The Montana Cowboy's Heart

by Kaylie Newell

  “Please!”

  She heard some cupboards closing, some glasses clinking together, and then he appeared, looking too big for the small space of the living room.

  “Here you go,” he said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Am I going to fall in love?” The words were out and hanging in the air before she realized what she’d said. Nice, Justine.

  Settling in the chair across from her, he smiled at that. He’d hung his hat up when they’d come in, and his dark, silky hair had a ring around it that she kept wanting to run her hands through.

  Instead, she wrapped them around the warm, chipped mug and stared down at the caramel-colored liquid, just so her eyes wouldn’t betray her.

  “It smells delicious,” she said.

  “Tastes pretty good, too.”

  “So, what’s your secret?”

  He leaned back, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His denim shirt gaped open at the throat, and she could see a few dark chest hairs peeking out. She shifted in her seat, suddenly warmer than she’d been a minute ago.

  “Truthfully?” he asked.

  “Truthfully.”

  “It’s just Folgers. But I had to talk it up to get you to agree to a coffee date.”

  She laughed. “Well, I hate to disappoint you then, because you didn’t have to talk it up. I love coffee. Any coffee.”

  “Good to know.”

  She took a sip, and the smoky flavor unfurled over her tongue. Something about the hot drink, the fire, the man—it was all doing something to her. Butterflies tickled her rib cage, and they brought with them a combination of lust and nerves that she hadn’t experienced since her high school prom.

  “So, is that what this is?” she asked. “A coffee date?”

  “Is that what you want it to be?”

  There was a sexy insinuation there that made her heart beat a little faster.

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “What that means.”

  He shrugged, looking maddeningly casual about the whole thing.

  “You know I’m leaving,” she continued evenly. It was blunt, and there was the chance he wasn’t that interested anyway, but it needed to be said. As cute as he was, she had to snap out of this. She didn’t have time to fall for someone right now. She had Cat to take care of. She had a job waiting overseas.

  “I know,” he said. “But not for a few months. Plenty of time to have some fun before then.”

  And there it is…

  Justine had never been the type to just “have fun.” When her father left her mother, all that carefree thinking flew right out the window. There were consequences to flings, even seemingly meaningless ones. Hearts got broken, shattered even. No, she wasn’t the type to have fun, at least not the kind he was talking about. She could almost see Jemma rolling her eyes. Don’t be such a stick in the mud!

  She smiled into her coffee cup and took a sip. Then lowered it into her lap. “You don’t know me very well.”

  “Isn’t that the point? To get to know you?”

  “But not like that.”

  “Like what?”

  What was she supposed to say? I know you might want to sleep with me, but I’m too much of a prude for that.

  “I’ll just be honest…”

  He watched her, his gaze sexy and knowing, and basically boring a hole right through her.

  “I’m pretty focused on Cat right now,” she continued, hating how that sounded. Just like a prude. “And my career.”

  His wide, expressive mouth tilted into a half smile. “I might not know you well, but I know your type.”

  She raised her brows.

  “You don’t want to get burned, and I get that. I’ve been there. In fact, I’m pretty comfortable saying I don’t trust many people. Not with relationships, at least.”

  He’d seen right through her. Difficult? Maybe not. But he’d called her on her crap, and that was a little refreshing.

  “You don’t pull any punches, do you?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to get burned.”

  “Well, you have history. Your dad left.”

  She nodded.

  “That would make anyone wary.” He pointed to his chest. “Exhibit A.”

  Justine knew she shouldn’t press about his personal life; she could hit a nerve. But at the same time, there was a bond between them that she couldn’t deny. He understood the pain of a parent’s abandonment. Only she’d mended her relationship with her dad. As far as she knew, Porter hadn’t seen his mom in years.

  “How long has it been since you’ve talked to her?” she asked, testing the waters.

  “Since junior high.”

  She ran her hands down her thighs. She could still smell Bailey’s musky horse scent on her jeans.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m just curious.”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  Licking her lips, she tasted the coffee there. The sweetness and the cream. “Do you ever think about finding her?”

  His eyes narrowed a little. The fire continued crackling beside them, the dog twitching, maybe chasing something in his dreams.

  “I’ve thought about it,” he finally said. “But not for a long time. Why?”

  “I talked to Nola the other day. And told her Cat’s dad is going to be in town for the livestock auction.”

  “Ahh. I was wondering how that would go. What did she say?”

  “That we should tell him. That he’s getting old enough to decide for himself how he wants to move forward with his dad. If he wants to move forward at all.”

  Porter shook his head. “I hate to tell you, but I have a feeling he’ll want to. He seems awfully invested in this.”

  He was right. She knew he was. Cat got a look in his eyes sometimes. A stubborn determination—a willfulness she wasn’t used to seeing in someone so young.

  “You know,” Porter continued, “I told you I haven’t thought about finding my mom in a long time. And that was true. Before I met you and Cat…”

  Justine waited for him to go on. It seemed like he was looking for the right words. Or maybe the courage to say them out loud.

