Montana Mornings (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 3)

by Kim Law

  Her phone dinged with another text, and this time she was even more afraid to look.

  But it wasn’t from Gabe.

  Hey, Erica, this is Dani Denton. I meant to invite you to a cookout when I saw you today, but I forgot. I’ll blame it on pregnancy brain. Anyway, it should be fun, at Nick’s house on Monday, family and friends both, starting around five. Please come? Our whole family would love to see you, and I know Haley would be thrilled. She talks about you all the time.

  Too many thoughts fought to be heard as she read through the message a second time. Plans for the holiday beckoned. But that meant she’d have to see Gabe—who no doubt would not want to see her after the argument they’d just had.

  Although, if she went, she could apologize more sincerely.

  And she knew Bree would be thrilled to see him.

  Only . . . She chewed on her lip as she considered her next question. Could going to the cookout make things worse with Jenna? Or maybe it would give Erica the opportunity to close the gap between them a bit.

  She sighed. Why couldn’t life just be simple?

  She tapped out a reply.

  Thanks for the invite, but my sister is coming into town.

  Then you have to come! We’d love to meet your sister. And you can’t have her in town for the holiday with nothing to do. Please say yes.

  Would Gabe run her out the second she walked in?

  She made a face at the thought. Did she really care if he tried? It wasn’t him inviting her. Nor would it be at his house.

  Nick was one of Gabe’s younger brothers—a twin. Dani had mentioned in passing that he’d gotten married in the last year and had a charming little house in a neighborhood next to the lake. Hanging out there Monday evening sounded pretty perfect to her, and the more she thought about it, the more she sensed this would give Jenna the chance to see Erica as something other than an authority figure. And bonus, Erica really liked Dani. She remembered Gabe’s sister from the time she and he had dated, and since Dani picked Haley up at school most days, the two of them had talked quite a few times over the last two weeks.

  Therefore . . . decision made. She sent a quick text.

  Yes.

  As far as she was concerned, Gabe wasn’t a factor in the cookout.

  Chapter Five

  Gabe wasn’t a factor in the cookout.

  Erica had told herself that at least fifty times in the last twenty-four hours. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t want her there. Bree was excited to go, and Erica looked forward to seeing Gabe’s family again. So what Gabe may or may not want didn’t matter. He wasn’t a factor.

  Only, he totally would be a factor. Because she had to apologize to him.

  She still couldn’t believe she’d so bluntly tossed out insults to a student’s parent. What had she been thinking?

  “I can’t tell you how excited I am to see this place,” Bree said from the passenger seat of the car.

  Erica pulled to a stop in front of her apartment and shifted into park, then both of them leaned forward at the same time to stare out at the two-story building. She’d picked her sister up at the airport a couple of hours ago, and they’d grabbed a late lunch before driving here. And now, Erica found herself as excited to show the place to Bree as Bree was to see it.

  “You’re going to love it,” Erica told her sister.

  “I already love it. I did the instant you told me you’d rented the place.”

  Erica didn’t even try to hide her smile. Though she still couldn’t say why she’d chosen the unique little living space, she’d grown quite fond of it in the short time she’d been there. She headed for the red front door while Bree grabbed her bag out of the car, and with a dramatic swoop of her arm, Erica ushered her sister inside.

  Bree’s luggage thumped to the ground just inside the door.

  “What an entrance.” Bree’s head turned in every direction, as if trying to take in each detail all at once. “I mean, I know you showed me this view over the phone, but, E, this place is stunning.”

  “They did a great job, didn’t they?” Erica shrugged out of her cardigan. “You only noticed the pole the first time I showed it to you.”

  “The pole is hard to miss,” Bree acknowledged. The infamous pole stood fifteen feet in front of them, and Bree immediately headed for it. She put a hand to its smooth surface, stroking her fingers along its curves as she continued to take in the rest of the space. Then she turned back toward Erica, and her eyes combed over the front wall of the house. She looked straight up, taking in what she could see in Erica’s bedroom above, trailed her eyes back down over the vintage-style pendant lights hanging throughout the open floor plan, then lowered her gaze to the polished concrete floors they stood on. “This place is perfect.”

  Erica nodded. “I’m infatuated with it. Come on, let’s start in the kitchen.”

  The place was a mix of contemporary and vintage, while also maintaining the integrity of the original brick, now exposed along the length of the living room wall, and the oversize garage door, off to the right. They stepped into the kitchen where cabinets lined the front wall of the house, and opposite that, a curved island looked out over the first floor.

  “E”—Bree sighed as she trailed a hand along the granite—“please say you cook here.”

  “You know I like to cook.” Erica slid her own palm over the cool stone, same as Bree. “This place makes me wish I knew enough people locally to entertain. I’d throw parties simply because of this room.”

  “You should totally throw parties.”

  If she ever did, they’d be quiet events, Erica thought. Not the neighborhood block parties that had been her ex-husband’s idea of a casual get-together.

  They moved into the dining area, which was laid out on the other side of the kitchen. The still-functioning garage door framed the front of the room, while a set of French doors outlined the back. The space wasn’t huge, but it was long. It held a narrow square-legged dining table that could easily seat eight, as well as two small bistro tables positioned farther back in the room, and when Erica tapped the door opener, as well as the light switch next to it, the space transformed from renovated fire hall into quaint little Italian villa.

