by D'Ann Lindun
“No. I’m going to sleep. I’ll be fine. Go kill Bambi.”
Joel looked nearly as ill as Adrian at the prospect. “Great. Get some rest. I’ll look in on you before we leave.”
“I’ll be here if you need anything,” Shannon told her. “I’ll keep the fires going and have dinner ready for everyone.”
Adrian waggled her fingers. “Later, dudes.”
After she left, Johnny turned toward Montana. “Looks like it’s just you and me, babe.”
“I suppose.” She sounded like he was about to drag her off to face a firing squad.
He winked at her. “Cheer up. I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”
“I won’t.” Bright red flooded her face, which charmed the hell out of him. Most of the girls he knew would have shot back something about making it hurt. Sweet came as a nice change of pace. Kind of like eating a steady diet of salt then suddenly getting a spoonful of sugar.
Joel coughed. “Cowboy.”
Johnny ignored him. “I’m ready to ride when you are.”
Montana’s color deepened. “The horses have to eat first.”
Johnny lowered his voice to a timbre he knew chicks liked. “That’s cool. I like to eat before I ride, too.”
Montana opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Her face blazed a deeper shade of red.
Shannon gasped and turned toward her stove. Her shoulders shook as she made muffled sounds.
Ryan laughed outright. “Classic.”
Joel glared at him. “I thought we covered this, Cowboy.”
“I’m going to take some water to Adrian.” Grabbing her outerwear from the lodge pole, Montana pulled it on with jerky movements.
In a moment, Shannon followed, shooting an unreadable look his way. “There’s food in the skillet for Stoney when he gets here.”
Ryan rose and dumped his empty plate in the big pot of water simmering on the stove. “I better see about the horses.”
“Good going,” Joel muttered. “You’ve managed to piss off most everyone.”
“They weren’t pissed.”
“Right,” Joel muttered.
Stoney slipped inside the tent. “Montana and Shannon about mowed me down. What’s got their panties in a twist?”
Joel motioned toward Johnny. “Guess.”
Stoney grinned. “Your big boot slip into your mouth, Cowboy?”
“That’s not what he offered to slip into his mouth,” Joel told him. “And Montana didn’t appreciate it.”
Stoney poured himself a cup of coffee. “You wake up with a hard-on for her, man?”
Joel snorted. “Are you kidding me? He’s had one bad for Montana since the minute he saw her.”
Stoney eyed him. “True.”
“Hey, fuckers,” Johnny said, “I am standing here.”
“If you’re going to act like a dog chasing a bitch in heat expect to be talked about like one.” Joel practically spat the words.
“Whoa. Say what you want about me, but don’t call Montana a bitch.” Johnny couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. The band, him included, called women bitches all the time and never thought twice about it, but hearing Joel call Montana the nasty name didn’t sit well with him.
His friends looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, and not the one between his legs.
Beginning his usual pacing, Joel muttered, “Sorry, man.”
“Shit, dude.” Stoney helped himself to a plate of food and flopped into his chair. “You’re really into Miss Montana.”
“I’d like to taste,” Johnny admitted. “But she’s a chick just like any other.”
A movement in the corner of his eye alerted him that someone had opened the tent flap. He turned slowly as if his feet were stuck in a tangle of guitar strings.
Montana stood framed in the opening, her gaze locked on him. She stomped to one of the coolers, withdrew a bottle of water and spun away. If the tent had had a door, she would have slammed it behind her.
She heard every word.
Fuck!
Johnny started to follow, then stopped. What could he say? Tell her they had a future beyond this week? He might be an in-and-out kind of guy, but he’d never lied to a woman.
He didn’t plan to start now.
~*~
Shannon tried to comfort her. “He’s an asshole.”
Montana lifted her head from the hitch rail where she’d hidden her flaming face in her arms. “You think I don’t know that?”
“You should have seen the look on your face when he said he liked to eat before riding.” Shannon squeezed her arm.
“Nasty comment,” Montana muttered. “He’s such a pig.”
