Sleepless in Montana

by Cait London

  He seemed to sense her moods and fears, and Hogan was always so safe. While they argued, they also shared quiet times, like now, their hands matched on opposite sides of the window pane.

  Hogan had let her grow into him, and they’d blended together into an easy schedule. At times he cooked and cleaned, and they shared household duties. She helped him on the small ranch, and the nights were long and tender, each day better than before.

  Jemma allowed Hogan his private cave, of course. He spent the afternoon hours sketching away in his studio, and she enjoyed sharing her business deals with him. A quiet evening, sharing the lush rug in front of his fire, brought her more peace than she’d had in her lifetime.

  They were a family, she thought, a tiny perfect family. She wasn’t ready yet, but she did want Hogan’s children— glossy-haired little miniatures of him— to nestle within her. She’d found the end of her quest. She’d found her love.

  They were already a part of each other, in their hearts, and after that, all else would settle into place. The healing time had begun— a quiet acceptance of life’s unending circles.

  *** ***

  Savanna’s small car pulled into the dirt driveway of Aaron’s new home place.

  The entire Kodiak family was racing against winter. Jemma was happily giving orders; Hogan walked by to kiss her mouth closed, then place her firmly aside as he and Mitch lifted two-by-fours and carried them to another section of the stark framework with rough flooring.

  Aaron had been very good to Mrs. Coleman, relocating her with her sister, taking care of her paperwork and handling her finances.

  On the other hand, he’d been too proper with Savanna, his body shaking, but controlled each time he kissed her good night. Their relationship and her frustration had deepened. He was very careful of her— and very proper, giving her flowers, small, unique gifts, and taking her shopping and picnicking.

  Savanna took off her sunglasses and frowned. But no sex, no pushing, no seduction. He’d been very careful, though her body recognized the heat within his.

  Aaron had changed, and Savanna enjoyed him as a man and as a friend.

  She found him high on the newly shingled roof, his shirt open, his chest gleaming, and a carpenter’s tool belt slung around narrow hips.

  “You’re drooling,” Jemma whispered next to Savanna, as Aaron spied her and swung down from a rafter. He vaulted over a stack of boards and swaggered toward her, a boyish grin on his face.

  “Click,” Savanna whispered to Jemma, then strolled off to kiss the man she intended to marry.

  “Hello, honey—mmft!” Aaron gave himself to Savanna’s scorching kiss.

  She pushed him back and held his shirt with her fist. “Tonight. My house. Topics: sex and marriage. Sex first. I want to get pregnant right away, and I’ll want my baby wearing an Aaron Kodiak name. Got it? Oh, and one more thing— just so you know.... Click.”

  Then she strolled away, hips gently swaying in her tight red dress. She winked at Jemma.

  “Click,” Savanna said again with a low, sultry laugh, and bent to kiss Jimmy’s cheek as she passed.

  The boy flushed, made yucking noises, and tried not to look full of himself. “Women,” he said to Mitch, who had just adopted him. “Weird.”

  Aaron stood for a long time, clearly confused, frowning, and his hand rubbing his heart as though it had just left his keeping. Then he blinked and grinned.

  “Yahoo! I am getting married!” he yelled, and spread his arms wide to the blue sky of Montana.

  Two days later, Ben, Aaron, and Mitch sat under the Bar K’s big metal gate and faced Hogan’s house. With a long, doomed sigh, Hogan swung up on Moon Shadow’s bare back and rode to meet them. They glowered at him.

  “Do something with Jemma,” Aaron ordered.

  “She’s going to kill us,” Mitch grumbled.

  “Take her off someplace until all the weddings are done,” Ben added darkly. “She’s got the womenfolk all worked up into a frenzy. She has me, walking Dinah down the aisle in full wedding garb. Hell, we’re already married. Caterers, engagement parties, showers—”

  “We’ll stop work on my house and make your cabin ready for winter. We’ll chop wood and put in a stove and running water. We’ll build a warehouse to store her business deals. Take her up there—”

  “I get the picture. Hasn’t she always been in the middle of everything? Did you expect less from her?” Hogan asked, amused at the desperate expressions of his father and brothers. He enjoyed Jemma’s fast mind, the way she charged into life, emotions wide-open, nothing hidden.

  “She’s yours. Do something,” Ben ordered before the three men turned and rode away.

  Hogan shook his head and washed his hands over his face when he heard Jemma call, “Ben! Aaron! Mitch! Come back!”

  Moon Shadow sidled away from the pickup that skidded to a stop. Jemma leaped out and circled it, tugging a big tarp-wrapped object to the lowered tailgate. The bright red huge bow gleamed in the sunlight. “Since you’re all here, help me with this.”

  Hogan swung down and walked to Jemma, and with the air of a man accustomed to a woman of many interests asked, “What is it, honey?”

  “Pull the ribbon. But save it for later, sweetheart. I have big plans for it.”

  Jolted by the image of Jemma wearing nothing, but the ribbon, Hogan’s body hardened immediately.

  She flipped back the tarp to reveal a brand-new iron sign. “The Double Bar K. For your land, Hogan.”

