Sweet Montana Christmas (9 page)

Guilt stabbed her stomach. Not only did she have an ex-boyfriend, but Zach had asked her out. She was wallowing in riches while her friend sat alone.

She needed to do something.

“I'm declaring an end to this pity party!” She pulled out her phone. “We're ordering a really good dinner, then we're going to find some action-adventure on Netflix. And I've got another bottle of wine on standby if we need it.”

“I drink that much, I'm not going to be able to drive.”

“Good thing you walked here then.”

Julie chuckled.

“Mustard Seed,” a voice said when the restaurant finally picked up.

Sue Anne placed the order without consulting Julie. They'd been friends long enough to know each other's tastes. As she went through the list of items, she looked around the cozy living area. It still needed a coat of paint, but the effort she'd put into decorating showed.

A blue and yellow patterned curtain hung over the kitchen window in the all-in-one living space. A country table and chairs, painted white, stood on an oval braided rug—a find that she'd snapped up from a summer garage sale.

A large picture window lit up the living area—at least when there was sun, a scarcity in Montana winters. Still, she'd get the last light of the summer evenings when twilight lasted until after ten.

She let out a sigh of contentment. Her abode. Her first place by herself since she'd left her mother's house six years ago.

Grabbing the remote, she plunked down next to Sugar again and switched on the television.

“Let's see what we have.”

They had just chosen an Iron Man movie when there was a knock at the door.

“That was fast,” Sue Anne said as she got up to answer it. “Usually it takes closer to forty-five minutes.”

She pulled open the door and was confronted with a large bouquet of long-stemmed red roses.

“It's Valentine's Day and I miss you,” Reed said as he walked past her and into the living room. “Oh, hi, Julie.”

His voice was dismissive, and Sue Anne could see the immediate hurt in her friend's eyes. Julie really had a crush on the guy. He must have done something to encourage it, setting Julie up for a world of hurt.

Another reason to get him out of their lives as soon as possible.

“We broke up, Reed. While I appreciate the gesture, I can't accept them.”

“Oh, sure you can, Sue Anne. It's all part of my plan to win you back.”

“Not interested.”

“I'm a catch. That's what all the girls tell me.” He walked over to Julie on the couch, the bouquet still in his hand. “Isn't that right, Jules?”

“Yes, Reed.” Her friend shrunk from the man, as if his presence threatened her.

Sue Anne strode over to Reed. He was outta here now, or she was going to do something very unladylike.

Her mother would be proud.

“Come with me,” she said to Reed and led him down the short corridor to the store, where she undid the deadbolt, which slid open with a thunk.

“I told you I didn't want to see you. Why can't you take ‘no' for an answer?” she asked.

“I love you, Sue Anne. Isn't that good enough for you?” He slid the flowers on top of one of the display cases. “I see someone beat me to it. Is that what this is about, Sue Anne?”

“Not at all.” Her heartbeat increased as he stepped closer to her.

“Right. I'm not letting you go without a fight.”

She was sorry she'd left Sugar with Julie. The pug wasn't a pit bull, but she could inflict damage with her teeth. Forcing down her fear, Sue Anne stared him in the eyes.

“Leave, Reed. I want nothing more to do with you. And stay away from Julie, too.”

“Are you her protector now?”

“If I have to be.” Sheer bravado. Reed outweighed her by several pounds, and his arms were muscled from working out.

He stood firm for a moment then relaxed imperceptibly.

“C'mon, Sue Anne. All I'm asking for is a chance. I could really help you with the business. I was looking forward to showing you the ropes.”

“Leave.” She walked to the front door, unlocked, and opened it. A blast of frigid air wafted through the store, steeling her resolve to be rid of him.

“Okay. For now. You'll call me. You'll see. Your airport friend will be useless around here.” He paused in the doorway, grabbed her face, and kissed her roughly before releasing her head.

It snapped back.

“Keep the flowers.” He stomped out the front.

She slammed the door after him and leaned against it, shivering as much from fear as from the cold on her back. Then she straightened her spine.

