Montana Darling (Big Sky Mavericks Book 3) (17 page)

Mia pulled into
the driveway between the garage and the main house, which had been converted to Jenkins’s Fish and Game and Bedazzled Bling. Her windshield wipers whacked back and forth relentlessly, barely clearing enough space for her to read the sign suspended under the front overhang.

“I’ll be right back,” Ryker said, jumping out.

A gust of cold air chased in before he could get the door closed.

She shifted in the heated seat to look over her shoulder. The rear hatch opened and, after a brief tussle, he pulled his bike from the SUV’s back area. The rivulets of rain on the driver’s side window and fog from her warm breath made it impossible to watch as he stowed his bike in the garage.

She’d just leaned forward to turn up the fan when he rapped on her window.

She opened the door a crack, her doubts returning. Was the weather a sign she’d made the wrong choice? “Your umbrella, ma’am.”

The gesture made her heart melt a little. “You’re a gentleman.”

“Be sure to tell your dad. I think he had his doubts about me.”

His tone made her kick her hesitation to the curb. The weather in Montana was always changeable. This squall had nothing to do with her desire to explore the attraction she felt toward this man. And she wasn’t daddy’s little girl trying to be perfect. She’d wasted too damn much of her life on that futile goal.

She opened the door and got out after stuffing her purse under her jacket. He put his arm around her shoulders, holding the umbrella at an angle to keep the wind from blowing the rain sideways. “Dad’s cautious. Mom’s more adventurous. She talked him into buying the travel trailer. They visited friends in Arizona one winter and she decided she was ready to become a Montana snowbird. Dad resisted for another year, but, eventually, she wore him down. Now, he can’t wait to get down south.”

They waddled quite gracelessly through the wet yard to the patio, which provided enough protection for Ryker to shake out the umbrella and stash it in a dry corner. He pulled a key from his pocket. “Side door,” he said, drawing her with him. “The slider is very sticky.”

Mia had been to Bailey’s workshop several times, but never at night. They kicked off their shoes and boots on a wide woven mat. “My socks are wet.”

“Mine, too. We can dry them on the register in my room.”

His hand was warm and comforting. “Want some tea or cocoa? Won’t be as good as Sage Carrigan’s.”

She squeezed his fingers. “Nothing right now.”

Was that signal clear enough? She wanted something that had nothing to do with food. She wanted him, God help her. She even brought along a couple of the condoms she bought in Bozeman the last time she was there. Not because for fear of pregnancy but because she hadn’t taken him up on his offer of a doctor’s report.

Her lack of female plumbing was another reason why this fling with Ryker could never go any further than a little temporary fun. He wasn’t even thirty. He’d want children at some point. He deserved a family of his own. She wasn’t the right woman for him…long-term, but for tonight? She wasn’t a sex fiend, but she felt fairly confident they’d both enjoy what was about to happen.

“What’s it like living in a jewelry store?” she asked as they passed the new showroom.

He shrugged. “Ask me in a week. When I was doing school pictures, I left in the morning before the ladies got here and they were gone by the time I got back.” He paused, his smile a bit mischievous. “But they’re really nice. They think I’m too thin so they leave plates of goodies for me. One of the ladies—I don’t know which—makes the best brownies on the planet. Do you want one?”

She did. “I cut sugar out of my diet because somebody told me or I read somewhere that sugar feeds cancer cells.”

He pulled her close. “But you got rid of the cancer cells.”

“I did, didn’t I?” What was her excuse for cutting pleasure from her diet? As a punishment for getting sick in the first place? “Okay. Give me a brownie.”

His smile triggered something silly, bright and magical inside her. She applauded when he danced like some crazy hipster down the hallway to the kitchen. He was a young Tom Cruise in white socks and blue jeans, with a mop of curls and laughing eyes.

He returned a second later in serious waiter mode—a yellow plate resting on his uplifted hand. “Madam,” he said with a phony French accent. “If you weel follow me. Your table…or should I say…bed…is waiting.”

Bed. The b-word.
God, I’m really going to do this, aren’t I?

His bow was her answer. Tonight was about having fun.

Exactly what he made her want to feel again. Ryker Bensen was the right man to remind her she was still alive.

She walked to the open door at the end of the hallway. The house was quiet, despite the storm raging outside. He reached in to flick on the light. A bedside lamp cast a warm yellowish glow across a queen-size bed. A hand-stitched patchwork quilt in dark blues and yellow gave the place a pleasant, welcoming vibe.

“It’s nice.”

“Good word. I agree.”

He ushered her in. Not forcefully, but with a steady, reassuring hand at the base of her spine. She knew he would have stepped back instantly if she’d changed her mind. That knowledge made her march into the room and sit on the bed. She bounced a couple of times as if testing the firmness of the mattress before buying it.

Ryker went to the upholstered chair situated between the window and the bed and sat. He hunched forward, fingers woven together. His body language told her he wanted to talk.

Damn.

“Mia, I’m glad you’re here. Delighted, actually.” His smile was reassuring, until he added, “But I think we should clear the air before we go any further.”

“Because of our legal issues?”

“No. That’s…stuff. It’ll get resolved—one way or the other. I’m confident we can work out something fair. I meant…correct me if I’m wrong, but this is the first time you’ve been with another man since your life hit the fan…so to speak, isn’t it?”

