She caught his regard and indicated his pole. “You’re not going to bring that trout in by gawking.”

  Garth started as the line between his fingers tugged, muttering under his breath something about 911, which caused her to pause, concern crossing her face. “Garth, are you feeling ill?”

  He played the fish, not wanting to lose it as he answered honestly. “No, I feel better than I have in years—which on some level, scares the shit out of me.”

  She remained silent until he reached for the trout. “Milton Berle said he did everything in his BVD’s—I’m sure he never smelled as good as you doing it—Don’t drop it!” she squawked as he almost fell over into creek, his grasp on the wiggling fish precarious.

  He recovered his balance quickly, frowning her direction. “Do you ever have a serious moment?”

  “Hell no!” She was blithely cheeky. “Life is for laughing! Death is for getting serious. Since death lasts so long, and apparently there’s nothing else to do in Hell but sweat, want water and listen to people bitch about the weather, I’ve decided to wait until I get there, then I’ll get serious. That’s what Hell is all about...talking about
the weather for eternity. Can you imagine anything worse?” She laughed. “I get tired of talking about the weather up here—imagine how many people are down there whining about it—to anybody who will listen—”

  Garth laughed; it burst from him. “If there is a Hell, you aren’t going there.”

  She instantly looked at rocks under her feet and yelled, “Damn you! You lied to me! And you have all the cool shit!”

  He dropped his pole and crossed the short distance to drag her bodily up into his arms and kissed her, even as he was laughing against her mouth. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes darkened. She dropped her pole and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with a fervent intensity that matched his own.

  When Garth finally managed to pull away they were both breathing heavily, both stunned by the heated, mindless, all-consuming exchange.

  “Who are you, really, Mary Kathryn?” Garth slid a hand up to cup her head and study her face. “The witty, cocky brat? The sexy woman who has bewitched me? The determined mother who sent her son to college on one income? Or the lonely woman who makes people laugh because she knows it makes them feel better even if only for a few minutes, who helps them forget their own troubles for a time? Who makes you laugh, Mary Kathryn? Who goes out of their way to cheer you up when you’re feeling down?”

  He caught her mouth again, kissing her swiftly then pulled away, leaving her blinking, taken by surprise by his words, not the kiss. She trembled visibly, catching herself, staring at his mouth then looking into his eyes. “Don’t dig too deep, Garth. Like you, I don’t want a pedestal, they’re annoying and need constant maintenance. There are flaws—I come with millions of headaches.”

  “Dig as deep as you want,” he tapped his chest, wondering at the enigmatic look that came and went on her face. “There are flaws and a multitude of sins, not that I want to hear about them.” Garth’s tone was self-mocking, “but I would listen if you nagged. And I’d polish your pedestal,” he teased, running a hand across her ass.

  “I’m annoying,” said Mary Kathryn with a flash of small white teeth. “Not a restful person to be around. I need to be busy all the time.” She eyed him challengingly. “Gossiping, sewing. Fishing. More gossiping.”

  “Nobody wants to fall asleep during dinner,” Garth responded humorously, his fingers itching to slip under her shirt.

  “I would bash a loaf of bread over your head if you did. I’m a good cook and a great gossip. I get all the latest about my neighbors from Cindy Hopper’s Scissors and Yarns—oh! I’ve got a fish on—imagine that!” She pulled away and looked at her pole lying at their feet. It jerked again as she gave him a brilliant smile. “Shuffle off. That sincere little speech you spouted got me in touch with my needy feminine side. And I don’t like the way my toes curled without permission when you kissed me.”

  Mary Kathryn played the fish on her line. Had she only known this man a week? It didn’t seem possible. She felt as if she’d known him forever, recognized a kindred spirit. She watched covertly as Garth picked up his own pole. If there was such a thing as a soul mate, he was the closest thing she could imagine. He saw her, the real her. His perception wasn’t entirely accurate, but at least he was looking. It was an odd sensation. It left her feeling vulnerable...and, if that steamy kiss was anything to judge, sunk.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “WHY DON’T YOU JUST tell me?” Garth’s comment startled Mary Kathryn. They were driving home two hours and six trout later, her winning water logged willow stick in the trunk.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Whatever is distracting you.”

  She hesitated before she spoke. “You and I are alike. I see it. I can hear it.”

  He remained silent, waiting. She studied the terrain outside the passenger window, thinking of how to answer. Why was it hard to say? When she finally did, her expression distracted, they were pulling into her driveway.

  “Well?” he prompted, leaving the car running as he turned to face her.

  “It’s more complicated than I thought. There is something—” she nervously pushed her hand through her hair. “It’s complicated, but so simple. It all comes down to one word, a few one word, words.”

  “Love?”

