Montana Rescue (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 2)

by Kim Law

  Nate had turned away about halfway through Nick’s spiel, and though his eyes were trained on the action in front of them, Nick suspected he saw nothing but the past.

  He finally faced Nick. “We all had to leave, didn’t we? To get away from her.”

  “But she’s gone now. The house isn’t the shrine to her that it used to be, and we’re no longer pretending our childhoods were anything more than what they were. What if what we’re doing isn’t what we should be doing?”

  Nate shook his head in denial. “Love has made you stupid. You’re moving back to Birch Bay for a piece of—”

  He cut his own words off before saying something that he had to know would piss Nick off, and at the same time, Nick didn’t bother filling him in on the fact that he and Harper were done. Nor did he dispute Nate’s words of love.

  Nick did love Harper. For all the good it had done him.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d fallen in love with a woman who didn’t want him. When would he learn? When would he stop hoping someone would care?

  “Sorry,” Nate mumbled. “You know I like her.”

  “The thing is, I’m not moving back for her. I want to be there. I knew that the minute I went home.”

  Nate shook his head again. “I’m in a good place where I am. Don’t mix me into your crap.”

  “You’re in a worse place than I’ve ever come close to being.”

  “Drop it.” Nate’s jaw went hard. “I can’t come home, and you know why.”

  “You weren’t the one who messed up.”

  “I won’t come home. End of story.”

  Instead of fighting it out, both of them went silent. They finished watching the barrel racing and sat through a comedy routine from the bullfighters that the kids in the audience ate up. They were just settling in for cattle roping when Jewel and Patti sat down on a set of bleachers not far away. Nate looked at Nick.

  “I assumed Jewel didn’t have any bulls here this weekend since I hadn’t seen Harp. Who’s that with her?”

  “Patti. Their youngest sister.”

  “Harper okay? I thought she was helping for another week?”

  Nick didn’t look at his brother. He shrugged. “Patience was never my strong suit, okay?”

  It took a second, but Nate got it. “You dumb fuck. You ruined things with her?”

  “Yep.”

  “What did you do?”

  Nick didn’t answer, and for the first time in weeks, he found himself glad to see Betsy strolling toward him. Her presence shut Nate up, especially when she stopped in her tracks and looked them both over. Nate had shaved at some point during the week, and if the two of them had been wearing the same clothes tonight, it would be difficult to tell them apart.

  “Well, what have we here. My favorite cowboy times two.” Betsy climbed the bleachers, and deposited herself between the two men, wiggling her hips against their thighs until she fit between them. “My day has just been made, boys.”

  Nate met Nick’s eyes over Betsy’s head, and all Nick could do was shrug. Yep. This was his life.

  Betsy was a small thing, her head barely coming up past their shoulders, and as she looked from one brother to the other, the woman actually licked her lips. As if presented with a fat, juicy steak. Or two.

  “I sure have missed you.” Her green eyes lingered on Nick’s. “And I haven’t seen your army girl here tonight. You two over?”

  Nick didn’t answer.

  Betsy’s lips curled. “Either way, doesn’t matter to me. I’ve moved on.” She put a hand on Nate’s thigh and turned to him. “How about buying us a motel room, good-looking?”

  Nate had just tipped back his beer, and ale spewed at Betsy’s words. Her laughter trilled out, and Nick noted that her hand inched higher on Nate’s thigh.

  Playing the part of annoying brother, Nick interrupted before Nate could find any words. “Not that I don’t think my brother appreciates your offer, Bets, but you might want to reconsider tonight. Nate, there, is on some scary-ass medicine, and he can’t get it up right now.”

  More beer spewed out.

  “Awwww.” Betsy turned back to Nate. “Poor baby.” Her eyes dropped to his lap. “That really is sad to hear.” She then patted Nate right smack on the dick, her hand gripping more than patting, and stood to leave. “Maybe next time.”

  She sauntered off, the perfect amount of sway going on in her shorts, and Nick heard Nate curse under his breath. “No wonder Harper looked like she wanted to stick that woman on a skewer and roast her last weekend.”

