Sweet Montana Boxed Set 1-5

by Lisa Mondello

  “The life I want. I have my reasons and I don't expect you to understand them.”

  “You're right. I don't understand them. But I wish you'd at least give me a chance to understand.”

  “Harper if I stay…”

  “What?”

  His eyes grew dark and she could see the rise and fall of his chest as it stretched the fabric of his shirt beneath his jacket with each intake of breath.

  “Because if I stay, I’ll want to kiss you again. And I don't think that that's a good idea.”

  “Really? I think it’s a pretty good one if you ask me. But since you do not, let me say this. I don't regret you kissing me the way you did up at that cabin. Are you telling me that you do?”

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket as if he needed to in order to avoid touching her. And she wished he would touch her. She longed for it and wanted to feel his touch against her face and feel his fingers playing with her hair again.

  “No,” he said, looking down at the floor. When he looked back up, he looked straight into her eyes. “And that's the problem, Harper. If I touch you, I won’t stop. I won’t want to. That’s why I have to leave. It's no good when I'm with you. I'm...it's like...”

  “What?”

  “I don't know. I'm uncomfortable.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I make you feel uncomfortable?”

  “No, not you. This. Us. I'm no good at this.”

  She sputtered. “Who is?”

  “People who aren't me.”

  “Are you telling me you've never been in love?”

  His face grew serious. “No, not that. I'm just no good at it.”

  “Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?”

  “It's...unsettling.”

  “It's supposed to be,” she said in a sudden burst of frustration. “It's love. It's supposed to make you feel like you're losing your mind when you're not with someone. And when you're with them, it's supposed to be the best feeling in the world. Which is it?”

  “Being with you isn't easy.”

  “It's not?”

  He shook his head. “I can't think.”

  She smiled. “I can relate to that.”

  “I'm not comfortable with how I feel.”

  “That's a good sign.”

  He groaned. “No it's not. Did you hear me? It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “So be uncomfortable! That's how you know it's real. If a person you really like isn't getting under your skin and making you feel all kinds of crazy feelings, then it's not real. It’s not love.”

  “I don't like feeling this way. I don’t like thinking and worrying.”

  “And living.”

  His shoulders sagged as he stared at her in defeat. “It’s how I live. I don’t want to feel.”

  “How do you know you're alive if you don't allow yourself to feel?”

  He paused a moment and just stared at her. “I have to go.”

  Harper stood rooted in place unable to move from the spot where she'd been just feet from Nash moments ago. She watched him head to the door, open it and walk through it while she struggled to understand what had just happened.

  She wanted to go after him. But he didn't want her. He'd made that clear.

  No, he said he hadn't regretted the kiss. That was clear. What the hell did that mean?

  “I don't understand men,” she said, throwing her hands up and letting them fall to her side. “I work with a dozen men, and I don't understand any of them. Especially the one who just walked out my door.”

  From where she was standing she could see the headlights of his truck turn on and then disappear down her driveway until she could no longer see them. The timer on the stove went off. Her lasagna was finished. She wasn't hungry. She was numb.

  * * *

  “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” her grandmother said as she poured a second cup of coffee. “Unusually so.”

  “Am I?” Harper pretended not to know what her grandmother was talking about as she stirred the cream and sugar she’d just put in her coffee. It was easier that way.

  “Hmm.”

  “How did you do at Bingo last night? You never said,” Harper said, quickly changing the subject.

  “You never asked. You were already in bed before I even got home. Also unusual.”

  “I was tired.”

  “You had a handsome man over for dinner and you were tired?” She laughed. “Sweetheart, I may be old but when my granddaughter goes to bed before I do after a date, I know something happened. And I don’t mean the good stuff.”

  Tears were heavy in her eyes so she didn’t turn around. Instead, Harper pulled a bag of bagels out of the breadbox and busied herself making one, even though she had no appetite for it.

  “Do you want one?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “A bagel.”

  “No huckleberry muffins this morning? I think I still have some frozen berries in the freezer.”

  “I wasn’t in the mood. But I can make them for you if you want some.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of baking them myself.”

  She sighed and swung around. “I know that, Grandma. I’m just saying. I’m making a bagel for myself anyway. But if you want muffins instead—”

  “You’re avoiding me.”

  “Yes, I am,” she said, swinging around so she was facing the cabinets again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  There was silence for a few seconds. Then Harper heard the chair scrape against the kitchen floor and the sound of the table creaking just a bit as it bent under the weight of her grandmother leaning on it as she got to her feet.

  “Hmm, we’ve been through this before, sweetheart,” her grandmother said warmly. “Running from your hurt doesn’t change it.”

  Harper hesitated a second. “It’s not the same thing, Grandma. It’s not like when Mom and Dad died.”

  “If the heart hurts, it hurts. It doesn’t put qualifiers on what’s causing it.” She came over and placed a loving hand on Harper’s back. “Hurt is hurt. Love is love. Don’t run from it. Embracing it is the only way to deal with it and heal it.”

