Taming His Montana Heart

by Vella Munn

  “I don’t know about living here year around,” he said. “It can be tricky getting in and out this time of the year. Besides, I’d probably get cabin fever.”

  She pointed at a shelf filled with jigsaw puzzles and books. “There’s something to occupy you when you aren’t outside splitting wood.”

  Or making love? “Me? Don’t forget this equality thing. If I’m splitting wood, I expect you to be shoveling snow.”

  “I don’t know—Shaw, do you foresee living above the resort indefinitely?”

  “What? No, I don’t.”

  “Then where—”

  “I’ve been so busy I haven’t given that a lot of thought,” he admitted. “But I need to. The apartment is far from ideal. For one thing, I’m too accessible. I’m only a staircase away from the restaurant.”

  “I wouldn’t like that.”

  “I don’t.”

  She studied her nails. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you.”

  Instead of responding, he took off his bulky coat. She acknowledged the Glock strapped under his arm with a frown. He unfastened it and placed it near the coat.

  “I’m sorry if you feel you don’t know much about me,” he said.

  “Don’t be. I just—what kind of place did you have before you came to Lake Serene?”

  She had every right to ask. She just had no idea how complex everything was. How reluctant he was to have this conversation now. “I was leasing a two bedroom, two bath house. I’d chosen it because had a fenced yard since I had a dog.”

  “Oh. What kind?”

  Just say it. It’s no big deal. “Pit bull mix.”

  She frowned. “Was that at all risky? Their reputation—”

  “Isn’t always the truth. He’d been left in an abandoned house. One look at those confused eyes and I knew he needed me.”

  “What a lovely thing to say. How did you know he was there?”

  Questions upon questions, each one taking them closer to a place he didn’t want to go. At the same time, a woman willing to spend the night with him deserved more than he’d given her.

  Much more.

  “Haley, I used to be a cop. Neighbors called to report a barking dog. He—”

  “You were a cop?”

  “Yes.” Keep going. “It had long been my dream to—when I resigned from the force and was no longer getting a paycheck, I had to move to a small apartment. I couldn’t have Rascal there. Fortunately, Boone agreed to take him. I’d love to have Rascal here. Maybe…”

  “You resigned?”

  “I had no choice.”

  She didn’t say anything, but judging by her expression, she was hoping he’d be more forthcoming, just she’d been. She had a right to honesty and he’d give it to her, but not now. Not with darkness outside and his body hungry for hers.

  Not with the past’s emotions still gripping him.

  *

  She didn’t understand Shaw. Maybe she never would.

  Despite her reservations about this man who kept much of himself private, including letting her know earlier why he considered a being armed a part of who he was or had been, she didn’t regret that they’d be spending the night together. He had to know she wanted to hear about his former career, including maybe most of all why he’d left it, but he obviously wasn’t ready to do so. She couldn’t insist he open up.

  No, it was more complex than that, for both of them.

  He’d started the well pump and turned on the hot water heater while she’d selected some CDs and loaded them into the stereo. As easy-listening music filled the room, she used a cast iron skillet to cook the hamburgers on the wood stove while he cut up tomatoes, separated lettuce leaves, and added condiments to the hamburger buns. They were domestic and more. Letting music fill the silent spaces.

  Sitting side by side near the dining area window, they studied the night as they ate. Now that she knew he’d once been a police officer, his behavior in the restaurant made sense. He hadn’t been nosy, he’d been cautious. Alert.

  Well, he didn’t have to concern himself with criminals or anyone else here. Knowing they might have this side of the lake to themselves made her feel, not isolated but special. Blessed. Hopefully he felt the same way, but she couldn’t be sure.

  At the moment he was washing the few dishes they’d dirtied while she pretended to be interested in what filled the book shelves. Out of the corner of her eye she studied a man who was comfortable in a kitchen, a man who didn’t think twice about adopting a homeless pit bull.

  A cop. Past tense.

  To her way of thinking, he was exactly what a police officer needed to be. Not only was he over six feet tall and well-muscled, he carried himself with confidence. He dealt with all kinds of people, made decisions, and led by example. He made it clear what was expected of the employees, the same work ethic that defined him. He resolved disagreements and kept his cool. Also, he was comfortable with weapons.

  She pulled out a book filled with photographs of the Rocky Mountains and thumbed through the pages, but even they didn’t hold her attention. Later, maybe, she’d show it to Shaw. Later, maybe, she’d ask if he’d given thought to buying one of the private cabins and turning it into his permanent Lake Serene home.

  Maybe she’d ask him to compare being a cop to managing a resort and see where that led.

  But first—

  Her mouth dry, she sat and pulled off her boots. The cabin had a separate bedroom they weren’t trying to heat plus an open area upstairs with three beds. She tried not to look up, tried not to give away her nervousness and anticipation.

  He turned off the light over the sink and joined her at the bookshelf. He brushed her hair back from her cheek, his fingers lingering as he did. “Your skin’s so soft.”

  She swallowed. “Is it?”

  “Yes. Haley, I think there’s—we need to make something clear.”

  “All right.”

  He again touched her cheek. “We’re here because we want to take our relationship to a level we haven’t before.”