  Nick eyed his brother. “What are you talking about?”

  “She had eagle eyes on that one. Big, green, jealous eagle eyes.”

  It thrilled him to know Betsy still riled Harper. Or, at least, she had the previous weekend. By tonight, Harper had probably forgotten he existed. He finally opened his own beer and took a long pull.

  “You do know you’re an idiot, right?” Nate said as his eyes continued to follow Betsy’s progression until she disappeared in the crowd. “You’re the one of us who stands a chance to get it right, and you lose the one woman who might have been willing to put up with your ass.”

  “You miss the point,” Nick ground out. “She wasn’t willing to put up with me.” At least, not in the way his brother meant. Because he’d never been more than sex to Harper.

  He threw down his beer, the liquid spilling onto the rocks beneath the bleachers, and stood. The pain in his leg roared, but he ignored it. Same as he ignored the pain in his heart. “I’m done here. If you want a ride back to the hotel, either get in my truck or get left.”

  When he reached the ground, with Nate two feet behind him and holding the bottle he’d picked up off the ground, Nick jabbed a finger in his brother’s direction. “And if you do get in my truck, no more talk of Harper again. Ever.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Harper returned to her living room, stopping midstride as the sight of all the new additions filling the space struck her as odd. Not that it wasn’t anything she hadn’t witnessed every time she’d walked into the room over the last few days, but it finally hit her how very different it was. There was color everywhere.

  The white was still there, underneath it all, but on every available surface lay something of color. Random swatches of material and paint were scattered throughout the room, in among stacks of food, vibrant bags of primary colors waiting to be filled with the food, bolts of brightly colored fabrics, and a box stuffed with wrapping paper. It was possible she’d gone a bit overboard in her projects, but since she’d woken in Thomas’s closet four days before, the ideas had been churning.

  First of all, she had to get rid of the white. She’d called a designer who’d come right out—then had almost run when she’d encountered the situation at hand. But in the end, the woman had walked the rooms and taken notes. She’d then shown up two days later with samples and ideas.

  Harper had spread out all of them for consideration.

  Meanwhile, she’d signed up for a handful of charities. The local Meals on Wheels program had not only needed monetary and food donations but a temporary delivery person, as well. Harper had raised her hand. The local Girl Scouts had been seeking help with a project to clothe area children in need. Again, Harper’s hand had shot up. She’d ordered hundreds of yards of material and had even bought a top-of-the-line sewing machine. She had a lesson lined up for tomorrow to learn how to sew.

  But her favorite was the Christmas in July idea she’d come up with herself. There was a children’s home a few hours from Birch Bay, and she just knew that the kids there would be thrilled to receive festively wrapped presents for no reason at all. She couldn’t wait to get started on that one.

  It had been too long since she’d taken on any projects for others, and with every click of the button to order needed items online, it was as if her soul was reawakening.

  Her cell rang, and she looked around at the sound. She had no idea where she’d left her phone. Most
of the week she hadn’t had it with her. It tended to mock her because Nick wasn’t calling. Not that he should call. But that hadn’t kept her from wanting him to.

  Such as now. As she hurried out of the room to follow the sound, she couldn’t stop the heavy thump of anticipation at the thought that it could be Nick on the other end.

  It stopped ringing before she found it, and her shoulders sagged when she saw it had only been Jewel. She punched Jewel’s number to return the call. It was night one of this weekend’s rodeo, and though Harper had talked Patti into going in her place, Harper hadn’t stopped worrying about her pregnant sister. Harper had been the one to sign up to be Jewel’s keeper. She should have gone with her tonight—even though it might have turned uncomfortable had she run into Nick.

  “He misses you,” Jewel said in greeting, and once again, anticipation thumped inside Harper.

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “No. I actually haven’t talked to him. But he’s going to lose this weekend. In fact, he’s pretty much already lost. He’s not on his game.” Jewel paused for just a second before adding, “And he got hurt.”