She wanted to be put out by the question, but, strangely, she wasn’t. “Am I an open book to you? Nobody’s ever said that about me before.”

“No. You’re a sweetheart. A goddess. An enigma. All of the above. But for some reason, I feel you.”

She leaned back on her elbows, a grin slowly forming on her lips. “You
feel
me? Is that some kind of woo-woo California-speak? I thought you were from the east coast. And France.”

He was out of the chair before she could blink. His body hovered above hers. Not touching, but close enough to feel his heat, his substance, his heartbeat. She smelled the scent of him—wet hair, cold air, pizza and wine on his breath. And she knew what he was waiting for her to say.

She let her head fall to the mattress as she stared into his eyes. “I feel you, too.”

Then he lowered his head. His lips lightly, tenderly brushed hers as he whispered, “I know.”

*

“Will Mia be
back tonight?”

Emilee’s question exactly. Her only excuse for eavesdropping on her grandparents nested together on the family room sofa.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t if I were her.”

The blunt words weren’t nearly as shocking as her grandmother’s throaty laugh. It reminded Emilee of the older girls in school. The ones who dated…a lot. Emilee knew perfectly well what they did on those dates. Apparently the same thing her mother was doing with Ryker. The guy wasn’t bad looking…for someone old. And he’d been pretty cool when he took her picture, but still….

She closed her eyes and shuddered. Her mother. Her broken, damaged mother who wouldn’t even let Emilee see her naked.

No. Mom wouldn’t do the evil deed with a stranger. She just wouldn’t.

“She’ll be back,” Emilee said, revealing herself.

Her grandparents didn’t look surprised or put out that she’d been listening. Grandma even patted the sofa and motioned for Emilee to join them.

“Why do you say that? Your mom’s an adult, and now that she’s healed—healing,” she corrected, a concerned look wrinkling her forehead, “…it’s only natural to want to start dating again.”

Emilee forced herself not to roll her eyes. “This isn’t exactly a date, Grandma.”

Her grandparents exchanged a look. Emilee could tell they were trying not to smile.

Grandpa reached across Grandma to pat Emilee’s arm. “Good point, sweets. But your mother has always lived life on her own terms.”

Emilee knew that wasn’t true. “Except when she got pregnant with me. Then, she’d just graduated and was offered a great job when Hunter came along. We both screwed up her plans and, now, she’s stuck with us full-time. Or will be when you leave.”

Grandma’s eyes filled with tears. She immediately pulled Emilee into a hug. “Screwed up? Oh, for heaven’s sake, my doll. You and your brother are the best things that ever happened to your mother. We all would time things differently if we ran the world, but we don’t—and that’s a good thing.”

Grandpa chimed in. “That’s right. Your grandma wasn’t ready for twins when they came, either. And, boy, were they a lot of work. Three babies in diapers.”

“And that was before disposable diapers became popular,” Grandma added.

“But we loved every crazy minute of being their parents. And your mother would tell you the same thing, if you asked.”

Emilee didn’t know if she believed them, but she was tired and the storm made her uneasy. As silly as it sounded, she wanted her mommy and daddy to check on her and tell her everything was going to be okay. But she was too old to ask…

Grandma started to get up. “Come on, Grandpa. Storm’s a blowin’. We need to tuck in our grandbabies before they outgrow us.”

Emilee wanted to protest, but she didn’t.

‡

L
ust trumps fear,
Mia decided a few minutes into their make-out session.

She and Ryker were still on top of the covers, fully dressed. She’d unbuttoned his shirt, which felt oddly empowering. His chest was a work of art.

“I still say you have a cross on your chest.”

She ran her hand across his firmly sculpted pectorals, her palm brushing against his tiny brown nipples as her fingers played with the wiry curls, which truly did form a cross.

He rolled her to her back and started kissing her neck and the underside of her chin. “It’s divine intervention. Are you ready to visit heaven?”

Her laugh sounded rusty…or maybe the turbulent emotions bouncing around inside her made every bit of this moment more poignant. Her first time. Or, so it felt.

“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

He licked the dip at the base of her neck where her clavicle bones met her sternum. The sensation set off an electric charge through her body. Even her fake boobs tingled. She didn’t think that was possible, but she felt every bit as turned on as she had when her boobs were real.

His hand traveled up her rib cage, hugging the underside of her curves. He didn’t cup her breast, but to Mia’s surprise, she wanted him to.

“They won’t break,” she said, placing his hand atop her right breast. “Well, they might…if I were in a wreck or something, but they’re safe to fondle if you want.”

His low chuckle warmed her from the inside out, like melted chocolate coursing through her veins. Suddenly, she was starved. Ravenous. She needed the kind of sustenance that came from hot sex. She sat up and pulled off her black stretchy top. “The bra stays,” she said, giving the royal purple sports bra a tug. “But everything else is free game.”

He stared at her chest a moment. To the casual observer, her boobs probably looked real. They weren’t. They were saline-filled plastic bags.
Not plastic
, her conscience corrected. That made them sound like something you picked up at the grocery story. But in Mia’s mind her breasts proved just how badly she’d caved to ego and peer pressure.

“Everything?” Ryker repeated in a deliciously Machiavellian tone. “Then let me start with this arm.”

He held her arm at an angle to her body and kissed the soft inside flesh. “Your muscles turn me on. Have since the day we met and you looked ready to kick box me straight out of this state.”