Montana Mavericks Weddings

by Diana Palmer

  “Dad, it’s great,” Rory breathed. “Is it chocolate?”

  “Of course. And there’s chocolate chip ice cream, too.”

  The boy glowed. Sierra smiled at him, then caught Dylan’s glance as he held out a book of matches. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

  She nodded instead of speaking, telling herself that the lump in her throat was about too much talking with the boys and not some wayward emotion. Still, her hands shook as she carefully lit the candles and she didn’t object when she stepped back and Dylan took her hand.

  “Make a wish,” he told his son.

  “Blow ’em out, hard!” one of the boys said.

  Rory grinned. He thought for a second, then nodded, closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He got them in one quick exhale.

  Even though it wasn’t her birthday, Sierra made a wish of her own. That this afternoon, this magic space of a few hours, could be real. At least for now.

  “You want to cut cake, or man the ice-cream scoop?” Dylan asked.

  Sierra glanced down at her sleeveless blouse. There were a couple of grass stains from a brief wrestling match earlier in the afternoon, and a smudge from brushing up against her truck door. Dylan’s polo shirt and jeans looked as clean as when he’d first put them on that morning.

  “I’ll take the ice cream,” she said. “I don’t care if I get dirty.”

  “Okay.” He dropped a light kiss on her cheek. “I promised you a corner piece…one with plenty of icing.”

  She felt herself nod, but it was beyond her power to actually speak. The kiss was a lot less arousing than the one they’d shared in the pasture and yet it touched her all the way down to her feet. She felt her toes curling inside her worn cowboy boots. How did he do that to her?

  Rather than spend a lot of time worrying about the answer, she walked into the kitchen and grabbed the carton of ice cream from the freezer. In a couple of minutes, she was elbow deep in chocolate chip ice cream and dipping the last scoop onto a plate. In the distance, the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get that,” Dylan said, setting a bowl next to her. In it was a small piece of cake with icing on two sides. Some jungle green lumps of the gooey confection had been dropped into the bowl.

  She smiled. “I think you gave me more than enough.”

  “Just trying to make you happy, darling,” he said and headed for the door.

  She stared after him, stunned, amazed and barely able to breathe. What was he doing to her? Why was she letting him try?

  Figure it out later, she told herself and reached inside the carton to pull out some ice cream. As she did, she heard voices from the hall.

  “You should have told us it was your son’s birthday,” a strange man said. “We could have rescheduled. Mike is going to be here all week.”

  “The timing is fine,” Dylan answered. “Rory is spending the night with a couple of his friends. If you don’t mind meeting the kids, we can get started in about an hour. There’s plenty of birthday cake.”

  “I wouldn’t say no to that,” another man said.

  Sierra dropped the ice-cream scoop into the carton and glanced around frantically. She didn’t know who the men were, but she sure didn’t want to meet them. She had stains on her shirt and jeans, sticky ice cream on her hands, and several crumbs on her face from taking a bite of cake. But there was only one way out of the dining room and she could already hear the men approaching down the hall.

  She grabbed a napkin and rubbed her face, then tried to clean up her hands. Maybe Dylan wouldn’t bother introducing her. Even as the comforting thought formed, she dismissed it. Of course he was going to introduce her—she just had that kind of luck.

  As she tossed the napkin in the trash can beside the table and forced her stiff lips into a false smile, Dylan led three men into the room. They were tall, well dressed and obviously successful. She recognized the fifty-something man in a cowboy hat. He was Ben Radisson, a local power broker in the political scene. The other two were strangers. The cut of their tailored suits and their confident air warned her they were just as important and potentially intimidating as Ben Radisson.

  Dylan made a beeline for her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Gentlemen, this is Sierra Conroy. We’re old friends from high school.”

  She resisted the urge to run for cover. At least Dylan hadn’t implied a romantic relationship.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “And this is my son, Rory.”

  At the sound of his name, the boy looked up, then sprang from his seat and hurried to his father’s side. Dylan ruffled his hair.

  “I’m ten today,” Rory said importantly.

  “Good for you,” the lone blond man in the group said. He was slender and handsome with brilliant blue eyes. “Ten’s a great age. Did you get presents?”

  Rory beamed at the question. “Bunches.” He quickly recounted the list, paying extra attention to Sierra’s gift.

  She shifted uneasily as their attention turned back to her. If only Dylan would drop his arm so she could make a graceful escape before she said or did something stupid. While she wasn’t a complete social misfit, she knew she was definitely out of her element with these men.

  Dylan introduced them. She tried to put names with faces. The two unfamiliar men were from Washington. She swallowed hard. So the rumors were true—Dylan was thinking of going into politics. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, and yet she was. Maybe because she’d gotten used to thinking of him as just Dylan, but he was so much more than the young man she’d once been in love with.

  “What do you do, little lady?” Ben asked as Dylan finally released her and went to get his guests some cake.

  “I work on a ranch,” she said. “I’m, ah, just here helping with Rory’s party. You know, like the hired help.” She hoped her smile looked more natural than it felt and that she wasn’t going to cause trouble for Dylan. These men wouldn’t want to know that she’d once had a relationship with him. She might not know much about politics, but it wasn’t hard to figure she wasn’t exactly material for a candidate’s significant other.