  As the outside came in, she threw open the French doors. Small twinkle lights now dotted the interior walls and extended to the private courtyard outside, and with another flick of a switch, the main overheads went out, and romance saturated the air. All they needed was a roving violinist and a hot dinner date or two.

  “Ohmygod, E. Tell me you’ll live here forever.”

  Erica laughed at her sister. “I’ve only got it rented for the rest of the year.” Though her contract with the school was for only two months, it had been made clear that she’d be welcome to stay on as an as-needed substitute for any length of time she wished. With that in mind, she’d signed a longer lease just in case she found nothing else. She couldn’t very well hold no job whatsoever.

  “Then buy the place when your lease is up.” Bree continued to gawk in every direction. “And I’m not joking. Buy it for a vacation home if nothing else.”

  “I do love it.” And it was also for sale. The owner had shared that information when Erica had e-mailed back the signed rental agreement. And she’d shared it with Bree.

  But buy it?

  That was so not something she’d normally do. Even if she did have a small nest egg thanks to the settlement from her divorce.

  As her sister wandered through the courtyard, taking the time to circle one of the decades-old sequoia trees, Erica pointed out the almost-hidden path that led down to the lake and the little bench she enjoyed watching the sunsets from.

  “Go check it out,” Erica told her. “I’m going to run upstairs and change.”

  Bree passed a glance over Erica’s tweed pants and sleeveless blouse. “Please do. You’ve made me feel like I should raise my hand to speak to you ever since you picked me up.”

  Erica scowled. “What’s wrong wit
h it? I like to look nice when I go out.”

  “You like to look like an elementary school teacher.”

  “Well . . .” She peered down at herself. “That’s what I am.”

  “Yep.” Bree found the speakers hidden in the flowers, and ran a finger over the mesh front. “But it doesn’t mean you have to look the part twenty-four seven.”

  The words stung, but Erica shrugged them off. Bree’s style was more eclectic—bohemian chic one day, short-shorts and knee-high boots the next. And the girl had never come close to holding down a regular nine-to-five. So Erica got that she didn’t understand the need to maintain a look. But still . . .

  She glanced at her outfit once more as she hurried up to her bedroom. She looked nice, but she knew what Bree had been implying with her words. She looked boring.

  Which wasn’t a shocker.

  After hanging up the trousers and blouse she’d had on only long enough to run to the airport, she pulled out a pair of yoga pants and a black cami, then added the crop top she’d run across while shopping the weekend before. Though she’d bought the top to wear only while there by herself, she knew Bree would appreciate her ability to be a bit more than teacherly, even if only in her own home.

  Jogging back down the stairs, she closed the garage door and turned off the indoor twinkle lights, leaving only a couple of the pendant lights to burn. Then she uncorked a bottle of wine while she waited for Bree’s return. The path down to the lake was only one-fourth of a mile, but the view at the end was stunning. Erica had taken several sips of the Pinot Noir by the time her sister returned, and when Erica handed over the other glass, Bree let out a low wolf whistle.

  “Now that’s a cute top.”

  Erica twirled in place, showing off the keyhole back and the crocheted lace detail. “I saw this in a boutique here in town and just had to have it. They have a lot of cute things.” She turned back to Bree. “I’ll take you by there if you stay long enough.”

  Bree hadn’t committed to staying any length of time, as she so rarely did. Nor did she now. “Turn back around,” she said instead.

  Confused, Erica faced the other way.

  “That’s what I thought. Your shirt isn’t the only cute thing you’ve got going on. Your ass is on fire.”

  “Oh, good grief.” Erica frowned at her sister. “Grow up.”

  “Really. You keep that thing so tucked away, I had no idea. Put it on display a bit.”

  “There’s no need to put it on display.” Though she did know it was in tip-top shape. She glanced over her shoulder at the top curve of her rear and thought about the years of dancing she’d put in since childhood. She’d continued to take classes in college, and had even taught a kids’ dance class after school for a while. “And anyway, where would I display it?”

  “At this cookout we’re going to, for one.”

  She couldn’t very well waltz around in front of Gabe’s family showcasing her rear. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “It’s your call.” Bree topped off her wine and moved to the couch. “But I’m telling you, that outfit would be a far better choice for a cookout than Bermudas and a pullover.” She took a long swallow of her wine as her gaze strayed around the room. “And I’m also telling you that Mom and Dad are going to die when I tell them about this place. Maybe knowing you’re set up so well here will lessen their worries.”

  Erica lowered to the other end of the couch. “You’ve talked to them?”

  “About you?” Bree shook her head. “Not in so many words, but they are Mom and Dad. You know they’re worried as well as I do.”

  Erica nodded. “I hated the timing of everything.”

  And she was aware of their worry. Her mom had called the instant they’d returned from vacation, panicked at the idea of Erica walking away from her job. Before Erica could say much more than that she’d needed a change, her dad had come on the line to assure her that he’d just spoken with the superintendent and that she could have her job back. They hadn’t filled it yet. She’d made halfhearted excuses and gotten off the phone. And then she’d thrown herself across her bed and cried. She hated disappointing her parents.