  “The whole truth,” he said, “is that I’ve been wondering where she is. What she’s doing. I think about asking her why she left. Really. None of that, you’re better off without me, crap. But why she left her kids, and how she was able to stay away our entire lives.”

  At that moment, with the light of the fire flickering across his face, he looked more like a teenager than a grown man who’d just made her coffee. His gaze settled somewhere over her shoulder as he retreated into his own thoughts. Maybe into his childhood memories, a place she knew haunted him.

  Before she could think better of it, she reached out and put a hand on his knee.

  “For what it’s worth,” she said, “I think she was crazy to leave you.”

  He gave her a slow smile. Long, deep dimples cut into both scruffy cheeks. She really didn’t think she’d seen a more handsome man in her life.

  “You think so?” he asked.

  “I know so.”

  “Maybe I’ll look her up, then. Maybe it’s time to put some of those ghosts to rest.”

  She realized her hand was still on his knee. Clearing her throat, she put it back in her lap.

  His smile faded, his eyes looking darker and more serious than they’d been a minute before.

  “Just so you know,” he said, “when I said there was plenty of time to have fun before you left, I didn’t mean sleeping together without any strings attached.”

  Her entire body hummed at the words. Sleeping together…

  “Oh…I didn’t…”

  “I don’t make a habit out of making mistakes, either,” he continued. “And pursuing someone I could actually fall for would be a hell of a mistake. At least in my book.”

  She nodded slowly. “You don’t want to settle down?”
/>
  “If settling down means trusting someone with my future? Then, no. I don’t want to settle down.”

  “You don’t think it might be different for you? Different than it was for our parents?” It was a thought, or maybe even a wish, that she’d barely entertained over the years. But it had always been there, deep down. The hope that someday, she could have a marriage that worked. A relationship built on love and trust, and a mutual respect for one another that lasted throughout the years. A pipe dream, maybe. But it was what it was.

  He leaned back, and it was as if he took his body heat with him. The fire still crackled merrily, but she was colder without him close.

  “I used to think it could be different.” He shrugged. “But you know. I’ve had a few bad relationships, people passing through my life that just reaffirmed what I’ve always believed. That maybe I’m not meant for that kind of thing.”

  She smiled. He sounded just like her. Two peas in a pod.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that we’re more alike than I thought.”

  “A match made in hell.”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily put it that way…”

  Clifford stirred at their feet. After a few seconds, he got up and stretched.

  “I should go check on Cat,” Porter said, looking at his watch. “Make sure he’s not in that bull’s pen by now.”

  “He’s obsessed.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  Justine set her coffee cup down as Clifford rested his chin on her knee. She stroked his black and white head, his silky fur sliding underneath her fingertips. She hadn’t had a pet in years—not since she was a kid. She missed the quiet, soulful relationship that came with having a dog.

  Her heartbeat slowed with every stroke of Clifford’s head. Calming her. Bringing things into focus. Suddenly, she made up her mind—she’d tell Cat today. She’d take him to the Main Street Diner, his favorite place for french fries, and she’d tell him about his dad.

  And then she’d deal with the fallout.

  Whatever that might be.

  Chapter Eight

  Cat sat at the old-fashioned soda counter with his feet dangling from the stool. He was too small for them to reach the bar at the bottom, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just let his boots swing, sipping on his vanilla milkshake and mowing through his fries. Justine watched him. For such a little guy, he could sure put it away.

  He swiveled toward her now, licking his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want another one?”

  She took a warm, golden fry and popped it into her mouth. So. Good. She wiped her hands on her napkin and took a deep breath.

  “Cat,” she said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  His expression fell. “Is it about my grandma? Is she okay?”

  “Yes, honey. She’s doing great, actually. I just talked to her the other day.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “She misses you. But she’s happy you’re having fun at the ranch. She said she’s going to FaceTime you this weekend.”

  He grinned. So many freckles. So many emotions in those bright blue eyes.

  Things had been going so well these last few weeks, that she hated to introduce this wild card into the mix. But he needed to know. And she needed to be the one to tell him.

  “You know about the big livestock auction that Marietta has every year?” she asked. “A lot of people come to town for it. People looking for animals to buy, horses and cattle at a good price.”

  At that, Cat perked up. He leaned forward and banged his boots against the counter. They made a hollow thud, and a man sitting a few stools down, looked over.

  “Oh yeah. I’ve heard about that,” Cat said. “I asked Porter if he could take me.”

  “You did?”

  “He said maybe. That he might be busy that weekend, but he’ll see.”

  A distinctive warmth unfurled inside Justine’s chest. He’d been protecting Cat, she knew that. Waiting to see if she’d end up telling him about his dad. Being his guardian felt lonely sometimes, especially when she wondered if she was doing or saying the right thing. But knowing that Porter was in sync with her on this, even in some small way, was comforting.

  “Why?” Cat asked. “Did he ask if I could go? Is he going to get a new horse or something?”

  His eyes were sparkling now. Diamond in the Rough had woken something up inside him. Deep down, he was a cowboy in the making.

