Montana Darling (Big Sky Mavericks Book 3)

by Salonen, Debra

  “Why are you in my spot?”

  “My spot, Meeps.” He pointed to his name.

  Someone must have made a last minute change. “Where am I sitting?”

  “Over at that table. With me,” a familiar voice said.

  Mia’s heart did a crazy leap that made her ability to speak disappear.

  Ryker apparently took her silence as an agreement. He put his free hand around her waist then leaned over to extend his other hand to her brother. “Ryker Bensen. You’re Mia’s twin, aren’t you? Austen?”

  Austen seemed equally shocked. He gave up his hand without a single, cutting, who-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are remark.

  “Good to meet you. We’ll talk later, I’m sure.” Then he smiled at Serena and said, “You look beautiful, of course. I have your alpaca proofs in my bag. Don’t let me leave without giving you the thumb drive. Those girls really know how to flirt with the camera.”

  Serena clapped with glee. “Thank you, Ryker. You rock.”

  Mia had time to exchange a quick look with her brother before Ryker gently but firmly guided her toward the most remote table. The one designated for spillovers if more Plus-Ones than expected showed up. One of the women she’d met at the Fish and Game that morning, along with her husband and son were already devouring their salads when she and Ryker took their seats.

  “Sorry,” the chubby redhead said. “We were starving.”

  Mia couldn’t remember her name. Hell, with the sizzle of Ryker’s hand sending much too familiar and intimate shockwaves up her spine, Mia could barely remember her own name.

  The woman took another bite then said, “This is Matt and that’s Kenny.”

  “Ken,” the boy who looked around Hunter’s age corrected.

  “No worries, Cynthia,” Ryker said. “Dig in. We’ve got a few things to iron out.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the fact I’ve changed my mind. After some serious soul-searching, I decided I’m done hiding our relationship. We’re dating, Mia. We’re a couple.”

  He noticed their tablemates staring and damned if he didn’t hold out his wine glass in a toast. He waited for Mia to pick up her glass, too.

  “To love. Wedded bliss and not-so-wedded bliss. It’s all good.”

  Cynthia clinked her glass with gusto and added, cheerfully, “Don’t worry, Mia. It’s not like you two are news. This is Marietta, after all.”

  Mia polished off the remaining gulp of wine then looked at Ryker. “Outside. Now.”

  He exchanged a look with Ken that could only be described as “Uh-oh, you’re in trouble now.”

  She gave Ryker credit for following her without a word. After a moment of indecision, she walked to the hotel’s bar. Empty at this time of day. She picked a table in the far corner and sat.

  “You’re mad at me.”

  “No. I’m mad at myself. We should have had this conversation weeks ago. I let this thing between us…linger because I like you and it’s been fun.”

  His brow furrowed. “Past tense.”

  “Yes.” She swallowed to get some moisture in her mouth. She’d felt the same sense of weighty drama whenever she delivered a closing argument in court. “We have to end this, Ryker. It’s not fair to you. You have every right to assume that we’re dating, involved.”

  “A couple.”

  “Yes. Because we share the intimate side of a relationship. But that’s all we share. For a reason.”

  “And that reason is…”

  “We have two very different lives. There’s no way they can blend successfully with any permanence. You’re a free spirit. I’m tied to this very solid, soon to be very frozen Montana landscape. We’ve been able to pretend the outer world didn’t exist when we were in bed, but we were deluding ourselves—and, apparently, we’re the only ones who thought we were being sneaky.”

  He sat forward, his elbows on the table. “For the record, I wasn’t trying to hide anything.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. That was me, but I’m going to be living in this town long after you’re gone.”

  “What makes you so sure I’m leaving?”

  She blinked. “Why would you stay?”

  He blew out a breath of frustration. “For a brilliant, successful, amazing woman, you can be remarkably obtuse. As I blurted out prematurely the other night, I love you, Mia. And, for the record, this not how I saw myself telling you that.”