“It was, and he is, but you usually give as good as you get.” Shannon spoke as freely as only a true friend could. “Johnny bugs you with the double entendres and hot looks because you’re more attracted to him than you want to admit. If you weren’t, you would have laughed like the rest of us.” Shannon took a breath. “I know he really hurt your feelings.”
Was she that transparent? Or was it because they’d kissed that her emotions were raw? Montana touched her lips. The feel of his mouth on hers was enticing. So much so she’d almost let down her guard.
She ought to thank him for reminding her she was just another girl in a long line.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Did something happen between you two that you haven’t told me?” Shannon peered closer into her face. “Holy shit! It did! What went on?”
Montana knew better than to try to hold out. Her friend was worse than a bloodhound. She could sniff out the truth no matter how hard anyone tried to hide it. She met Shannon’s curious gaze. “He kissed me this morning.”
If she didn’t feel so crappy, Montana would have laughed at Shannon’s wide eyes and the way her mouth formed a perfect O. “Where?”
“On the mouth.” And the neck. And anywhere else she would have let him.
Shannon snapped her mouth shut. “In the tent?”
“Down by the hot springs.”
“Oh my God.” Shannon practically wrung her hands. “No wonder you’re upset.”
“Yeah.” Montana stiffened her spine. “No biggie. Like he said, just a kiss.”
“From a rock star,” Shannon reminded her. “Who could have any woman he wanted.”
“You kiss him,” Montana said. “Because I’m not going to ever again.”
Shannon chuckled. “Until next time.”
“Why would I? To be another notch on his bedpost? Or wherever he uses to keep track of how many women he’s seduced?” Montana took a shuddering breath. “If I wanted to be another number, I could have stayed with Tom.”
“Did you ever think to turn the tables?” Shannon leaned back and hooked her elbows on the hitch rail.
“What do you mean?”
Shannon stared at the horizon. “Instead of letting him run the game, you take charge.”
“I’m not into games. You know that.”
“I realize it, but you have seven days ahead of you. Do you want to be standing here brokenhearted when Johnny goes back to his real life? Or would you rather have him pining for you?”
Montana doubted she could pull off such a thing, but she asked anyway. “How do I do that?”
“Simple. Pretend like you could care less. Kiss him. Tease him. Even sleep with him, but don’t let him see your emotions. It will make him crazy wondering what you’re thinking. Men love a challenge. Even rock stars.”
Montana hugged her friend. “How’d you get so smart?”
“Learned the hard way.” Shannon squeezed her tight. “So you don’t have to.”
Could she do it? Be with Johnny and not fall in love? And more importantly, could she hide her emotions if she did allow herself to give into her burgeoning feelings for him?
CHAPTER NINE
Ryan rode out of camp around eight, Stoney and Joel with him. He said he’d be back by dusk at the latest unless they bagged an elk.
In that event they would return sooner.
Shannon handed Montana two sack lunches. “Remember what I said.”
“I will.” Montana’s stomach knotted. An entire day alone with Johnny. She stiffened her shoulders. Today he was just another big game hunter, same as she’d guided a million times. Just another day at the office.
Right!
She ignored her little voice and grabbed a thermos. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Be careful.”
Montana was pretty sure her friend meant emotionally more than physically. She nodded. “I will.”
Carrying their lunches, her rifle and an extra pair of gloves, she headed for the horses. Johnny had beaten her there and stood next to Gunsmoke, stroking the dun’s neck.
When he spotted her, he straightened. “Hi.”
The first word he’d spoken since his comment about her being just another girl. Like Peyton? Whoever that might be. Shannon’s words rang in Montana’s ears. She lifted her chin and met his gaze with a cool one of her own. “You ready?”
He hefted his rifle. “Absolutely.”
Montana handed him his lunch, then sheathed her gun in the scabbard hanging from her saddle. “As soon as you’re set we can ride.”
