Montana Cowboy Romance (Wyatt Brothers of Montana Book 1)

by Jane Porter

  “I tried it a couple years ago when my brothers insisted I try, but it wasn’t for me. I’m not interested in hooking up. I’m in need of more than a hookup.”

  They crossed the street, which was quick and easy as there was no traffic. “Not many people in our culture would consider marrying without love,” Sophie said as they reached the other side.

  “I thought that, and then I had dozens of answers to my ad. I probably had more than fifty women answer the ad, and most were quite serious about it. There are a lot of women looking for marriage and family without having to put themselves out there on the dating scene.”

  “The dating scene is definitely not very appealing,” she agreed.

  He had nothing to add, so he didn’t.

  They walked another block, and the spire of St. James came into view. “That’s our Anglican church,” he said, pointing toward the church. “Our Catholic church is on the other side of town, a couple blocks from the Depot.”

  “The Depot’s a restaurant now?”

  “Microbrewery with a limited menu. It’s good. I go there with my brothers when they’re in town.”

  “Where do you go when they’re not here?”

  Joe hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t. I stay home.”

  “You don’t go out at all?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t have any friends you meet for a drink?”

  “No.”

  He saw her lips part, and then she closed them and said nothing more.

  *

  Sophie kept replaying Joe’s answers to her questions over and over in her head during dinner at the Italian restaurant. The food was good, and they shared a bottle of red wine, but Joe was so quiet tonight she was finding it rather exhausting trying to carry a conversation, and yet they weren’t familiar enough with each other for the silence to be comfortable.

  At least, she wasn’t comfortable with the silence. She wanted to know him. Wanted to know more about his family and his life on the ranch.

  She most of all wanted to know what his mom was thinking about her being here in Marietta. “Is there something I could do to help your mom feel better about me being here?” she asked as the entree dishes were cleared and they were presented with the dessert menu.

  “No. She just needs time,” he said.

  “How much time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  It wasn’t the answer she wanted. “Do you think it would help if we spent some time together? I could come up there one day, bring lunch to her—”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Sophie pushed the dessert menu away without looking at it. “Did you know she’d react like this to me?”

  “No. I’m surprised, actually. She was close with my last girlfriend. That was a long time ago, but even then, she liked her, and enjoyed her company a lot. I thought she’d be pleased I’d finally brought a new girlfriend home.”

  New girlfriend. Well, that was something. Not quite as permanent as fiancée or wife but better than nothing. “What did your mom and girlfriend do together?”

  “They’d bake together, watch TV together—they both loved American Idol. They’d exchange books. Charity loved romances, and my mom used to read them, too, and they’d talk about what they were reading.” Joe looked hopefully at her. “Do you read romances?”

  “I don’t,” Sophie said. “I’m more of a romantic suspense-thriller person.”

  “What do you watch on TV?”

  “Police procedural.”

  Joe looked a little discouraged. She felt more than a little discouraged, too. “I haven’t done a lot of baking—that was more my sister’s thing—but I’m happy to bake with her.”

  “She doesn’t bake anymore, not with her arthritis.”

  “I see.” Sophie battled down her frustration and focused on putting her worries into words. “I have a question, and I hope it won’t be too blunt, but I just need to know, is our relationship contingent on her approval?”

  “No.”

  His answer was fast and blunt, which should reassure her, but it didn’t. Maybe if she hadn’t been through so much with Leo, she could relax and have faith that everything would work out, but her faith remained in short supply. “But I’m in town until she’s okay with me.”

  “You’re in town so that I can spend time with you away from my family.”

  “But eventually I’ll be there on the ranch, with you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And with your family.”

  “Yes.”

  “And eventually this is all going to be… okay?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It will be okay.”

  He’d hesitated for just a moment before answering her, but she noticed the hesitation. She felt that hesitation all the way through her. “I feel like I’m in a state of limbo,” she said softly. “I’m not good with limbo.”

  “I’m sorry. This isn’t what I expected. I’m struggling to be patient with them, and so if I find this hard, and it’s my family, it has to be even more frustrating for you.”

  It was a good apology, a very decent apology. Her eyes burned and she balled her hands in her lap, wishing she felt warmer, safer. It had been so long since she’d recognized her life, never mind the world. Once upon a time, she’d had such faith in people. Things. God.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  She lifted her shoulders, wondering if she should tell him the truth. But he deserved the truth. People always deserved the truth. Truth was as essential as air and sun. “I’m thinking that maybe I shouldn’t be here. I’m thinking we don’t really have a plan after all.”

  “But we do have a plan.”

  “Do we?” She searched his clear blue eyes, looking for a hint of indecisiveness. “You really still want to marry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though your mom is not in favor of me being here?”

  “My mom needs time to get used to the idea of you being in my life. But she’s not going to come between us. That’s not happening.”

  But his mom had already come between them.

  Sophie glanced away, lower lip caught between her teeth. She wanted to believe him. She did. But she wasn’t confident right now.

  “You don’t believe me,” he said.

  “I want to believe you. It’s why I’m here.”

