Table of Contents
Also by Pam Mantovani from BelleBooks
Cowboy on Her Doorstep
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Please visit these websites for more information about Pam Mantovani
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Pam Mantovani from BelleBooks
Cowboy on Her Porch
Critters of Mossy Creek
(Anthology)
Cowboy on Her Doorstep
by
Pam Mantovani
Bell Bridge Books
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-498-3
Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-517-1
Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.
Copyright © 2014 by Pam Mantovani
Printed and bound in the United States of America.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
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Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo/Art credits:
Cowboy (manipulated) © Jenn LeBlanc | IllustratedRomance.com
Background © Scott Griessel | Dreamstime.com
Flowers (manipulated) © Elnur | Dreamstime.com
:Mhcd:01:
Dedication
For Denny
Who believed when I doubted.
Who encouraged when I lost faith.
Who nudged, not always gently, when I tried to backpedal.
Who is everything to me.
Chapter One
EVERYTHING FELT wrong.
Logan Montgomery shifted in the vinyl booth, forcing himself to relax. The jeans and cotton shirt felt stiff compared to his familiar fatigues. Rather than standing sentry in the shadows, he sat in a brightly lit diner across the table from his older brother.
He was home, instead of on the battlefield.
“Getting itchy feet already?” Carter asked. He shrugged a dismissal before Logan could answer. “Don’t feel like you have to stay on my account.”
Beneath the table, Logan closed his hands into fists. Carter’s dismissal hurt more than Logan wanted to admit, damn more than he intended to reveal. Instead, as it always had, his wish to please his older brother hid behind sharp words. “Look, Carter. I told you I’d get here as soon as my unit returned stateside.”
“Two months after we put the old man in the grave.”
“It’s not like Afghanistan is on the other side of the state.”
How could he explain to his brother that before he could even think about coming home to bury a father who’d rarely given him more than the time of day, he’d needed to escort home the body of a buddy? With his friend’s dying words echoing in Logan’s thoughts, he’d stood graveside and then spent time with the widow and the baby his friend had never held.
“Hardly matters. I don’t expect you to stay long.” Carter dug into his coconut cream pie. “You never wanted to stay and work the ranch.”
Logan could have argued with his brother, could have pointed out that at one time there’d been nothing else he’d wanted. He’d had such plans, plans that his father and Carter had gone through the motions of listening to. Then they’d done what they’d planned to do all along—they’d told him no.
Weary from more than the trip stateside, Logan didn’t want to argue with his brother. He looked down at his pie but couldn’t muster up the appetite or energy to lift a fork.
“Logan Montgomery? Oh I’m glad to see you made it home safe.”
For the first time in the two days since his return, Logan felt a smile curve his lips. He looked up to see Tammy Murphy, her hair still as red as her lipstick, walking toward them. The diner owner was as much a part of the town of Burton Springs as the ranches that dotted the western Montana countryside. She glanced at Carter as if she knew they’d been at the start of another argument. After all, she’d come between them before.
“I’m just sorry it wasn’t in time to see your Daddy before he passed,” she said.
Logan scooted out of the booth and wrapped his arms around her. He could probably wrap them around her twice seeing as she was as flat and thin as a fencepost. Still, her returning hug welcomed him home as nothing else had so far.
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” he whispered in her ear before giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek.
“He was proud of you.”
Logan stepped back, more stunned than if he’d been kicked in the head by one of Carter’s cattle.
“At least you came home to pay your respects,” Tammy said.
“Took his time about it,” Carter said.
“But he came back,” she said to Carter while continuing to look at Logan. “That’s just one more thing you and Kendall Grant have in common.”
“Kendall?” Logan felt a little hitch in his heart’s rhythm when he looked at Tammy. “Back? What do you mean? Where’d she go?”
Had she gone with her father on that missionary trip after all? He allowed one brief flash of memory of the last night they’d seen one another, how that night had nearly changed his mind about leaving. Not that she’d asked. Instead, she’d seduced him, surprising him with her tight body and demands. A little stunned by the force of the memory, Logan shifted, trying to get the blood back in his legs instead of pooling in his groin.
“She went to Billings, became a police officer like she always talked about.”
“Good for her.” Pride slid through him and, if he were honest, a little bit of relief. He’d obviously made the right decision for both of them.
