Montana Darling (Big Sky Mavericks Book 3)
Page 14
“Where were you?”
“Ren’s office. We had a video chat with my stepfather and his lawyer.”
The degree of whining, lies and half-truths that came from Howard’s mouth made Ryker want to pack up his tent and bike and disappear again. But he couldn’t do that. Not when the thought of being with Mia was the first thing on his mind every morning and the last thing on his mind when she left his bed at night to sneak back home.
“This is more stuff you need for Bailey’s and Paul’s wedding? Awesome. Mom was a nervous wreck thinking you weren’t going to be able to do the job.”
“No. These came from my mother.”
“Oh. An early birthday present maybe.” She picked up one of the two toaster-size boxes. Ryker had been shocked when he saw them. He recognized them immediately. He’d entrusted the boxes to his brother to store before he left for New York because Ryker was afraid Mom would throw away every memento and keepsake from their father. Ryker had no idea how these boxes came to be in his mother’s possession or why she chose to send them to him now.
Mia held the door for him as Ryker carried the other box to the spare bedroom across the hall from his room. He’d slowly cleared enough space to set up a temporary studio. He and Mia had pushed the daybed to one side and cleaned off OC’s old desk. In return for use of this extra space, Ryker had agreed to photograph all of Bedazzled Bling’s new jewelry pieces for a holiday catalogue.
“Where do you want this one?” Mia asked.
“Toss it on the chair.”
“What if it’s breakable?”
He switched off the light and closed the door before following her into his room. “I don’t think there’s anything of value in it. I was pretty messed up when I packed them.”
She sat, the bigger of the boxes on her lap. “What do you mean messed up?”
He didn’t answer right away. He used the box cutter he’d bought that morning at Big Z Hardware to slit the glossy new tape that had been added to the yellowed, brittle tape that looked like the kind he’d used on the eve his departure from his family home.
He chose the chair, instead of the bed. “I told you my dad died when I was a senior in high school, right?”
She nodded. “A heart attack?”
“He’d just finished delivering his projections for the New Year to his investors. Business had been great and he was on top of the world. He walked to his chair, but didn’t make it. The paramedics told Mom he was dead before he hit the floor.”
Mia’s expression reached out to him and made it easier to tell the rest of his sad, stupid story. “Mom was never the hands-on, touchy-feely kind of person like Dad was. She had friends and a social life, but around us, she was…reserved. Dad more than made up for her lack of attention. When he wasn’t traveling for work, he did everything with Flynn and me.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Losing Dad was like losing everything good in our lives. And the one person who should have been there to comfort us and help us make sense of what happened, never shed a tear.”
“In public, you mean.”
“No. Mom never cried. She handled all the funeral arrangements, made all the business decisions and met with Dad’s lawyers as if she were his secretary or someone he’d hired to tie up all the loose ends of his life. Then, three months later—almost to the day—she married my stepfather.”
Her sharp intake of breath made him look up. “Long story short, when Howard’s family moved in, I moved out. I tossed everything my father ever gave me into these two boxes and took a bus to Notre Dame where my brother was going to college, and asked him to keep them for me because I didn’t trust Mom not to throw them in the garbage.”
“Did you finish high school?”
He nodded. “Technically, yes. I had more than enough credits. In fact, the only thing Dad and I ever argued about was where I’d go to college. I think I told you I got accepted into two Ivy League schools, but I also earned a tennis scholarship to a small private liberal arts college in Maryland. They were willing to let me start the spring quarter so I could get in some practice with the team.”
“Tennis? I thought photography was your life?”
He pretended to make a backhand sweep then pulled her close. Her scent—part Mia, part chilly Montana night—instantly calmed the crazy mix of sadness and frustration he always felt when he talked about his mother and what happened after his father’s death.
“I fell in love with photography from the moment I picked up my first camera, but I was always told I couldn’t make a career out of it. So, I got good grades and lettered in two sports: basketball and tennis. I also joined the yearbook staff. I couldn’t play basketball and shoot pictures, too. So, I dropped b-ball. Luckily, tennis didn’t get much press in those days so I could still play and take pictures on the side.”
Their foreheads touched and she started unbuttoning his shirt. “I’d like to know more about your dad. I hope you’ll share more memories when you’re ready, but in the meantime, how ’bout we let the past stay boxed up while we…um…enjoy the present. No pun intended.”
He answered with a kiss. A kiss that burned with intensity.
Fingers fumbled, clothes landed where they fell. The chair felt too crowded so they stumbled to the bed. Lights on. Door unlocked. Nothing mattered but being inside each other’s skin, swapping hearts and giving them back. He barely noticed that she’d traded her sports bra for a pretty pink scrap of lace. She didn’t seem to care that he’d bought silky high-thread count sheets for their bed. All that mattered was satisfying the deep, dark force that drove their need.
He remembered a condom…barely. She panted impatiently, touching him greedily, shifting her hips against the pewter sheets, her white skin beckoning. He reared back when he entered her, watching with satisfaction as he slowly buried himself to the hilt. She palmed her breasts as he rocked against her—not because it gave her pleasure but because she knew it gave him pleasure to watch. His palm flat on her belly was positioned so his thumb could stroke her with every lift of her hips.