  To see if we’re compatible in bed?

  The thankfully unspoken question made her wince. Romance was supposed to evolve naturally, right? To follow some secret but preordained pattern maybe. She might know if her teenage years hadn’t been such a mess. When most girls were trying to figure out why boys were so fascinating, she’d testified against her father, mourned her mother, dealt with nightmares, and blamed herself.

  “Yes, that’s why we’re here,” she said.

  “The physical aspect’s important to me. I hope it is to you too, but I don’t want it to dominate our relationship.”

  Not many years ago she might not have understood what he was getting at. She’d been too messed up, too buried in the past to acknowledge her sensuality but being around Shaw was changing her.

  “The physical aspect has a lot to do with tonight,” she said. “It’s the whole birds and bees thing.”

  He sandwiched her hand between his. “Is that what your mother called it? I don’t want to stir up the past but I’d like to know whether your mother and you had that conversation before she…”

  Haley returned his gaze. “Before my father killed her.” She filled her lungs. “Shaw, for a long time I couldn’t make myself say those words but pretending they don’t exist isn’t healthy.” She wasn’t sure whether she was healthy, but she was better than she’d been.

  “No, it isn’t. All right, what did your mother tell you about the birds and bees?”

  She laughed. “We lived in farming country. Thanks to chickens and pigs and the neighbors’ livestock, I had a pretty good idea what sex was about. Mom said—” She swallowed. “Mom said it was more complicated for humans, but she was never comfortable telling me about that part.”

  Talking was becoming difficult. She’d nearly reached her limit so wanted to send Shaw a message that would lead to ending the conversation. “I’m sure that was because of her own relationship.”

  “Her ma
rriage you mean?”

  “Yes. It was dysfunctional. I guess that’s the best way of putting it. She—I’m certain she wanted to make sure I didn’t make the same mistake. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough time.”

  He brought her hand up and flattened her palm against his throat. The only light in the room came from a lamp near a brown couch. He was all shadows and simmering thoughts, complex and intriguing. Scary and exciting. So close.

  “Maybe I’m wrong,” he said, “but I’m guessing you haven’t had many boyfriends.”

  Boyfriends. “No, I haven’t, but I’m not a virgin if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “I don’t want you to be. You deserve to have experienced intimacy.”

  How many times had she felt as if she was going to cry when she was around Shaw? He had an unnerving way of saying things she had no defense against. Things she longed to hear.

  He unbuttoned the top two buttons on his flannel shirt and slid her hand onto his chest. “When Boone and I were in our late teens and early twenties, our parents weren’t particularly proud of us. We were jocks, smart and confident. The opposite sex liked us and we didn’t often turn down the invitations.”

  “Oh.”

  He gave her a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m telling you this, not because I’m bragging, but because you deserve to know. I watched what Boone did to get women to notice him and learned how to do the same. He went through so many girlfriends we referred to them as the flavor of the month. Then he fell in love. I don’t know why Carol was different. I’m not sure he does either. Maybe he simply was ready to commit.”

  Every word Shaw said was important. She should cling to each one, but having her hand on his bare chest made concentrating incredibly hard. Her hand rose and fell with his every breath while his heartbeat radiated throughout her. She hoped the same thing was happening to him.

  “That’s the past,” he said. “I’m not after conquests. I haven’t been for a long time.”

  Was that because, like his brother, he was ready to commit or was it more complicated? Maybe it had something to do with his former career.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

  “You don’t have to say anything.” He looked toward the window then back at her. “We left the world behind. There’s just the two of us and Mother Nature. Winter.”

  How right he was. Tonight the world didn’t exist beyond here. Only Shaw and her hunger, her need.

  “I’ve always loved this time of the year.” She spoke from the heart. “I’m not sure it’s my favorite season. Each has its own appeal.”

  When he nodded, she surmised he agreed. Being at Lake Serene brought her close to nature and as a consequence to herself. Much of what people did here revolved around the weather. Winter had a smell all its own, a quiet that was missing from the other seasons. Knowing a wolf or wolves shared this incredible setting made her even more appreciative of where she earned her living. She’d come a long way from believing she wouldn’t connect with Lake Serene.

  “I don’t have a favorite season.” He wrapped his free arm around her and brought her within an inch of him. “Each one is a gift.”

  “Gift?” She couldn’t get out another word.

  His mouth was close and he’d gone out of focus. “So are you. I had no idea I’d feel this way about a woman. I’m not sure how to handle it.”

  Fighting the nagging fear that it might all fall apart, she drew free. She didn’t wait for his reaction, didn’t give him a chance to ask what she was doing. Instead, bold and needy, she wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted herself onto her toes, and pressed her lips to his. She touched life and warmth, anticipation.

  His hands settled over her sides, holding her to him. She spread the fingers of her hand over the back of his head to hold him in place. Dizzy now, she kept her lips on his and breathed in his scent, his essence.

  His life.

  “Perfect,” he muttered.

  Maybe he said more. She wasn’t sure because her entire being was changing, everything narrowing down until only what was happening to her registered. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching every part of her, she felt him from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. His larger body blanketed hers like warm mist, a silent, all-pervasive presence she longed to cling to forever.

