Montana Midwife

by Cassie Miles

  “He told you that there’s no shame in asking for help,” she said. “That’s kind of his mantra.”

  “It’s what you said to me when you were talking about helping me investigate. And you were right. I don’t know what I would have done with Wally if you hadn’t been there.”

  “We’re good together.”

  “I reckon we are.”

  Her comment wasn’t meant to be suggestive, but it sounded like it was. Good together? As in good in bed together? Her tension was rising. Though the night was cool, she was on fire. More sweat gathered at her hairline, and a drop trickled between her breasts. Her hands were practically dripping.

  As they rounded the barn, she faked a stumble and pulled her hand away from him. She rubbed her palm on her jeans. “Clumsy me.”

  “Are you all right?”

  Admitting that she was nervous wouldn’t be smart—he’d want to know why. And she didn’t want to tell him that she was expecting more than a tour of his living space. “Sure, I’m fine.”

  As long as they continued to talk about the past, she could maintain her self-control, and she desperately wanted to keep that distance. “Do you remember my mom?”

  “The beautiful Emma Willows, you bet I remember. I was only ten or eleven when she died, and it was one of the saddest days of my life. She and my mom were good friends. And I remember you were an annoying little pest.”

  “Me?” She might have gone back too far in time.

  “You were a lot younger than me, and you were female. At that time, I didn’t want anything to do with girls. No tea parties. No dressing up. No fancy-pants games.”

  They walked past the gleaming-white helicopter. His house was close enough to see clearly in the moonlight and the glow of a porch light that must have been on a timer. Though his house had wood siding like most of the other buildings on the ranch, the architecture was more modern with an A-frame center section and many more windows. She stumbled again, this time for real. She wasn’t ready to go inside.

  “Tell me about my mom,” she said.

  “She had black hair like you, only she didn’t wear it as long. And she smiled a lot more than you do. I remember that she loved dancing. She and my mom played the radio while they were in the kitchen, and they always ended up dancing around. So did you, twirling in circles.”

  “I danced?”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “My memories of my mom aren’t clear. Mostly, I look at photos and make up stories to go along with the picture.”

  “You were young,” he said.

  They had reached the steps leading to a large deck that ran across the front and north side. The picnic table and the monster-size gas grill suggested that this was a great place for parties. Easily, she imagined a group of people drinking beer, cooking steaks and sitting around the kitchen table. She hadn’t really met his friends. Everybody knew Aiden, but she didn’t know who he hung out with.

  She followed him up the stairs to the deck and caught hold of his arm. “It’s such a pretty night. Can we stay out here? I’d like to hear more about your memories of my mother.”

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to the picnic table. “I’ll just step inside and grab a beer. Want one?”

  “Sure.” She wasn’t much of a drinker. The studies linking Native Americans and alcoholism acted as an effective deterrent, but she liked the taste of beer.

  When he opened a sliding glass door and turned on a light, she had a view of the interior kitchen with granite counters and stainless-steel appliances. She actually was curious to see his furnishings, but that wasn’t the real reason she was here.

  By staying outside, she postponed the inevitable moment when they would either make love or decide to be friends only. She wasn’t sure which alternative scared her more. Though she’d dated plenty of men, her relationships never went deep.

  She sat on the picnic table with her feet resting on the bench and took the beer when he returned. He climbed onto the table beside her. “What do you want to know about your mom?”

  “I know she and your mom went to the ballet when your mom visited us in Billings. What else did they do together?”

  “Watched chick flicks. Back then, it was VCR tapes from the video store in Henley.” He tilted his beer to his mouth. “They baked cakes and breads, and tried out new recipes that made me gag. When they decorated for holidays, they always made sure you and me were involved. Since your mom was an artist, the decorating was always a treat. My mom still has some Easter eggs that your mom painted.”

  It pleased her to know that the Gabriel family had such fond remembrances of her mom. Those good feelings seeped into her consciousness and relaxed her. She inhaled a deep breath and exhaled. The night was still. From a faraway meadow, she heard the lowing of cattle.

  Her life would have been different if her mom hadn’t died when she was so young. Her dad and grandma had done a good job raising her, always supporting her and making her feel loved, but she missed the advice of a mother, especially when it came to men. Her father taught her to be suspicious of the guys she dated, and he’d never talked to her about sex. Though Grandma was more open-minded, she nursed the hope that someday Tab might marry into the tribe. What did it mean that Grandma was matchmaking with Aiden? Had she decided that Tab better marry soon before she became a dried-up old maid?

  Turning her head, she met Aiden’s gaze. The vibrant sensations coursing through her were far from withered. She took a long pull from her beer. She had to act or explode.

  “I’m ready to go inside.”

  His touch as he helped her down from her perch sent a jolt of electricity across the surface of her skin. The same voltage shocked her when he rested his hand on the small of her back and directed her through the sliding glass doors. The hairs on her arms trembled as he helped her off with her jacket and hung it on a peg by the door.

  As he strolled through the kitchen, he pointed out the major features and appliances. The narrative continued into the adjoining dining room, but she was too preoccupied to listen. Vaguely, she registered that this was a modern design with a spacious living room that rose two stories to the peak of the A-frame.

