by Fiona Lowe
“Eight months.”
“Eight months?” That shocked him. “You were happy for it to be secret all that time?”
She turned her hands over and studied her palms. “I know, in hindsight it’s a big clue, but without family to introduce him to, it didn’t seem that much of a big deal. Plus, until we were officially engaged, I wasn’t keen to let work know in case they made me move departments. I loved that job and I really didn’t want to lose it.” She shrugged. “Given what happened, that’s the ultimate kicker.
“At six months, things were going so well that I asked Brent to come to Bear Paw to meet my folks. We got out our schedules and pored over them, trying to find a time we could both get off work. He said he’d clear July and come to Montana. There was no reason for me not to believe him and I started planning. He started dropping hints about rings.”
Josh’s general belief that physical violence was never the solution to anything got seriously tested. “Asshole.”
She grimaced. “And then one night when I was out with friends at a party, I saw a missed call on my phone. I didn’t recognize the number, and as Brent always texted me, I felt sure it wasn’t him.” She shot him a self-effacing look. “Yes, with the clarity of hindsight, texting was a huge red flag, but I had no reason to question him. I just figured we were both busy and texting worked best.
“I called the number and a machine picked up.” Her voice started to mimic the recording: “Hi, you’ve called Brent, Dana, Sophie, Maddison and baby Jayden. Leave a message and we’ll call you right back.” She closed her hand around her now-empty soda can, the sound of crushing metal echoing viciously around them.
He ached for her. At least he’d had weeks to see the writing on the wall for him and Ashley, even if he’d chosen not to believe it. “And did you leave a message?”
She shook her head. “I was too busy throwing up in the zinnias. When my concerned friends asked, I blamed it on too many mimosas.”
“Mimosas are a travesty and the ruin of perfectly good champagne,” he joked, trying to make her laugh and banish the memories that had drained all joy from her face. He picked up her hand. “Did you tell his wife?”
She stared off toward the mountains for a long, long time, and when she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “I planned to. I lay awake nights having conversations in my head where I told her that her life was a lie just like mine was and that it was neither of our faults. I imagined us together, sticking needles into an effigy of Brent. I decided to go see her in person and tell her that her charming and loving husband was a selfish prick who walked through life taking what he wanted as if it was his God-given right, no matter who he hurt in the process.
“I drove out to their picture-perfect, leafy green suburb and their impressive two-story home to tell her, but when I saw her putting the kids into the European four-wheel drive, I just couldn’t do it because I wasn’t sure who I was doing it for. So, I sat in my car, drowning under an overwhelming sense of sadness. Not just for me but for his wife, for his kids and for the facade that is their life.” She sighed. “For all Brent’s sins, who knows, he might just be a good dad, and I couldn’t destroy that, even though on one level I know it’s destroyed anyway.”
She wrung her hands. “It’s so hard to separate out my anger and hurt from all of this. And sure, even though I screamed at him, threw the gifts he’d given me back at him and deflated his car tires, I feel like he’s gotten away with all of it. It’s left me holding a loaded gun unable to pull the trigger.”
He slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close, feeling a vague need to protect her. “But he’s out of your life now, right?”
She bit her lip.
A wave of fury hit him and he wasn’t sure who he was most mad at. “Katrina?” Her name came out on a low growl.
She shrugged. “He still calls occasionally.”
“Get a new number.”
“No.”
He didn’t understand. “Surely, you’re not hoping he’ll leave his wife and family for you, because he won’t.”
Her eyes flashed. “Of course I know that. Why the hell do you think I’m back in Bear Paw?”
“To avoid him?”
“Exactly. I know my own weaknesses and I was worried he’d talk me out of it. He’s incredibly good at getting what he wants and he still wants me.”
He wanted to shake some sense into her. “Then why take the risk? Change your number tomorrow.”
Her chin shot up. “Brent controlled my life with lies and deceit for close on a year. He played on my heart’s desires and my confided dreams and he set up the expectation that we’d be together forever. Then he turned my world upside down. He didn’t just steal the idea of my future, he stole my job, my apartment and my friends.