  Their relationship wasn’t perfect. Even as their embrace became more intimate, she acknowledged what she hadn’t told him plus what she didn’t know about him but that had to come later.

  “Keeping my hands off you has been so hard,” he said as he ran his fingers under her sweater and over her bare sides. “Kissing wasn’t enough. I wanted more.”

  “So did I.” She flattened her hands against the back of his neck. “I didn’t—I didn’t know what you wanted. Sometimes I sensed that you weren’t satisfied with what was happening between us but I’d tell myself I was projecting my—desires onto you. Needing you to feel the same things I was.”

  When he didn’t immediately respond, she wondered if she’d exposed too much. Maybe once the heat coursing through her no longer dominated, she’d be able to better explain. Now, only one thing was important, pressing her breasts and belly against him while silently begging him to kiss her again.

  He did. They did. The contact full of heat and energy and suspense and a great unknown. She buried herself in it all.

  He drew his hands out from under her sweater and cupped her jaw. Her head was already tipped up, but he increased the angle and parted his mouth. Moaning, she followed suit. Her lips were getting bruised but it was all right, part of the journey.

  When he finally broke off the kiss, she increased her hold on his neck. He brushed the tip of her nose and then her eyelids with a fingertip. She wanted hot and hard, yet this gentleness was wonderful. It reminded her that she was a woman. She would give him soft femininity, yield to his desires.

  Make his needs hers.

  They took turns exploring the depth and direction of this thing called a kiss. No matter whether she was nibbling on his lip, licking the corner of his mouth, or brushing her lips over his chin, it all felt right. He closed his teeth around her lower lip and gently drew it toward him, causing her to think of herself as his possession, his lover.

  His hands kept finding new places to touch as did hers. She tried to settle her fingers on one part of him so she could commit it to memory but was soon on the move again. She unbuttoned his shirt and stroked the hairs on his chest. He guided her sweater up so it was under her arms, slid his fingertips over the ladder of her ribs, found room for his fingers between her waist and snow pants and settled a thumb against her navel.

  She was coming unglued, unhinged, lost within herself. Barely able to breathe. Not trusting her legs to support her.

  “I can’t…” She swayed and dug her nails into his elbows for support. “Do it like this anymore.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “Good.” The word was a hiss, a breath sound coming from deep within an aroused man’s throat.

  Stairs were designed for people with their wits about them, not someone half drunk with the need for intimacy, but somehow, with him providing support, she managed the complicated climb. He didn’t bring his weapon with him. The stove’s heat had spread throughout the space, either that or being with him was all the warmth she needed.

  “This used to be the attic,” he said. “Nate remodeled it into a loft. That’s what I’d do if I had a cabin.”

  He took her hand and led her to the window. There were hardly any clouds and the moon was nearly full. As a result, their view of snowy trees, iced-over lake, and distant lights from the resort was magical. She could even make out Mount Lynx’s imposing silhouette.

  “Yes,” she said. “All cabins here should have a second story. The view…”

  “Is perfect for lovers.”

  There was something permanent about the word lover, a commitment beyond toni
ght. Wanting to project their relationship into the future was dangerous but that didn’t stop her from doing so. After tonight they would be a couple, physically and emotionally connected. Maybe they’d talk about joint ownership of a cabin and meet each other’s families.

  Get married.

  Too much. Way too soon. Thankful he couldn’t read her thoughts, she pulled off her sweater. When she stood before him wearing only her bra from the waist up, she tried to bring him into focus, but even with help from the moon and stars, deep shadows lived in here. Maybe it was better.

  “Would you like to talk about what you want?” he asked.

  “No. I just want things to happen.”

  She thought he nodded but couldn’t be sure. What she did know was that he was taking off his shirt and tossing it onto the bed next to her sweater. Her mouth dried and for several seconds she couldn’t move. Then courage and something else took hold and she again stepped into his space.

  “All right,” he muttered, “time for instinct to get to work.”

  She would have laughed if she wasn’t so nervous or excited or whatever she was experiencing. His hands at her waist started her shaking again. It got worse as he unfastened and unzipped her snow pants. As she was getting dressed this morning, she’d actually debated wearing slacks, but she would have been frozen by now if she had. Shaw had to take her as she was, a practical woman with a wardrobe of cold weather clothes.

  The zipping sound unnerved her. She calmed herself a little by staring out the window while he drew her pants over her hips and down her legs. Maybe, later, if she was capable of rational action, she’d take pictures of the wonderland outside.

  “On the bed, please,” he said, “so I can finish with your pants.”

  She started to comply only to realize her clothes were wrapped around her lower legs. Where, she wondered had she been while that was happening?

  Connecting with this rich and beautiful world.

  Thinking about him.

  About them.

  Despite the encumbrance, she reached the bed. The carpet was cold, proof of how deeply the subzero night had impacted the cabin. The quilt was cooler than the air but sitting and planting her hands on the chilled surface helped calm her. Was this the bed Alisha and Nate used or did they sleep in the downstairs bedroom? If it was her, she’d spend all her nights where the view was mind-blowing.