Montana Midwife (17 page)

Too bad their lovemaking was only in his head. He wanted to separate her from the rest of his family and get her alone in his cabin, but that didn’t seem to be happening. After dinner, he and Tab sat in the living room with his mom and Blake and Misty. Maria Spotted Bear had already gone upstairs to bed, but the rest of the crew seemed as if they could spend the whole damn night talking.

“We saw my dad in Billings,” Tab said. “He says hello to everyone.”

“I’ve always liked your father,” Sylvia said. “When Aiden built his cabin a couple of years ago, he tried to hire your dad to do it. But he was too busy.”

“Not many building contractors have been as successful as my dad. He doesn’t do much in the way of new construction, but he has four different crews working on renovations and repairs.”

Sylvia nudged Blake in the ribs. “We could use some renovating around here.”

“I want to fix up the old bunkhouse,” Misty said.

Aiden slouched lower in his chair. This was an old argument from Misty. A couple of years back, at the same time Aiden was building his cabin, they’d constructed a new bunkhouse for the crew that lived full time at the ranch. Instead of tearing down the old barracks, they used it for storage. Misty had a different plan. She wanted to turn the old bunkhouse into her own little home for herself and the baby.

She giggled and chattered away about how easy it would be to make the renovations. This afternoon, when she saw how happy Connie and Carlos were, she must have started rethinking her plan to raise her baby alone because she spent the entire drive back to the ranch talking about Clinton.

“I’d like to see it,” Tab said.

He hadn’t been following the conversation. “See what?”

“Your cabin.” Her blue eyes confronted him. “I’ve seen it from the outside, but I’d like to check out the interior.”

He didn’t need further invitation. Aiden jumped to his feet. “I’d be happy to show you around.”

As they left the main house, he clasped her hand.
This might turn out to be a good night, after all.

Chapter Sixteen

Once again, Tab was holding hands with Aiden and walking the familiar route from the main house toward the barn. But this time was different. They weren’t racing toward the chopper to pursue a bad guy or to visit the hospital. She was on her way to the special place he’d built to give himself privacy—on her way to his house with his living room, his dining room, his kitchen and his bedroom.

She still couldn’t believe that she’d invited herself. Asking if she could see his home? That little ruse hadn’t fooled anybody. Tab had seen the knowing look that passed between Sylvia and Blake. Misty had been smiling so hard that Tab thought for a moment that the perky little blonde would whip out her cheerleader pom-poms, pregnant or not.

Everybody seemed to want a relationship to work out between her and Aiden. This afternoon, her dad had come right out and asked if they were dating, and he’d looked disappointed when she told him they were just friends.

Maybe that was the truth. Maybe they weren’t meant to be anything more than pals. Or maybe she needed to take a risk and let him get close. Her hand, held firmly in his grasp, began to sweat.

“I wish we’d had more time with your dad,” Aiden said. “During that summer when you were babysitting, I talked to him a lot, and he had good advice.”

Her dad was a quiet man who usually kept his thoughts to himself. When he spoke, he was worth listening to. “What did he tell you?”

“That summer when my dad died was hell. Mom could barely get out of bed. Misty kept a smile on her little face, but I could see she was hurting.”

“So were you.”

“Mostly, I was overwhelmed. The business of running the ranch kept piling up, and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Outside contractors tried to take advantage of me because I wasn’t as savvy as my dad. Half the ranch hands were fixing to quit. I didn’t know who I should trust and who I should fire.”

She’d been aware of those pressures, but mostly she’d been consumed by how handsome he was. “You did a good job of hiding how you felt.”

“I couldn’t let anybody know that I was in over my head and drowning. But your dad saw the truth, and he gave me two pieces of advice. The first thing he said was that it was natural for me to be mad at my father for leaving me with this mess. I had to let that anger out. And you know what? He was right. I remember going for long walks with my dog, and when I was far away and alone, I’d just stand and yell, cursing so loud I could have raised the dead.”