“I’m almost thirty years old and living with my parents, Josh. How pathetic is that? I am not going to let him take away the phone number I’ve had for years. I know it sounds stupid, but I’ve lost everything else and this is my line in the sand. The one thing I’ve got left.”
He felt his teeth grinding. “And what if he uses your phone to come find you?”
She shrugged. “He could do that with or without the phone. I thought I loved him and I told him everything about myself. He knows about Coulee Creek, he’s seen photos of the ranch and if he wanted to, he could find me in a heartbeat, but he won’t come this far. It’s the reason I came home.”
Josh wasn’t quite so certain, but before he could voice that, she jumped up, pulled him to his feet and, still holding on to his hand, leaped into the water.
He tumbled in after her and surfaced spluttering.
“You trying to drown me?”
“Not even close.” Laughing, she wrapped herself around him, pressing her body hard against his, snuggling in.
He was hard in a heartbeat, like he was every time she touched him.
Her eyes, with their often-soft gaze, glittered hard, all facets of green, and she lowered her head to his, kissing him with the desperation of someone wanting to forget.
So help him, he let her.
Chapter 15
Through the blowing dust, Shannon could just make out Beau leaning up against the gate with Scout by his side. It had been three weeks since Beau had given Hunter the puppy and invited her son to work on the ranch. They’d fallen into a routine of her driving out to pick up Hunter and Rastas after she’d closed the diner for the day. On Thursdays and Fridays, when she stayed open late for family-style supper, Hunter stayed at the ranch.
She knew she should be happy, because he was less moody and at times seemed almost happy, but part of her ached that it came from a place that was totally separate from her. A place in which she played no part. Not once in his life had she ever told Hunter how hard it was at times being a single mom—she’d made her choices and only she was responsible for them, not him, but sometimes being the only parent to a child wore her down. As much as she was relieved Hunter seemed a bit happier, it was hard to accept it had nothing to do with her. It shouldn’t hurt, she didn’t want it to hurt, but it did.
When he was younger, he’d loved spending time with her and they’d done lots of fun stuff together. It had countered the tough times of parenting, but just lately, she felt like she never got to do the fun stuff with him anymore. She was always the mom. The parent. The disciplinarian. The person who battled with him every morning about going to school, who struggled with him against his learning disability so that at least some of his homework got done. She chased after him to do his chores, she fed him, she tried to find ways to connect with him and nurture him, but so often he resisted all her attempts and was just plain miserable.
Except when he was at Coulee Creek.
Now he got out of bed in the mornings without being asked twice. He fed and took the dog outside to do its business before catching a ride out to the ranch with Lanky, one of the ranch hands who lived in town. How could she compete with Dillon, who’d shown him how to sh
oot a crossbow? Or with Beau, who was teaching him to ride a horse and train Rastas? Or with Lanky, who’d given him a crash course in mending irrigation pipe? Each night, Hunter came home filthy, exhausted, and brimming with stories about the day. It made her heart sing and ache all at the same time.
As she drove through the open gate, she gave Beau a wave and couldn’t help but notice how his dusty jeans sat low on his hips and clung to his strong legs. Driving slowly, she watched him through her rearview mirror as he swung the gate closed and then leaned over it to loop the chain. The denim highlighted his tight ass, and her mouth dried. He was, without doubt, delectable cowboy eye candy. Complicated eye candy.
Earlier in the day, like most days, he’d sent her a photo of Hunter doing some sort of a ranch chore and reassured her that everything was fine. She’d come to look forward to this daily communication.
Really?
Okay, she spent the day on tenterhooks, waiting for the texts. She’d even been known to stalk her phone in quiet breaks at the diner. The moment her phone beeped, her heart rate picked up. Once, at seniors’ morning coffee, Doris had actually commented that she looked flushed and had asked if she was catching a bug. But it wasn’t just the arrival of the text that got her all warm and tingly; it was the banter that usually followed.