  Ben raised his dark, bushy eyebrows. “That’s real neighborly of you.”

  She nodded, not sure what else to say.

  Dylan returned and handed the men each a piece of cake. “Did Sierra tell you?” he asked. “We go way back.”

  “No.” Ben raised his eyebrows. “Sounds interesting.”

  Dylan gave her that grin of his, the one that made her want to believe everything he talked about was possible. “It’s true,” he said. “We were high school sweethearts.” He reached out and, before she could pull back to prevent the action, he touched her cheek. “Sierra’s the one who got away.”

  Her heart sank. While she appreciated his willingness to admit to a previous relationship with her, there was no need to risk his future. Didn’t he know what the men thought of her? She was completely wrong for what they had planned for him.

  She took a deep breath for courage, then turned to look at Ben. With her spine stiff, she prepared herself to blandly accept the relief in his expression. Instead the wily older man’s face was unreadable.

  “You’re going to have to be smarter than that if you want to get ahead in politics,” he said at last and took a bite of cake.

  Sierra stared at him without blinking. Had she heard right? Before she could ask, there was a knock at the door. The first of the boys’ parents had arrived to take them home.

  Fifteen minutes later, Sierra escaped to the kitchen where she began rinsing plates and loading the old dishwasher. Dylan came in and closed the door behind him.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Fine. I thought I’d clean up before I headed out.”

  He took the plate from her and set it back on the counter. “You don’t have to do that. I asked you to help me with the party, but I didn’t expect you to play at being a maid.”

  His fingers were warm as he held her hand. T
oo warm. And his touch was slow and seductive, gentle strokes that ignited need deep in her belly. She wanted to pull back or at least think rationally, but she could only stand there absorbing the sensation of having him close and touching her.

  His dark eyes glowed with twin flames. “I have a catering service coming in later,” he said. “They’ll take care of everything.” His words were at odds with the desire on his face and she wasn’t sure which to believe.

  “Okay. I’ll leave the dishes.”

  “Do you have plans for tonight?”

  She bit her lower lip. Was he asking her out? “No.”

  “Would you please stay for dinner. It might be a little boring, but I would really like you to listen to what they have to say and then tell me your opinion when they’ve left.”

  “But—” She glanced around the messy kitchen, then down at her clothes. Stains, a rip, ratty jeans. “Dylan, I’m not dressed for this.”

  He dismissed her comment with a wave. “That doesn’t matter. This means a lot to me and I’d really like you to be here.”

  She could have refused him if he hadn’t looked deep into her eyes. Even though it wasn’t real and they were both just stuck in the past, and eventually one or both of them would wake up to that fact, she couldn’t help responding to the heat there. Heat and some other lurking emotion that made her heart beat a little faster.

  “I, um…” She found herself swaying toward him. “I guess I could go home and change.”

  He smiled slowly. “Only if you want to. What I care about is you being here.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. “Hurry back because I’ll miss you.”

  Less than a minute later, Sierra found herself sliding behind the wheel of her truck, wondering what on earth she’d just agreed to. But her lips still tingled and there was a spark of expectation in her stomach. Maybe Dylan was playing her for a fool. After all, she should know better than to trust him.

  But she’d never been able to resist him. Looked as if after all this time, that fact hadn’t changed, either.

  Chapter Seven

  Dylan reached for the wine bottle and poured the dark red liquid into Ben’s glass. The older man gave him a nod of thanks, but didn’t take his attention from Sierra and her description of winning the national barrel racing championship several years before.

  As he glanced around the table, Dylan noticed all three of the men were mesmerized by her story. He grinned. No, not the story. While it was funny and interesting, what had these men captured was the woman herself.

  A nearly forgotten, warm feeling settled in his chest. Pride. Pride in how beautiful she looked in her soft pink cotton dress, with her hair loose around her shoulders. Pride in how she carried herself, how she met each man’s gaze deliberately. Pride in how she didn’t hesitate to ask questions if there was something she didn’t understand.

  With Claire he’d had near physical perfection, superior style and taste, but no substance. Sierra was her own person. She might not always do the expected, but she would always do what was right. She was someone he could respect and admire. If only he could convince her they still belonged together.

  Ben made a comment and Sierra laughed. As she turned her head toward the older man, the overhead light reflected on her shiny hair. He longed to reach forward and bury his fingers in the silky strands. She sat close enough for him to touch her, but he resisted the temptation. While he had the desire, he knew he also needed the right. And that had yet to be earned.

  There was a time he could have laid claim to her and if he had his way, that time would come again.

  Mike leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I didn’t realize life out west could be so entertaining.” The Washington attorney looked at Dylan and raised his eyebrows. “Is this one of the reasons you’ve been resisting my offers? All this natural beauty?”

  “Offers?” Sierra asked, glancing from one man to the other.

  “I’ve been trying to tempt Dylan into my law firm,” Mike said. “So far he’s resisted. I couldn’t figure out why the promise of money and a partnership weren’t working. Now I’m starting to understand.”

