Big Sky Seduction

by Daire St. Denis

  All of a sudden, everything that she was trying to do was too much. The sleepless nights, the worry over her father, the loss of the big contract, the empty bank account. The letters. The letters would never end.

  Out of nowhere, Gloria felt the world crashing in around her. The walls compressing her. The weight she carried, crushing her. And the man she least wanted to break down in front of, stood directly in front of her.

  No.

  “Leave Dillon,” she managed to choke out. “You need to leave right now.” She would not let him see her this way. He could never see her this way again.

  She turned and went back to her office, closing her door firmly and falling against it.

  14

  THERE WAS ONLY one place to go when he felt like this.

  His cousins’ private boxing club.

  Dillon needed to beat the shit out of someone.

  He parked his rental truck a block away and found himself standing on the step outside of the large double doors, waiting for someone to open up. One of the former profootball players opened the door, Owen something-or-other and the two recognized each other from Dillon’s previous visit.

  The place was exactly as he remembered it, workout stations—large bags, speed bags, weight benches, free weights, surrounding the center ring where two guys were currently fighting. One of the guys was Jamie, his cousin. Or, was that his twin brother, Colin? Hard to tell from this distance.

  “Come on, Jamie!” A feminine voice hollered from ringside. “Elbows in. You’re broadcasting.”

  Dillon went to stand beside Jamie’s wife to watch the fight. At first she didn’t notice his presence, maybe because she was so enthralled in what was going on in the ring, but then she peeked up at him, her eyes widening when she realized who he was. Daisy threw her arms around him. “Dillon! So good to see you.”

  They went back to watching the fight, though she had a million questions for him in quick staccato.

  “How’s the ranch. Have you sold it? What are you doing here? Have you spoken to Gloria?”

  “Tried. She won’t talk to me.”

  “She’s not talking to many people.”

  “Yeah. I’m worried about her.”

  “Well, we all are, considering,” Daisy said.

  “Has she been having episodes?”

  Daisy frowned. “Episodes?” She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  Was it possible that Daisy didn’t know about Gloria’s attacks? “What are you talking about?”

  “Her dad. He had a heart attack. He’s staying with her now. Didn’t she tell you?”

  “No. She didn’t say a thing.” He rubbed his jaw. “She was just there one minute, gone the next. Without a word.”

  Daisy sighed. “Typical Gloria. She probably didn’t want you to worry. She just goes and tries to handle everything herself, never lets on that she needs help. In fact, when things get really rough, she shuts people out. She’s barely taking my calls right now.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. That’s why I just go over there and barge in. In fact, I was going to stop by her place after this with a load of baking and some meals. Why don’t you take it for me?”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  She gave him a wink. “Positive.”

  * * *

  IT HAD BEEN the longest day. Paying bills, working, organizing. She’d managed to keep the panic at bay, but for how long? She’d love to be able to blame Dillon because the attacks seemed to happen more often when he was around, but Gloria knew it was more than that. It was everything. She was overwhelmed and she didn’t know where to turn.

  Standing outside on the street, she leaned against a truck that was parked outside and stared up at her window. The light was on in the living room.

  What the hell was she going to do?

  She plodded up the stairs to her top-floor condo and slowly fit the key in the lock. Every movement, every action in slow motion. As if her whole body was screaming at her to turn around and run.

  When she opened the door, Gloria heard voices. The TV? Her father rarely watched TV, it was all propaganda, according to him. So maybe he’d fallen asleep. Except that she recognized the voices. One belonged to her father, the other belonged to...

  “Dillon?”

  “Heya, Red.” He held up a shopping bag from Nana Sin’s bakery. “Delivery boy.”

  Her father stood. “Gloria, this is Dillon. Daisy’s husband’s cousin.” He looked pleased with himself as he regarded Dillon over the top of his glasses. “Did I get that right?”

  “Dillon and I know each other, Dad.”

  Dillon cleared his throat. “Your father was just telling me about some of the trouble he’s had with the city lately.”

  Gloria groaned inwardly. She hated when two very separate parts of her world collided. And this collision was on the scale of tectonic activity, resulting in a massive and destructive earthquake.

  “They sucked poor Gloria-Rose dry.” Her father held up a sheaf of papers. “I’m doing my best to get the money reimbursed. It’s not fair. Not fair at all.”

  Gloria did a double take. Her father was writing the letters to try to get her money back? She didn’t know that.

  “She works so hard, we both do. Hardworking, tax-paying citizens and they repay us by treating us like criminals. It’s an injustice.”

  “Well, thanks for stopping by, Dillon. We’ll see you around.”

  “I invited him for supper. I hope that’s okay?” her father said, removing a casserole dish from one of the bags from Daisy.

  “No, Dad. That’s not okay.” She dropped her things on the table, making a loud thud. “Dillon was a client of mine and I think it best to keep business and personal separate.”

  Dillon arched a brow as if that was news to him.

  “Oh.” Her father nodded. “That big ranch job, right?” Of all the times for her dad to be paying attention. “How’d it go?” He turned to Dillon. “Did you sell your ranch?”

