by D'Ann Lindun
Tom eyed him with a scornful expression. “Couldn’t hit one, huh?”
Johnny took a swing of his beer, then sat back and grinned. “That was some catch you made last year in the playoffs against Seattle.”
Tom’s face turned red at the insult. Not once, but twice, he’d dropped crucial passes, ultimately losing the vital game. “Haven’t seen you on the charts in a while. How’s the music biz these days?”
“We’re about to drop a new CD in a few months.” Johnny knew Tom didn’t care when his album came out, but this wasn’t his house, so he chose civility over the ass kicking the guy was begging for.
“I’ll be sure and watch for it,” Tom said. “In the few minutes before it’s gone.”
Johnny laughed and tipped his beer. “You do that. Meanwhile, I’ll bet on the other team in the playoffs…if you make them.”
Evan coughed. “Guys—”
“You said something about pie?” Johnny asked.
Charlie jumped to his feet. “I did. It’s cherry.”
“I like cherries,” Tom said. “Including the one Montana gave m—”
“Shut up.” Johnny dropped his voice into his lowest register. “Now.”
Tom feigned innocence. “What, rock star? Did I hit a nerve?”
Johnny placed his beer on the table with deliberate slowness. “The only one who’s going to be hit is you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Tom pushed up from the table.
Evan held up his hands. “Gentlemen, please. Let’s have a slice of pie.”
With a jerk of his head, Johnny agreed, although he ached to put his fist in the football player’s big mouth. “Sure. Let’s eat pie.”
Charlie served them a quarter slice each. He lifted his fork, then set it back on the table. Where’s Montana?”
Fork halfway to his mouth, Johnny froze. “She’s not here?”
“No.” Evan’s fork clattered to the table. “She left with you.”
Shooting a disbelieving look at the curtained-off bed, Johnny said, “She’s not sleeping?”
Sudden worry creased Evan’s forehead. “No. She didn’t come back.”
“Shit.” Pie forgotten, Johnny stood and pulled on his hat and coat. Where was Montana? She’d been gone for about half an hour. What was she doing out in the cold? “I’ll be right back.”
“Take this.” Charlie handed him a flashlight. “Let us know if you need help.”
“She’s probably in the outhouse.” Tom sounded bored.
“I hope you’re right,” Johnny said, but something felt wrong. Montana wasn’t the pout-until-I-get-my-way type. That had been Teal’s M.O. His heart pounded a wild staccato. Had something happened to her? If it had, he would never forgive himself.
Outside, he swung the flashlight in a wide arc, but saw nothing unusual. The Marshes’ horses stood in the rope corral, seemingly content. Further, he spotted Gunsmoke, the palomino Montana rode and the mule all grazing peacefully.
Where could she have gone?
“Montana?”
Nothing.
The outhouse sat in the trees several hundred yards away from the cabin. Johnny remembered the way from his trip there earlier. Snow lay in ragged patches on the ground, but the path was clear from all the boots tromping across it. The full moon made his flashlight almost unnecessary, but he continued to swing it back and forth as he walked.
At first he thought the dark object lying in the snow was a log. But when the realization it was human kicked in, he raced forward, heart in his mouth.
“Montana!” Dropping to his knees, he found her face-down in the snow, hands splayed out from her sides. “Answer me, dammit!”
Frantically, he felt her wrist for a pulse.
There!
Slow, steady.
He gently rolled her over. Fear filled him. Pale as ice, blue lips, but the bloody gash over her left eye terrified him the most.
“Oh, baby, who did this to you?”
Gathering her limp, cold body in his arms, he ran for the cabin. He kicked the door until Evan opened it.
The man’s eyes widened. “What on earth?”
“She’s badly hurt.” Johnny pushed past him. “Where can I put her?”
Evan raced to one of the bunks. “Here. What happened?”
“I don’t know. She’s unconscious.” He placed her on the bed as gently as if she were one of his irreplaceable guitars. “Her head is bleeding. I need some warm water and a rag.”