  “It’s a prefab cedar home,” he said. “Once I had the foundation in, it took only ten days with a full crew to put the…”

  The house was tidy, except for islands of masculine clutter. Surrounding the reclining chair in front of the television were cups, slippers and some half-opened mail. She looked toward the staircase leading to the upper level. “Is your bedroom up there?”

  “Let me show you.”

  Her anticipation grew. This is it. They were going to the bedroom.

  At the top of the staircase, he pointed to an open door. Heart racing, she entered his office. What? Her gaze scanned the huge room with a wall of windows. He pointed out that the view from the window allowed him to look at his chopper, the barn and to see all the way to one of the near meadows where cattle were grazing.

  Though she was interested in his livelihood, she hadn’t come to his home for a lecture about rescue helicopters and ranching. Striding purposefully, she circled his desk to stand in front of him. It’s now or never.

  She reached up and glided her right hand around his neck. Before she could change her mind, she pressed her mouth against his. For a moment, her pulse stopped. Her lungs ceased to breathe. She existed in limbo, waiting and waiting for his response.

  When he pulled her into his arms, excitement gushed through her. She’d never felt so intensely alive. As he deepened the kiss, he pressed hard against her, leaning her back against the desk. She thought he might sweep his arm across the cluttered surface of his desk, shove all his papers onto the floor and make love to her right here. A sexy, dramatic idea, but she wanted to go slower, to savor every caress.

  His hand was on her breast, kneading the soft flesh and claiming her as his own. He had taken control of their lovemaking, and she was happy to follow his lead.

  Stari
ng down into her eyes, he unbuttoned her muslin blouse. His rough hands pulled the fabric aside. Her breasts pushed against her lacy white bra. Her chest was heaving as she gasped for air.

  He stepped back a pace. “My bedroom is down the hall.”

  “Okay.”

  Holding her against his chest, he moved toward the door. Though she was walking, her feet seemed six inches off the floor. He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “When you said you wanted to see my house, I was hoping this was what you meant.”

  “I wasn’t exactly being subtle.”

  On the landing outside the office, he kissed the top of her head. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do from the first minute I saw you.”

  “What’s that?”

  He took both of her hands and pulled her into his bedroom. “I want to unfasten your braid.”

  Still holding his hands, she swung in a circle and sat on his king-size bed. “You have my permission.”

  He sat behind her and leaned forward to give her a small kiss on the nape of her neck. She arched her back as he tugged at the plaits in her hair.

  The quiet made her nervous. She had to say something. “I like your house. Did you decorate yourself?”

  “I had help from a girlfriend.”

  Well, that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She didn’t want to think of his house as the cattle-ranch version of a bachelor pad. “Was that the long-distance relationship that went wrong?”

  “Nope. It was the lady before her. She kept telling me that I needed my own place, and she was right. Having a separate house helped me have a life that wasn’t all about the ranch. Unfortunately, that life didn’t include her.”

  A chunk of her unbound hair fell over her shoulder. “You’ve had a lot of girlfriends.”

  “Not really,” he said. “What about you? Have there been other men in your life?”

  “Of course.” She could be vague and push the truth away, but she wanted to explain herself. He needed to know what he was getting into before their lovemaking went any further. He might back off, might be freaked out by her lack of experience. But she had to stick to the truth, even if it meant losing the man she had dreamed about for so many years. “Here’s the deal, Aiden. I’ve never been in love.”

  With slow strokes, he combed his fingers through her hair. “I’m going to need more explanation.”

  “That’s fair.” She wanted to lie back and let nature take its course. “You should know the truth.”

  From behind, he slipped his arms around her waist, rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered, “You can tell me anything, Tabitha.”

  The use of her full name seemed special and intimate. Few people even knew that name. “I’ve never, you know…”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’m still a virgin.”

  She felt the muscles in his arms clench. Afraid that he was going to pull away from her, she held herself very still.

  “A virgin midwife,” he said. “Ironic.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this your way of telling me to back off?”

  “No.”

  “How did this situation come about?”

  “A long time ago, I imagined the ideal man. Strong. Handsome. Brave. He was everything I wanted, and no other man could ever measure up to him. I’d be kissing a boyfriend, and the image of my ideal man would come into my head, and I’d know that the boyfriend was nothing but a pale reflection.”

  “And you wouldn’t compromise.”

  “I can’t give myself in halfway portions.” She turned around in his arms so that she was facing him. “It’s you, Aiden. My ideal man has always been you.”

  He brushed a light kiss on her lips. “No pressure, huh?”

  “Are you up for the challenge, cowboy?”

  “You bet.”

  He stretched her out on his bed and slowly undressed her. As her clothing fell away, so did her inhibitions. She wanted to see his body, wanted to feel him. She peeled off his shirt and frankly stared at the breadth of his chest and the intriguing pattern of chest hair that arrowed down to his belt buckle. He was handsome and virile and everything she imagined.