She'd never call him.

Never.

And if he came at her like that again, she'd hit the bastard where it hurt.

Right before she called the cops.

• • •

After running a hairbrush through her curls, Sue Ann spritzed on some hair spray, hoping the wind wouldn't be too strong. Of course, if it was cold enough to wear a cap, she was going to have hat head anyway, not a good look for a first date.

Or was this a date? She plunked the brush on her dresser. While it sounded like a date, Zach had mentioned that he only wanted friendship.

Women were commonly regarded as the complicated ones in a relationship, but they didn't hold a candle to men.

She sighed as she applied some blush and a bit of green eye shadow to highlight the color of her eyes. A sheen of pink lipstick and a pair of green stone earrings completed the look. She gave herself a once-over in the mirror.

Her mother would find it acceptable. At least she would if she didn't look at Sue Anne's fingernails, desperately in need of a manicure.

The knock on the door made her jump.

Sugar started to bark.

Her hand shook a little as she turned the knob. After Reed had shown up Friday night, she didn't feel as confident as she'd been.

She needed to get a peephole.

“Ready?” Zach's grin spread across his face.

Sugar bounced up and down, noisily sharing her pug greeting.

“Hey there.” Zach crouched down and scratched the dog. “You ready to go with us? Don't worry. We'll keep you safe from the big bad eagles.”

Sue Anne laughed, letting go of some of the tension she'd carried since Valentine's Day. After throwing on a coat, she picked up the dog. “Ready.”

“You don't mind Sugar?” she asked after they'd settled into the Cherokee and headed south.

“Not at all.” He smiled at the warm mass of fur settled in her lap. “I like dogs.”

“Then why are you living where you can't have pets?”

“Not ready to have one, yet.” His voice held a sad note.

“Did you have pets as a kid?”

“Yep.” He went silent for a few moments.

She wanted to ask more, but a sadness in his eyes warned her off.

“I grew up on a farm,” he said. “There were always lots of animals around. It felt like we had hundreds of cats.” The grin was back. “Good mousers, but boy were they always underfoot.”

The valley opened up in front of them, the granite wall of the Bitterroot Mountains guarding against Idaho and the valley floor expanding eastward to the Sapphire Mountains. The jagged peaks of the Bitterroots were crisp against the sky.

“I've always wondered what Lewis and Clark felt when they looked at those mountains,” she said.

“Probably the same thing we do when we've had too much of something,” he said. “Not another blankety-blank mountain range.”

Another sliver of tension left. Zach was fun. He didn't think she was silly reminiscing about something that happened well over a century before. And he was strong and confident without being overbearing like Reed was.

“It's one of the things I like about living up here,” Zach said. “It's still so raw, lots of open space. You can almost see what they saw.”

“Different from Texas.”

“I bet. Iowa too.”

“That's where you're from?”

“Near Des Moines.” He grinned. “I'm about as corn-fed farm boy as you're going to get. We went to church every Sunday, FFA, 4-H, you name a small-town group.” He made the turn toward Stevensville. “Went to Iowa State for a few years. I intended to take over the family farm. Now my brother Dave and his wife are going to run it.”

“What changed your mind?”

He was quiet as he navigated the turns through the north side of town and turned onto the road leading into the refuge. They'd just passed a white house on the right when they flushed a pheasant into the brush on the side of the road. Zach stopped the car.

She peered into the long-dead grass and bushes but couldn't see anything.

He pulled a pair of binoculars from the floor below him and searched as well.

“Nothing,” he said. “They're good hiders.” He looked at her and grinned. “Good omen, though.”

“Yes.” Her bubble of happiness grew bigger.

He drove up to the first parking lot and pulled in. “Ready to walk?”

“Sure thing. How about you, Sugar?” Sugar licked her face with enthusiasm.

“Let's go then,” Zach said.