He nodded and tucked his weapon into the scabbard on his saddle. Unlike last time, he didn’t make a show of it, just slid the high-powered rifle into the leather sheath and buckled the strap.
Relieved he hadn’t done something sexual, Montana waited until he untied the dun. “Be careful when you first get on Gunsmoke. Sometimes he has a bit of a cold back.”
Johnny peered at her under the gelding’s neck. “You telling me he’s going to buck me off?”
“No. But he humps up.” Montana motioned toward Sunflower. “Do you want to trade? I can ride Gunsmoke if you like.”
“No, I want to ride him,” Johnny insisted. “I haven’t been bucked off lately.”
Montana shot him a sharp look, but for once his comment didn’t seem to have sexual overtones. “Suit yourself.”
She turned away and placed her lunch and thermos in her saddlebags. When she turned around, Johnny was sitting on the big dun. Both appeared relaxed and ready to start the day.
With a mental shrug, Montana mounted Sunflower. She tapped the gelding with her heels to signal him to go. Cutting across the meadow, they skirted the hot springs toward a game trail that wound high into the mountains.
Although the sun had risen above the peaks, warmth had yet to penetrate the deep woods. Patches of snow from the previous night’s storm remained under the pines. Glad for her coat and gloves, Montana glanced over her shoulder at Johnny. “You warm?”
“Toasty.” He flashed a smile, but she could tell he lied by his hunched shoulders and tightly clenched hands. Like her, he wore Carhartt bibs over a camouflage hoodie, an orange vest and Sorel boots with two sets of socks. She knew about the socks because she’d told everyone the night before to dress warm even if the snow melted off and he’d commented on how he planned to double up for warmth.
“We’ll come into the sun soon.”
“It’s a lot frostier here than in L.A.”
She shrugged. “Different place.”
“Yeah. Poles apart in many ways.”
“I would imagine so.” What were they talking about here? The weather? Or their moral compasses being miles apart?
They entered a small meadow and Montana placed her fingers over her lips. Elk often grazed here during the night. They would be heading for cover with the sunlight. She reined in Sunflower and Johnny guided Gunsmoke next to her. Their knees and ankles bumped, distracting Montana from her search.
She glanced at Johnny.
He studied her in turn.
Almost as if he’d never seen her before, something flickered in the depths of his blue eyes. Regret? For what? The way he’d talked about her earlier?
Montana shook off her thoughts. He’d made no move to apologize. Why would he? He’d spoken the truth. To him she was just another girl. Nothing special. Bitterness filled her mouth.
Something moved at the edge of the trees. Sunflower pricked his ears and shifted uneasily under her. Gunsmoke flicked his ears back and forth and blew a soft snort. Montana focused hard, trying to see what had made the horses nervous.
A large shape lumbered through the chokecherry bushes lining the field. A black bear. Most likely grabbing one of his last meals before a long hibernation. No danger to them if they stayed out of his way.
The bear rose on its hind legs and sniffed the air.
They sat frozen. Waiting. Montana put her hand on her rifle, ready to dismount and shoot at the slightest indication the bear planned to charge. Out of the corner of one eye, she watched Johnny. He sat mesmerized by the bear. Almost transfixed. A little bit of her anger melted as she watched the hardened rock star admire one of God’s amazing creatures.
The enormous animal dropped to all fours and disappeared.
Montana exhaled. “Whew.”
“Damn. That was something else.”
“Yeah,” she said. “It was.”
Johnny laughed. “Don’t see many bears in L.A.”
“I’ve never been there,” Montana said. “Never wanted to.”
“You’re kidding.” Johnny sounded as if she’d said the world had just turned upside down.
“I’m serious.” She shifted in her saddle to fully look at him. “I’ve never wanted to visit it.” With a wave of her hand, she said, “Look around. I’d miss all this too much.”
“I grew up in a place not so different.” He sighed. “I hated it. Couldn’t wait to escape. I spent every hour I could in the clubs in Seattle. Playing music. Trying to get a deal. I wanted nothing more than to arrive in L.A.”
