Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2)

by Snopek, Roxanne

  Sam took his hand and led him out of Jade’s room, leaving the door open just a crack.

  “You and I need to talk,” she said.

  “Those,” he said, “are the most dreaded words a woman could say to a man.”

  She laughed and tugged him up against her.

  “It’s okay,” she said, pulling his face down for a kiss, “because first, you’re going to show me how that beautiful new shower works.”

  Her arms were around his neck and he could feel her breath tickling his ear.

  “Then we’re going to examine exactly how you put on the sheets.”

  Between each word, she planted soft kisses along his jawline. The throaty purr of her voice sent heat ripping through him.

  “Then we’re going to finish what we started last night.”

  *

  Instantly, the mood changed. As Sam tugged his shirt off, the air grew charged between them, heavy, like the moonlit sky outside her window that even after the storm remained raw and unsettled.

  Logan leaned forward, but she put her hands on his chest.

  “Let me look at you,” she whispered.

  She trailed her fingers across the hard planes of muscle and bone and sinew. This was not the body of a boy playing a pickup shirts-and-skins game after school in the park. This was a man, solid and real.

  She let her fingers travel lower, to the top of his jeans.

  “Sam,” he muttered.

  She lifted her gaze. His jaw was clenched; his eyes squeezed shut, as if he was in pain.

  “Logan. I want this. Don’t you?”

  He laughed, a brief, strangled sound. “Since the second I saw you.”

  “Then kiss me.”

  For a moment he stood there, staring, as if he was fighting a battle with himself.

  Then he swallowed, the Adam’s apple bobbing in his lean, tawny throat. He lifted his hand to her jaw and cupped it, the tips of his fingers curling toward the back of her neck. Shock waves rippled down her spine.

  He leaned closer slowly, keeping his eyes on hers, his gaze intense and focused. Then his lips were on hers and it was all touch and taste and pressure. She tightened her arms around his neck, clinging, grasping, unable to get him close enough or deep enough.

  She felt suddenly desperate, more naked even than last night. This was a don’t-stop, never-let-go kind of kiss.

  A my-life-depends-on-this kind of kiss.

  An I-love-you, I-love-you, I-love-you kind of kiss.

  At least, it was for her. But was it the same for him? Was Mabel right? It was there in his actions, in everything he’d done for them, for her, since she’d returned. She wanted to believe it, but she was afraid.

  “Sam,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “Are you sure?”

  Always so damn thoughtful, she thought.

  He kissed her as if she was something rare and precious, a treasure just discovered by a man who wasn’t certain of its existence, and who couldn’t quite believe his good fortune now.

  Time to make him a believer.

  “Absolutely,” she said, reaching for the button of his jeans. “But if you’re not…”

  He grinned then, grabbed her by the butt and lifted her against him. She wrapped her legs around his hips, biting back a shriek of laughter.

  “Okay then,” he said, walking them both toward the ensuite bathroom. “You mentioned something about inspecting the shower?”

  He was snaking his hands up her shirt, undoing her bra, sliding his fingers down the waistband of her jeans, touching her everywhere, all at once, it seemed.

  “I’m a tough critic,” she said, gasping as he set her onto the cold marble countertop. The bathroom mirrors reflected their nakedness, his skin against hers, their limbs intertwining.

  “I know.” He reached into the shower and turned on the spray. “I’m not worried.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‡

  The sound of knocking nudged at Logan’s consciousness, but not enough to bring him fully awake. He shifted to his side, and immediately Sam adjusted her position, curling her back against him. He pulled her tight and let the sweet simmer of desire build again.

  They’d made love twice more during the night and if he had his way, they’d stay in bed all day.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  “Logan?” called a voice.

  His eyes flew open, just as he recognized the sound of a key turning in the lock.

  He sprang to his feet.

  “Wassa matter?” murmured Sam without moving.

  “Someone’s here,” he said, yanking on his clothing.

  From downstairs came the clatter of footsteps – definitely plural – and cheery voices.

  “What?!” Sam sat up in bed, her hair adorably dishevelled, her face still flushed with sleep and lovemaking. “Who?”

  “I’ll find out.”

  *

  “Mama, you’re pulling,” complained Jade, as Samara brushed her hair.

  “Sorry, sweetie, but we’ve got surprise guests downstairs.”

  Jade’s face darkened. “Who is it?”

  “Don’t know yet. Let’s go downstairs and find out.”

  She braced herself but Jade took her hand without complaint.

  Sam tried not to resent the invasion downstairs. It was probably for the best anyway. If whoever it was hadn’t stopped by, she and Logan would have stayed in bed and if they’d stayed in bed…

  She shivered.

  “Bob’s hungry, Mama.”

  The dog wagged her tail hopefully.

  Sam turned off the bathroom light, then glanced once more at the mirror, unable to resist the memory of Logan’s body pressed against her. Watching in the reflection as water sluiced over his muscles, as he ran the bar of soap over her body, as he licked droplets off her breasts and trailed his tongue lower and lower.

  “Mama!”

  She jerked her head. What was wrong with her?