  She turned to her grandmother and forced a smile. “Thank you, Grandma. I’ll try to remember that.”

  “You don’t have to be strong for anyone this time.”

  Harper frowned and looked at her grandmother. “What do you mean?”

  “When your mom and dad died, it took you a long time to move forward because you were so worried about your sister and me. I was…not as strong as I should have been for the two of you. You mother was my child. That’s a terrible loss and pain no one should have to go through. And your sister, well, she was never as strong as you. You didn’t get your strength from me. You got it from your grandfather. You have it. Your mother had it. You have a lot of your mother in you.”

  She sighed as tears sprang to her eyes. “I wonder what she’d be saying to me now.”

  “She would tell you to see it through. Don’t run away from what’s hurting you. When it’s love, you know it’s love and if it’s worth fighting for, then do it.”

  She wiped a tear that had slowly rolled down her cheek.

  “Grandma, you’re a true romantic. But I hardly know Nash Webber. We were forced together in that cabin. It wasn’t a choice. And…”

  “What?”

  “He doesn’t want to see me.”

  She nodded. “He said that.”

  “Yes.”

  “And yet, he still accepted your invitation for dinner?”

  “It was a thank you. Well, it was supposed to be. That’s all it was.”

  Her grandmother nodded in that way Harper remembered her doing when she didn’t believe a word of what Harper was saying.

  “Sounds like both of you are running.”

  “Do you want a bagel?” she asked, pulling her bagel out of the toaster oven after the bell dinged. She wasn’t hungry.

  Her grandmother shook her head and smiled. �
�Have a good day at work, sweetie. I have to get dressed.”

  Her grandmother walked away toward the hallway.

  “Where are you going?” she asked as she spread some strawberry cream cheese on her bagel.

  Pausing at the hallway, her grandmother turned and smiled. “Lucy is coming by to pick me up for lunch and to go shopping. I need a new dress for my date.”

  Harper dropped the knife on the counter, making a mess. “You have a date?”

  “Don’t be so shocked! Joel Stephens asked if he could escort me to the Fire and Police Department’s potluck next week. I said yes.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Mr. Stephens? You mean the principal of my high school?”

  “Yes. Lord knows I’ve known the man long enough since he was not only your and your sister’s principal, but he was your mother’s high school English teacher as well. His wife, May, passed away last year. I think it’s time.”

  She blinked. Was her grandmother serious? “I guess it is. Grandpa has been gone a long time.”

  Her grandmother smiled with sadness. “I’m not sure he would have waited as long as I did, but it doesn’t matter. I had you girls to keep me company all these years. Now it’s time for me to stretch my wings as the saying goes.”

  Harper giggled. “Grandma!”

  “You aren’t the only young one, my dear. Besides, I’ll be seeing Joel at the potluck anyway. I may as well give everyone in town something spicy to talk about.”

  Her grandmother winked as she turned away and slowly made her way down the hall holding on to the wall.

  “Take your walker with you,” Harper called out. “I don’t want to get a call on my dispatch line that you’ve fallen down. And you don’t want to miss your date.”

  She heard her grandmother chuckle. She wasn’t jealous of her grandmother because she had a date. But she did feel…funny. She’d only seen her grandmother with her grandfather, and she’d been very young when her grandfather had passed away of a heart attack a few years before her parents had passed.

  She wrapped up the bagel in wax paper and shoved it in a paper bag. She wasn’t hungry now. She would be later when she was at work and the phone started ringing. She’d eat then. She wondered if it was a bad thing to hope the phones were busy today. At least it would keep her mind off Nash and his abrupt departure last night.

  Sweet Montana Rescue: Chapter Ten

  He was wasting time and he knew it. The smartest thing to do was to just avoid the potluck dinner completely. But Harper had practically dared him to come, and it was something he couldn’t ignore. Especially after all the help the police department and the plowing crew had given him and Harper after the storm. It seemed ungrateful not to show up and at least thank Zeb and Jamison face-to-face before quickly slipping out again.

  He’d never been to a potluck before. Word had it there’d also be a bake sale. So he figured bringing something to sell to raise money for both the fire and police department seemed a good idea. And since he couldn’t bake, the easiest thing to do would be to stop by a bakery or local shop to get the goodies.

  Deciding everyone who didn’t bake would be cleaning out the grocery store, Nash decided to head over to the local novelty shop and bakery he’d seen the other day when he’d been in town. He'd heard from one of the drivers who’d plowed him out that Tara Mitchell’s shop sold gifts to tourists, but that it also had the best baked goods around. Surely, there would be something there worth selling at the baked sale.

  Most of the shops in town had already closed, but he remembered Tara’s shop was near the center. He drove down the main street and then found a parking spot, climbed out of the truck and looked around. Yes, he had seen the shop when he’d stopped in at the hardware store the other day. It was located across the street.

  Since so many shops were already closed, Nash sprinted across the street and was relieved when he saw the open sign was still hanging in the window. Tara’s Sweet Sensations sounded fitting if he was able to find something to bring to the potluck.