“She came back to bury her Daddy and settle his estate, oh, I guess seven months ago.” Tammy stopped and glanced at Carter, who nodded his head in confirmation. “Sheriff Owens offered her a job.” Tammy’s pencil-drawn brows scrunched together. “I guess . . . well, the two of you were pretty close, so I thought you knew.”
“Knew what? What’s wrong? Is she sick?”
“No,” Carter answered when Logan looked at him. “She’s got a kid, a little girl.”
“About four,” Tammy confirmed. “She’s adorable, sweet, but is always asking questions. Has a head full of brown curls.”
Logan felt something sour in his stomach. “Kendall’s married?”
“Not that she�
�s said,” Carter answered.
Carter’s habit of saying nothing by way of an answer chafed. Fighting to ignore a stubborn suspicion, Logan looked over when the bell above the door to the diner rang. He watched Kendall Grant come to an abrupt stop when she spotted him, one hand still gripping the hammered copper doorknob. Against the mud brown uniform shirt, her face went white as the winter snow, showcasing her large brown eyes. He remembered how huge and appealing those eyes had grown when he’d slipped inside her the first time. The first time any man had done so.
How many times had he thought about writing her, to find a release of sorts in the friendship they’d once both enjoyed? He’d known he could put on paper everything he saw, felt, and did, and she would understand. What’s more, she’d accept. For that matter, how many dozens of letters had he actually written only to tear them up and toss them away? And while he rationalized that he was no good with words, it just hadn’t felt right to use her friendship to ease his mind after the way they’d spent that last night together.
Now, however, he watched as her free hand rose to cover her stomach in an instinctive and protective move an instant before she turned and fled. That one gesture told him what his brother hadn’t said, couldn’t have known.
Logan didn’t hesitate. He bolted after her.
JUST HER LUCK.
Kendall tucked her head down and all but ran down the street. Why today, of all days, had she volunteered to pick up coffee from the diner?
Naturally, she’d heard that Logan Montgomery had come home. Even without benefit of gossip, Kendall would have known he was back. After all, it was her job as a Deputy Sheriff to keep track of everyone who came and went in town. Not that she could be expected to spot each and every stranger—though Logan Montgomery was no stranger to her.
Or to her heart.
So often she’d thought of what it would be like, feel like, to see him again. Late at night, exhausted, worried, or simply lonely, her heart and mind had replayed not only all the friendly times they’d shared but that one pivotal night as well. On the longest of those solitary nights, she’d fantasized that he’d come back to her. Then morning would come and her energy, along with her heart and mind, would be consumed with getting through another day. Now he had returned, not specifically to see her, but still, she wanted to cry with relief that he was safe and whole.
Another part of her fought panic at what his return could mean.
When she felt someone grab her arm, training overrode fear. She whipped around, her free hand already drawing her gun. She froze, staring down the barrel at the only man she’d ever loved.
Her daughter’s father.
He quickly released her and took a careful step to the side, out of the line of potential fire. He said nothing as he waited for a moment, giving her time to focus on him and steady her nerves. Though she realized he posed no physical threat, her heart continued to hammer in her chest.
“Is she mine?” he asked.
The question snapped out, a painful strike to her most vulnerable spot. Still, Kendall locked her knees and returned the gun to the holster at her hip. Even unarmed she was prepared to defend her decisions in whatever manner and degree necessary.
Her father would have preached she was being punished for her sin. She preferred to think of this meeting as fate. Fate wasn’t always kind or thoughtful.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, putting all the confusion she could into the question.
“Tammy just told me that you have a daughter. Am I her father, Kendall?” He didn’t demand, he didn’t convey judgment or criticism. As some had. He spoke with the calm acceptance of a known fact.
Logan took a step closer, close enough that she could see the anger, confusion—and was that pain?—in his grass green eyes. Now missing was the humor that had always lurked beneath the surface, the humor that had so often succeeded in freeing her own. The humor she knew he so often relied on to camouflage the insult of his father’s neglect. While she’d cherished their friendship, she’d often lamented that his beautiful green eyes had never once seen that her feelings went deeper than the simplicity that had defined their relationship for so long.
Four-and-a-half years ago, she’d seen the first light of dawn in his eyes as it spread over the bed of his pickup truck, reflecting the glow of love in her heart. By the time the sun had painted the sky with the rosy hue of the next dawn, he’d left town. Taking her heart and innocence with him.
Now, Logan stepped yet closer. “I was your first, Kendall,” he said in a soft voice that too often visited her during sleep. “I can do the math. Is she mine?”
