Big Sky Seduction

by Daire St. Denis

  Crowds agitated the man. Couldn’t blame him, really, airports weren’t his favorite place in the world, either.

  Now here they were, in the much quieter Butte airport and he waited for some acknowledgment of his statement.

  Nothing.

  Gloria shifted beside him, craning her neck to see if her bags were coming on the belt. Avoiding his eyes.

  He cleared his throat. “Strictly professional, from here on out.” Though what he really wanted to say was, “I can’t stop thinking about you. Haven’t stopped wanting you. I’d really like to kiss you right now, or at the very least hold you.”

  But her fierce independence probably wouldn’t take kindly to those sorts of sentiments right now.

  “I think that’d be best,” she said quietly, moving off to grab a bag from the belt.

  Her father joined them, smoothing his hair in place, his hands trembling. “I can’t believe they wouldn’t let me bring the typewriter,” he complained for what had to be the hundredth time.

  Gloria patiently explained the situation. Again. “You could have put it in checked luggage, Dad.”

  “I never check luggage.”

  Dillon caught the eye roll before Gloria said, “We’ll find you a new one. Don’t worry.”

  After loading their luggage onto a trolley, Dillon directed them out of the airport to where his truck was parked. “I was thinking we could stay in Butte a few days, go around to some retailers and pick up some of the stuff we need for the place.”

  With a yawn, Gloria said, “That’s a good idea.” And proceeded to pull her notebook from her bag, flipping through it. She listed off the items, from appliances to fixtures and “accents”—whatever the hell that was.

  “Sounds like a week’s worth of work.”

  “Not if you plan it all out.” She turned to him, placing a hand on his sleeve. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  Dillon glanced at the hand on his arm. He blinked. Then he raised his gaze and met Gloria’s. Ever so slowly, as if she was afraid of waking a sleeping bear, she pulled her hand away.

  Her touch had felt so natural and her withdrawal so totally unnatural, but Dillon kept his mouth closed because he had vowed to keep his distance. He had to. For her sake.

  * * *

  TWO DAYS AND what seemed like three hundred stores later, the truck was piled high with as much as they could carry, and arrangements had been made from a few establishments to deliver what they couldn’t carry. Some places agreed to rent, other places required them to purchase.

  “Your budget can handle it?” Gloria had asked.

  Dillon nodded, not bothering to explain that money wasn’t an issue. Not for buying furniture, not in the sale of the ranch.

  For all intents and purposes, it was like nothing had ever happened between the two of them as they shopped until they dropped. Dillon had never understood that expression until now, and if he didn’t see another furniture store for the rest of his life he would be A-OK.

  Tuesday morning, they were ready to head to Half Moon Creek and when he went to help Gloria into the cab of the truck, she gave him a cool look and said, “I am quite capable of stepping up into a truck by myself, thank you.”

  Andy, her father, rolled his eyes. “Welcome to my life,” he murmured.

  Gloria was quite willing to share the chilly stare with her father, though she eventually gave in when he insisted his daughter take the front seat and that he would sit in the back.

  The drive to Half Moon Creek was spent in relative silence, except for the sound of Gloria’s father snoring softly from the backseat. Gloria sat still as a statue, looking straight ahead the entire time. Dillon filled the silence with music from the radio, turned low so as not to wake her father, and every once in a while, he thought he heard Gloria singing softly along with the songs. It was a surprise to him that she was familiar with country music, but then, the woman was a source of never ending surprise.

  Too soon they were pulling up in front of the Gold Dust.

  “Thanks.” Gloria turned in her seat and reached into the back to gently shake her father’s shoulder. “We’re here, Dad.”

  “What?” Mr. Hurst looked around with a confused expression. “Did I miss the drive?”

  “You were tired. If you slept at night, like the doctor told you—”

  “Gloria-Rose,” her father said, with a warning tone.

  Dillon smiled. He liked hearing the sound of her full name.

  “I’m going to take this stuff out to the ranch. I’ll be by to pick you up in the morning.”

  “Fine.”

  He helped them take their luggage inside, but once inside the lobby, Gloria took her father’s bag from him, and said, “I’ve got it.”

  “Okay.” He tipped his hat. “Later, Red.”

  Her pale cheeks bloomed with color. It was the first indication that he still had any effect on her and it pleased him more than he cared to admit.

  * * *

  THEIR ROOMS WERE located side by side and, after leaving her bag inside her door, she followed her father into his room to help him get settled.

  “Quaint place. I like it,” he said, looking around.

  “You sure you’re okay, Dad?”

  “Stop doting.”

  Gloria sighed. “Well, I’m glad you like it, because it’s home for the next week or so.”

  He went straight to the window. “Look at that view.”

  Gloria joined him. The distant mountains were still snowcapped, even though it was late spring. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  “It’s beautiful.” He opened the window and took a deep breath. “Do you smell that?”

  Gloria sniffed the air. “No. What is it?”

  “Nothing. No exhaust, no smog. Just clean air.” Her father leaned right out the window, a look of pleasure on his face. Something she hadn’t seen in a very long time.