“Beautiful. So…damn…beautiful,” he said with a low growl. “I love you, Mia. I love every bit of you.”
Her eyes flew open. They kept eye contact until the pulsing urgency became too much and they gave into the freight train that carried them to another plane.
They didn’t speak. They cuddled and slept…until she left. He pretended to be asleep. Normally, he’d walk her to her car, shivering in sweat pants and a hoodie. Tonight, he took the coward’s way out. He’d said the words he’d never intended to say to another woman. He’d blurted them out like a schoolboy with his first crush. He probably blew it.
He closed his eyes and rolled over to turn off the bedside lamp. The ball was in Mia’s court and he had no idea what Mia would do. Either they’d talk about the elephant between them tomorrow or she’d pretend he never said the words.
“What an idiot,” he muttered, pulling the covers over his head. He wasn’t even sure what came over him. Probably getting the boxes from Mom. Remembering the past. His dad. Finally feeling at peace with losing Colette. Knowing she’d want him to be happy again.
Oh, well, he thought. What happened next was up to Mia.
*
“He’s out of his mind,” Mia told her sister the morning after Ryker’s bombshell. I love you. Love? Is he crazy? “Out of his freakin’ mind. There is no way in hell we are going to wind up some fairytale couple living happily ever after. None. Not happening. And, now that he’s said the words, I have to either pretend I didn’t hear him or break up with him.”
“Well…there is another possibility…or three,” Meg said, her tone annoyingly calm and dispassionate.
“What?”
“You could talk to him. Like a rational adult. Lay your concerns on the table. Explain that you’re not ready to get into a serious relationship.”
“Ryker’s very persuasive. He may try to talk me into giving some sort of formal relationship a try.”
Mia stopped pacing along the frosty banks of the river on the property that now appeared would end up in Ryker’s hands. Ren had called her with the news that morning—the morning after her footloose-fancy-free lover told her he loved her.
Apparently, a handwriting analysis proved neither brother signed the bill of sale. Ryker’s foolish, greedy stepfather made the mistake of transferring the property to Flynn on his thirtieth birthday. Unfortunately, Flynn had proof that he’d ordered Howard to rescind the transfer until Ryker’s birthday so the two brothers could decide what they wanted to do with the land together.
Now, it would be up to Mia to file charges and sue to get her money back. “I’m really sorry to tell you this, Mia. I’m sure you and Edward bought the land in good faith, but since the brothers had no intention of selling…you’ll be entitled to full restitution from their stepfather.”
She looked at the snowcapped mountains in the distance, tears forming in her eyes. She wanted to be happy for Ryker but instead she felt a giant weight pressing on her chest.
A small voice in her head—the one that worked with clients who routinely lied—wondered if Ryker had told her he loved her because he knew he’d won his claim and wanted to give her a consolation prize.
She hit re-dial.
“Sorry. I know. You’re walking into the Dean’s office, right? I just can’t think. I need you to tell me. Did Ryker say what he said because he knew about the decision on the land?”
Meg sighed. “Again. I’m going with the sit-down-and-talk-to-him-like-an-adult option.” She hung up, as big sisters were known to do.
Mia pivoted on one heel and marched to her car. She’d ask him tonight.
Of course, Meg was right. Second-guessing would drive Mia nuts. She’d played that game far too often in her marriage. Tonight, she’d have her answer and then she’d tell him their only sensible option was to end things now before one of them got hurt.
Chapter 12
‡
Six hours later, Mia knocked on the sliding glass door of B. Dazzled Western Bling. Since there weren’t any blinds or curtains on the doors she could see the entire work area that had been a family room in another life. Nothing moved other than sparkling motes that made her think of Tinker Bell.
She opened the door a couple of inches. “Ryker?”
A crashing sound made her reach for her phone. Was he in trouble? Who would break in? Except for his camera, he didn’t own anything worth stealing.
Breathless, Ryker rounded the corner and skated, stocking-foot, into the room. “You’re early. Sorry. But it’s all cool.”
Like the first night they’d been together, the image of Tom Cruise in Risky Business flashed across the screen in her mind and made her smile. Some of the tension she’d been lugging around all day slipped off her shoulders.
She stepped in cautiously. “What’s all cool?”
“You’ll see. No worries.”
He took her arm and leaned down to give her a kiss as he always did when she came to see him. “Hi. How was your day?”
“Okay,” she answered, still trying to figure out what was going on. This was not how their evening bootie calls had been working. She sensed he had a new agenda, but what was it? “Did you talk to Ren?”
He nodded. “Uh-huh. The Pittsburgh DA is looking into the case.”
“I mean about the lan—”
He interrupted her with a classic “time out” gesture. “Later. First, I want to show you what I’ve been working on all day.”
Instead of going to his room, he led her to the opposite door, which was open. She hesitated in the threshold. “Wow. You put together a whole photography studio today?” She smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Duh. I helped you carry in the boxes last night. This is amazing.”
