Holding a Hero

by Layne, Lyssa

  With a sigh, she wiggled into the pair of jeans and gray Henley she’d tucked into the bottom of her bag. Taking a deep breath, she slid down the zipper. Cold air rushed over her like a wave. She shuddered and forced herself to pull on her boots. Once in a coat, gloves and wool cap, she felt like a human and not some polar bear’s cousin.

  She lit the lantern, turned the flame low and hung it on the lodge pole. Shannon had banked the fire when she came in last night and a few coals still glowed in the bottom of the stove. Montana added a couple chunks of wood and closed the door. In a few minutes the fire would catch and warm the tent for Adrian.

  Stepping into the cold, she caught her breath. The clouds had blown away, leaving a bright, clear morning. With a couple hours left before sunup, the waning moon created enough light to see. A light dusting of snow held on, glittering in the moonlight.

  Leaving the tents behind, she headed for the hot springs to wash up before caring for the horses. The sound of something splashing reached her ears. Probably Shannon. Most animals drank from the creek that fed the springs, preferring the cooler water to the warmer temperature of the pools. She hesitated. Glanced over her shoulder. She’d left her rifle on her cot back in the tent.

  With cautious steps, Montana approached, ready to flee if she stumbled across a bear indulging in an early morning swim. At the bottom edge of the pond, she let her eyes adjust to the shapes and shadows, seeking the source of the noise.

  A figure moved through the thick steam by the boulders at the top of the pools. For a moment, she studied the outline. Human, not bear. Not Ryan. Or Shannon. The shape moved and she could tell by the light hair it was Johnny.

  He was up at this time of day? She’d expected him to sleep for at least another hour, maybe two. From all the vodka he’d consumed the night before, he probably had a massive hangover.

  She watched as he knelt and splashed water on his face. Ran both hands through his hair, shoving it back from his face. Nothing special about what he was doing, but he moved like a mountain lion, graceful and sleek. He’d taken off his shirt, showing corded muscles in his arms and abs that rippled when he moved.

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  Slipping into the open, she crouched at the water’s edge and removed her coat and gloves. Cupping her hands, she lifted the hot water and rinsed her face and hands. As hot as looking at Johnny made her, she almost wished for cold water to cool her down.

  When she reached for her towel, someone held it.

  Startled, she looked up at Johnny.

  He grinned. “Need this?”

  “Thanks.” She patted dry and stood, pulling on her gloves and coat. She faced him. “You’re up early.”

  “I could say the same.”

  She shrugged. “I have fires to build. Horses to tend to. That kind of thing.”

  “I’ve always liked dawn.”

  “I prefer evening.” Montana stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’d think you would, too.”

  “Why would you assume so? Because of my job? We’re not all a cliché, you know. A few of us go to bed before the ass-crack of dawn. Some read. A few even manage to have a wife and kids.” He sounded angry. Just like last night. What had she done to piss him off?

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything—”

  He crowded close. Cupped her chin with his palm. Claimed her lips with his. Pried at them with his tongue. Surprised, she stood as still as a doe scenting danger. Her hands hung by her sides, useless. Her knees threatened to give way.

  He moved his lips over hers until she made a whisper of sound and let his tongue invade her mouth. He teased her until she responded in kind. Tongues danced, touched, tormented.

  He tasted like minty toothpaste and early morning desire—hot and raw.

  With her own need rising like the coming sun, Montana melted into him, letting his big body support her. His hands twisted into her hair, holding her captive, but he needn’t have—she didn’t want to be anywhere else at that moment.

  Dragging his mouth from hers, he dropped a kiss on her jaw. Tugging gently on her hair, he tipped her head back and tasted her neck. When her collar stopped him he moved his mouth back to hers.

  This time, she didn’t hesitate when he touched her lips with his tongue. Opening her mouth, she allowed him instant access. With his knee he spread her legs and slipped his knee between hers, his thigh pressing tight against her jeans’ seam. Her body dampened. His erection molded against her belly spoke clearer than words—he wasn’t immune to her kisses.