  The tension that had been eating away at her suddenly let up, as though it was whisked away on the mountain breeze. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

  “Okay, I’m going to unpack and then do some work. We can go down for supper at six.”

  “Do they have room service?” he asked.

  Pausing by the door, Gloria realized that just because he’d opened the window, didn’t mean everything was all better. Her father would still be holed up in the room, didn’t matter where he was, whether he was at his house or her condo in Chicago, or the Gold Dust Hotel in Half Moon Creek. Nothing had changed.

  Gloria sighed. “I don’t know, Dad. I can bring something up for you, if you’d like.”

  She left him in his room and went to settle into hers. It was the same room she’d had last time and it felt as if she’d never left. Yet, everything had changed. She collapsed on top of the bed, lying flat on her back and staring at the molding on the high ceiling.

  What the hell was she doing here?

  How had she let her father talk her into this?

  He didn’t give you a choice.

  That much was true. Last she checked, blackmail was the opposite of choice. She let out a tired laugh at the thought. Who knew her father was capable of such a thing as blackmailing her into coming to Montana?

  The minute Gloria closed her eyes, an image of Dillon came to mind. This time she saw him as he was during their picnic, gazing down at her, the sun creating a glow around him, his shirt unbuttoned. In her mind’s eye she saw him smile and heard him say, All that stuff that happened between you and me? That doesn’t have to happen anymore. Strictly professional from here on out.

  Yep. Everything had changed.

  * * *

  GLORIA WOKE FEELING DISORIENTATED. The room was bright and for a moment she had no idea where she was or why. She sat up and
the past few days came tumbling back into place. The flight to Montana, the buying trip in Butte. Half Moon Creek.

  Her stomach rumbled and she placed a hand on her abdomen to quiet the grumbling before reaching for the phone she’d set on the beside table. Five o’clock. She’d slept for two hours.

  Wow. Well, she must have needed it. It had been a trying few days. A trying few weeks. She stood and stretched and then decided to go see what her father was up to. She knocked softly on his door, but there was no answer. She knocked again, a little harder.

  Nothing.

  Putting her ear to the door, she listened for any telltale signs of activity from within.

  Silence.

  A terrible sense of foreboding swept all the good feelings away. She tried the door, but it was locked.

  “Shit!”

  Gloria sprinted down the hall, down the stairs and ran up to the front desk. Thank God it was the same woman who’d checked them in. “I need a key to my father’s room. He’s not answering and I’m worried.”

  “Oh,” the woman said, nonchalantly. “He left about an hour ago.”

  “He what?”

  “He asked about a secondhand shop. Something about a typewriter.”

  Gloria tried to calm herself by asking, “What did you tell him?” At least he wasn’t dead of a heart attack in his room, but the fact that her father had gone out on his own, in a strange town, in a strange part of the country? Well, it was abnormal.

  “Three blocks down Main Street is a place called Second Glance.”

  “Thanks,” Gloria called as she hurried through the lobby and out the door.

  She jogged down the street, searching for signs of either her father or the shop, but eventually her steps slowed. This wasn’t Chicago. There wasn’t a crowd of people moving en masse along the street. There wasn’t traffic and horns and lights that might cause confusion for someone like her dad. It was a relatively quiet, sunny day and as she walked, people smiled and said hello to her as if they knew her.

  As she passed Mesa Verde, she glanced in through the window and then stopped to stare. Her father was inside, leaning against the counter, talking to Sage.

  She opened the door and entered and both her father and Sage turned at the sound of the bells.

  “Oh,” her father said, “here she is. Sage, this is my daughter, Gloria-Rose.”

  “We’ve met,” she told Gloria’s dad. Sage greeted her with a wide smile. “Nice to see you again. I’m glad you’re back.”

  “How did you know I’d left?”

  Sage chuckled softly. “Small town, darlin’.”

  The use of the endearment reminded her of Dillon. Although, pretty much everything in this town reminded her of Dillon. That was when she noticed the typewriter sitting on the counter. She touched it. “You found a typewriter.”

  “I sure did,” her father said. “It’s even in better shape than the last one.”

  “Do you collect old typewriters?” Sage asked.

  “No, I need it for writing.”

  “Old school.” Sage nodded. “I like that. Are you writing a book?”

  “Letters.” He leaned forward to whisper, “To the government.”

  Sage whispered back, “I hope you’re giving them hell.”

  “Of course.”

  The two of them laughed and Gloria watched the interaction with wonder and fascination. Her father was flirting, and Sage was flirting right back.

  It was...a miracle.

  Sage checked her watch. “Wow. Past closing time.”

  “Sorry, didn’t meant to keep you,” her father said, smoothing his hair to the side.

  “It’s been my pleasure, chatting with you. In fact, if you’re not busy, why don’t the two of you come for supper?”

  Before her father had a chance to reply, Gloria piped up. “That would be wonderful.”