  Harper quit breathing. “But he’s okay?”

  “Probably sporting a hella bruise, but he walked away from it. And I checked, he’ll ride tomorrow night. But he’s looking for you, Harp. It’s obvious. What happened between you two, anyway? You never really said. And though it shouldn’t surprise me given the size of his crush all those years ago, I think he might really care.”

  Jewel sounded as shocked as Harper had when Nick declared that he wanted marriage.

  She started to deny her sister’s words but decided to go with honesty. “Maybe he does, but he’s better off without me.”

  “You might be right about that. You’re a mess of a person. But are you better off without him? I’ve watched you these last weeks, and he’s good for you. And even more surprising to me, I think you might care for him, too.”

  “I . . .”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say that she didn’t care. Because she did. She liked Nick. He was a great guy. Wasn’t that why she’d ended it? She didn’t want to hurt him any more than she already had.

  “Trust me on this,” she said. She made a spot on her couch and dropped to the cushions. “He is better off without me. What I may or may not need is unimportant.”

  “Harp.”

  “Don’t. It’s not worth arguing over.” She looked around the room, suddenly in no mood for any of her causes, and grabbed the remote from the side table. “I need to go, hon. I’m busy right now. I signed up for some charities, and they’re depending on me.”

  She hung up and slumped into the corner of her couch, and tried not to rehear Jewel telling her that Nick might be good for her. That he missed her.

  None of it mattered.

  She turned on the TV and began to flip. She was busy paying her dues. Nick, her wants, her needs . . . they all came second. She’d messed up. She’d had her chance, and now Nick would go on to find the right woman for him. Because she wasn’t it.

  As if she’d known it would be there, her fingers stopped pushing the button at the exact moment Nick’s latest commercial appeared on the screen. She increased the volume, and didn’t take her eyes off the screen for the next forty-five seconds. The first time she’d seen this, she’d been in bed with Nick. Instead of rewinding the commercial and letting herself watch it again, she turned off the TV and curled up on the couch. And she admitted something to herself for the very first time.

  If not for Thomas, she could have totally fallen in love with Nick Wilde.

  Doors slammed in the driveway, and Harper put down the roller and hurried to the front of the house. She was testing out the paint samples her designer had brought over—as well as a few more she’d picked out herself—and there were no fewer than four colors on the walls in each of the main rooms.

  She opened the door as her parents reached the top step, and motioned them in. “Thanks for coming over.”

  Her parents entered behind her, but their footfalls immediately fell silent. Harper glanced back over her shoulder.

  “You painted,” her dad said.

  “I’m trying to decide on the right color. That’s what I need your help with. You sell real estate—see a lot of houses—so I thought you might be able to help me decide on the right neutral.”

  “You’re selling the house?”

  Harper studied the sandy-gray color she’d tried out by the front door, but couldn’t remember its name. She thought Thomas would have liked that color. “Maybe,” she answered vaguely. At this point, she wasn’t sure, but the idea did keep gnawing at her. “But either way, I can’t handle the white anymore. I thought a nice neutral would be the way to go.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.” Her dad leaned to the side to see farther into the next room, where more colors lined the walls. “I’ll walk through and see what you’re thinking.”

  He sounded as perplexed as the house probably looked.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  When he’d left the room, her mother asked, “And you needed my help for?”

  Harper could see that her mother was already keying in on why she’d been asked to come. The charity situation was out of hand. As far as the eye could see, there was food, bags, gifts, wrapping paper, material, a new sewing machine, two large folding tables in the middle of all of it, and stacks of empty boxes for packing everything up.

  Possibly, she’d overcompensated. Which, granted, hadn’t been the best way to make up for lost time. But it wasn’t as if she could back out of her commitments now.

  She grinned at her mother, going for an I’m-sweet-and-you-must-help-me look. “I thought you might want to help me wrap a few gifts? And bag some food.”

  Her mother simply stared at her.

