Forever After (Montana Brides, Book 3)

by Leeanna Morgan

  “You’ve been reading too many self-help magazines.” Nicky’s head hurt from trying to keep up with her sister’s warped advice. The back of her cereal box made more sense than Emily’s brain. “And I’m still not going to do anything about Sam.” She patted a scoop of wet sand against the castle wall. “In fact, Sam’s not going to feature in my life again.”

  “You said you loved him.”

  “I lied.”

  “No you didn’t. And remember; this is your sister you’re talking to. I know when you’re telling fibs. Think about the vegetables.”

  Nicky groaned. “I can’t believe I’m sitting in a sandpit discussing the benefits of a balanced diet over the top of a maimed reproductive organ. You’ve got to be the sickest sister in the world.”

  “Stop changing the subject.”

  Nicky stared at her in mutinous silence.

  Emily threw a handful of sand at Nicky’s chest. “Okay, bright spark. What do you do when kids won’t eat their greens?”

  “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Mash them down to a pulp so they don’t know what they’re eating?”

  “Think positive. You dress those veggies up until they look like the juiciest food in the world, until you want to keep them all to themselves and not share them with anyone.”

  “Oh sure,” Nicky laughed. “As if any kid would be fooled by that strategy. A cucumber will always be a cucumber.”

  “Not if it’s a zucchini.”

  “Now I’m really lost. Tell me what a…” Nicky looked down at the sand. “…whatever that’s supposed to be, a zucchini, and I have in common?”

  “Forget the sandcastle.” Emily waved her hands, launching a spray of wet sand in the air. “Sam might be a management whizz, but he’s too stubborn to realize he has main course feelings for you. If you want him back in your life you have to put him on a sugar free diet and show him how good a main course can taste.”

  “I don’t care whether he likes the taste of a main course or not, because I don’t want him in my life.”

  “Ha. If I really believed that I wouldn’t be sitting out here making sandcastles in the hot sun.” Emily stood up, flicking half the sandpit off her dress. “Come to my place after work for dinner. If you still want nothing to do with Sam, I’ll leave you alone and never say another word about him.”

  Nicky looked up, frowning at her sister. “Fine. I’ll be there by six o’clock. With a salad.”

  A cheeky grin lit Emily’s face. “Wise woman.”

  ***

  Nicky trudged back to the office. She really wanted to be the type of person that could simply forget about the pile of work on her desk and take the rest of the day off. But that wasn’t going to happen. She was here to do a job and once that was finished she would gladly disappear back to Denver. But until then she was stuck at Scotson Construction.

  The air conditioned building slapped her hot skin like a cold wash cloth. She walked up the stairs, trying to delay the inevitable meeting with Sam for as long as possible. In two hours she would be sitting in Emily’s apartment, toasting a new chapter in her life and chewing through enough vegetables to forget about her sweet tooth.

  She should have felt empowered, but all she felt was hot and bothered. She glanced across at Sam’s office as she walked past. His door was closed and Amanda had disappeared.

  Halleluiah for small mercies.

  Wasting no time, Nicky logged onto her computer and tried to focus on the report she was writing. Her fingers sat poised above the letters on her keyboard, waiting for inspiration. Nothing happened. Thoughts flexed in her mind like sticky blobs of bubblegum caught under her shoe. Just when she thought she’d found a clean path to tread, her foot stuck on another blobby mess and held firm.

  She reshuffled the papers in front of her, trying to draw inspiration from the notes she’d made on the different building sites she’d visited and the meetings she’d had with senior employees. Nothing.

  Tapping her pen against a notebook she tried to brainstorm some ideas into existence. But the storm she was looking for had disappeared, replaced by a tepid wind that didn’t even flutter the sails of her brain.

  She checked her emails. Anything was better than the empty hole filling her head. Not one message sat in her inbox. Nobody wanted to talk to her, see her, or generally annoy her. She was so desperate she would have welcomed the odd spam message. But there was nothing.