The plain room had been transformed. Two upside-down white umbrellas were attached to big, bright lights on either side of the daybed. Today, the bed was draped in a heavy black material. A backdrop that looked like a roll-up curtain hung suspended behind it.
“That is one beautiful sky.”
“It is, isn’t it? The title of it is Montana Big Sky. There are fourteen other backgrounds, including plain white.”
“This was in your boxes?”
“Not everything. Ren loaned me his truck and I picked it up in Livingston. Turns out Bob Raines—my boss from the school pictures—decided he was done with studio work. He made me a great deal on all sorts of goodies.”
She stepped into the room, walking carefully to avoid tripping over a cord or three. “Pretty impressive. Are you opening up a studio?”
He made a maybe-maybe not gesture. “We’ll see. Mostly, I wanted this tonight. For you.”
Her hand went to her throat. “What do you mean?”
“I want to photograph you.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“I know, but…it’s my gift. If our land business is truly over and I have no reason to stay in Marietta, then I have to start planning for the future. It’s a big world and there are lots of options.”
A sour taste that reminded her of chemo made her swallow hard. “You’re leaving.”
“Not until after the wedding. But if I go, I probably won’t be back, and I want to leave you with something to remember me by.”
She started to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but he stopped her. “This is important to me, Mia. And whether you want to admit it or not, it’s important to you, too.”
Her shoulders tensed. She hated when others tried to tell her what was important to her. He pulled her to him and stroked her back, coaxing her to relax. “I need you to trust me, Mia. Do you think you can do that?”
She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
Her jaw dropped when he explained his plan.
“No, f…reaking way,” she cried the moment he stopped talking. “Are you crazy? Art shots? Naked? Me? Not gonna happen. I’ve seen where those shots wind up…plastered all over the Internet.”
He placed the bulky, heavy black camera in her hand. “This is old school, baby. Film. Not digital. I have four rolls of film here. Two rolls of black and white. Two high-intensity color. Thirty-six shots each. I’ll develop them myself at Bob Raines’s place. I bought his darkroom equipment, but there’s no room here for it.” When she didn’t reply, he added, “You can be in the darkroom with me. Every step of the way.”
Some of the tension inside her eased. “Why do you want to do this?”
“Why? To show you how beautiful you are.”
“I’m not—”
He put his finger to her lips.
“Are you perfect? No. Special? Unique? Brave? Resilient? Yes. The thing about art is sometimes you’re standing too close to see it. If you step back, your new perspective can let you appreciate how wonderful something is. I can give you that perspective, Mia. You can see yourself through my eyes. This is my gift to you. Will you take it?”
There was a finality in his tone that almost broke her heart. She didn’t want this thing between them to end. But she’d thought about the future all day and she knew she had to let him go—for his sake. He deserved someone whole…and hopeful. She’d planned to spell everything out for him tonight.
She swallowed hard. “You and I are the only people who will ever see these pictures, right?”
“That’s your decision. You control everything. Which shots we print. What happens to the negatives. Everything.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and then tried again.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
*
Ryker couldn’t remember the last time he’d sweated this bad during a shoot. Maybe those early days in New York when it felt like everybody’s eyes were on him and nothing he did would measure up to
the masters he’d sought to emulate. It took him years to understand he’d never be another Edward Steichen because he was Ryker Bensen. His gifts were different. The gift that served him best was his ability to put his subjects at ease.
Even modestly covered in the white cotton robe he’d bought that morning, she looked stiff as starched tissue left in the sun. He reached for his brand new iPhone—a splurge with the money Bailey was paying him to shoot her wedding. “I’ve been working on a playlist called Mia’s World. Do you mind if it plays in the background while we do this?”
She seemed baffled by the question. “I…no…that’s fine.”
He hit play.
The first song had a vibrant young beat. The female singer probably wasn’t much older than Emilee. The refrain ordered you to “live it up.”
Mia’s smile was his first shot, followed by her look of disgust. No, not real disgust, just the look she gave him when she thought he was doing something over the top. She put limits on herself and the people around her, but deep inside she wanted to run as fast as humanly possible and climb to heights no one had ever reached before.
“What? You don’t like the song? I think it has a great beat. Let’s dance.”
He left his camera on the tripod and pulled her into his arms. She was laughing her real, happy laugh by the time he spun her in a circle and dipped her low. She even kicked up a leg. “You are crazy. You know that don’t you?”
He spun her again, this time letting go. “Dance for me, Nitro.”
“Who told you…?” She shrugged. “I haven’t been Nitro in a long time.”
But a moment later she closed her eyes and moved to the music. Young and free. She even recreated their dip, her lithe, strong leg kicking past the white robe in an utterly sexy way.
Breathless when the song ended, she faced him—and his camera—disheveled, gorgeous. The shoulder of the robe had slipped low. Keeping in mind his limited number of shots he adjusted the angle of the fabric to give him a little more shoulder. “Look toward the windows. You’re thinking about me. What we’re going to do when we’re done here.”