  “Well, now,” Dillon drawled as he glanced at Gloria. “Not exactly.”

  “Dad, Dillon really needs to go. Right?” She narrowed her gaze at him.

  “Actually, I was hoping to—”

  “I always liked Montana.” Her dad smiled with an air of reminiscence. “Your mother and I took you to Yellowstone one summer. Do you remember?”

  Gloria shook her head. “No, Dad. We never went to Yellowstone.” Was there no end to her father’s delusions?

  “Sure we did. Though you were only three or four, so I suppose you might not remember.” His eyes sparkled with whatever made-up memory was going on in his brain. “We had to put you on one of those little tethers to keep you out of all the steaming pools of water.”

  “A leash?” Dillon made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “That sounds about right.”

  “Hey.” She pointed at him to stay out of this.

  “Gloria-Rose has always been the independent sort.”

  “I’ve seen that side of her.”

  “Anyway, I’ve always wanted to go back. Beautiful country out there.”

  “Right, Dad. Well, Mr. Cross, thanks for stopping by. You probably have a flight to catch.” She motioned toward the door with her head, silently willing—no demanding—Dillon leave. But Dillon was ignoring her, because he was studying her father.

  “Dillon?”

  “You know, I might have a solution for all of us.”

  Oh, no, he wasn’t going to suggest what she thought he was going to suggest, was he? That would be a colossal overstep.

  “Why don’t you come back to Montana with us? That way Gloria can finish the job, you’ll get to see Montana and I can put the ranch on the market.
Sounds like a win, win, win to me.”

  “You didn’t finish the job?” her father asked her.

  “Dillon Cross, may I speak to you outside for a moment?” Before he had a chance to answer, Gloria took hold of his arm and dragged him to the front door and out into the hall. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snarled.

  “I’m solving a problem.”

  “You have no idea what you’re proposing. My dad is sick. He can’t go traipsing across the country right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Half Moon Creek is in the middle of nowhere. My father needs to be right here, close to a hospital. Besides, there’s no way he’d want to leave Chicago.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  Dillon’s obstinacy filled Gloria with white-hot rage. Not of the panic variety, but of the I-am-at-the-end-of-my-rope-and-am-on-the-verge-of-committing-physical-violence variety.

  “Fine,” she said. “Let’s go.” She turned on her heel and strode right down the hall to the stairs.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I need to show you something.”

  * * *

  WHEN DILLON FINALLY found a spot to park the truck, Gloria was striding down the sidewalk toward him, her face pale, paler than he’d ever seen her look. She walked right past him and said, “This way.”

  He wanted to ask why she’d taken him to some residential neighborhood but decided that silence was the best course of action at the moment. After rounding another block, they passed a multifamily dwelling and then stopped outside a fence. Dillon was so intent on watching the woman, he hadn’t been paying that much attention to the houses. She took a deep breath and opened a gate that had a large city-issued sign that read Condemned. On the other side of the gate was a sight that Dillon was unprepared for.

  “This.” Gloria swept her hand in an arc in front of her. “This is the house I grew up in.”

  To say the yard was a junk heap was being kind. It was a dump. Piles of broken pots, furniture, garbage, signs, wheelbarrows, an old trampoline on its side.

  “My dad is sick, and it’s not just his heart.” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

  “Gloria.”

  “Inside the house, it’s even worse.” She pointed to the dilapidated structure. “Do you want to see it? Will that help you understand?” Her blue eyes were filled with tears. Her lips pressed together as her chin quivered.

  “This is why I can’t leave. This is why I have to stay and take care of him. This is why...” She didn’t finish the last sentence. As she gazed up at him, the anger was replaced by sorrow. “Go back to Montana, Dillon. I can’t help you.”

  All Dillon wanted to do was wrap his arms around this woman and hold her close. He wanted to touch her soft hair and soothe her. But she was as proud as she was stubborn and he didn’t know how to reach her.

  How could he leave? But how could he stay? She had enough going on and the last thing Dillon wanted to do was to put added pressure on her.

  Not knowing what else to do or say, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Gloria. I really am.”

  “I know.” She reached for his arm and then stopped herself, her hand suspended in midair before it dropped to her side.

  He stood for a minute next to her, listening to her ragged breaths, staring into her eyes, hoping to see some indication that what she really wanted was for him to stay.

  But there was none. Her eyes may have been filled with tears, but they were also filled with resolve. She’d made up her mind and there was no swaying her.

  When he finally came to terms with the fact that she truly needed him to leave, he turned and walked out the gate, having to force his feet to take each step. He stopped to peer over the high fence, needing to see her one last time. A knife pierced his gut to see her standing there, her shoulders hunched, the strong, independent woman he probably cared too much for, broken.

  * * *

  HE LEFT, JUST like you always knew.

  She’d waited just long enough to make sure, but as she walked back to her car, she saw that Dillon’s rental truck was gone.