  Her gaze wandered through the glass wall of her office and out into the wide corridor. Sam walked past with three other men. For a split second his surprised brown eyes locked on her face. Nicky held her breath, not quite trusting the surge of emotion washing through her body. Before she thought to blink, he’d disappeared.

  Sinking into her chair, she let go of the stale air choking her chest. She looked around her office at the comfy chairs, the pot plant, and the framed picture on the wall. When she’d first looked at the room she’d felt at home, as if this office was on loan to her by someone who enjoyed their work and their life. Now it felt like a prison. And it was time to leave.

  Grabbing her laptop and files, she started to tidy her desk. Working from home sounded like a great alternative to sitting in her office, staring at a blank computer screen. A great alternative to bumping into her boss.

  She nearly missed the quiet knock on her door, but she didn’t miss the black polished leather shoes heading toward her. Nicky looked up, dreading any discussion with Sam.

  “Here, you might want to try this.” He left a white bottle on the edge of her desk and walked away.

  She stared at the container, not sure why he’d given it to her. Picking it up, she read the label. Aloe vera. With a frown, she reached for the small mirror tucked in the top drawer of her desk. Flicking the lid open, she stared at her face. She looked like a ripening tomato, a hint of red firing her skin to a hot blush. After a month in Bozeman she should have remembered how brutal the sun could be.

  It would have done her more good to remember how brutal one male could be. Tossing the mirror back in her desk she gazed at the door, a terrible ache building deep in her chest. Her gaze wandered to the telephone. Before she could second guess herself, she dialed Sam’s extension and listened to the ring tone.

  “Sam Delaney.”

  His voice sounded deep and sexy and so damn distracting that it wasn’t fair. “It’s Nicky. I’m heading back to my apartment to work from home.” Short, sweet and succinct. Just like her nearly second time around relationship with him.

  “Are you okay?”

  How could three words, spoken with gentle concern, unravel the tension coiling her body into a tight knot? And they weren’t even the three little words she wanted to hear.

  “I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Nicky dropped the phone into its cradle. With the bottle of aloe vera pushed into her bag, she grabbed her laptop and left.

  ***

  Emily had a bright green front door. After a four week vacation in Australia and New Zealand she’d decided to recreate a little piece of the Pacific in Montana. Large painted gum leaves wrapped around the door handle and a baby Koala curled around the lock.

  Last time she was in Bozeman, Nicky had added a little brown kiwi to the bottom of the door. Emily had laughed at the bird sitting with a quizzical expression on its face, positive he was an emu in disguise. Nicky squinted at the kiwi, trying to figure out how anyone could confuse it with a long-legged emu.

  Using her elbow, she rang the doorbell, balancing three bowls of food in her hands.

  “On time,” Emily grinned, “and if I’m not mistaken, slightly sun burned.” She peered at Nicky’s face and arms, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Glowing like a lobster,” Nicky admitted. “Next time I sit in the sun I’ll make sure I’ve got a beach umbrella on my head like you.”

  Emily looked down her button nose at her sister. “Scoff all you like, but I’m not the one who got burned.”

  “Are you going to let me in or not? This f
ood’s getting heavy.”

  Emily waved her through, grabbing one of the bowls out of her hands and heading over to the dining table.

  Nicky stopped in the middle of the room, staring at the transformation that had taken place over the last week. “You’ve painted the walls. It looks amazing.”

  “Thanks. Cody brought over a few of Maureen’s lamps and paintings yesterday to give it a bit more pizzazz.” She walked across the room with two glasses of white wine in her hands. “I loved my orange walls, but they weren’t going to sell an apartment the size of a shoe box. So cream-on-cream it is.”

  Emily refused to accept any money from her mom or stepdad for design school. Instead of working part-time between lectures, she bought apartments that needed renovating. She redecorated and sold them for a profit. She’d made enough money over the last three years to purchase this apartment mortgage free and pay her tuition fees.

  Nicky put the bowls of salad on the table. “When are you putting it on the market?”