  One of the horses snorted, dragging her back to reality.

  Montana jumped out of Johnny’s arms as though a gunshot had blasted through the clear mountain air. She placed the back of her hand on her swollen lips and stared at him in disbelief. What the hell was she doing? Had she lost her mind? A few more moments and they would’ve been on the frozen ground, going at it like deer in season.

  “I have to go.”

  She turned and fled before she could weaken and slip back into his arms.

  ~*~

  Damn. The girl could kiss.

  His aching dick was proof of just how much Montana had turned him on. Johnny couldn’t remember the last time a chick left him holding his own cock. A reluctant smile played around his lips. Next time she wouldn’t get away so quick. Not until they were both satisfied.

  Making sure his long duster covered the evidence of what he’d been up to—he had no desire to listen to one of Joel’s lectures—he ambled toward the tents. The frigid air worked like a cold shower, shrinking his dick in a matter of minutes. Although every time he thought of Montana, his faithful friend threatened to spring into action.

  He shouldn’t have worried about a lecture. Both Joel and Stoney were snoring like a pair of sawmills. Ryan was nowhere in sight. Probably with the horses. Maybe he needed a hand.

  Instead of Ryan, Johnny found Montana pouring measures of grain into buckets. She stiffened when she spotted him and avoided looking in his direction. Without asking, he began carrying tubs to each horse and mule. He loved the way they shoved their muzzles into their buckets, eager for breakfast. Frost hung from their eyelashes and whiskers, making them look mythical in the predawn light.

  Giving each a pat, he lingered with Gunsmoke, scratching the dun behind his black-tipped ears. He wondered how his dogs were faring back in L.A. Rosa would take good care of them—she always did—but he missed them. He spent more time away than he did at home. He’d been recording the last few months and the hours had been brutal.

  This time of day he was usually hitting the sheets.

  Not getting up and looking forward to what the day had to bring.

  For the first time in a long time, he looked ahead and not back. The kiss this morning had a lot to do with his mood.

  Fresh. Untainted. Pure. Words that brought Montana to mind.

  Maybe he’d misread her last night. She hadn’t asked him for anything. In fact, she’d made a point of the exact opposite.

  A lot of people sang; not everyone wanted a record deal. He snorted. Most singers did. God knows he and Keifer had fought like a pair of pit bulls to get noticed by a producer. Teal had made both of them look like saints, fighting for her chance at stardom.

  “You going to stand there talking to that horse all day? Or are you going to come inside for a cup of coffee?” Ryan’s voice pulled him back to the present.

  Johnny gave Gunsmoke’s neck one last pat. “Sorry, buddy, but coffee trumps ear scratches.”

  “Let’s go,” Ryan urged.

  The cook tent smelled like Nirvana. Coffee, bacon and eggs. Hash browns and toast. Shannon, Montana and Adrian sat near the fire, all holding full plates. Adrian made no attempt to eat.

  “Hungry?” Shannon set her food aside.

  “Starving.” Most mornings Johnny had vodka and a splash of OJ for breakfast. Today he wanted the works.

  Shannon filled a plate with enough food to feed four people. “Coffee?”


  “Yes, ma’am.” He took his seat near Montana.

  She studied her plate like she’d never seen one before.

  “Damn. I eat like this too often and I’m going to keel over from a heart attack.”

  “More likely the booze’ll get you first,” Adrian muttered.

  He shot her a look. “Good morning?”

  “Shut up.”

  Laughter gurgled out of him. “Hangovers are a bitch.”

  Adrian lifted her coffee cup. “Hair of the dog.”

  “You’re drinking?” Johnny tasted his eggs. Light, fluffy. Perfect. Damn. He ought to eat breakfast more often.

  Shannon handed him a cup of steaming coffee.

  “Thanks, babe.” Her blush tickled him.

  “A little Kahlua in my coffee,” Adrian said. “That okay with you?”

  “Do what feels good.” Johnny didn’t know why he was surprised by Adrian drinking before six a.m. They’d partied all night—a million times—until dawn. But that had been on tour or recording, not camping. He did a mental shrug. No skin off his ass if she wanted to spend her vacation in an alcohol-induced haze.