  Panic far greater than anything she felt when Edward told her he wanted a divorce pressed against her chest. “No, you don’t. You love the idea of me. Why? I have no idea. Maybe because of your non-relationship with your mother. I’m older. Less uptight…maybe. Or it could be because I’m so different from Colette, from what you lost in France.”

  He smacked his fist soundly on the table. “You can think what you want, but you’re wrong. I love you because you’re you. That’s enough for me. I’m sorry it’s not enough for you.” He stood. “Bailey and Paul are going to have the first dance and I have a job to finish. But you’re right about one thing. I have some loose ends to tie up. If you need to reach me, call Ren. He’ll know where I am.”

  Chapter 14

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  Ryker sat in his rental car and stared at the two-story monstrosity his mother and stepfather called home. He couldn’t remember when they sold his childhood home and moved to this Pittsburgh suburb. His first tour in Africa? “We need more space for the kids,” Mom had written in the “change of address” card she’d mailed him.

  Howard’s kids. The old house had been just fine for her children.

  He shook his head to clear away the petty thoughts. The past couldn’t be changed, so what did it matter at this point? His mother had agreed to meet with him. In fact, she’d contacted him the Monday after the wedding. He’d spent all day Sunday editing the wedding photos. He’d called and texted Mia a dozen times—enough to get the message. In Mia’s eyes, they were done. Even their lot seemed to be a done deal. Howard screwed up. Ryker and Flynn would wind up with the land, and Mia could sue to recover the money she and her ex-husband spent to buy the land. Would she ever see a dime? Doubtful.

  His mother’s call had come out of the blue. Honestly, he couldn’t believe her timing. If they’d been closer, he might have imagined she sensed his pain and was reconnecting with him on an emotional level. But that wasn’t the case. This was business. She’d made that clear.

  “Ryker, we need to put this matter of the Montana lot and your trust to rest,” she’d said when she called his cell phone. “Howard’s health can’t handle the stress. I know he’s made mistakes and it looks like he took advantage of you, but there’s more to the story than you’re aware of.”

  “I’m aware that your husband stole the money my father left me and sold the piece of land I’d planned to settle down on and raise a family.” A stretch. Any plan to stay in Montana permanently hadn’t crossed his mind until he met Mia. Now, he couldn’t think of anything else.

  Too bad the love of his life made it clear he wasn’t even a blip on her long-term radar.

  He got out of the car. The damp cold penetrated straight to the bone, unlike the dry Montana cold he’d left the day before. He scraped the wet snow off his shoes and rang the bell.

  “I’m coming,” a voice called from inside.

  A shiver chased down Ryker’s back. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. Mom had never been the warm, hugs and kisses type, but when exactly had they become adversaries? Before or after Dad died? He couldn’t remember.

  The door opened. “Ryker.”

  She looked older but still the same. A few extra pounds on her stocky, broad-shouldered body. Beauty-shop black hair without a single hint of silver. Make-up perfect, as it always had been—even at Dad’s funeral. No raccoon eyes or running mascara from tears. Ryker remembered hating her composure when he and Flynn were sobbing like babies in each other’s arms.

  Sh
e wore black slacks and a mottled gray sweater that did nothing for her coloring. No warmth showed in her gray-blue eyes. No smile on her deep red lips.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Come in.”

  The foyer opened to the main floor with cased doorways leading in three directions. No open floor plan for Mom. She liked things compartmentalized.

  She hung his jacket in the closet, even though Ryker didn’t expect their business to take long. She’d never tolerated mess.

  “No kids today?”

  “Ben’s the only one still at home. Charlotte—she wants to be called Charli, now—has decided she’s gay and moved in with her girlfriend off-campus. She’s in her second year at Penn State.”

  Ryker couldn’t imagine how hard-ass Howard took that news.

  “I have everything laid out in the dining room,” Mom said, motioning for Ryker to follow.