  “End of next week. The photographer’s arriving in a few days to take the interior shots. All I need to do is replace the front door and I’m ready for a buyer.”

  Nicky took a sheet of plastic wrap off one of the bowls. “Why are you replacing the front door and not painting over it?”

  “Are you crazy? That door is part of our family history. Cody painted the green background, I painted the gum leaves and koala and you did the kiwi. It’s a modern day masterpiece.”

  “Did I ever tell you how nutty but nice you are?”

  Emily grinned and popped a small radish in her mouth. “I seem to recall you saying something similar this afternoon. And now that we’re onto the topic of our little chat, what have you decided?”

  “Can’t we have dinner first?”

  “No.”

  Pulling a chair out from the table, Nicky perched on the edge of the leather seat. “I’m here for two more weeks, so I can probably give your whacky vegetable theory a try.”

  Emily squealed, racing across to give her a tight squeeze. “What changed your mind?”

  “Aloe vera.”

  Emily stared at her blankly. “What?”

  “Sam dropped a bottle of aloe vera on my desk for my sunburn.”

  “And you call me crazy. Some women wait for diamonds, but you settle for moisturizing lotion.” She shook her head. “You’ve definitely got it bad.”

  “Worse than bad,” Nicky mumbled.

  Emily dropped down into the seat beside her, pushing Nicky’s glass of wine closer. “Whatever happens, you won’t regret letting me have my wicked way with you. If Sam doesn’t see the error of his ways, then the man deserves as much sugary dessert as he can get. He just better invest in a lifetime supply of antacid tablets for indigestion.”

  Nicky picked up her wineglass. “So what do we do first?”

  “Eat first, plot later.”

  Clinking her glass against Emily’s, Nicky grinned. “To crazy sisters and deluded men.”

  ***

  Nicky couldn’t think of anywhere she wanted to be less than Sandra Lee’s Fashion Boutique on a Saturday morning. Flitting in and out of most of the clothing stores with Emily had taken its toll on her feet and her patience. Taking a deep breath, she prayed this was the last stop in their whirlwind spending trip.

  Nicky turned around and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Twisting sideways, she scowled at the cleavage on display. “Are you sure this dress isn’t a bit too revealing?”

  Emily poked her head around the changing room curtain. “Lean forward and jiggle.” She gave her sister’s boobs a hard stare. “You’re right.”

  Nicky breathed a sigh a relief. The little black dress had more flirt than material sewn into its seams. On anyone else, the square neck and sleeveless bodice would have looked demure, even sophisticated. On her, it looked like she was on the prowl for more than finger food. She was hunting for a main course extravaganza.

  “It’s your bra.”

  “What?” Nicky looked down at her chest. She didn’t have to look far to see the lace of her totally respectable black bra peaking over the edge of the bodice. “There’s nothing wrong with my bra. I bought it last month.”

  “It’s too high and doesn’t give you enough lift.”

  “Good grief woman. If I had anymore lift I’d give myself two black eyes.”

  Emily scowled at her chest. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. Don’t move.” She disappeared into the store, coming back two minutes later with a bra clutched in her hands.

  Nicky stared at the almost non-existent scrap of lace. “And this is supposed to do what?”

  “Don’t argue, just put it on.”

  Flicking the curtain closed, Nicky glared at the offending piece of nothingness. This would definitely be the last store she walked into. The thrill of shopping in air conditioned comfort when the temperature outside turned asphalt into sticky toffee only lasted so long. After three hours she’d had enough.

  Her credit card was bruised. Her head ached. And she’d seen every bump and bulge in her body enough times to make her regret her addiction to hot chocolate and gooey cakes. Five dresses, three pairs of shoes, and a selection of tops crowded the changing room floor. And she still had the hairdresser left to deal with.

  “How’s it going in there?”

  “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this mad idea,” Nicky mumbled, yanking the dress over her head.

  “Because you’re in love,” Emily yelled.

  “Ssh.” Nicky pulled the curtain open, stepping out into the boutique. “Someone might hear you.”