  “Sorry, baby.”

  As they walked down the stairs, she forced herself to focus on the reality at hand. She had boxes to unpack, food to buy and – according to dust and smears visible in the bright morning sunshine – a lot of cleaning to do first.

  Whatever happened later, well, there was no time to think about that now.

  She followed the voices to the kitchen and pasted on a smile.

  A crowd of faces turned to her. Or at least, it seemed like a crowd. Eliza was there, and Sage and Dawson, a couple of Logan’s students and some other people she couldn’t put names to.

  Jade shrank back behind her legs.

  “There they are!” Immediately Logan came forward. “Look, Sam, reinforcements have arrived. Eliza organized a cleaning party.”

  So she could see. They’d come equipped with brooms, mops, buckets, sponges, everything they could possibly need. They’d thought of everything.

  Sam put a hand against her chest, overwhelmed and ashamed of her earlier resentment.

  “I brought muffins, too,” said Eliza. She stepped up quickly, her cheeks pink. “I’m so sorry about yesterday, Samara.”

  “You had your own worries,” she managed. “This is incredible, Eliza! You didn’t have to do this.”

  Sage frowned. “Wait. What worries, Eliza?”

  Eliza’s face got even redder. She was obviously twisted with guilt. “Oh, it’s nothing. A mix-up at the bank, that’s all. Thank goodness Samara was there to take Aunt Mabel to the hospital.”

  “Everything worked out,” said Sam. “That’s the main thing, right?”

  Logan squeezed her shoulder, smiling. The compassion in those beautiful eyes and the easy grin felt like a landing pad, a safe place for her to come home to.

  “Have some coffee before it gets cold,” said Sage. “There are breakfast sandwiches on the table, too, for whoever wants.

  She handed Sam a pretty beribboned box labeled Copper Mountain Chocolate.

  “Because no one should ever have to clean house without cho
colate,” said Sage with a smile. “Don’t open it now, though. It’s not for sharing.”

  A groan rose from behind them.

  “Don’t worry.” Sage revealed another box, this one without ribbons. “I brought seconds for the rest of you.”

  The groan turned to a cheer.

  “Of course,” Sage lowered her voice and winked, “I suppose you could share it with Logan. Later.”

  “Mama?” Jade tugged on her shirt, sparing Sam from answering Sage. “Bob wants to play outside with Savannah.”

  Jade pointed out the open door to where the girl was waving at them.

  “Go ahead,” said Sam. “There’s a muffin here for Bob when she’s ready.”

  Jade dashed off, the dog at her heels.

  “Can I get you some breakfast?” Logan spoke quietly as people gathered supplies and dispersed to their various tasks. “I know I worked up quite an appetite last night.”

  He was pressed up against her, their sides touching. She could feel the solidness of his hip against hers, the warmth of his body, the welcome weight of his arm.

  “I could eat,” said Sam. “But I feel bad, all these people here, for me. Who has time to do something like this?”

  She gestured to the bustling crew moving about the kitchen.

  Suddenly Eliza was at her side again.

  “Listen here, Samara Davis.” A smile softened her words. “You’re not used to accepting help. You’re independent; I get that. But you’re not in Manhattan anymore. You’re in Marietta. We help each other out. You did it last night for Mabel. We’re doing it now, for you. It’s what we do. So can you just let us? Please?”

  Sam laughed, in spite of herself.

  “Okay,” she answered helplessly. She stepped away from Logan and turned in a circle, her arms spread, encompassing the soon-to-be-friends, in her forever-home. Tears thickened her voice. “Thank you. Thank you, everyone.”

  “You’re welcome.” Eliza cleared her throat and turned away. “Dawson O’Dell, Sage told us how you clean bathrooms at home. You’re not going to get away with that here.”

  *

  “Where are we going?” Sam asked, laughing as Logan pulled her along by the hand.

  He owed Eliza Bramble big-time, for organizing the whirlwind cleaning blitz that had just ended.

  And then, Savannah O’Dell had begged her father to invite Jade to their house, which left Sam’s evening open, perfect for the surprise Logan had in store for her.

  “You’ll see.”

  With his other hand, Logan patted his jacket pocket. His heart was thumping. He was as nervous as he had been that same day, sixteen years ago. Worse, in fact. They were adults now. The stakes were that much higher.

  When they got to the high-school stadium, he led her to the bleachers.

  “Our spot,” said Samara.

  Was he imagining it, or did she sound nervous too?

  “Our spot,” he agreed. “Only we’ll stay topside tonight. We can watch the stars better.”

  “Good thinking. Grass stains don’t have quite the appeal they once did anyway.”

  They sat down together, snug against each other. He wanted her closer.

  She leaned back, resting her elbows on the tread behind them, a position that made her breasts jut out. In less than a week, he thought, her curves had gotten lusher. There was more color in her cheeks and the exhaustion lining her eyes had lifted.

  “If you’re planning on making a move,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips, “you should know, I’m a good girl. Very good.”

  His throat went dry. Her voice had gone husky. If he didn’t do this soon, he’d forget all about why he brought her here. There were things that needed to be said and it was now or never.

