Almost A Bride (Montana Born Brides) (6 page)

Five days later, Reid shouldered the ladder and began the walk back to the house. They’d have to start netting soon, the fruit being at a point where birds would soon be interested in trying their luck, but the apple scab his father had been worried about appeared to have finally been vanquished. For now. The battle with Mother Nature was never truly over, and no side ever really won or lost. Growing up on the orchard had taught him that.

“
Reid.”

He looked up to see his mother making her way toward him, his phone in her hand

“Hey. I was just coming in now,” he said.

This was his first day off all week, and he
’d spent the bulk of it in the orchard, taking care of all the little jobs his father wasn’t quite up to tackling.

“
Your phone made a noise. I knew you’ve been expecting something, so... “ His mother passed the phone over.

Reid set down the ladder.
“It’s probably just one of the guys.”

But when he opened the email,
the first thing he saw was the Klieg Security Group logo.

“
Well?” his mother asked.

“
It’s from Klieg.”

“
And?”

He scanned the email.
“I’ve been shortlisted. They want me to go back for another interview.”

“
I knew it. Congratulations.” His mother rested her hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to give him a kiss.

She was smiling, but her eyes were sad as she released him.

“Did they say when they might want you to start?”

“
I think all of that’s up for grabs,” he said. “If I get the job.”

“
They’d be crazy not to take you.”

He slipped the phone into his pocket and hefted the ladder. They both began walking. His mother was uncharacteristically silent, and when he glanced across at her she looked pensive.

“Might as well spit it out, Mom,” he said.

Because she clearly wanted to talk about something.
His dad, probably. Although why she thought Reid’s nagging would have any more affect than hers he didn’t know.

“
All right, smarty pants.” She ran her hand over the top of her head, smoothing her dark, shoulder-length hair. “Hank Dearborn called me yesterday. He wanted to talk to me about buying out the orchard.”

Reid frowned. The Dearborn family had a smaller orchard a little further out of town, and last year they
’d started bottling their own cider and marketing it locally.

“
I thought Dad rejected an offer from them a few years ago?”

“
He did. But things are different now, and I wanted to talk to you before I spoke to your father.”

Reid stopped and let the ladder rest on the ground. This wasn
’t the kind of conversation you had on the run.

“
He’s going to say the same thing he said last time—no,” Reid said.

“
He might. Or he might see things the way I do. Neither of us is getting any younger, and since you’re not interested in taking on this place, we need to think about the future. If we sell now, we won’t have the pressure of it hanging over our heads. Your father can relax a little.”

“
Dad doesn’t want to relax.”

“
Well, he needs to,” his mother said, her tone a little sharp.

“
Mom, what’s he going to do? Sit around and read the paper all day? He’s sixty-three.”

“
And he’s got more metal in his leg and pelvis than that damned ladder you’re holding. The fact is, we have to make this decision sometime, Reid, and it’s never going to be easy.”

Reid glanced up at the Macintosh apple tree spreading its branches over her head. His grandfather had planted it in 1954, along with the Granny Smiths. The Early
Golds had come later, and the Cortlands were his father’s additions. When he was ten, he’d planted a row of trees, too, and every time he was home he made a point of checking on them.

“
We don’t expect you to give up your dreams to live ours,” his mother said. “But we can’t hang onto this place just because it holds sentimental value for you. It’s not a pocket watch, it’s a dirty, great big orchard.”

It was true, his parents had never so much as hinted that they were disappointed he hadn
’t followed the family tradition and studied law. He’d made it clear from his early teens that he wanted to travel, and they had encouraged him to do so and always been interested in what work he was doing and the places he’d seen. But he didn’t believe for a second that they didn’t care about the orchard, or that they wouldn’t feel it if they had to let it go. Hell, he’d feel it, and he’d always resented the place.

The work he
’d had to do before and after school. The fact that there was always something that needed to be done, and that the growth cycle of the orchard dictated so many aspects of their lives.

“
I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“
I want to know that you’re not going to regret it if we sell,” his mother said, her gaze very direct.

“
I don’t have a simple answer to that question,” he said.

Because the truth was, he hadn
’t hated helping out this past year. In fact, a lot of the time he’d enjoyed it, working in the outdoors alongside his father. As a teenager, life had been elsewhere. As an adult, he appreciated the fresh air and sunshine, the simple straight forwardness of the work.

“
I appreciate that, but I told Hank I’d get back to him soon, so we all need to think about this.”

“
Only because he’s made an offer. In real terms, there’s no reason why you couldn’t hire people in to do some of the work once Dad doesn’t feel up to it anymore,” Reid said.

“
We could, but it would just be putting off the inevitable.”

She was right, but it didn
’t stop him from feeling a twinge of angry resentment that she was forcing him—them—to this decision point now, when it wasn’t strictly necessary.

They walked in silence the rest of the way back to the house.

“Are you joining us for dinner?” his Mom asked when they reached the point where he needed to peel off toward the barn.

“
Thanks, but I’ve got something to do,” he said.