  Unable to stomach the guilt, she’d avoided their calls since.

  “I’m going to go out on a very short limb here,” her sister said now, “and guess that you being here has something to do with your jackass of an ex still being back there. Though I can’t imagine what he could have possibly done at this point to make matters worse.”

  Erica took in the venom lacing Bree’s words. She’d never been one to beat around the bush, and Bree had never cared for JC at all.

  “I slept with him,” Erica suddenly blurted out. Then she cringed. “More than once.”

  She sucked in a gulp of air, as if she hadn’t been able to breathe without getting the words out, while Bree took her time taking another sip of her wine. She watched Erica as she swallowed the liquid, then casually leaned forward, reaching out to the trunk that served as a coffee table, and set down her glass.

  “I take it to mean that you slept with him recently?”

  Erica could no longer bring herself to look at her sister. Nor was she about to tell her that JC had texted her again just that morning—and that she’d almost texted him back. She’d gone so far as to type in three words before she’d deleted them. Granted, the words had been “Leave me alone,” but she knew from experience that giving JC any opening would merely present him with reason to believe there would be more.

  “I thought he wanted me back,” she whispered, embarrassed to her soul to admit that out loud. She still couldn’t believe what she’d fallen for. “That he still loved me.”

  “Oh, E.” There was love in the words, but what rang more clear was the disbelief. Bree slid over the cushions to the other end of the sofa and put an arm around Erica’s shoulders, and Erica let out a little hiccup of air.

  “Why can’t I get over him?” she breathed out. “I thought I was. I swear, Bree, I thought I’d moved on from that man. I’d been going out with other guys once in a while, I’d let what he’d done go. Yet . . .” A couple of phone calls and empty promises later, and she’d been right back where she’d never wanted to be. She looked at her baby sister as if someone twelve years younger than her could possibly hold the answers. “What is wrong with me?”

  “Are you kidding me? Nothing is wrong with you.”

  Erica wrapped both hands around the bowl of her glass as she huddled against her sister, and spoke to herself as much as to Bree. “I think the problem is that I don’t get it. That I never got it. I have no clue what happened to us.”

  “He’s an ass, is what happened to you. He cheated on you.”

  “I know that, but”—she eyed her sister—“our marriage was good for nine years.”

  “Seriously?” Bree’s eyes bugged out. “How good could it have possibly been? He slept with another woman.”

  Erica dropped her head to her sister’s shoulder. Bree was too young. She didn’t get it. She had yet to have the kind of relationship that could frame her entire life. Erica and JC’s marriage had honestly been good.

  Hadn’t it?

  Sure, she didn’t have the type of polish and glamour he preferred in most things. She was more simple, where his clothes and cars had pizazz. But if that had never been an issue before, why had it suddenly become one?

  They’d had something better, anyway. They’d been friends first.

  They’d been friends for years.

  There had been ups and downs, of course. Just like any other couple. They’d never had kids, and some people had thought that weird, but it had worked for them. And anyway, who was to say they never would have had kids? The timing just hadn’t been right yet. But she and JC couldn’t have been more similar. Their families had known each other for years, both having long histories in town, and she and JC had even ended up teaching at the same school. They couldn’t have been more perfect for each other.

  Yet in that moment, as she p
ictured her ex-husband standing beside Lindsey in a crowd full of their friends—a woman who did have that shine and polish he sought in every other aspect of his life—Erica couldn’t help but wonder if she had always been blind. Had she and JC not been on the same page throughout their marriage?

  Or had he just gotten tired of her?

  Even with the concession that things possibly hadn’t been as good as she’d thought, Erica wasn’t quite finished feeling sorry for herself. This was her pity party, and no way was she letting go of it so easily. She swallowed a huge gulp of wine and spoke with a pout. “We were supposed to be forever.”

  “I know you were.” Bree patted her arm in a fashion they’d both experienced from their mother. “But wanting something really badly doesn’t always make it happen, right? Aren’t you the one who always tells me that?”

  “Yet it’s funny how you seem to get whatever you want,” Erica mumbled.

  Bree pulled back then, her eyes suddenly carrying the weight of more years than she owned. “And is marriage to JC what you want?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is? Sleeping with him whenever he calls?”

  “No!” Erica sat up straighter. “Of course not. He cheated on me. He humiliated me.”

  “Then I don’t get it, E. Why in the world are you still hung up on that piece of shit?”

  Bree’s words seemed to echo off the walls, and Erica sat transfixed. The only thing about her that moved was the blood pounding through her veins, and as if fired out of a starting gate, red-hot anger suddenly burst to life along with it. She’d been divorced for almost two years, yet she sat here practically curled into the fetal position for a man who’d done nothing but prove he didn’t want her.

  “I don’t know,” she gritted out in reply. “But I want it to stop.”

  “Then make it stop.”

  “But how?”

  Both of them stared at each other, each breathing hard as if they’d been in the throes of an argument, and Erica felt herself begin to break. She tried to stop it, but there was no holding it back. Her hands shook. A roar built in her ears.