  “Here’s the thing, honey. Porter knows a lot of people who rodeo…”

  Cat stared at her. And the look on his face broke her heart in two. The hope there. The vulnerability.

  She took a breath and plowed ahead. “And he’s heard your dad might be planning on coming to Marietta for the auction. Right before Thanksgiving.”

  Cat sat completely still, letting his gaze fall to the Formica countertop. The sound of the diner buzzed around them—utensils clinking together, the low hum of people talking, the occasional burst of laughter, the door opening with the ding of a bell…

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  He looked up at her.

  “What’s going on in there?”

  Shrugging, he reached for his milkshake. Finally, he gave her a small smile. “Does this mean I’ll get to see him?”

  “It means you can try. But sweetheart, I’m not sure how that’ll go. He’s not expecting it, and he’s been kind of off the grid for a while now…”

  A woman with “Flo” printed on her nametag stopped and tapped Cat’s milkshake with a red fingernail. “That’s looking low. You folks let me know if you need a refill.”

  “Thanks so much,” Justine said.

  She sauntered away, tucking a pen behind her ear.

  Cat watched her go, then turned back to Justine again. “Does my grandma know?”

  “She does. She’s worried about you, but she also thinks you’re old enough to make your own decisions about your dad.”

  “He’s been gone a while.”

  “Yes, he has.”

  “But maybe he’s ready now. To be a dad.”

  She stayed quiet at that, her heart breaking a little more by the minute. She hoped, for his sake, that Calvin Roberson would be ready at some point soon. Because he was missing out on the most incredible boy.

  “I know you’re worried, too,” he said. “And I promise it’ll be okay. I can handle it.”

  He was trying so hard to be strong, to be grown-up. She reached out and squeezed his hand. His fingers were cold from holding onto the milkshake. Like ice.

  “I want to see him,” Cat continued. “I want to go to the auction. At least then I’ll know…”

  He let the words trail off, but she knew what he meant. At least I’ll know if he cares, if I mean anything to him at all… It was a familiar question. One that she herself had chosen to leave unanswered for a long time, only to have it eat away at her heart over the years. She didn’t want that to happen to Cat.

  “Okay, then,” she said. “If you want to go, we’ll make it happen.”

  “Thanks, Justine.”

  She had no clue if this was a good idea or not. Maybe they were making a huge mistake. But it was done, and the only thing now was to lean into it. Hope that it would work out the way it was supposed to.

  “I think maybe Porter wants to find his mom, too,” Cat said, swirling his straw around. “Wouldn’t it be great if he found his mom, and I found my dad?”

  Justine’s phone rang from her purse before she could reply to that. Digging it out, she saw Porter’s name on the screen. His ears must’ve been burning.

  “Hello?”

  She looked over at Cat, who was looking back curiously.

  “Abby’s in labor,” Porter said through the crackly line. She could tell he was outside—the wind blowing into the receiver. “How would you and Cat like to see a baby horse being born?”

  *

  Abby turned in a circle in the knee-deep straw, her dark brown coat sh
ining underneath the soft yellow lighting. It was getting dark outside. The sky was grainy, and the temperature had dropped, but the old barn was still warm and cozy. It wouldn’t be for long, though. A storm front was moving in, and some early snow was in the forecast. Porter was glad the little horse had gone into labor when she did. He wanted the foal here safely before any other excitement came their way.

  Stepping out of her stall now, he latched the gate behind him.

  Cat stood on an old stool and peered inside. Justine stood beside him, a worried expression on her face. Apparently, this was her first time witnessing a live birth, and she kept chewing on her lip. He wasn’t going to lie—that part had him inconveniently distracted.

  “So, she just does it on her own?” Cat asked, looking over at him from underneath his knit cap. “You don’t help?”

  “I’ll help if I need to,” he said. “Right now, I want to give her some space. When we see the legs, I’ll call Brooks. But you’ll be surprised. Animals don’t usually need as much help as we like to think.”

  “Poor thing,” Justine said. “Too bad she can’t have an epidural.”

  Porter glanced over at Abby. She did look uncomfortable as hell, but everything seemed normal so far, and was moving along at the right speed.

  The horse lowered her head and sniffed the hay, looking like she was about to drop to her knees, then decided against it and turned in a circle again.

  “What happens if she doesn’t take to the baby?” Cat asked, his voice so low, Porter barely heard him.

  “What do you mean? What happens if she were to reject it?”

  Cat nodded, resting his chin on his hands.

  It was obvious where that question had come from, and Porter frowned, wanting to give the kid a hug. Despite his big speech about animals knowing how to do this motherhood thing, sometimes nature didn’t cooperate. Sometimes a baby was rejected, and its life started out in a very precarious spot. Those babies were sometimes raised by humans, sometimes raised by a surrogate, or by another species altogether. Cat had no doubt seen the Dodo videos of kittens being nursed by a dog, or baby squirrels being nurtured by a cat. It was interesting. The mothering instinct could be so strong, that it literally defied logic. Or it could be nonexistent. Which also defied logic. Nature was a strange business.