On the night she’d decided he was the perfect man, he must have been returning from one of those sessions. “I knew you took night walks with Reilly.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame my father for dying. He loved life, loved his life on the ranch. But I was so damn mad at what his death did to me.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Can you guess the second piece of advice from your dad?”

“He told you that there’s no shame in asking for help,” she said. “That’s kind of his mantra.”

“It’s what you said to me when you were talking about helping me investigate. And you were right. I don’t know what I would have done with Wally if you hadn’t been there.”

“We’re good together.”

“I reckon we are.”

Her comment wasn’t meant to be suggestive, but it sounded like it was. Good together? As in good in bed together? Her tension was rising. Though the night was cool, she was on fire. More sweat gathered at her hairline, and a drop trickled between her breasts. Her hands were practically dripping.

As they rounded the barn, she faked a stumble and pulled her hand away from him. She rubbed her palm on her jeans. “Clumsy me.”

“Are you all right?”

Admitting that she was nervous wouldn’t be smart—he’d want to know why. And she didn’t want to tell him that she was expecting more than a tour of his living space. “Sure, I’m fine.”

As long as they continued to talk about the past, she could maintain her self-control, and she desperately wanted to keep that distance. “Do you remember my mom?”

“The beautiful Emma Willows, you bet I remember. I was only ten or eleven when she died, and it was one of the saddest days of my life. She and my mom were good friends. And I remember you were an annoying little pest.”

“Me?” She might have gone back too far in time.

“You were a lot younger than me, and you were female. At that time, I didn’t want anything to do with girls. No tea parties. No dressing up. No fancy-pants games.”

They walked past the gleaming-white helicopter. His house was close enough to see clearly in the moonlight and the glow of a porch light that must have been on a timer. Though his house had wood siding like most of the other buildings on the ranch, the architecture was more modern with an A-frame center section and many more windows. She stumbled again, this time for real. She wasn’t ready to go inside.

“Tell me about my mom,” she said.

“She had black hair like you, only she didn’t wear it as long. And she smiled a lot more than you do. I remember that she loved dancing. She and my mom played the radio while they were in the kitchen, and they always ended up dancing around. So did you, twirling in circles.”

“I danced?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“My memories of my mom aren’t clear. Mostly, I look at photos and make up stories to go along with the picture.”

“You were young,” he said.

They had reached the steps leading to a large deck that ran across the front and north side. The picnic table and the monster-size gas grill suggested that this was a great place for parties. Easily, she imagined a group of people drinking beer, cooking steaks and sitting around the kitchen table. She hadn’t really met his friends. Everybody knew Aiden, but she didn’t know who he hung out with.

She followed him up the stairs to the deck and caught hold of his arm. “It’s such a pretty night. Can we stay out here? I’d like to hear more about your memories of my mother.”

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the picnic table. “I’ll just step inside and grab a beer. Want one?”

“Sure.” She wasn’t much of a drinker. The studies linking Native Americans and alcoholism acted as an effective deterrent, but she liked the taste of beer.

When he opened a sliding glass door and turned on a light, she had a view of the interior kitchen with granite counters and stainless-steel appliances. She actually was curious to see his furnishings, but that wasn’t the real reason she was here.

By staying outside, she postponed the inevitable moment when they would either make love or decide to be friends only. She wasn’t sure which alternative scared her more. Though she’d dated plenty of men, her relationships never went deep.

She sat on the picnic table with her feet resting on the bench and took the beer when he returned. He climbed onto the table beside her. “What do you want to know about your mom?”

“I know she and your mom went to the ballet when your mom visited us in Billings. What else did they do together?”

“Watched chick flicks. Back then, it was VCR tapes from the video store in Henley.” He tilted his beer to his mouth. “They baked cakes and breads, and tried out new recipes that made me gag. When they decorated for holidays, they always made sure you and me were involved. Since your mom was an artist, the decorating was always a treat. My mom still has some Easter eggs that your mom painted.”