  Joel entered the tent looking as shiny as if he’d stepped out of a shower. Freshly shaved, hair spiked with gel as though he had a meeting with the suits at the label. “Morning.”

  Everyone greeted him.

  “Stoney up?” Johnny asked.

  “I passed him stumbling toward the pond. Mumbled something about washing up.” Joel poured himself a cup of coffee and blew on it. “Cold this morning.”

  “It’ll warm up,” Ryan said. “Clouds are gone. Soon as the sun comes up the snow’ll melt.”

  “God, I hope so.” Joel took a plate from Shannon. “I have no desire to traipse around in snow up to my butt cheeks.” He took a long look at Adrian. “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a tour bus.”

  Montana set her plate aside and stood. She moved to Adrian’s side and placed her palm on the other woman’s forehead. “You’re a bit warm. Do you have a headache?”

  “God, yes.” Adrian moaned and placed her head in her hands.

  “I think you might have a touch of altitude sickness.” Montana moved to the east side of the tent and opened a first aid kit. After digging around she withdrew a small bottle of Tylenol. “Take a couple of these. No more booze until the headache subsides. And drink a lot of water. I’ll get you a bottle.”

  Adrian swallowed the pills dry and pushed to her feet. “I think I’ll go back to my cot. Wake me when it’s time to go home.”

  “Do you need me to stay with you?” Joel sounded eager for her to say yes.

  “No. I’m going to sleep. I’ll be fine. Go kill Bambi.”

  Joel looked nearly as ill as Adrian at the prospect. “Great. Get some rest. I’ll look in on you before we leave.”

  “I’ll be here if you need anything,” Shannon told her. “I’ll keep the fires going and have dinner ready for everyone.”

  Adrian waggled her fingers. “Later, dudes.”

  After she left, Johnny turned toward Montana. “Looks like it’s just you and me, babe.”

  “I suppose.” She sounded like he was about to drag her off to face a firing squad.

  He winked at her. “Cheer up. I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

  “I won’t.” Bright red flooded her face, which charmed the hell out of him. Most of the girls he knew would have shot back something about making it hurt. Sweet came as a nice change of pace. Kind of like eating a steady diet of salt then suddenly getting a spoonful of sugar.

  Joel coughed. “Cowboy.”

  Johnny ignored him. “I’m ready to ride when you are.”

  Montana’s color deepened. “The horses have to eat first.”

  Johnny lowered his voice to a timbre he knew chicks liked. “That’s cool. I like to eat before I ride, too.”

  Montana opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Her face blazed a deeper shade of red.

  Shannon gasped and turned toward her stove. Her shoulders shook as she made muffled sounds.

  Ryan laughed outright. “Classic.”

  Joel glared at him. “I thought we covered this, Cowboy.”

  “I’m going to take some water to Adrian.” Grabbing her outerwear from the lodge pole, Montana pulled it on with jerky movements.

  In a moment, Shannon followed, shooting an unreadable look his way. “There’s food in the skillet for Stoney when he gets here.”

  Ryan rose and dumped his empty plate in the big pot of water simmering on the stove. “I better see about the horses.”

  “Good going,” Joel muttered. “You’ve managed to piss off most everyone.”

  “They weren’t pissed.”

  “Right,” Joel muttered.

  Stoney slipped inside the tent. “Montana and Shannon about mowed me down. What’s got their panties in a twist?”

  Joel motioned toward Johnny. “Guess.”

  Stoney grinned. “Your big boot slip into your mouth, Cowboy?”

  “That’s not what he offered to slip into his mouth,” Joel told him. “And Montana didn’t appreciate it.”

  Stoney poured himself a cup of coffee. “You wake up with a hard-on for her, man?”

  Joel snorted. “Are you kidding me? He’s had one bad for Montana since the minute he saw her.”

  Stoney eyed him. “True.”

  “Hey, fuckers,” Johnny said, “I am standing here.”