  She’d shown him her dirty little secret and he’d walked away, just as Gloria knew he would. It was why she’d never brought anyone here. Why she’d never really let anyone get too close.

  It was more than embarrassment.

  Her life was hell and she didn’t wish it on anyone.

  Instead of going straight home, Gloria just drove. She needed time to think, to decompress after spending time with Dillon. She needed time to compose herself before going back to her condo, which was feeling less and less like home all the time.

  Two hours later, Gloria parked in front of her place, preparing herself to go back upstairs. She didn’t think she could feel worse than when she’d parked here two hours earlier. But she did.

  After letting herself in, she tripped on a duffel bag that was sitting right at the front door. Beside it was the old typewriter.

  What the...

  “Dad?” Gloria picked up the duffel and carried it into the living room where her father was busy arranging papers.

  He turned. His wispy hair was combed and he was wearing a tattered jacket—one she was sure her mother had bought him over twenty years ago. “Pack your bags, Gloria-Rose.”

  She dropped the bag by the table. “Why?”

  “You have a job to do.”

  Oh, her father was right about that. She did have a job and that job was standing right in front of her; taking care of her father was the only job that mattered right now. “What job?”

  “In Montana.”

  “We’re not going to Montana, Dad.”

  Her father pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Yes, we are.”

  With a half laugh, Gloria muttered, “Don’t be ridiculous.” She turned and sauntered back to the door.

  “What is it about going to Montana that’s ridiculous?” her father called.

  She stooped to pick up the typewriter—good Lord, it was heavy—and carried it to the kitchen where she hefted it onto the table. “You barely leave your house, let alone the city or the state. There’s no way you could handle being on the other side of the country.”

  The way her father fidgeted and clutched at the papers on the table told Gloria her assessment was correct, which left her feeling both gratified and terribly sad. With a sigh, she made her way into the kitchen and filled the kettle. They both needed a cup of tea.

  Or whiskey.

  The random thought took Gloria back to the night of the storm.

  The cabin.

  Dillon.

  Warmth radiated through her body as if she had just taken a shot of the strong stuff. From where she stood in her kitchen in Chicago, it seemed impossible that she’d ever been the woman in the cabin, sipping whiskey. Making love.

  She shut her eyes, enjoying a moment of remembrance: Dillon’s touch, the weight of his body on hers, his mouth, the lovely way he filled her...

  She rubbed her eyes. This wasn’t helping.

  “Dillon should never have come over here.”

  Her dad glanced up from where he was making piles of paper. “Why?”

  “Because.” She waved her hand dismissively. “He complicates things.”

  “How so?” Her father tapped a pile of papers into a neat bundle and put them in an empty bag she hadn’t noticed before.

  She crossed her arms. “Dad? What are you doing?”

  “Packing.”

  Gloria groaned. “Seriously? Why are you being so obstinate?”

  “Me? I’m not the obstinate one.” His hand trembled as he pointed at her. “Have you heard yourself lately?”

  Gloria was so tired, her laughter bordered on hysteria. “Is that what you think? That I�
��m the stubborn one in this relationship?”

  “Well, yes.” Her father blinked at her.

  “I may be strong-willed, but you are unreasonable.”

  “Unreasonable? Making decisions for myself is unreasonable?”

  Gloria clutched at the kitchen counter as if it was a lifeboat and she was being dragged under. She was so tired of fighting. “Dad, listen—”

  “No, you listen. Don’t you think I know what you’re up to?”

  Oh, God. Here came the paranoia, only this time it was going to be directed at her.

  “You think I can’t take care of myself.”

  “No—”

  “Yes. But, here’s the thing. I don’t want you taking care of me.”

  She gazed into her father’s watery eyes. “I can’t leave you. I won’t.”

  “I know. That’s why we’re going to Montana. Together.”

  “But—”

  “No more buts, Gloria-Rose.” He went back to the table, zipped up the bag with the papers and threw the strap over his shoulder. Then he picked the duffel up from the floor and made his way to the front door. “I’m going to Montana,” he called. “I can write my letters there as well as anywhere.”

  She followed him to the hall, shaking her head the entire way. “Dad, even if we were to go, it’s late. I’m sure there’s no flights until—”

  “The cab is waiting downstairs,” he interrupted. “There’s a red-eye flight. It’s already booked. I may not like computers, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use one. Now, you can either join me or you can stay here. But I’m going and you can’t stop me.”

  15

  “ALL THAT STUFF that happened between you and me? That doesn’t have to happen anymore.” Dillon said the words quietly as they waited for their bags to arrive on the conveyor belt while Gloria’s father was in the restroom. It was the first time he’d had a chance to speak to Gloria in private since being surprised by her and her father in the waiting area at the airport in Chicago.

  Man, that was one hell of a surprise.

  Though it was pretty obvious that Gloria was not in favor of this plan. Her severe expression said it all, as did the ice-cold shoulder she gave him when he sat next to her. The fact she wouldn’t speak to him didn’t stop him from watching her—the way she doted on her father the entire time, never leaving his side, watching him like a hawk.