Beau was positively chatty on text messages, even cracking the occasional joke. His relaxed air in text-land, however, didn’t translate across to their face-to-face encounters, leaving her puzzled about exactly where she stood.
He was nothing like any of the men she’d ever known. They’d always been very obvious in their intentions to get into her pants, and by now, after three weeks of looking after her kid, they would have well and truly made their move. Heck, they would have done it a lot earlier, and if she was honest, she knew that not one single one of them would have taken such an interest in Hunter. She’d have been flabbergasted if they’d even mustered up the effort to talk to him.
Too many experiences with guys who’d ignored her kid were the reasons she’d given up dating. They wanted food and sex but not the bother of a kid. The irony in this situation was that Beau was basically providing Hunter with summer camp and ignoring her.
Except for the texts and the anomaly of that kiss.
The kiss baffled her. It had been amazing and wonderful, but not once had he ever tried to do it again. Granted, they weren’t alone very often, and their face-to-face conversations always took place at pickup and were usually focused on Hunter. Beau was always polite, but none of it gave her any clue as to why he was taking so much of an interest in Hunter. And he’d suggested a camping trip? What did he want from her other than fudge brownies and pie? It was slowly driving her out of her mind and she’d had enough. She was going to find a time to ask him straight up.
Beau reached the car and opened her door as he did each evening. “Hi, Sh-Shannon.”
She smiled at him and then dragged her gaze away from those hypnotic eyes as her feet hit the ground. She glanced around for her son, who was usually close by. “Hi. Where’s Hunter?”
“Megan’s got him p-p-p-peeling p-p-p-potatoes.” He tensed and closed her car door harder than usual. “I try to avoid p-p-p-p-s.”
“And Ks,” she said in solidarity, as it was the first time he’d drawn attention to his stutter since the night he’d kissed her. “So really, he’s cleaning root vegetables?”
A flash of appreciation lit up his melted-chocolate eyes. “Yep. Earning his . . . supper. You’re invited. Can you stay?”
The invitation was unexpected. “I . . . Are you sure? I mean your mom and—”
He held up his hand. “Mom’s in the . . . hospital tonight after her . . . chemo session. The rest of us . . . have to eat. Stay. Unless you’re . . . busy?”
She was used to his short sentences, and unlike when she’d first met him and would have thought the invitation terse and backhanded, she knew it was genuine. And she wanted to stay. “I guess my laundry can wait another day,” she said with a nervous laugh, hoping he understood that meant her social calendar was totally empty. “I’d love to stay.”
“Good.” The quietly spoken word matched the gentle smile on his face.
Tingles and shimmers set up a dance party in her veins before her common sense reminded her that this was her chance to speak with Beau. Find out exactly what his deal was, only she couldn’t ask in front of Hunter or his family. “Um, can you show me the calves Hunter’s been talking about? The orphans you’re raising by hand?”
“Sure.” He whistled for Scout, who obediently trotted to his side.
A whining immediately sounded behind them. Rastas stood on the edge of the porch, her golden legs quivering with anticipation and excitement. Shannon couldn’t believe it. “I thought she would have just run to join Scout.”
“I said I’d help . . . Hunter train her. She’s learning.”
So am I.
He called to the puppy, “Rastas, come.” The dog obeyed, bounding over to him, barking excitedly and bouncing up and down. “Sit.”
Rastas sat.
“Walk on.”
The only dogs Shannon had any experience with jumped all over people, and she couldn’t help but be impressed. The animals bounded ahead of them, racing through the pasture grass, immune to the panoramic view of acres of green grass dotted with huge, yellow, round bales as tall as she was and the craggy mountains off in the distance.
“This is the prettiest view,” she said, filling the silence that was sitting between them. “Before I moved to Bear Paw I never gave much thought to how majestic Montana is. I mean, how lucky are we to wake up every day with the mountains right there? And the sky really is big, isn’t it, and . . .”