  “If you’re going to act like a dog chasing a bitch in heat expect to be talked about like one.” Joel practically spat the words.

  “Whoa. Say what you want about me, but don’t call Montana a bitch.” Johnny couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. The band, him included, called women bitches all the time and never thought twice about it, but hearing Joel call Montana the nasty name didn’t sit well with him.

  His friends looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, and not the one between his legs.

  Beginning his usual pacing, Joel muttered, “Sorry, man.”

  “Shit, dude.” Stoney helped himself to a plate of food and flopped into his chair. “You’re really into Miss Montana.”

  “I’d like to taste,” Johnny admitted. “But she’s a chick just like any other.”

  A movement in the corner of his eye alerted him that someone had opened the tent flap. He turned slowly as if his feet were stuck in a tangle of guitar strings.

  Montana stood framed in the opening, her gaze locked on him. She stomped to one of the coolers, withdrew a bottle of water and spun away. If the tent had had a door, she would have slammed it behind her.

  She heard every word.

  Fuck!

  Johnny started to follow, then stopped. What could he say? Tell her they had a future beyond this week? He might be an in-and-out kind of guy, but he’d never lied to a woman.

  He didn’t plan to start now.

  ~*~

  Shannon tried to comfort her. “He’s an asshole.”

  Montana lifted her head from the hitch rail where she’d hidden her flaming face in her arms. “You think I don’t know that?”

  “You should have seen the look on your face when he said he liked to eat before riding.” Shannon squeezed her arm.

  “Nasty comment,” Montana muttered. “He’s such a pig.”

  “It was, and he is, but you usually give as good as you get.” Shannon spoke as freely as only a true friend could. “Johnny bugs you with the double entendres and hot looks because you’re more attracted to him than you want to admit. If you weren’t, you would have laughed like the rest of us.” Shannon took a breath. “I know he really hurt your feelings.”

  Was she that transparent? Or was it because they’d kissed that her emotions were raw? Montana touched her lips. The feel of his mouth on hers was enticing. So much so she’d almost let down her guard.

  She ought to thank him for reminding her she was just another girl in a long
line.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Did something happen between you two that you haven’t told me?” Shannon peered closer into her face. “Holy shit! It did! What went on?”

  Montana knew better than to try to hold out. Her friend was worse than a bloodhound. She could sniff out the truth no matter how hard anyone tried to hide it. She met Shannon’s curious gaze. “He kissed me this morning.”

  If she didn’t feel so crappy, Montana would have laughed at Shannon’s wide eyes and the way her mouth formed a perfect O. “Where?”

  “On the mouth.” And the neck. And anywhere else she would have let him.

  Shannon snapped her mouth shut. “In the tent?”

  “Down by the hot springs.”

  “Oh my God.” Shannon practically wrung her hands. “No wonder you’re upset.”

  “Yeah.” Montana stiffened her spine. “No biggie. Like he said, just a kiss.”

  “From a rock star,” Shannon reminded her. “Who could have any woman he wanted.”

  “You kiss him,” Montana said. “Because I’m not going to ever again.”

  Shannon chuckled. “Until next time.”

  “Why would I? To be another notch on his bedpost? Or wherever he uses to keep track of how many women he’s seduced?” Montana took a shuddering breath. “If I wanted to be another number, I could have stayed with Tom.”

  “Did you ever think to turn the tables?” Shannon leaned back and hooked her elbows on the hitch rail.

  “What do you mean?”

  Shannon stared at the horizon. “Instead of letting him run the game, you take charge.”

  “I’m not into games. You know that.”

  “I realize it, but you have seven days ahead of you. Do you want to be standing here brokenhearted when Johnny goes back to his real life? Or would you rather have him pining for you?”

  Montana doubted she could pull off such a thing, but she asked anyway. “How do I do that?”

  “Simple. Pretend like you could care less. Kiss him. Tease him. Even sleep with him, but don’t let him see your emotions. It will make him crazy wondering what you’re thinking. Men love a challenge. Even rock stars.”

  Montana hugged her friend. “How’d you get so smart?”