  “Hot damn. I’ve just gone to the top of the class.”

  Nicky turned around and stared at the vixen in the mirror. The lingerie design team were miracle workers. Two pert breasts sat like lush peaches above the low cut bodice of the dress. Trying an experimental wiggle, Nicky watched her breasts absorb the sway without looking like overinflated silicone balloons.

  Emily rushed into the cubicle, grabbing a box off the floor. “Put your new shoes on.”

  Lifting the lid, Nicky ran her hands over the black Givenchy shoes and nearly purred. Decadence came in all shapes and forms and the size ten creations, with three inch heels, were pure indulgence. She slipped them onto her feet and climbed straight to the gates of heaven.

  “If you don’t buy that dress and bra, then I’ll buy them for you. Sam won’t stand a chance when he sees you.”

  Giving the dress a final tweak, Nicky headed back into the changing room. “Sam won’t stand a chance against any of the clothes we’ve bought.” She grinned.

  “Hold that thought for the beauty spa,” Emily said. “I’ve booked you in with mom for an afternoon of pampering.”

  Nicky tugged the curtain closed, carefully positioning her shoes in their box. “I thought you said we were only going for a haircut.”

  “They had a special. Pass out the dress and I’ll take it over to the counter.”

  “What special?”

  “Two for one. Now where’s the dress?”

  Nicky groaned. Last time they’d visited the spa she’d barely made it out alive. By the end of the session she felt like she’d gone through a human carwash; washed, waxed and buffed to perfection. “I hope the special doesn’t involve a lot of pain.”

  Emily grabbed the dress and bra, dangling from a gap in the curtains. “We’re on a mission. What’s a little discomfort between sisters when a heart’s on the line?”

  “It’s not my heart I’m worried about,” Nicky muttered.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sam paced from one side of his apartment to the other. Nicky had been gone all day. Not that he’d stalked the corridors or anything. He’d settled on calling her phone about a dozen times and disconnecting before the answering machine switched on.

  He was acting like an expectant father, waiting for a miracle to be born at the end of a painful delivery. And he’d need every bit of heavenly salvation he could ge
t if Nicky bothered talking to him again. After the way he’d slammed his narrow definition of a relationship down her throat yesterday, he’d be lucky if he ever saw her again.

  Pushing his hands through his hair, he walked onto the balcony, peering over the wall separating their apartments. The security lights flicked on and he got a great view of her empty apartment. Talk about desperate. He wanted to talk to her, needed to explain why he’d been so angry.

  Patrick’s lies and deceit had cracked a chunk of emotional baggage off the iceberg he’d frozen himself inside. But his best friend’s betrayal didn’t come close to excusing his behavior. Sam was an A-class idiot and not very proud of himself.

  Last night he’d drowned himself in a little bourbon and coke and listened to someone called Jo-Jo tell him her life story. He couldn’t remember much of the story. And the only reason he remembered her name was because he used to have a dog called Joey.

  Pathetic, that’s what he was. Jo-Jo hadn’t been too thrilled when he’d stumbled out of the bar on his own. Funny how he remembered that. Add another female to the growing list of women he managed to piss off majorly.

  Sam headed inside. He needed coffee.

  No he didn’t. He’d already drunk enough to keep him awake for a week. He checked his watch. Ten o’clock. Half the night had already gone and Nicky still wasn’t home. He paced, read another chapter of his book, then paced again.

  His head shot up. The distant ping of the elevator launched his body into the air. Pressing his head against the door, he listened for any sign of movement. The click of a security card unlocking a door spun him into action.

  He yanked his front door open. And stared. And stared harder. He stared until his eyeballs felt like they were super-glued open in astonishment. A cherry red dress had been spray painted onto Nicky’s body. Tight, shimmery and short, it met all the requirements of a date with someone a girl wanted to see a whole lot more of. A date with someone that wasn’t him. “Nicky?”

  “Sam? What are you doing out here?” A soft blush fanned her cheeks.