  “Love?!” She was genuinely shocked. She shook her head, saying brittlely, “No, not love. I would have thought love would be a given. Given time and opportunity and, corny as this sounds, the right nourishment.” She held his gaze for a moment, her eyes drawn to his mouth. “It’s like you said before, if we loved once, we have the capacity to do it again. It will just be—different.”

  “Then what?” he said, adding with irony, “I thought women liked to hear that word.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t try tossing that common drivel at me,” she warned lightly. “I’m nobody’s fool to fall for it.”

  “I already figured that out,” Garth said honestly. He wondered if perhaps she was a bit more cynical than he’d surmised. What was cynicism without bitterness? She certainly wasn’t bitter, just wary of getting involved in a relationship she didn’t want. “I wouldn’t say it anyway.”

  “No, you wouldn’t, would you.” She studied his face curiously. “Men are interesting creatures. You’re no different than any other man, you just look more interesting.” She shrugged, as if at a loss to explain. “I’m—worried about money.” There! She’d said it. It was out there for him to interpret any way he chose. She fell silent, looking blindly through the windshield. He’d said the L word. Good Lord! From a man like him the L word was a major concession. Major.

  “What do you want from me?” she demanded abruptly, cognizant that Garth Morley saying the L word and willing to discuss it at all meant he was actually thinking of her and it in the same context.

  “Sex,” he said instantly. “With someone who likes it as much as I do.” He knew she did, the memory of her passionate response to his kiss caused his pulse to quicken.

  “Well,” she smiled brilliantly, not offended in the least, “at least we know where you’re coming from.” He was undoubtedly the best kisser she’d ever had. And it hadn’t been all technique. He had some depth to him, this man who was too good looking for his own good. He’d kissed her with passion, and with something akin to worship. Yes, that was it. Worship. Like he relished her beyond all else. She blinked when he waved his hand in her face.

  “I’ve enough money of my own, Mary Kathryn, that fat little retirement check from my uncle—I probably have more than you do. So you don’t have to worry about money.” He grinned. “I’m not known as a frugal miser because I spend it. Be warned, I’m not a wastrel with my money. I’d not mind sharing it if you respect that I like to have a chunk set aside to be spontaneous if I want to get up in the middle of the night and catch a plane. Not that I ever have, but it’s an idea I entertain on occasion.”

  “You’re a miser?” She looked startled. “But then, money is a responsibility,” she said it as if it rankled.

  “So is sex,” he was equally earnest.

  “For a man like you, you mean,” she countered wryly. “You’re obsessing.”

  “You’re beautiful.” His intense gaze told her he really believed the compliment.

  She humphed, more pleased than she thought possible. “You’re just horny.”

  “Yes, I am.” Garth didn’t look away. “But as you learned trying to pickle me last night, I’m picky. So that puts all this right back on you.”

  “This isn’t about sex, not at all.” Mary Kathryn heaved a sigh but her eyes were twinkling. “It’s more than that. Enough that it gives me a headache. Besides the headache I get from the thought of having sex with you.” She managed to drag laughter from him.

  This relationship was moving fast. It made her nervous. She should have told him what she’d meant about money. He’d jumped to the conclusion she didn’t have enough. The idea of him being irritated, seeing his currently reasonably peaceful life going wayside amused her. Her mood lightened. “What do you w
ant from me beside sex?” she queried, watching his eyelids lower immediately to conceal his thoughts. He was as slippery as the fish in the trunk.

  Garth knew if he said more sex she’d probably scold him in that amusing way she had. He watched every nuance flying across her unusually expressive face. He countered out of self-preservation, “Why don’t we play one of those games you seem to like?”

  Her eyes narrowed and he explained quickly, “I say a word or two and you tell me the first word that comes to mind.”

  Mary Kathryn nodded slowly, finding the idea intriguing.

  “Garth Morley.” He grinned at the trap he’d set.

  “Great sweaty sex.”

  His eyes widened. He was there. Visualizing. It was hotly passionate. And she was loud and over-heated from their exertion.

  Mary Kathryn added huskily, “Until we’re both so exhausted we need to crawl for food and water. And since you’re the survival expert, you’ll be doing the crawling.”

  He blinked slowly, imagining her naked, then said before he could stop himself, “Excellent, we’re wet on the same page.” He resisted the urge to grab her, drag her against him and make out with her in her driveway. He wondered vaguely if she’d resist.

  “Speaking of wet,” she said flippantly, her heart jumping as his eyes flashed. “I’ve been thinking about what you said when you were trying to get me into the shower.” She opened her door and climbed out of the car.

  Garth was left semi-hard, staring at her sweetly shaped bottom until it disappeared.

  Her head appeared a moment later. She braced herself on the car door as she leaned in. “It was interesting. I’d never thought about it in that way.”

  Was she going to take a shower with him? Anticipation curled and then wrapped his nerves tight. “And?”