She caught his arm as he turned away.
“I know you don’t want to face this, Reid, but it’s not something we can all just ignore. I’m not asking you to make the decision for us, but I am asking you to make it with us.”

Reid stared after her as she headed into the main house. One thing about his
mom, she had always been great at nailing a person to the wall. She always called a spade a spade, and never bullshitted when the truth would do.

Tara was like that, too. Straight up and honest, even if it was sometimes to her own detriment.

Reid dumped the ladder against the barn wall, aware that his thoughts had once again drifted to Tara. She’d been in and out his head all week, even though he hadn’t heard from her since she finished her shift on Sunday. Sergeant Crawford had given her two weeks off, and he’d been doing single-car patrols in her absence.

He
’d missed her, though. She always had something to say, and usually it was funny or interesting or both. He missed her light touch, too. No one was better at defusing a tense situation; there was something about Tara’s calm common sense that kept people grounded, himself included.

Most of all he missed the sense of having her nearby, and knowing that he had only to turn his head and she
’d be there, ready with a pithy comment or a laugh or a smile.

Better get used to that. If you get that Klieg job, you
’ll see her once or twice a year, if that.

And when he did see her, she
’d probably be with some new guy, because it wouldn’t take long for some smart bastard to snap her up. She was gorgeous, she was hot, she was funny and smart.

Pretty much the perfect woman.

Jesus. Can you hear yourself? Next thing you know you’ll be writing bad poetry and singing beneath her bedroom window.

His
dad had left the toolbox near the apple press, and he hefted it back to the workbench where it belonged, dusting his hands on the seat of his jeans when he was done.

It was fruitless to spend too much time brooding over Tara. He
’d made that decision long ago. It wasn’t just that she’d been in a relationship with Simon the entire time he’d known her—although that was definitely a contributing factor. Tara was a Marietta girl, through and through. She loved the town, the people, the weather. She was content here, saw her future here. More importantly, her family were here, too, and they meant the world to her.

Whereas he
’d had itchy feet ever since he’d opened his first atlas and understood how big the world was.

Even if she hadn
’t been with Simon, that fundamental difference in their outlooks would have stopped him from making a move. He hadn’t spent more than eighteen months in one spot since he’d left Marietta when he was twenty-four, and he was on the verge of moving on yet again. He might be powerfully attracted to Tara, but he liked her a hell of a lot, too, and the last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt her. She was a dream. A sweet, hot dream, but a dream nonetheless, and he needed to stop thinking about her.

Determined to put words into action, he headed up to the apartment and changed into his running gear. An hour later, he was sweaty and exhausted and more than a little hungry.
He showered, then heated up the leftover spaghetti and meatballs he’d made last night, sitting in front of the TV to eat. The baseball game was on, and he cracked open a beer and settled in for a lazy evening.

The Cardinals were starting their second inning when his phone rang. He didn
’t recognize the number but took the call anyway.

“
Dalton speaking.”

“
Reid. Thank God. I wasn’t sure if this number was current or not. It’s Scarlett calling, Tara’s sister.”

He leaned forward and set his beer on the coffee table.
“Scarlett. What’s up?”

“
Straight to the point, just like Tara.” Her laugh was a little nervous.

“
I figured that you wouldn’t go to the trouble of tracking down my number and calling for nothing.”

“
True. The thing is, I can’t find Tara. I’ve tried her place, I’ve tried her phone. I wondered whether maybe she was with you...?”

“
No.”

She sighed.
“Okay. Then I guess my next question is if there is some way you can put an alert out without it being a big deal? In case I’m just being a nervous nelly and freaking out over nothing.”

“
Her phone battery is probably just dead. Or she could be out with friends, or seeing a movie.”

“
You think I’m over-reacting, and normally I would totally agree with you. But she only picked up the motorbike the day before yesterday, and even though I know she’s probably being super safe and careful, I can’t help worrying.”

He blinked.
“Tara bought a motorbike?”

“
On Wednesday. I wanted her to go for the blue one but she had to have red. It’s a Suzuki Boulevard something or other. I keep forgetting the model number. “

He was still stuck on the part where Tara handed over cold hard cash for a two-wheeled suicide machine. Between the two of them, they had attended enough road accidents to know how dangerous motorbikes were.

“Why in hell would she buy a bike?” he asked.

“
It’s a long story.”

“
Give me the short version.”

“
She’s living a little. Catching up on things she let slide by.”

There was a cautious note beneath Scarlett
’s voice, and Reid guessed he was only getting part of the story.

“
So, is there something you can do? Someone you can call in the sheriff’s department, maybe, who could just keep an eye out or let you know if there have been any accidents...?” Scarlett asked.

“
Let me make a few calls, I’ll get back to you.”

He swore when he ended the call. What in the hell was Tara thinking? He dialed the sheriff
’s office, his mind full of horror images from accident sites. He had a quick word with Harrison Pearce, who was happy to inform him that there had been no road accidents involving motorbikes in the area. Then he called Scarlett back, determined to get more information this time.

“
No accidents,” he said when Scarlett took the call.

“
Oh, thank God. Thank you so much for checking.”

“
When was the last time you spoke to her?”