Evan sprang into action, pouring hot water from a pot on the stove into a small metal tub and handing it to Johnny. Then he dug in a duffle bag and retrieved a pristine white T-shirt. “Use this. I haven’t worn it.”
“Thanks.”
After dipping the edge of the T-shirt in the hot water, Johnny rang it out and gently wiped the blood from Montana’s forehead. He was relieved to see the cut wasn’t as bad as it had first appeared. But, like all head wounds, it had bled profusely.
She moaned and stirred. “Johnny?”
“I’m here, baby.”
“What happened?” she moaned. “My head hurts.”
“You must have tripped.” Johnny dipped the shirt in the water again and dabbed at the dried, frozen blood on her face. “You were knocked out.”
A frown flitted across her face. “I don’t remember.”
“That ain’t good. You might have a concussion.” Tom offered his two cents from behind Johnny’s left shoulder. Unfortunately, he was probably right.
“Can you sit up?” Johnny asked. “Your coat is wet. I don’t want you to get chilled.”
She nodded and grimaced. “Ouch.”
“Take it easy. I’ll help.” Johnny eased his arm around her and helped her to stand. She leaned heavily on him as he removed her coat and flannel shirt. So different than when she’d been in his arms an hour ago. Guilt gripped him. If he hadn’t pushed her for sex, she wouldn’t be hurt.
“Turn around,” he ordered the other men. “I want to take off her shirt and jeans.”
Tom snorted, but he and the others did as asked.
When Johnny had her stripped to her thermal underwear, he said, “Evan, can you roll out her sleeping bag? It’s by the door.”
Evan spread the sleeping bag on the bunk. He fluffed her pillow as well as any good nurse. “There you go.”
Johnny placed her on the bed and zipped her inside the sleeping bag. “How do you feel?”
“Awful. I just want to sleep.”
“No sleeping. You might have a concussion and you need to stay awake for at least an hour,” Johnny said.
Evan handed him a first aid kit. “There are bandages in here for her head.”
“Thanks.” He selected three butterfly bandages and carefully covered her wound with them. “There you go.”
She gingerly felt his handiwork. “How awful is it? Hurts like hell.”
“Not bad. Looks worse than it is,” Johnny reassured her. “No stitches needed.”
“Thank you, Johnny.”
The churning in his gut intensified. Her beautiful face injured because of his selfishness, but she was thanking him. When she remembered why she was hurt, she’d hate him. He forced a smile. “No worries.”
Tom pushed his way to her side. “Do you have double vision? Sick to your stomach?”
“No.” She frowned. “Just a throbbing headache.”
“Memory loss?” he prodded.
“I don’t remember why I fell…”
Johnny flinched. Running away from him had caused this.
“It’s probably just a mild concussion,” Tom repeated.
As much as the football player irritated him, Johnny knew he was right. He’d once had a bad concussion from a fan throwing a beer bottle that hit him square in the nose. He’d tried to finish the set, but vomiting, double vision and ringing in his ears made it impossible. Joel insisted he go to the hospital, where they hadn’t allowed him to sleep or take any medicine for a few hours.
“I’m going to bed,�
� Tom announced.
Apparently satisfied Johnny had things under control, Charlie and Evan pulled their chairs to the table and began a card game.
Montana’s eyes drifted shut. “I want to sleep, too.”
“Baby,” Johnny said, “you can’t. Not yet.”
“I’m tired.”
“No.” He touched her shoulder. “Talk to me.”
Her gray eyes opened and found his. “About what?”
“Whatever you want,” he said. “I’ll sing for you.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
Grabbing a chair from the table, Johnny set it next to the bed and chose a slow, soft ballad from Heartbeat. Although most of the songs had been written for and about Teal, he still liked some of those songs a lot.
He wished the public had connected with the raw emotion he’d put into them. Bu they hadn’t wanted love songs—they craved the dirty, raunchy Johnny he’d always been.