  “Happy birthday, Samara.” He pushed a card at her. He’d chosen a pretty card with flowers on the outside and blank inside, so he could write his own message.

  She sat upright, the teasing expression gone. “Oh, Logan!”

  “It’s September 19, isn’t it?” he said. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

  She nodded, taking the card as if in a daze.

  “I never forgot, Sam. That day, I was a first-class tool, a selfish, immature kid who let you down.”

  She swallowed and he heard her throat click.

  “I never meant things to end the way they did, Logan.”

  He touched a finger to her chin. Her eyes were shining.

  “Open the card.”

  She obeyed, her fingers unsteady as she carefully unstuck the seal.

  A drop of moisture trickled down his back.

  She looked up and turned the card to face him, as if he was unaware of the contents.

  Close your eyes, he’d written.

  And with sweet simplicity and trust, she did.

  It was as if his entire life leaped into rewind mode, as if the intervening years were gone and it was the two of them, innocent, certain of nothing but their love for each other, aching for a world where they could be together always.

  He leaned in, cupped the back of her head gently, and kissed her.

  Samara put her hand up, touching his neck, drawing him closer. Suddenly, their bodies were pressed together, his hands on her back, her arms linked behind him, their lips moving feverishly, their tongues tasting, feasting, remembering.

  Then he pulled back and pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

  “There’s something else,” he said hoarsely.

  Gently, he peeled her arms away from his neck. He took the box from his pocket and handed it to her, plus a second card that went with it. “Don’t get excited. It’s nothing much.”

  He saw the moment she noticed the discolored paper, the careful handwriting on the card, the yellowed tape. She jerked her head up.

  “Keep going.” Nerves made his voice crack.

  She opened the faded card, warped with time.

  True love stories never have endings.

  Sam seemed to freeze. Then her hand went to her throat.

  “Jonathan Livingston Seagull,” she whispered.

  “You remember,” he said. They’d been so young. So very young. Drinking in the idealism and romantic fervor as only teenagers could, certain that no one had ever loved as they did, that theirs was the first and last of its kind.

  Sam peeled away the yellowed tape and took off the wrapping. Inside was the little cardboard box, exactly as it had been that day, sixteen years ago, when he’d prepared it for her. His heart had been in his throat then, too.

  “It’s a little late.” It was a lame joke, but he was desperate to break the silence.

  Her hands were shaking so much she nearly dropped the lid. He could hear her breath, coming in quick short gasps.

  She lifted the cheap gold-plated chain inside and held it up, so that the tiny faux sapphire pendant lay against her hand. For several endless moments, she just stared at it. Her chest rose and fell jerkily, and that tendon was jumping in her neck.

  “I always felt bad I couldn’t give it to you. It’s just a cheap necklace but I thought it was hot stuff at the time. I probably should have thrown it out years ago but-”

  Something hot splashed onto his hand.

  “Logan,” she said, putting a finger against his lips. “This is, without question, the best birthday present I’ve ever had. In my entire life.”

  Everything in him stopped, his heart, his breath, his brain, like a power outage. Then, it surged back, alarms going off, bells rushing, appliances clattering and whirring back to life.

  “It is?”

  The smile on her face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Pure, sincere, open and aimed one hundred per cent at him. And the tears glistening on her cheeks only made it more beautiful.

  “It is. And I’m going to keep it forever. On one condition.”

  “Anything,” he said. If, somehow, a miracle had occurred, helping her find her way back to him, he was never, ever going to let her go again.

  “I�
��ll keep this necklace forever,” said Samara, “as long as Jade and I can keep you forever too.”

  His whoop of joy echoed across the empty field and the stars reflected their joy back down, multiplying it until it was infinite as space.

  Then Logan grabbed her around the waist, dragged her onto his lap and kissed her senseless.

  The End

  The Montana Born Homecoming Series

  If you enjoyed Finding Home, you’ll love the other Homecoming series novellas!

  Sing Me Back Home by Eve Gaddy

  Available now!

  Hometown Hero by Dani Collins

  Coming soon – September 2014

  Long Way Home by Kathleen O’Brien

  Coming soon – October 2014

  Home For Good by Terri Reed

  Coming soon – October 2014

  About the Author

  Born under a Scorpio moon, raised in a little house on the prairie, Roxanne Snopek said “as you wish” to her Alpha Farm Boy and followed him to the mountain air and ocean breezes of British Columbia. There, while healing creatures great and small and raising three warrior-princesses, they found their real-life happily-ever-after. After also establishing a successful freelance and non-fiction career, Roxanne began writing what she most loved to read: romance. Her small-town stories quickly became fan favorites; print editions of her latest series were recently launched in France.

  Roxanne’s personal heroine’s journey contains many on-going but basic lessons: introversion isn’t fatal; creativity is essential; and you always get lost coming out of the Vancouver airport. Accept it. Oh, and never, ever leave home without a book.

  For the latest news from Tule Publishing, visit our website at TulePublishing.com and sign up for our newsletter here!