  He reached out, caught her chin and gently turned her face to him. “I will always tell you the truth. If nothing else, believe that.”

  He released her as the waiter returned to see if they wanted dessert. Sophie didn’t, but Joe ordered a black cup of coffee.

  “You can drink caffeine at night?” she asked, as the waiter disappeared.

  He nodded. “I got used to it with all the driving we did late at night, and my mom has always drunk coffee at night. Bad habit, I suppose.”

  “There are worse sins.”

  His mouth quirked and then the faint smile faded. “Tell me what you consider to be the worst sins.”

  “Is this a question to check my knowledge of the Bible?”

  “Nope. Not interested in Biblical sins. I want to know what really bothers Sophie Correia.”

  “Lying. Dishonesty.”

  “I take it you have no patience for cheaters.”

  “None,” she agreed. “We only have one life. I don’t want to spend it living a lie.”

  “Do you feel as if we’re living a lie right now? Because my mom doesn’t know you’re here to marry me?”

  She was surprised he was so perceptive. She hadn’t even completely put the pieces together, but that might be one of the reasons she felt increasingly anxious. “That’s a good question, and maybe. I mean, I know why we’re not sharing our news right now, and I understand why we need to give everyone time, but it adds to the uncertainty, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, yes.”

  “But you’re still committed?”

  “We marry Thursday. Five days from now.”


  Five days. So soon. But that was what she wanted, Sophie reminded herself. She wanted the uncertainty to go. She wanted a commitment. Permanence. “Great. Thank you.”

  “Is there anything else I can do to reassure you? What do you need from me?” Joe asked.

  She liked the question. She liked how direct Joe could be. It allowed her to give him a direct answer.

  She shook her head. “I just want to be your wife.” And then she blushed because it sounded so bold put like that, much less to this big tough man who rarely smiled and struck her as impossibly self-contained.

  “Why are you here in Montana marrying a stranger, Sophie? How can that be the right thing for you?”

  His question made her cheeks flame and her insides lurch.

  She reached for her wineglass and took a quick sip. “I was engaged and it ended abruptly, and badly,” she said, returning the wineglass to the table, “and I don’t want any more long engagements. I don’t want promises that mean nothing.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “There’s not much to say. He didn’t love me after all, and he married someone else rather quickly after we broke up.”

  “And that’s why you want to marry a stranger?”

  It sounded so ridiculous put like that. “It’s not marrying a stranger that has me here. Marrying a stranger is terrifying. I’m here because you’ve made it clear that you want a wife, and you’re making a commitment. I liked that. I responded to that. I want a commitment from a man. I’m turning thirty late June and I want a big family. I want to be a mom soon.”

  Joe didn’t speak for a moment. “But this fiancé of yours—”

  “Ex-fiancé,” she corrected.

  “He hurt you pretty bad.”

  Her heart squeezed and she hated how it still felt as if she’d swallowed hot coals, and how they’d burned her inside out. “I trusted him, so yes.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I think it’s easier calling him a name than ex-fiancé.”

  Her mouth was dry, and her pulse raced, and this wasn’t the conversation she wanted, but it was the conversation they were having. “Leo.”

  “How long were you with Leo?”

  “Too long for him to have done what he did,” she said huskily. “I wasn’t left at the altar, but pretty dang close. Just days before the wedding he changed his mind. My mom and I spent days cancelling everything, and letting the four hundred guests know. It was beyond awful.” She looked up, her gaze locking with Joe’s. “I vowed I would never go through that again. I would never do the big engagement, the big wedding, the big buildup… All for what? Nothing. I got to be the fiancée with the sparkling diamond ring. I got to plan the black-tie formal wedding. But in the end there was no groom. There was no wedding. There was no husband. And I felt so cheated. It broke my heart and I don’t ever want to be in that situation again.”

  “You just want the husband.”

  “Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “I want the vows, I want the commitment, and I want the life I never got to live. I want to be a wife, and mom—now. Not in three years, or five years. I’ve had a successful career. I’ve been a working girl. I’ve paid my own bills for the past seven years. I don’t need a man to pay my bills; that’s not why I want to get married. I want to get married because I have this awful ticking clock telling me I’m at the peak of my fertility and if I don’t start having babies I’ll run out of time. Because I don’t just want one, I want three or four. Maybe more. I come from a big family and it makes sense to have a big family, especially if you have a farm or ranch. Kids are cheaper than farm hands.” She smiled as she said it, because she’d said it ironically. Those were the words her dad used to say when he dragged them out for their morning chores at the diary.

  “And while I want to be a mom, I don’t want to be a single parent. I don’t want to do it on my own. I want a husband and kids and you’d said that you wanted a wife and kids, and we have the same goals. Or I thought we did when I arrived.”

  “We do,” he answered firmly, signaling for the bill.

  Outside the restaurant, she buttoned her coat and was about to put her hands in her coat pockets when Joe reached for her right hand and pulled her close to his side. The heat of his hand immediately warmed her, sending tiny sparks of heat and sensation through her.

  She glanced down at their hands and then up at his profile. “That’s brave of you,” she murmured.