  “I know it seems like a lot,” Harper began, “but I realized I haven’t been volunteering in a while. And if you’ll remember, that was one of my passions.” She turned toward the pile of gifts. “I like to do things. To help.”

  “Participating in search and rescue missions is what you should be doing.” Her mom moved to her side. She put an arm around Harper’s waist. “That’s your passion.”

  Harper shook her head. She kept her eyes locked on the baby doll dressed in purple at the very top of the pile. “I don’t have time for that now. I have all these other things to take care of. I’m helping people again, Mom. It’s a good thing.”

  “Are you flying at all?”

  “Mom,” Harper’s voice cracked, and she quit trying to talk. She was breathing too hard to speak. She glanced at her mother, who wore “the look” Harper had grown so tired of seeing over the months. Only, the look seemed to be joined with another this time. It wasn’t merely concern and pity shadowing her mother’s face but determination, as well. As if she were finished letting Harper hide from the facts.

  Her dad returned to the room and stood with her mom.

  “It’s okay to move on,” her mom said.

  Harper’s rib cage felt as if it were going to split open. “I just need help wrapping these presents,” she croaked out.

  “Glen.” Her mother nodded toward the front door. “Go outside. Give us a minute.”

  Without saying a word, her dad kissed her on the cheek and stepped to the porch, but he didn’t go far. He remained right outside the door, as if to let Harper know he was there if she needed him. Yet he was far enough away to give her the space she and her mom required.

  “You and Dad are great parents,” Harper said. She had the thought that if she started the conversation, then she could control it.

  “We’ve always tried.”

  “I’m so lucky.” She thought about Nick’s family and how their mother had been. Then of Thomas’s. “Thomas’s parents loved him, too. Like you and Dad love us. But in the end, they hurt him. They weren’t good parents after all.” She gave her mom a tremulous smile. “So thank you for being there for me. I love you both.”
/>   “And we love you, baby.” Her mom hugged her. “We’d do anything for you.”

  “I know,” Harper whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself and crossed to stand in front of the doll with the purple dress. “Thank you, also, for giving me time. I needed it.” She pulled in a breath deep enough to get her through her next words. It was time to talk. “Because Thomas’s death was my fault.”

  Her mother didn’t immediately deny Harper’s words or ask why she might say that, she simply let Harper tell her story. And as the words poured out, Harper recognized that she’d needed to share this with her mother. Her mom consoled when Harper needed it and listened when she didn’t. And as Harper ran out of words, she looked at her mother.

  “And if all of that wasn’t bad enough,” she added in a thready voice, “I was pregnant when he died. I didn’t know for certain until that day, and I miscarried five weeks later.”

  Her mom nodded, sadness settling on her face. “I’d wondered if that might have been the stain on the nursery room floor.”

  Harper had finally accepted her pregnancy when her period the following month hadn’t shown, either. She’d gotten a home test, and as she’d waited on the results, she’d prayed that it would be positive.

  When two lines appeared, a new purpose had settled over her, and for the first time in a month she’d felt as if she could go on. She would bring her and Thomas’s baby into the world, and she would provide as much love for that one child as two parents could have ever given it. She’d spent a week in a cloud of happiness, shopping for healthy food and planning what furniture she’d buy. She’d bought only one item of clothing up to that point, and that had been an “I love Daddy” bib. That bib was currently in the box at the top of the nursery closet.

  “I’d just found out that I inherited everything of Thomas’s,” she explained. “There had been a lot of paperwork to deal with, and waiting to find out if his parents would fight the claim, but his lawyer called and said it was iron proof. All Thomas had was now mine. It overwhelmed me. I didn’t want any of it; I just wanted Thomas. But I did have our baby. So I slept on the nursery floor that night. I fell asleep talking to the baby, explaining that we’d be okay. That I wouldn’t let anything happen to either one of us.” Her voice trembled and she pulled away when her mom tried to reach for her. “I woke up in a pool of blood. Again, I’d failed my husband. I couldn’t even bring his baby—our baby—into the world. He left me with that gift, and I let that gift die.”