  In a matter of moments, they were wrapped in a naked embrace. Moonlight through the window shone on their legs as they intertwined. His hard arousal pressed against her, and she was amazed by how natural their lovemaking felt—natural and perfect, almost ideal.

  Gently but firmly, he caressed her waist and her hips and her inner thighs, until she opened herself to him. She wanted him inside her, had never wanted anything more in her whole life. Their kisses went from sweet to fiery hot. A virgin midwife. As he had pointed out, it was ironic.

  She was an expert when it came to the female reproductive system, including what happened during sex. In detail, she could have identified her physical reactions complete with hormonal references and a detailed explanation of the interconnected limbic system. But her mind went blank.

  She felt good, oh so good, and that was the only information she needed. She reveled in her heightened sensations. Fireworks popped behind her eyelids. Goose bumps marched up and down her naked skin. With every touch, every kiss, every thrust, the intensity accelerated. She didn’t think she could go any higher, and then came the explosion of relief. There were no words to describe it.

  Completely satisfied, she lay on the bed beside him. Had this really happened? She was aware that at some point he’d gotten a condom from the drawer in the bedside table. For that, she was grateful.

  Snuggled against his chest, she exhaled a sigh. For everything, she was grateful. “Can we do it again?”

  “Was it ideal?”

  “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  He twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers. “I never knew you had a thing for me, even though I should have figured it out. You gave me a clue.”

  “I did?”

  He reached over and touched the shamrock pendant she was wearing, the gift he’d given her long ago. “You weren’t saving this necklace because it’s valuable. Your attachment has to be sentimental.”

  “A lucky four-leaf clover,” she said. From now on, the necklace would represent this—the luckiest night of her life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, Aiden slipped out of bed early. Before leaving the bedroom, he made sure Tab was cozy under the covers. It gave him immense satisfaction to tuck the dark brown comforter around her naked body while she slept soundly, breathing steadily through slightly parted lips. When he kissed her forehead, she wriggled and made a soft murmur that reminded him of a purring kitten. He was tempted to wake her and start the day off right by making love again.

  But he could wait. He wanted their first morning together to be special, with fresh coffee and a civilized breakfast with normal conversation. For a while, they could forget about investigating. This would be their time.

  He pulled on his jeans, left the bedroom and went downstairs to the kitchen. Ideally, he’d put together a tray of food with a napkin and a single red rose in a vase. Ideally?

  She’d called him her ideal man, and he wasn’t sure he liked the title. He’d spent much of his life trying to be perfect, taking care of the ranch and making sure everybody else was happy. Nobody’s perfect. Sooner or later, he’d disappoint her, and he didn’t want to see the look in her bright blue eyes when she realized he wasn’t ideal, after all.

  Barefoot, he padded across the tile floor in the kitchen. He ground the beans and set the coffeemaker to brew. Food supplies in his refrigerator were scant, but he could make do with a couple of eggs, bread and chunk of cheese that hadn’t turned green.

  A glance at the digital clock told him it was twelve minutes after eight o’clock. Chores on the ranch would be well under way. Breakfast in the main house would be already prepared, which meant he had the option of running over there and grabbing a couple of plates. But he didn’t want to see anyone else, didn’t want to share this private time with Tab.

  His
cell phone on the polished granite countertop rang, and he glared at it. When caller ID showed it was the sheriff, Aiden really didn’t want to pick up. An early-morning call was sure to be bad news. He answered anyway. “Good morning, Sheriff.”

  “I shouldn’t be making this call,” the sheriff said, “but I owe you for your efforts on the investigation. And I’m hoping you can help me with what I have to do this morning.”

  His sunny vision of a nice breakfast with Tab disappeared behind a cloud of new responsibilities. Things were about to get nasty again. “Tell me.”

  “We identified the fingerprints that Joseph Lefthand found at Maria Spotted Bear’s house. There were a set of prints on the window and on the door leading into the barn.”

  Those positions fit with the route for the person Aiden had been chasing. “You got those prints yesterday. Why did it take so long to find the match?”

  “We weren’t looking in the right place. The prints weren’t in the criminal database. They matched a set we had taken recently and hadn’t fed into the system.” He cleared his throat. “They belong to Clinton Brown, Misty’s boyfriend.”

  “Damn.” Aiden hadn’t seen this coming.

  “I’m on my way to your ranch to arrest him. I already stopped at his parents’ house, and they said he didn’t come home last night. They weren’t worried about him being gone because he stays at the bunkhouse at the ranch sometimes.”

  “I haven’t seen him,” Aiden said.

  “I’m concerned about taking him into custody. He tried to kill Wally. I have to treat Clinton as a dangerous suspect.”

  “Give me twenty minutes. If he’s here, I’ll have him ready to go quietly with you.”

  “I shouldn’t do this.” The sheriff paused. “But I trust you. Twenty minutes.”

  Aiden disconnected the call and set the phone down. When he looked up, he saw Tab standing in the doorway. She wore one of his T-shirts that hung almost to her knees. Her long hair—God, he loved that beautiful hair—fell around her shoulders. Her eyes regarded him steadily.