“Was it all you’d hoped?”
“That and more.” A smile flashed across his face. “Drugs. Money. Bit—women.”
Montana flinched. He sounded so much like Tom. The exact same spiel—girls were for the taking. She didn’t want to hear any more. “The bear’s gone. Let’s move.”
Johnny nodded.
As she led them away from the meadow, Montana mulled over Johnny’s words. He had been honest; he hadn’t lied. But telling the truth didn’t make it right. It made her sick. What was wrong with her that she kept being attracted to the same kind of man? The kind that only wanted to keep her in a stable full of women to be taken out, bedded and put back with no more thought than if she were a mare to be bred.
Ice settled around her heart.
Her future looked bleak. Lonely. Childless.
They rode in silence, the clink of horseshoes striking granite, creak of a saddle or occasional clank of a bit the only sounds. The sun had risen above the peaks, warming her shoulders. She tugged off her wool cap and stuffed it into one of her coat pockets.
They left the trees, breaking out along a steep hillside. Montana reined in and withdrew her binoculars from a case around her neck. Peering through them, she spotted a big bull elk and three cows in the bottom of the ravine several hundred feet below them. She pointed. Johnny followed the line of her finger and nodded.
“I see him.” He reached for his rifle.
“I don’t think you can hit the bull from here,” Montana said. “Let’s get a little closer.”
Johnny pushed his rifle back into the scabbard. “How?”
“Follow me. I know a shortcut called Hanging Bridge.”
“A real bridge?”
“No, it’s a narrow granite wall that connects to peaks. About five hundred feet long and about six feet wide.”
Although she’d grown up in the mountains, and ridden through them a million times, Montana had never liked heights. The particular trail she spoke of bothered her more than most. Out in the open, with steep drop-offs on both sides, the narrow path made her heart race.
A few minutes later she touched her lips with the tip of her tongue. The horses were surefooted, trustworthy. The scary part only lasted a short distan
ce before dropping into a copse of pines where she and Johnny could dismount and get a better aim at the elk.
She reined Sunflower along the ridge out onto the narrow path. Snow dusted the purple-tipped mountains all around them and the rocky creek bed hundreds of feet below. “Steady does it, boy.”
As they crossed the rock face, Johnny muttered, “Damn.”
“You okay?” Montana wound her fingers tight around her saddlehorn and risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Johnny had Gunsmoke’s nose right on Sunflower’s haunches. But the man looked relaxed. Not remotely frightened.
“This is fuckin’ awesome.”
“Yeah.” Glad he was enjoying himself, she signaled Sunflower to continue. The palomino obeyed, his steps sure across the slick rock.
A large pebble dislodged by one of his hooves bounced off the trail, falling into space. It hit the boulders below with a resounding ping. Montana’s heart lurched. Her fingers, wrapped around the saddlehorn, turned white.
Shit!
Had they spooked the elk? Montana risked a glance into the valley below. Yes! The small herd was on the move, trotting up the creek bed away from them. Johnny would miss his shot if they didn’t hurry. With a little prayer, she tapped Sunflower’s sides. The horse picked up his pace to a fast walk. Montana would risk no more. To do so was asking for trouble, maybe even a fall. Falling would mean certain death.
Thankfully, they crossed the narrow area within a few minutes. Pine trees began to litter the side of the mountain, obscuring the drop-off and the view of the creek bed below. Montana drew a relieved breath. She hated that part of the trail.
“Hurry. I think you can still get your shot.” She dismounted, quickly tied her horse to a slender quaking aspen tree and grabbed her rifle.
She led the way through the trees at a jog out onto a jagged point, careful to avoid the farthest, loose edge. She grabbed her binoculars again and quickly spotted the elk. They’d stood in a tight cluster, clearly uneasy, among a pile of dark gray boulders. “There.”
“I see him.” Johnny peered through his scope. “Damn. I don’t think I can get a clear shot. I might hit one of the cows.” He lowered the rifle and slung it around his neck.