  Ben began to laugh, the sound of his pleasure rolling over the Kodiak pastures. “Well, let’s do it, son. Let’s get this up to your place and set it.”

  *** ***

  Jemma’s cries stirred Hogan’s hardened body as he massaged her bare legs on their bed. He ran his hands up to her bottom, found the lace covering them, and eased it away.

  Turning her, Hogan bent to find her breasts, nuzzling her gently, licking and suckling and enjoying the soft unsteady catch of her breath. Her hands locked in his hair as he moved lower, opening his mouth over her navel, flicking it with his tongue.

  He took her hand, pressing his face to it, sucking each finger in turn, delighting in the sudden upthrust of her hips, the scent of her tightening the skin of his body. He sucked the incredibly sensitive portion of her thumb, just where it joined her hand.

  Jemma responded immediately with a ragged sigh. “You’re so sensual, Hogan. I feel as if you’re devouring me. As if your lovemaking is a promise.”

  “It is a promise.” He’d share his life with her, honor her, and love her all the days of his life. He turned her to lie facing him, his hand caressing her breasts slowly, the long curve of her legs, the jutting ridge of her hipbones. When her hand found him, drew him near, Hogan could wait no longer and surged into her, pinning her to the bed, moving slowly upon her, his hands capturing hers.

  “Are you my heart?” he asked roughly, needing the reassurance that the woman who held his body, knew she also held his heart.

  “I am, and are you mine?” Jemma demanded, matching his need before passion took them both.

  The ritual served as their vows, easing Hogan’s need for a marriage certificate. When it came to Jemma, his patience was endless. He trusted her to work through their relationship to the basics: that they loved each other.

  Jemma needed time, adjusting to living with him. She moved easily within the framework of their lives, unhampered now by the tethers she feared.

  Later, as he lay naked in front of the fire, waiting for his love to come to him, Hogan smiled slowly as she yelled, “Hogan! Hogan!”

  She tore from the kitchen, dark red hair streaming away from her. She carried his matted and covered watercolor paintings. “We’ll make a mint! Limited editions, right? Only so many prints, each numbered? Art gallery showings, you with your artsy Native American look, me in—”

  She frowned and eased to sit beside him. “A turquoise gown, I think. Full-length, off one shoulder.”

  “For me?” he
asked, and she blinked. Jemma could be undone when she was on a full roll. He thought of the Fire Feathers necklace and how it would look on her Christmas morning....

  “Bad boy. Down,” she ordered, as he began to toy with the edge of the towel wrapped around her breasts. “What is it, Hogan? I mean it’s beautiful, all the horses and wild animals, blending with mountains and scenery, and Native Americans. But it’s so unusual, everything is involved, flowing into reflections and the other images.”

  Her gray eyes widened. “This is it, isn’t it? This is what’s inside you. The images you say stir you? Oh, look, that’s a foal within a mare! Oh, my. It’s so intricate, so intense.... You’ve found what you wanted. They’re so beautiful, Hogan.”

  She moved through the watercolors, then stopped at one of a tall, fair-skinned woman, a blaze of fiery hair waving up and away from her face. Amid flowers that moved about her nude body, the woman... “It’s me. Is that how you see me? Like a fairy goddess? No, more earthy, more sensuous.”

  “You are Woman to me. It’s called camouflage art, and yes, I’m very intense about you. I love you.”

  Jemma smiled softly, bent to meet his kiss, and asked a question he’d asked her, “Are you going to marry me, or what?”

  *** ***

  Hogan inhaled the crisp dawn air, at ease with his life. Dressed only in jeans, he stood on his porch and watched the steam shoot from the horse’s nostrils. It was a good time, a healing time.

  He wrapped contentment around him and smiled as Jemma came from the house to wrap her arms around him. Dressed in a long white robe, knotted at the waist, she snuggled against him. “Come back to bed.”

  Hogan smiled against her hair. “Would you like that?”

  “Mmm.” She snuggled closer. “You know I would. You’ve got that edgy look, dark and secretive and that’s when you’re the most volatile— Hey, what are you doing?” she asked as Hogan swept her up in his arms.

  He hurried to Moon Shadow and plopped Jemma on the horse’s broad back, then swung up behind her. He wrapped one arm around her and drew her close as he guided Moon Shadow by a tug of his mane.

  “Okay, I’ll ask,” Jemma said, impatient as always. “You’re not going to tell me. Where are we going?”

  “To have breakfast with Dad and Mom and the family, of course.”

  “I’m in my robe, sweetheart,” she reminded him, turning to wrap her arms around him and snuggle close. “Did you say, ‘Dad’?”

  “I did, and does it matter what you’re wearing today?’’ he asked, feeling as if he were floating in pure Montana sunlight.

  “Not a bit. Not as long as I’m with you,” she said, holding him tight like she would for a lifetime.

  Hogan scanned the rolling fields, the cattle and horses, and Montana’s clear blue sky. He gathered his love closer and smiled.

  “Home,” he said simply. “I am home.”

  The End

  *** ***

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