After the last notes faded away, Montana smiled. “I love that one.”
Her praise sent warmth straight to his heart. Unlike most of the women he knew, Montana didn’t gush over him, offering endless praise that meant nothing. When she offered a compliment, it was meant.
She was exceptional.
Too special for him.
His actions had hurt her physically. If they’d screwed, he would have hurt her emotionally. In the morning, when she felt better, he’d ask her to take him out of the mountains. He needed to get back to his real life and the kind of women he understood.
With a heavy heart, he opened his mouth to sing another song.
~*~
Montana woke to the scents of coffee and frying eggs. A curtain hung between her bed and the men, but she heard them moving around and speaking in low voices. When she swung her legs off the bunk, pain slammed through her head.
“Ouch.” She touched her forehead as memories of the night before poured through her brain. Kissing Johnny. Running away and falling. Hitting her head and blacking out. Maybe.
The concern in his eyes as he sang to her.
He’d sung to her until it was safe for her to sleep.
He must care a little bit to do something like that. Her heart squeezed. Maybe she’d misread him last night and more than a fast lay mattered to him. Before she could mull it over, the curtain was pulled back and Johnny stuck his head inside.
“You’re awake. How’re you feeling?”
“Not too bad, considering.”
“Do you need help getting dressed?”
“No. I can manage.” She wore thermal underwear with a bra and panties underneath, but she felt exposed to his gaze, although his expression was unreadable. If he had any thought about seeing her half undressed the previous night, he didn’t show it.
“We’re eating, but if you want to rest longer, the others are leaving soon,” he said.
“Hunting?”
“No, they’re going home. Apparently Mr. Football killed an elk yesterday and is ready to head out.” Johnny didn’t hide his disdain for Tom.
Montana’s lips twitched at the name he bestowed on her ex-fiancé. She had no desire to spar with him today. Her head still ached and another hour or two of sleep sounded good. “I need to get up and see about the horses.” She struggled to stand. “And you’ll want to hunt…”
He put a hand on her shoulder. A bolt of awareness shot through her at his touch. “Montana.”
“Yes?”
“Relax.” He gave a gentle squeeze. “The horses and mule are munching oats and I’m not worried about hunting today. I’m more concerned about your health.”
“I’m fine.” She swayed and put a hand on the wall to steady herself.
“You’re not fine. You have a concussion. Just rest and let me take care of things.”
Unused to having anyone to lean on since her father’s death, she didn’t know how to act with someone babying her. It was a strange sensation. Making it weirder was Johnny doing the coddling.
Music superstar waiting on her.
Strange beyond words.
She sank onto her bunk. “If you’re sure—”
“I’m positive. Now get some sleep.” He tugged the sleeping bag closed.
~*~
Montana woke with a jolt. Unsure how long she’d slept, she stared at her unfamiliar surroundings, trying to orient herself. Memories of the previous night crashed through her head. Pushing them away, she wiggled out of the sleeping bag and stood. She felt a lot better, almost normal. Her forehead hurt a little, but the headache had disappeared.
She picked up her clothing from the end of the bed. Making a face at the blood on the collar of her shirt, she dressed, leaving the soiled garment where she’d found it. Johnny had undressed her. If she hadn’t run from him last night, he would have seen everything.
With a deep breath, she opened the curtain.
Johnny looked up from the table where he sat scribbling something on a piece of paper. “Hi. How’re you feeling?”
“Better.”
He stood and pulled out a chair for her. “Are you hungry?”
“No, but I could use coffee if there is any.” She sat in the chair. “The guys left?”
“Yeah, they said we could stay as long as we like. Even the rest of the week if we want to.”
“I have free access here,” Montana said. “I talked to Evan and Charlie’s mom a few days ago and she told me they didn’t have plans to use it.” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry about Tom.”
Johnny laughed. “That jerk with the tiny dick? He has a big mouth, but nothing I can’t handle.” He poured a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove and set it in front of her. After refreshing his own cup, he sat across from her. “You look better. How’s your head?”
