Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2) (8 page)

“At Bramble House with Mabel, where apparently, she’s a tadpole. But Jade’s arguing the point.” She shook her head in wonder. “Seems the two of them have taken to each other.”

“Mabel and Jade?”

“I know.” Sam grinned at his expression. “But I promised I’d be back in a couple of hours, before the spell is broken and everything goes back to pumpkins and chaos. So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Sam put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, a movement that made her breasts jut out. He wondered if she was aware of it.

Decide to enjoy it, regardless.

“Painting crown molding,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers. She twinkled knowingly at him. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Come on up. I’ll show you.”

He led her to the master bedroom where the lovely curved lines between ceiling and wall were already taped off, ready for white paint that would off-set the lavender.

He wondered if she felt the charge between them too. With everyone else working in the kitchen, they were alone. The room was warm, and Logan was pretty sure it wasn’t due to the autumn sunshine.

“Between the two of us, it shouldn’t take long,” he said. “You okay on a ladder?”

“Of course.”

She climbed her ladder, giving him an even lovelier view of her legs, the graceful curves from knee, to hip and waist. She quickly got to work, loading her brush, then reaching out to stroke the paint smoothly onto the waiting board.

Her t-shirt rode up and he got a glimpse of the smooth tan skin beneath, that dip of belly button, the little gap between waistband and hipbone, just enough for a finger –

“So we’ll start on opposite ends and meet in the middle?” She looked down at him, the paintbrush dripping into the tray. Her smile faded. Caution rushed in. “Logan?”

“Yeah, exactly.” He fumbled and nearly dropped his brush. “I’ll be over here.”

He worked in the opposite corner and for a while, the only thing breaking the silence was the soothing sound of brushstrokes.

I hope we can be friends
, she’d told him.

Friends.

Could he do that? Was that even possible between them?

They both worked to the extent of their reach, then got down, moved their ladders, and started on a fresh section. Before he knew it, they were only a foot apart, working towards the same unpainted spot.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, as if surprised.

He could have set her on a different task, in a different room but then they’d be circling each other, as they had been since her arrival. He was tired of that.

“Remember that old Disney movie, the cartoon with the dogs, Lady and the Tramp?” she said with a jerky laugh. “It’s Jade’s favorite of course. We’ve watched it a million times. This reminds me of that scene where they’re eating spaghetti.”

He raised his eyebrows. He knew exactly the scene. Both dogs both slurped the same piece and ended up kissing.

He stepped down from his ladder and held hers so she could do the same. When she got to the bottom, she was facing him, so close he could smell the peppermint of her toothpaste.

Logan put his arm around her back. She stepped into the embrace as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” she said, her voice husky.

“Hey.” He tipped her chin up so he could stare into that beautiful mahogany gaze. “Let’s take a break. Have lunch with me. We can run over to Bramble House first and check on Jade, if it makes you feel better.”

“I couldn’t,” she said. But she didn’t move.

“Lunch, Sam. You have to eat anyway.”

“We shouldn’t. It’s not… it’s too complicated.”

“You really think we can be just friends?” He ran a finger along her cheekbone, feeling the shudder that ran through her.

“I don’t know, Logan.” Her voice was husky. “It’s like we’ve stepped through a portal or something. It feels like the past is gone and I’m sixteen again, only we’re grown-ups this time.”

He could hear her ramping up and rather than letting it happen, he silenced her the best way he knew how.

He lowered his head to hers, slowly, so she could see him coming. Her lips parted, in anticipation, in fear, out of breathlessness or a need to speak, he didn’t care. He pressed his against them and heard her quick intake of breath.

Her hands went up to his neck and she pulled herself closer, her mouth softening against his, opening, until they were necking like the pair of teenagers they had been, urgently, desperately, the rest of the world falling away until it was only them, no one else mattering, nothing necessary to their survival but that they hold on, hold on, hold on to each other and never let go.

Until, of course, they did let go.

*

Samara gripped the
door handle of Logan’s truck, anxious to get back to Jade, fighting irritation at Eliza’s undoubtedly well-intentioned gesture of arranging a spontaneous play date for Jade.

Eliza had invited strangers to Bramble House, while her daughter was there without her.

And casually informed her by voice-mail.

A play date. For Jade.

Mothers
arranged play dates. Not acquaintances.

The fact that Jade’s mother no longer arranged play dates was beside the point. It wasn’t Eliza’s place to do it.

“Sage is Eliza’s cousin,” said Logan. “Another of Mabel’s great-nieces. Sage and her sisters don’t come around much, but that’s Mabel’s doing, not theirs. Who knows why? That generation is famous for their feuds. But you’ll love Sage. And Savannah is a great kid. Sage already sees herself as her step-mom.”

“That’s not the point,” said Samara. “I’m sure Sage and Savannah are very nice. It’s just…”

It’s just that Jade was
her
daughter. Eliza should have asked her, that’s all.

She winced, inwardly. Was she really that insecure? That controlling?

Yeah, she was.

“Jade’ll be too busy playing to even notice when we stop by,” continued Logan. “Then we’ll go out and have a nice, relaxed lunch together.”

Samara gripped her hands together. Of course she wanted her daughter to make new friends. Of course she hoped they were having fun.