She wanted to protest, to claim sole possession. Only, there was the part of her that so often had wished he’d been beside her, sharing all the ups and downs of parenting. It would do no good to deny, couldn’t change what she saw on her daughter’s face every day.
“Yes.”
“When can I see her?”
“I am not discussing this with you now, Logan.”
“Seems to me that’s what you’ve done for the last five years.”
She drew in a breath, certain now of the hurt beneath his temper. He wouldn’t be the man she’d once loved if he were anything less than shocked and angry by her secrecy. The man standing before her now, however, didn’t look much like the boy she’d once loved.
This man looked ready to handle whatever came his way, while the boy of her memory had been so determined to leave. The man before her looked comfortable with his place in the world, whereas the young man she’d known had been desperate to prove his worth.
Back then, he’d had wheat-colored hair that more often than not curled around his ears and down to his collar. For one glorious night she’d had the luxury and miracle of tangling her fingers in the rich fullness of that hair. Now he wore it military short, and the color had darkened to honey. There were lines around his mouth and eyes that had little to do with humor. She couldn’t begin to imagine all that he’d seen and lived through. For all intents and purposes, the man standing before her was a stranger, while the young man of her past had once been her closest friend.
Until the night she’d changed everything between them.
“I’m not discussing this with you here,” she clarified. “I’ve told no one who Marissa’s father is. I’d really rather no one find out now, while we stand on the street.”
“Marissa.”
Kendall nearly closed her eyes on his awed whisper of her daughter’s name.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You left.”
He staggered back as if about to drop to his knees. And oh, wouldn’t that give everyone in town something to talk about? Still she didn’t regret the clipped accusation. She would use whatever weapon she had at her disposal to try and prevent another gaping wound to her heart.
“You could have contacted me.”
She had considered doing so more times that she could count. In the end, she’d known there was only one choice to be made. “I heard you’d joined the army and been deployed overseas. I thought about writing, but I couldn’t take the chance of you being physically hurt because you were distracted by the news.”
Not telling him, sharing with him, had hurt almost as much as his leaving had.
For a long moment he stared over her shoulder. She hoped he’d heard the truth in her explanation. “You never considered that it might be the very reason I needed to come home?”
She sucked in a shallow breath but refused to apologize for her decision. “Not at the time, no.”
“And now?”
“Right now, I have a job to do. You’ve waited five years to return home, Logan. You can wait a little longer.” She turned, then shot out an aggravated breath when his hand once again clutched her arm. “You’re going to want to turn loose of me.�
�
After a brief hesitation, he did so. “What have you told her about me?”
The question stopped her heart for a beat, and she dropped her head. If anyone knew the emptiness of not having a father’s love, it was Kendall. Her conscience demanded she acknowledge that Logan had the same history. Hadn’t that been one bond in their friendship? And yet, how could she introduce Logan into Marissa’s life knowing he would leave? Her first priority was, and always would be, to protect her daughter’s tender heart whenever possible.
“Nothing,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Marissa knows nothing about you.”
Before anyone came upon them and started the gossip mill working overtime, before she could cave into the needs she saw swirling in Logan’s gaze, she turned and walked away. Just as he’d walked away from her all those years ago.
Putting him and the meeting out of her mind, she worked her shift and did her rounds. She spoke with people she’d known her entire life, either for friendly or professional reasons. She knew some of those people gossiped about her behind her back. After all, she’d returned to her hometown as a single parent. But they’d all accepted her daughter. How could they not, she questioned as she walked out of the station house. Marissa never met a stranger and could charm anyone into doing what she wanted. Kendall’s smile faded as she drove through the dark side of midnight toward her small house.
Would Marissa charm Logan? Or would he look at her and see only what he’d lost? Not lost, Kendall corrected with a small shake of her head. Left behind. She refused to feel guilty about her decision to not tell him. Her heart might have longed for his return, but she’d had no reason to believe it possible. After all, he’d only come home now because his father had passed away. And even then, he’d waited two months.
She braked to a stop a few yards from her driveway. The truck parked there could only mean one thing. She should have known Logan would be impatient for more details. Something else the two of them had always shared. With a sigh, she shoved away fatigue, pushed aside her longings, marshaled her courage, and parked her car. It struck her as funny that, almost as if they’d choreographed it, they exited their respective vehicles at the same time.
Cowboy On Her Doorstep (Montgomery Brothers Book 1) Page 1