Cattails, forlorn in the winter cold, flanked the bridge they crossed over a small creek. Come spring, the brush would be covered with red-winged blackbirds and the occasional yellow-headed blackbird. Would her business ambitions prevent her from getting outside in the coming months, one of the most beautiful times in the state?

“Only a few more months,” she said, pulling her hat over her ears. So much for the attention she'd given her hair.

“I'll be ready. This is my first winter here. In some ways, it's not as bad as Denver, but in other ways, it's worse.”

“Why's that?”

“It feels like we're so much farther away from the rest of civilization. Denver's a big city. Missoula is more like a small town that has too much traffic.”

She nodded. A sudden movement caught her attention. “Look!”

A bald eagle settled on a tree on the far side of the Bitterroot River, the sun glinting off its white head.

“Neat.”

They stared for a while. The eagle's gaze seemed fixated on them, as if it was deciding whether or not they'd be good for lunch or if it could snatch up Sugar without any interference.

Suddenly, it flew from the branch, its great wings flapping slowly to catch the currents in the air as it traveled upstream toward town.

“You asked me earlier what made me want to leave the family farm behind.” He pointed to the bird. “That's one.”

“You wanted to be an eagle?”

“Of a sort.” He laughed. “You sure do have a weird sense of humor.”

Weird.
Was that good or bad? Although her question hadn't been entirely humorous.

“So what sort of eagle were you?” she asked as they walked back along the river to the lot.

“A tethered one. I just couldn't see myself doing the same thing day in and day out, driving the tractor round and round the same field, bringing the cows in at night and letting them out in the morning.”

“Some people are happy doing that their whole lives.”

“I know. I grew up with parents who were. What did your parents do?”

How to answer that? Her father traveled all over the world, and her mother was a society maven? She waited until they were settled back in the Cherokee before trying to answer.

“My dad was a civil engineer for one of the big oil companies in Texas. He traveled a lot. Mainly to the Middle East.”

“You're using past tense.” Zach crept the car up the gravel road, scanning the cattails and fields for birds.

“Yeah. He died ten years ago.” Her heart still ached with the memory, although the pain wasn't as sharp as it had been.

“I'm sorry. Did you ever go with him?”

“My mom and I met him in Europe—Paris one year, London a few years later. He said it was too dangerous for us to come to the region where he worked.”

“Sounds like he was a good dad.” Zach nodded and reached over and squeezed her hand.

“He was, but I didn't see him as much as I wanted. He was pretty much an absentee father.”

Crunching gravel overrode the silence in the sturdy car.

“Look.” She pointed. “Turkeys.”

She watched a flock of the ungainly birds cross the road from one field to another, their red necks stretching out with every step their four-pronged claws made. Beside her, Zach scoped them out with his binoculars and then handed them to her.

It took a moment to focus, but soon she could watch clearly the jiggle of scaly looking wattle and muscled legs.

“They sure are ugly,” he said.

“Shh. Don't let their mama hear you.”

“Uh-huh.” Zach was smiling again. He looked over at her and cocked his head. “I like you, Sue Anne. You're fun to be around.”

Okay. Weird must have been good.

A car came around the bend in the road ahead of them. The driver waved and smiled as he passed.

“Not many people here,” Zach said.

“Sunday morning. Lot of churchgoers in the Bitterroot.”

“It's also cold.”

“True, but cold doesn't stop most Montanans. Especially not on a day like this.”

The brown grass of the Sapphires was decorated with patches of pine and stripes of snow beneath an iridescent blue sky. The sun was continuing its lazy arc through the southern sky. In the distance, she saw a few birds fluttering through the empty sky.

“Do you consider yourself a Montanan?” he asked as they pulled next to the open water at the far end of the refuge. “Some natives make it a point to tell you if you weren't born here, you don't really belong.”

Her laugh almost turned into a snort. “I think if you asked the Native Americans, they'd have a different point of view.” She stared at a flock of swans paddling near the sheen of ice at the edge of the water. “I feel like a Montanan now. Most people are friendly, and after a while, you get into the rhythm of living here. I like it.”