  * * *

  DILLON WALKED UP the path to the little blue house on Maple Street and knocked. It had been a while since he’d seen Sage and he was looking forward to her Indian tacos. She made the best fry bread around, crisp and light and salty. Mm-mmm. He rang the bell and Sage came to the door, dressed in a pretty red blouse, long skirt and piles of turquoise jewelry.

  “Dillon, come in.”

  He stepped inside and bent low so she could kiss his cheek. That was when he saw Red, staring openmouthed at him from behind Sage.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” Gloria said.

  He smiled. “I didn’t know Sage had invited you, either.”

  “The more the merrier.” Sage glanced at him and winked. Oh, the woman knew exactly what she was doing.

  To put everyone at ease, she put them all to work, showing Gloria how to make fry bread, getting Dillon to grate the cheese and set the table and Gloria’s father to cut up the tomatoes and lettuce.

  The conversation never stopped during dinner, Sage made sure of it, and Dillon had never seen Gloria’s father more animated. By the look of wonder on Red’s face, she hadn’t, either.

  “What nation do you come from?” Andy asked during dinner, elbows on table, chin on hands, leaning toward Sage. Rapt.

  “The Crow Nation. And...the United States of America.” She grinned. “I’m a true American. Part settler, part indigenous.”

  “Fascinating. How far does Crow Nation territory extend?”

  Sage and Gloria’s father carried the conversation for the entire meal, and after dinner Gloria insisted on doing dishes. Dillon offered his help and to his surprise, she didn’t object.

  “Those two have certainly hit it off,” Dillon said, indicating the living room where her father and Sage were now having coffee and chatting.

  “I know.” She smiled, her blues eyes liquid. “It’s really nice to see.” Just as she placed a washed dish in the rack, he went to pick one up and their fingers tangled. She stilled, her eyes going large and round.

  Dillon couldn’t help himself from running a wet thumb across the top of her hand. God, he missed touching her.

  She withdrew and they finished washing in silence. Once done, Dillon followed Gloria to the living room where she picked up her purse and jacket and said, “Thank you so much for the lovely evening. I’m going to head back to the hotel. I have to catch up on some work.”

  When her father stood to join her, she said, “Dad, why don’t you stay, if it’s okay with Sage. I’m fine walking back to the hotel on my own.”

  “Well—” her father smiled hopefully at Sage “—I wouldn’t mind another cup of coffee. As long as it’s decaf.”

  “That would be nice,” Sage said. Then she indicated Dillon. “Why don’t you walk Gloria to the hotel?”

  Dillon thought Gloria was going to go all independent on him again, but she didn’t. She nodded toward the door and they left together.

  16

  THE EVENING WAS brisk with cool air blowing in from the north and Gloria lifted her face, her cheeks warm from doing dishes and probably from thinking about Dillon. She could still feel his touch, a phantom caress across the top of her knuckles. Now, as they walked slowly toward Main Street, she was ultra aware of his hand swinging by his side. What would he do if she reached for him? Would he wrap her hand in his big one or would he push it away?

  Or...would he tug her close, tilt her chin up and kiss her?

  Who was she trying to fool? She didn’t want things to be strictly professional between herself and Dillon. She wanted what they had, the overnighter in a cabin, the freedom of making love on a blanket in a meadow, she wanted to wake up in his arms again.

  But then what? How long could that last? A week? Two? A month at most?

  Who cares how long it lasts.

  For once, Gloria’s conscience wasn’t snarky. Maybe she shouldn’
t care how long it lasted. She was so tired of being the responsible one, the efficient one, the sensible one. Maybe, for once in her life, she should be the girl who was carefree, spontaneous and impractical.

  “I really like your dad.”

  She glanced up at him.

  “So does Sage.”

  Man, she loved his voice, deep and low with a bit of a drawl that made it melodic. It reminded her of how much she loved to hear Dillon sing. There was a certain degree of devil-may-care that was required to get up and sing in front of people, which Dillon had. Gloria admired that about him.

  “Gloria?”

  “Oh.” She gave her head a shake.

  “Are you upset about your father?”

  “No. Not at all. It’s just amazing to me. Dad rarely left his house in Chicago.”

  They walked another half block before Dillon said, “All that stuff with your dad? It can’t be easy.”

  “No. But there are worse things, I guess.”

  Thankfully, Dillon left it at that and changed the subject. “You know Sage is playing matchmaker between us, right?”

  “I figured as much.” She glanced up at him, expecting his seductive grin, but instead was greeted with a serious expression. She stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can I be honest?”

  “Of course.”

  He moved in front of her, facing her. “I want to kiss you right now.”

  Oh, thank God. She reached for him, gripping the loose material of his jacket.

  “But I’m not going to.”

  Her grip tightened.

  “There’s something between us.”

  She nodded.

  “I feel it and I figure you do, too.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Even Sage sees it.”

  “I know.”

  “So as much as I want to, I don’t think we should act on it.”

  She gazed up at him, not agreeing, not contradicting. She didn’t let go of him. The man was articulating all of her thoughts, though he’d come to a different conclusion than her about where they should go from here. “Is it because of my dad?” she asked quietly.