  Sierra looked momentarily confused, then she caught the compliment and blushed. “I’m sure Dylan is very comfortable with his law practice here. You don’t have to be in a big city to be successful.”

  Ben shook his head. “Not if you measure success by money, right, Dylan?”

  “Agreed, and don’t try changing my mind on that one,” Dylan said easily, leaning back in his chair. He liked this. Interesting conversation and someone to share it with. Later, he would ask Sierra what she’d thought of the men she’d met and they could talk about the future. He’d always valued her opinion.

  “I don’t understand,” Sierra said, looking from Ben to him. “Everyone says you’re doing very well.”

  “I am.”

  Ben snorted and took a drink of wine. “Did you bill even a hundred thousand dollars last year?”

  Dylan shrugged. He hadn’t. But it didn’t matter.

  “The last of the good guys,” Mike said. “That’s our Dylan here.” Catching Sierra’s frown of confusion, he continued. “Don’t you know about his practice?”

  “I thought I did.”

  Ben set down his glass. “So you’re keeping quiet about it,” he told Dylan. “Mighty interesting.”

  Dylan smiled reassuringly at Sierra. “It’s nothing. What they’re hinting at is I don’t have a lot of corporate clients to pay the bills.”

  “He doesn’t have anyone to pay the bills,” Ben said, and sighed. “Thank God. Think of how that will play with the voters. All those years in law practice and after expenses he barely earns enough to be considered middle class.”

  “Who are your clients?” Sierra asked.

  The attention was making him faintly uncomfortable. “Some people in town and—”

  Ben cut him off with a wave. “Dylan does mostly pro bono work. He deals with several women’s shelters and a couple of organizations that aid the homeless. There’s no press, no fanfare and no money. That’s why my people are so interested in getting him on the ticket.”

  Sierra turned her attention to him. Her hazel eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

  “Would it have made a difference?”

  She thought for a moment, then nodded. “I think it might.”

  He couldn’t dismiss the bolt of pleasure that shot through him. “I’m glad.”

  It was as if the rest of the room disappeared. He found himself being pulled into Sierra’s gaze, as if her eyes were the perfect place to get lost and never be found again. There was a buzzing in his ears, but he heard her clearly when she spoke.

  “I’m glad, too,” she said softly.

  The night sky was an umbrella of stars as Dylan walked her to her truck. Sierra found herself slowing her pace. Foolishly she didn’t want the evening to end. She glanced back at the old three-story house and the lights glowing their welcome from behind curtained windows. It was barely nine, but Dylan and his guests had serious business to discuss, business that as a mere friend, she wasn’t privy to.

  They came to a stop next to her truck. Dylan took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. “Thanks for joining us for dinner,” he said. “I really enjoyed your company.”

  She smiled, despite the fact that her lips trembled slightly. “I had fun, too.” She ducked her head. “I didn’t think I would fit in with your guests, but it wasn’t so bad.”

  “You were perfect.”

  Was it her imagination, or did he step closer? The night air was cool and still. Even though Dylan was expected back inside, she found herself wishing he would take the time to kiss her. She needed to feel his body next to hers, his mouth caressing her, his arms holding her tight. Too much had happened too fast. A couple of weeks ago, she’d convinced herself she barely remembered the man. Now he’d returned and she couldn’t think about anything else.

  She needed his body to remind her that they be
longed together, because her mind still wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t all about him breaking her heart again. The dinner had been fun, but it had also reminded her of the difference in their positions.

  “Tell me about your law practice,” she said.

  He shrugged. “There’s not much to say. I take a lot of cases for battered women and homeless people. It doesn’t pay much, but I have money from my family and the work is very satisfying.”

  She stared at his face. “I figured you’d outgrow your desire to save the world.”

  “I don’t think I’m saving the world.” He laced his fingers with hers. “I’ve affected a couple of lives, but I don’t kid myself about my importance…or lack thereof.”

  “But you turned down a partnership at a prestigious Washington, D.C., law firm. That’s pretty impressive.”

  He smiled. “Good. I want to impress you.”

  “Why?”

  The smile faded and his expression turned serious. “Don’t you know by now, Sierra? Don’t you know why I’m here and what I want?”

  A faint ripple swept through her body. She had to consciously tighten her body to keep from swaying. “I’m not sure. You seem very similar, yet you can’t be the same Dylan I remember.”

  “I am the same,” he told her. “Not all good, but not all bad, either. I made mistakes in the past and I’m going to make mistakes in the future. It’s a part of being human. But there’s one mistake I don’t want to make again, and that’s losing you. You still mean the world to me.”

  She tightly closed her eyes, wanting to believe him more than she wanted to draw in her next breath. “I wish—” She paused, not sure what she wished.

  “That we could change the past?” he asked softly.

  She opened her eyes and stared at his face. At the handsome, familiar planes, at his mouth, at the firm line of his jaw.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I want to change the past. I want you to have never left me. I want you to have never broken my heart.”

  Dylan blew out a long breath, then bent down until his forehead pressed against hers. “I want that, too. If only you knew how much.”