It pleased her to know that the Gabriel family had such fond remembrances of her mom. Those good feelings seeped into her consciousness and relaxed her. She inhaled a deep breath and exhaled. The night was still. From a faraway meadow, she heard the lowing of cattle.

Her life would have been different if her mom hadn’t died when she was so young. Her dad and grandma had done a good job raising her, always supporting her and making her feel loved, but she missed the advice of a mother, especially when it came to men. Her father taught her to be suspicious of the guys she dated, and he’d never talked to her about sex. Though Grandma was more open-minded, she nursed the hope that someday Tab might marry into the tribe. What did it mean that Grandma was matchmaking with Aiden? Had she decided that Tab better marry soon before she became a dried-up old maid?

Turning her head, she met Aiden’s gaze. The vibrant sensations coursing through her were far from withered. She took a long pull from her beer. She had to act or explode.

“I’m ready to go inside.”

His touch as he helped her down from her perch sent a jolt of electricity across the surface of her skin. The same voltage shocked her when he rested his hand on the small of her back and directed her through the sliding glass doors. The hairs on her arms trembled as he helped her off with her jacket and hung it on a peg by the door.

As he strolled through the kitchen, he pointed out the major features and appliances. The narrative continued into the adjoining dining room, but she was too preoccupied to listen. Vaguely, she registered that this was a modern design with a spacious living room that rose two stories to the peak of the A-frame.

“It’s a prefab cedar home,” he said. “Once I had the foundation in, it took only ten days with a full crew to put the…”

The house was tidy, except for islands of masculine clutter. Surrounding the reclining chair in front of the television were cups, slippers and some half-opened mail. She looked toward the staircase leading to the upper level. “Is your bedroom up there?”

“Let me show you.”

Her anticipation grew.
This is it.
They were going to the bedroom.

At the top of the staircase, he pointed to an open door. Heart racing, she entered his office.
What?
Her gaze scanned the huge room with a wall of windows. He pointed out that the view from the window allowed him to look at his chopper, the barn and to see all the way to one of the near meadows where cattle were grazing.

Though she was interested in his livelihood, she hadn’t come to his home for a lecture about rescue helicopters and ranching. Striding purposefully, she circled his desk to stand in front of him.
It’s now or never.

She reached up and glided her right hand around his neck. Before she could change her mind, she pressed her mouth against his. For a moment, her pulse stopped. Her lungs ceased to breathe. She existed in limbo, waiting and waiting for his response.

When he pulled her into his arms, excitement gushed through her. She’d never felt so intensely alive. As he deepened the kiss, he pressed hard against her, leaning her back against the desk. She thought he might sweep his arm across the cluttered surface of his desk, shove all his papers onto the floor and make love to her right here. A sexy, dramatic idea, but she wanted to go slower, to savor every caress.

His hand was on her breast, kneading the soft flesh and claiming her as his own. He had taken control of their lovemaking, and she was happy to follow his lead.

Staring down into her eyes, he unbuttoned her muslin blouse. His rough hands pulled the fabric aside. Her breasts pushed against her lacy white bra. Her chest was heaving as she gasped for air.

He stepped back a pace. “My bedroom is down the hall.”

“Okay.”

Holding her against his chest, he moved toward the door. Though she was walking, her feet seemed six inches off the floor. He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “When you said you wanted to see my house, I was hoping this was what you meant.”

“I wasn’t exactly being subtle.”

On the landing outside the office, he kissed the top of her head. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do from the first minute I saw you.”

“What’s that?”

He took both of her hands and pulled her into his bedroom. “I want to unfasten your braid.”

Still holding his hands, she swung in a circle and sat on his king-size bed. “You have my permission.”

He sat behind her and leaned forward to give her a small kiss on the nape of her neck. She arched her back as he tugged at the plaits in her hair.

The quiet made her nervous. She had to say something. “I like your house. Did you decorate yourself?”