But what did it say about her mothering skills if Eliza, practically a stranger, could achieve something with Jade that she herself could not?

Logan reached across the bench seat, peeled her hands apart and trapped one in his steady, warm grip.

“Don’t worry, honey.”

The endearment landed like gentle rain on her parched heart, a painful and dangerous relief. A little rain was worse than none at all, bringing life to dormant roots, sending tender sprouts through hot, cracked earth, only to wither when the rain stopped.

“Samara.”

Logan turned off the engine without letting go of her hand. He waited until she met his gaze, simply holding her.

Calm flowed from him like a river, clear and smooth and unending, catching her up like a fallen leaf.

“You’ll meet Sage and Savannah,” he said. “You’ll talk to Jade. If she’s happy, you’ll have lunch with me. If not, you’ll stay there.”

*

It wasn’t lunch,
thought Samara, as Logan held the door of Grey’s Saloon open for her.

It was dinner.

Which was much, much worse.

Hours earlier, when she and Logan had arrived at Bramble House, she’d found Savannah and Jade in the garden, surrounded by a collection of dolls. Sage and Eliza had convinced her not to rush down to Jade, but to observe the girls from the window for a bit.

Mabel, more irritable than usual, had snapped at her to stop hovering but Samara had been too fascinated to feel scolded.

They were having a tea party. Savannah was chattering away and while Jade didn’t appear to be responding much, she was clearly engaged. In fact, it appeared that Jade was studying the older girl. When Savannah straightened up a slouching doll, Jade adjusted her own doll’s posture. When Savannah added imaginary sugar to a cup, Jade did the same.

Normal play behavior, thought Samara, pressing her fingers against her lips. A few years late, perhaps, but it was coming.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” Logan said, breaking into her thoughts.

He’d agreed to give her the afternoon, if she’d come to Grey’s with him later on.

Sage, Eliza and even Mabel had insisted she accept. Well, Mabel insisted she unknot the stranglehold of her apron ties and give her child a chance to breathe, but it meant the same thing.

Logan’s hand rested lightly at the small of her back, a touch she felt all the way to her toes.

It was just a casual pub meal. They wouldn’t be here long. And it did smell fantastic.

“My stomach’s growling,” she confessed.

“Good.” Logan gave her the private smile she remembered, the one that made her feel like she was the only one that mattered. “I can’t wait to feed you.”

Heads turned as they entered and several calls of “Hey, Staff,” drifted toward them. A small group of men were watching football on the big screen mounted in the corner, feet propped on chairs, arms loose, comfortable.

Logan’s expression changed from the smile he gave her to his everyone-else smile, but he tightened his arm around her.

A couple of women sitting at the bar preened, their hungry eyes traveling up and down. When he ignored them, they took momentary measure of her before turning back to their drinks.

She’d seen that desire aimed at him before. Logan was the cutest boy in high school. The intervening years had added height and bulk, a touch of silver in his hair, a few lines around that easy grin, until that cute boy had turned into the full-grown, hard-bodied, breathtaking male who was standing in front of her, holding out a chair.

And he was with her.

“Don’t worry about those two. They’re buckle-bunnies, on the hunt for cowboys.”

“I’m not worried,” she said, quickly taking her seat.

Besides the football fans and the cougars at the bar, the place was full of couples.

“You probably don’t remember Skye Wolcott.” He gestured discreetly. “She was a year behind us. She’s the secretary at Marietta High. But I’m sure you recognize Chase Goodwin, the guy she’s with. Every girl in school was after him.”

“I wasn’t. I don’t recall him at all.”

There were no other guys in school, where she was concerned.

“Well, don’t you just know the right thing to say?” The private smile was back. “Goodwin played pro ball until, oh, not long ago, I guess. Baseball, though, not football. His kid brother, Flynn, plays for the Marietta Grizzlies. Flynn’s also working on your house. You met him earlier.”

The bell over the door tinkled and a woman came in, headed straight for the bar where she grabbed the man behind it and planted a big kiss on him.

“Hey, Lorelai,” called Logan. “Let the man work.”

Lorelai Grey, he explained, and the bar owner, Reese Kendrick.

“He owns the place, inherited it from her father. Long story.”

With an obviously happy ending, thought Samara.

Logan pointed out other Marietta residents.

So many couples.

Some new hopefuls, their faces shining with anticipation, holding hands across the table, heat smoldering between them. Others obviously established, deep in conversation, comfortable enough to spear tastes from the other’s plate.

One couple in a booth cast only tight-lipped, careful glances at each other. He had two empty beer glasses in front of him.

“Who are those two?”

“Noelle Winslow, from a big spread north of town. Her father passed away recently. That’s Matthew Locke, who managed the place. She never much liked him, but she’s going to need him now.”

Sam wondered if there was more tension between them than a simple like or dislike relationship would warrant. They looked deeply connected but deeply conflicted about it.

Or maybe she was imagining things.

Loneliness struck hard and fast, as if she hadn’t had years to adjust. She missed it, all of it. The heady excitement, the comfortable togetherness, even those horrible times of feeling so far away from each other you don’t know how, or even if, you can find your way back.

Practically, she missed having someone at her back, knowing that it didn’t all fall on her, every hour, every day, every month, every task.