  They passed through the living room. Unlike the Zabrinski’s home, which was all about the views and a few treasured mementos, this big, awkwardly designed space seemed filled to the seams with stuff: three sofas and the biggest TV he’d ever seen outside a sports bar. Everything looked expensive, but impersonal.

  She held the dining room door to let him go first. Since they hadn’t embraced, this was the closest he’d been to her in years. Her perfume took him straight back to his childhood when his father brought her a bottle of L’air du Temps from Paris. She’d laughed and hugged Dad, the happiest he could remember seeing her. She’d even sprayed a dab on Ryker’s skinny wrist.

  He swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat.

  “Where’s Bennie?”

  “His school-to-work program. If he can get through this program okay, he’ll be eligible to live in a group home. Until then we’re stuck here. Ben doesn’t handle change well.”

  Ryker had no idea what that meant. Nor did he care. The kid had been a noisy, tantrum-crazed brat who was catered to on every level when Howard and his children moved into the Bensen home.

  “And Peter and Penny?”

  “Married. Working. No grandchildren as yet.”

  He could have told her about Colette’s baby but he didn’t.

  She pointed him to a chair then took the one at the head of the table.

  So much for small talk.

  A business-size envelope bearing his name was the only thing in front of him. Mom, on the other hand had several stacks of a paper, a pen and an old photo album that looked familiar.

  “We are going to end things here today, Ryker,” Mom said.

  “End what?”

  “Everything. Your antipathy toward Howard and me and our family. Your bitterness. Your hero worship of your father. I am tired of being demonized for wanting to live my life and be loved for who I am, not for who I could never be.”

  Ryker tossed out his hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course, not. You were a dreamer, like your father. You only saw what you wanted to see. And the minute Martin put a camera in your hand, you only saw what you chose to view through a two-inch lens.”

  He didn’t argue. His high school experience had been shaped by his love of photography and sports. Maybe he had hidden behind his camera to some degree. “Better than hanging around here listening to you and Dad fight.”

  She snorted in disdain. “As if you cared. You were off in your own world where the rules didn’t apply to you. Cutting class to go into the city. You were fifteen years old, Ryker. You could have been killed or molested. ‘Let him go,’ Martin said. ‘The boy’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’s learning more about life than he’d ever get in a classroom.’”

  Some of those fights were about me, he realized, surprised.

  “Why did my skipping school and breaking the rules bother you so much?”

  “Because Martin encouraged it. That went against our agreement.” She fumbled with a legal-size envelope. When she handed it to him, he noticed her perfectly manicured nails seemed at odds with her old-looking hands. “I have it in writing. I was supposed to be in charge of you boys. He had the business, but the house and kids were mine.”

  Ryker skimmed the document, which seemed to support her claim. “You agreed to this in lieu of a divorce?”

  “Yes. At the time, your father’s business was in its infancy. His reputation benefited from the illusion of the perfect home and family.”

  “Okay. I get that. But what was in it for you?”

  She didn’t answer right away. “My father left when I was three. Mother couldn’t raise five kids on her own, so she put my brother and me in foster care when I was nine. Believe it or not, foster care was a step up for me. One of the families who took me in was very well off. I made up my mind I’d never be poor again. Your father was the most handsome, dashing young man I’d ever met when I was a lowly cigarette girl working at a club in the city. I think he married me partly to annoy his parents and partly because I was the first girl who didn’t fall into bed with him simply because he asked.”

  “You married Dad for his name and money.”

  “Yes. And because he was handsome and I thought we were in love. It didn’t take long to figure out love wasn’t anything like in the movies. But I wasn’t about to give up on my marriage. I had too much invested.”

  Ryker’s throat closed up. He wouldn’t have been able to speak even if he’d known what to say. Instead, he listened to her side of the story. “Martin caught the mumps from your brother when you were six months old. Flynn was sick a few days, but your father had to be hospitalized. When he recovered, the doctors told him most likely he’d never be able to father any more children. I don’t know if that news triggered some sort of compulsion to prove he was still a man or what, but from that point on, Martin was never faithful to me. The more successful he became, the more women he had. All around the world.”