“I feel fine.” She brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek, noticing for the first time that it was stiff with dried blood. “Yuck. My hair’s a mess though.”
“You always look beautiful.” The warmth in his eyes made her stomach clench. He quickly masked it and cleared his throat. “About last night… I feel responsible… it won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Montana hid her warring disappointment and relief with a cool look. “We can ride out soon if you like.”
He shook his head. “You’re not up to it. Besides, you promised me a soak in the hot springs. I think it might do you a lot of good, too.”
The thought of washing her body and bloody hair sounded wonderful. What didn’t sound as appealing was skinny dipping with Johnny. With a head injury, she didn’t dare go to the springs alone. If she slipped into unconsciousness, she could easily drown.
“Do you have a towel? If not, there are some here.”
“I have one.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “I could use a shave, too.”
“I like your stubbly face.” She blushed, thinking of his rough chin hair on her bare skin.
“You do?” His sexy smile sent shivers coursing through her.
Instead of answering, she thought about his words. He’d just said he wouldn’t kiss her again, so why was he flirting? Had charming women become so much a part of his job that he didn’t even realize when he did it?
“I’m going to get undressed.” She pinned him with a stern look. “For the hot springs.” She stood and walked to the bunk where she’d spent the night. After closing the curtain, she took off her clothes and pulled on a blue track suit. Stepping into her boots, leaving them unlaced, she took a deep breath and slid open the curtain.
Johnny knelt in front of the fire, stoking it. Like her, he wore a sweat suit and boots. She grinned. Where was Mr. Sexy now? As her gaze roamed over him, she couldn’t help but notice the clingy fabric hugging his thighs and oh-so-fine ass and her smile faded. He could wear a bear skin and his sexy would still be there. Getting naked with this guy was going to be an exercise in self-control. Probably better to stay inside. But her sticky hair brushed her cheek, winning the battle within. She really should clean up.
&
nbsp; The combination of cold air and hot water made thick steam, so she could hide if she needed to.
She’d absolutely require the fog’s veil to conceal her emotions.
“Is the fire banked? We’ll be warm in the water, but the return is chilly.”
He stood and faced her. “Yeah. All set.”
“Let’s go.” Montana walked toward the door without looking back.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The hot springs sat several hundred yards from the cabin and the path wound through snow-covered pines. Montana knew the way well. She’d been here many times.
Although the sky glimmered with bright sunlight, the cold sent steam from the hot water rising into the clear air. A low gurgling alerted them when they drew near.
Scattered gray boulders at the northern end of the pools made natural dressing rooms. She pointed toward one. “You can use that to undress.” She indicated another section. “I’ll go in here and meet you back here in a minute.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His smile made her stomach do the Snoopy dance.
Between the giant rocks, Montana slipped out of her clothes. After stepping back into her boots, she wrapped the towel around her and stepped into the open. A smile lifted her mouth. Johnny wore a towel low on his hips and boots on his feet.
Her smile faded as her gaze roamed his chest and carved abs. With corded muscles in his arms and shoulders, the guy looked like he worked out every day. His legs, bare from above the knee to his boot tops, looked as strong and muscled as his upper half.
Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze away. “Ready?”
“Yep.” His eyes seemed locked on her legs and she resisted the urge to cross them.
“Watch the rocks here. They can be slippery.” Her voice came out breathy as a teenage girl’s.
At the very edge of the water, Montana stepped out of her boots. “Turn around until I say turn back.”
He grinned, but complied.
Leaving her folded clothes and towel on top of her boots, Montana stepped into the hot water. Smooth pebbles on the bottom made walking a little difficult. The springs, fed by a trickle bubbling up from the ground, ranged from around four feet deep to about eight feet at the deepest spot. Rumors said old-time miners or prospectors had pushed boulders into the water to use as seats. The rocks had been worn smooth over the years and made perfect benches.