  He pulled on the door, half expecting it to be locked. He was pleased when it swung right open. He stepped inside and instantly his nose was filled with the scent of sugar and spice. A woman came from a room behind the bakery counter and was startled at seeing him standing there.

  “Oh, I heard the bell, but…”

  “You didn't expect anyone to be here?”

  She waved him off. “No, that's not it. Can I help you with something?”

  “I was glad you were open because I need to get something for that potluck they’re having over at the fire station.”

  She chuckled. “You and everyone else. You’re in luck. You just caught me. I was just about to close up and head over there myself.”

  “Then I made it just in time.”

  He walked over to the bakery counter past a rack of western style clothes and some sweatshirts that said Sweet Montana. When he got to the bakery counter, he glanced inside the glass.

  “I guess I'm not the only one who decided to come by here for goodies.”

  “No, it's the time of day. We get good foot traffic through town for the muffins. And since it's spring, people in town have gone a long time without their favorite huckleberry treats. So even though I stock up, there are slim pickings.”

  “Huckleberry?”

  She smiled. “It's a favorite around here. For the tourists, too.”

  “I'm not a tourist, but I had some huckleberry bread from the grocery store.”

  She cocked her head to one side and then leaned into the counter. “Mine is better,” she whispered. “I haven't seen you in town before.”

  He chuckled. “You know everyone in town?”

  “Just about. If you live here long enough, you get to know everyone.” Then she grinned. “Even the people you don't like. But we learn to live with that.”

  He frowned. It was a strange thing to say, especially to a stranger.

  “What's all this stuff,” he said as he walked to a bookcase filled with jars that were decorated with lace and labels with flowers and other pretty decorations.

  “Those are the jams that we sell that are made by the locals. They are very popular with the tourists. People like to come in and get something that's authentic to the area when they're on vacation to give as gifts. You won't see a whole lot of that down at the potluck today because people make their own stuff and bring it.”

  “Is that right? Then I’m in trouble.”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t. I tell you what. Instead of bringing something for the food table, why don’t you bring something for the bake sale. That will sell. And it’s a good cause.”

  “Okay. What you suggest?”

  “I could put together a box of jams. There’s huckleberry, wild chokecherry and strawberry rhubarb on the shelf.”

  “Chokecherry? Never heard of.”

  “It's good. Especially on toast. You should try some.”

  Tara went to a small refrigerator behind the counter and pulled out a jar. Then she walked over to the display case and pulled out a small piece of bread before closing the case again. She took a small cocktail napkin, placed the bread on top of it, and then proceeded to spread a thick layer of the jam. After closing the lid on the jar, she scooped the napkin with bread in her palm and lifted it to him. “Here, try some.”

  Nash reached for the bread with jam. He wasn't one for sweets. Not much anyway. One bite and he was sold.

  “I can see why this is a favorite. It's good.”

  The woman smiled. “Do you want a jar of it for yourself, too?”

  He grabbed a few jars from the display case and brought them to the register.

  “Yes. I’ll be here all summer. I may as well stock up.”

  “It's also good when you put a spoonful in your morning oatmeal, if you like that sort of thing.”

  “Good to know. But I still need something for the bake sale and I don’t think jam is considered a baked good. Do you have any cake?”
>
  He walked down the length of the bakery case slowly. He could tell that the case had most likely been stocked full that morning. Now there were only a few scattered plates with goodies on them.

  “This all looks good.”

  “It is. If you’re looking to give this away for the bake sale, I know just what to give you.”

  “That's a relief. I'll have a box full of whatever it is looks good.”

  “It's all good. Trust me. I’ve sampled everything. I'll just be a minute.”

  “Take your time.”

  As Tara busied herself behind the bakery display, pulling a pastry box out from a stack of pre-folded cardboard on the counter, he continued to look around.

  “You're the one that saved Harper Madison's life last week, aren't you?”

  Her question caught Nash off guard. He wasn't sure why it would. Harper had said that small towns are like party lines, the old-fashioned telephone where everyone heard everyone else’s conversation. It didn't take long for everyone to know everyone else's business.

  “I pulled her out of the car and gave her shelter. I hear that’s a neighborly thing to do.”

  Tara laughed. “It is. The way I hear though, it was a bit more than that. Jamison, the man who had pulled her car off the side of the mountain after he plowed the entire area where the avalanche had buried everything, said the car looked pretty smashed up. You saved her life.”

  “She was lucky. It could have been worse. And I was in the right place at the right time.”

  Tara disappeared behind the counter as she carefully chose different pieces of pastry and placed them strategically inside the box so they wouldn’t mash together. “I have known Harper a long time. I'm glad it turned out well. She told me you both got caught in the avalanche, too.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. Did everyone in town know this? “We did. Again, we were lucky.”

  Tara poked her head up above the glass case. “I don't believe in luck. I'm just glad you both made it out.”

  Her voice trailed off as she disappeared once again behind the counter.

  Nash was already regretting his decision to come down the mountain and go to this potluck. “So how many people actually go to this thing?”