He was smiling at her in his quiet and contemplative way, and she groaned, pressing her hands to her face. “I talk too much, don’t I?”
He shook his head, regret clear in his eyes. “I don’t talk . . . enough.”
“I only do it when I’m nervous.” She blurted out the truth, instantly regretting it.
They’d reached a gate and he stopped, bewilderment clear on his handsome face. “I make you n-nervous?”
She nodded as he opened a gate halfway and motioned her to walk through into the pasture where the young calves grazed.
She ducked between him and the gate, his masculine scent overlaid with sunshine and engine grease swirling around her and filling her nostrils. Filling her. A wave of heat swept her from tip to toe, kicking up her pulse, and all she wanted to do was turn into his chest, pull his face down to hers and revisit that amazing kiss.
For a moment, their bodies touched, and she paused, hopeful that he’d reach for her. He didn’t. Agitated and totally at a loss as to what was going on between them, or to be more precise, what wasn’t going on between them, she cleared the gate.
Weeks of confusion peaked. “I don’t get why you’re going out of your way with Hunter?” Is it anything to do with me?
He swung the gate closed and took a moment to latch it. “He . . . he’s a good kid.”
It didn’t answer her question. “Thank you, but there are lots of good kids in Bear Paw and they’re not out here every day. Everyone tells me summer’s crazy busy on the ranches and”—she wrung her hands—“on top of everything, you’ve got the worry of Bonnie.”
His shoulders tensed and he kicked a booted foot onto the bottom rail of the fence. “I . . . I can’t help . . . Mom.”
She understood how helpless he must feel seeing someone he loved fighting cancer, and she touched his arm in sympathy. The solidness of his forearm and the heat of his skin threatened to fry her concentration and she pulled her hand back. The loss of contact made her realize what he hadn’t said.
“You think Hunter needs help?” The wind blew his shirt up like a balloon and he looked away, his expression tight. “Beau?”
He grimaced. “Hunter . . . he reminds me . . . ”—the words came out slow and deliberate, as if they were fighting to be forme
d at all—“. . . of me.”
She tried to align her just-sprouting son with this big, solid man. “You?”
“When . . . when I was a kid.”
Of all the things she might have thought he’d say, that wasn’t one of them. “How exactly?”
Beau rubbed the back of his neck, every part of him radiating stiffness. “He . . . he’s sad. Doesn’t know . . . where he fits.”
On the back of Hunter’s constant talk about Beau, Dillon and Lanky, his words whipped her. “And that’s my fault?”
He shook his head, his eyes wide. “Hell no.”
The fact that he didn’t blame her like so many outsiders often did cleared her head, and his understanding nibbled at her usual reserve. She found herself volunteering information she normally kept to herself. “Hunter has trouble with reading and writing, which makes him miserable at school. I guess you were miserable, too, with your stutter?”
He sighed. “I think . . . it’s more . . . than school.”
A zap of fear rolled in her gut. “Why? Has Hunter told you something?” Something bad he hasn’t told me?
An agonized expression crossed his face, as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here, having this conversation.
Panic started to simmer. Had Hunter been bullied? Assaulted? “Tell me, Beau.”
“I think . . . maybe . . . it’s his dad.”
Malcolm? Relief poured through her at how wrong Beau was, and she shook her head so fast that hair whipped her face. “At seventeen, I was young and stupid and I made a hellish mistake. Hunter was the only good thing that came out of those disastrous few years. His father’s a total ass, and Hunter’s better off without him in his life, breaking promises and constantly letting him down. There’s no way that he can miss someone he’s never known.”
He flinched. “He can miss . . . the idea.”
The softly spoken words carried a sting. “You’re a cowboy, not a therapist,” she said tartly. “I’m his mother and I’ve protected Hunter from heartache. I know what I’m doing. Hell, I even stopped dating because I didn’t want him to get attached to a guy only to have him walk out on us and leave him devastated.”