  His fingers tightened and then eased. “What do you mean?”

  “Just that I was beginning to wonder if you were afraid of me.”

  Joe’s laugh rumbled low and rough. “You’re little. You barely reach my shoulder. Definitely not afraid of you.”

  That husky note in his voice, coupled with the warmth of his hand, made her feel things, new things. It also made her strangely daring. “Just afraid of touching me then?” she teased.

  He stopped walking and turned to face her, her hand still firmly linked with his. “I was being respectful.”

  “Glad we’re past that. I was beginning to think you might be…” Her shoulders twisted.

  “You don’t think I like women?”

  “No. I was thinking maybe you weren’t interested in me.”

  “Because I’m being respectful?”

  “I get it if you’re not attracted to me—”

  “Not the case.”

  “Chemistry’s a tricky thing. It’s either there, or it’s not.”

  He barked out a laugh, but he didn’t sound amused. He drew her closer to his big body. “Chemistry, or lack of it, isn’t the issue there.”

  “Then what is the issue?”

  “You want to have this talk on Church Street?”

  “No one’s looking. No one’s paying us the least bit of attention.”

  “They would if I kissed you.”

  Her pulse leaped in her veins and for a second she felt tingly from head to toe. “At least I’d have a first kiss.”

  He gave her a considering look. “Are you complaining?”

  “Just worried. And letting you know I’m worried. I can’t see marrying someone that’s not at all physically attracted to me.”

  “Oh, I’m attracted. That’s not an issue. I’ve just been holding back, being chivalrous. It wouldn’t do to bring you out here and immediately jump your bones. Can’t see that inspiring much trust.”

  She liked the energy crackling through him, and how it made her come alive. He was impressively warm and real and energy surged through her, little zings of sensation and pleasure. “But what if once you kiss me, you don’t like kissing me?”

  “Then I’ll teach you how I like to kiss.”

  “Can kissing be taught?”

  “Everything can be taught.”

  There was something sexy and dangerous in his tone, and another hot ripple of sensation washed through her. Things were beginning to get interesting. She liked it. Maybe too much. “You’ve had experience, then? You’re not a virgin.”

  Heat flared in his eyes. “Not a virgin, sorry. You?”

  The warmth between them practically crackled and burned. Her body felt hot, her skin felt sensitive, her pulse was thumping. She’d been waiting for this, waiting for something to make her want to be here… want to be with him. “Not a virgin, either. Hope that isn’t an issue for you.”

  “I’m glad you’re not a virgin. I’ve no need to be someone’s first.” His gaze locked with hers, and held. “I’m more interested in being your last. When we marry, there’s not going to be anyone else for me, and I’m not going to be okay with you having anyone else—”

  “I wouldn’t. I’m not a cheater. I’d never do that to you.”

  “Not even if you were lonely and unhappy on the ranch?”

  “I’d tell you I was lonely. I’d tell you I was unhappy. And I’d hope we could figure out our difficulties together.” She looked up into his face, looking intently into his pale blue eyes. “But th
at’s a long way away since we haven’t even made it to first base.”

  “Is that what you need? If that’s the case, let’s not leave you wanting.” Joe pulled her all the way against him, his arm dropping low around her waist to hold her securely to his chest. His head dipped, and his mouth brushed her cheekbone and then lower near the corner of her lips. “Can’t have you wanting for anything.” And then his mouth covered hers, and the kiss was hard, and demanding, and more than a little possessive. He kissed her as if she was his, and only his, and he, and only he, knew how to kiss her.

  Shockingly, he knew how to kiss her. With heat, and desire, and more than a little expertise. She shuddered as his lips moved over hers, parting hers, to taste and tease the inside of her mouth. She shuddered again as his hand wound through her long hair, sliding through the strands until she felt his palm at the base of her neck. The press of his fingers against her nape made the air catch in her throat and for a moment she forgot to breathe. His touch was a maddening pleasure and she couldn’t stifle her breathless sighs.

  By the time he lifted his head, she was a mass of quivering nerves. She stared up at him unable to think of a single coherent thing to say.

  “Feel better?” he asked, his eyes dark like denim, his deep voice pitched even lower, the sound a sexy, husky rasp that scraped her sense and made her knees go weak.

  “Depends on your definition of better,” she answered, voice equally husky. It had been an amazing kiss. Dazzling, dizzying. She still craved more. “I certainly feel different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Different as in wow, cowboy, you do that so well.”

  His blue gaze locked with hers, his expression so warm, so intimate she felt as if she’d go up in flames any second.

  “Why are you still single?” he asked.

  The question made her eyes sting and her chest ache. The breeze caught at her long hair, making it swirl around her face. She tucked a strand back, behind her ear. “Spent too long with the wrong one.”

  “He must have been blind and stupid.”

  Her lower lip quivered as he drew a reluctant smile from her. “Or maybe I was the stupid one, loving someone who didn’t love me back.”

  He reached out to catch a long tendril of her hair, peeling it off her eyelashes and smoothing it back. “Is that why you answered my ad? Your heart took a beating and you gave up on love?”