  An allegation apparently supported by the documents in his hand, Ryker realized. Private investigators’ reports included photographs of Dad with glamorous-looking women in Singapore, Paris, London, and San Francisco.

  Ryker’s hand shook when he returned the stack of papers to the envelope. “But Dad continued to live here. With us. With you.”

  “We had twin beds.”

  “You told me that was because you liked a soft mattress and Dad liked a firm one.”

  She shrugged. “That was true. I just left out the other reasons.”

  “This is why you never traveled with us to Montana.”

  “Partly. I used Martin’s strange attachment to Montana as a chance to live the life he’d promised me when he proposed. ‘Marry me and you will see the world,’ he said. So, I did. I took my mother to Ireland the summer before she died. A divorced friend and I went to Egypt. I was on a Mediterranean cruise when I met Howard. His wife was in remission, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time.”

  Ryker shook his head, confused. “I thought Howard was a business friend of Dad’s?”

  “No. Howard and I started seeing each other after Marge passed. He’d cared for her for years and was truly broken up by her death, but he’s human. He needed affection, a loving touch. He’s a good man, Ryker. Despite what you think.”

  “A good man doesn’t steal from his stepson’s trust fund.”

  Mom picked up a smaller envelope and handed it to him. “He borrowed that money. He’d done it twice before when the market went wonky. He called it robbing Ryker to pay Paul, but he always—always—returned it with interest. This time…the market hasn’t rebounded as quickly as he expected.”

  The idea of Howard pilfering from his trust for all these years made Ryker queasy. He held up the envelope. “What’s this? A promissory note?”

  She didn’t answer until he pulled out a cashier’s check. The number of zeroes made his jaw drop.

  “It’s the projected value of your trust as of tomorrow. Your birthday. I hired the most reputable accounting firm in Pittsburgh to ascertain the correct amount.”

&nb
sp; He looked at the check then looked at her. “I don’t get it. If you can afford this, why’d Howard steal from my account?”

  She didn’t answer right away. She seemed to need a moment to get her emotions under control. “Your father—for all his faults—was the most generous man I ever knew. And he understood stocks and bonds the way you understand light and exposure. He set up a trust in my name at the same time he set up yours and Flynn’s. I never mentioned this to Howard. He would have felt emasculated and hurt because Martin’s investments did so well over the years. So, this check is between us only.”

  She shoved another stack of papers his way. These were flagged with tiny yellow Sign Here stickers. “As it stands now, the land belongs to you and Flynn, and the woman who bought it is out her money. What I am proposing is you and your brother sign an affidavit admitting you authorized Howard to sell the land and the signatures are yours. I know that’s asking a lot. You’ve always loved that land, but as you can see I’ve included a check for the amount of the land, with interest. You can buy another lot.”

  The check was generous to say the least. “Why didn’t you tell me about Dad?”

  “Would it have made a difference? You loved the man you believed him to be. I wanted to leave your memories of your father intact. But Howard is too old and his health too problematic to survive a long, ugly trial or prison.” Her voice shook for the first time in all the years he’d known her. “And I can’t care for Bennie on my own, Ryker. When Ben hit puberty something changed inside him. I know you thought he was a spoiled brat. I made excuses. He was so young when his mother died. But…things got pretty rough for awhile. We thought he might have to be institutionalized. Fortunately, this new program—and his meds—seem to be working. I need Ben to be successful in this program, Ryker, so Howard and I can share a few years of peace and quiet. We want to sell all this and travel again. Like when we first met.”

  Ryker had no idea her life had been so rough. He felt sorry for her, but he read the agreement carefully before signing. He was beginning to understand his mother, but that didn’t mean he trusted her. Not yet. Their meeting lasted two hours and ended with a hug—something that surprised them both, he thought. She would overnight the documents to Flynn, who’d already agreed to the deal if Ryker was okay with it.