Montana Darling (Big Sky Mavericks Book 3) (14 page)

“Of course, I remember. What about it?”

“I just got off the phone with him. He’ll ship the boxes in my unit, but even if I overnight him the key, he said it’s against policy to open a container without the owner—or the owner’s representative—present. So, I need to send you the key and have you unlock the door. Big Al will do the rest.”

“How will he know which boxes you want?”

“There are four. All shipped from France. You can’t mistake them.”

France.
You remember, Mother. The place I lived with the woman I loved. The woman who died with your grandchild in her belly.

“I suppose I can do that. When are you sending the key?”

“You should have it tomorrow or the next day at the latest.”

“Sounds pretty important. Does that mean you’re done being a bum?”

How would you know I was being a bum? Howard, he supposed. Or maybe Flynn, who was more forgiving than Ryker.

“I have to go, Mom. Light’s wasting.”

He waited to see if she’d ask anything else, but she didn’t. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll put your key in an envelope and tape it to a box.”

“Great. Thanks for your help.”

He barely got the word out before she hung up.

So Elizabeth Bensen Margolis.

With a heavy sigh, he pocketed his phone and started deconstructing his summer home. He’d enjoyed the respite the tent had provided. Some might call this lifestyle being a bum, but Ryker knew his summer hiatus had helped him heal from his loss while providing a link to his memories of his father.

But summer was over and it was time to reconnect with society…starting with Mia Zabrinski.

‡

M
ia parked a
block away from Marietta High, hopefully out of view of either Hunter or Emilee. Luckily, Serena’s classroom—or cloakroom, as she called it—was near the gym. She knew visitors were supposed to sign in, but whoever was manning the front desk wasn’t present when Mia walked by so she just kept walking. Except for a kid or two wandering between a classroom and the toilet, she didn’t see anyone. No teachers.

Great, she thought. If I’m fast, I can pop in and out without getting drawn into any sort of conversation or drama.

Drama? Would casual sex with a relative stranger qualify?

So much for her theory that chemo killed her libido. She didn’t know exactly why she entered that tent or why she initiated the whole encounter, except she’d wanted to feel again. Something! Anything! She’d wanted to remember how it felt when your blood raced through your veins with purpose and desire. She needed to connect with something—someone—who had nothing to do with her life before or during cancer.

Why Ryker? Maybe her years of working with cops and lawyers and liars made it easier to know who to trust. She’d bet anything Ryker Bensen wouldn’t be that guy bragging and strutting his stuff tonight at the Wolf Den. He wasn’t part of Marietta, which made him damn close to perfect.

And it didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous and seemed to possess some kind of power that flipped her “loose-girl” switch. Not once while she was married had she fantasized about having sex with other men. But, damn. Give her a hot, young photographer in a tent and suddenly she was a easy.

She rapped once on the door and hurried inside without waiting for an answer.

Serena looked up from her iPad.

“Mia.” Her smile turned serious. “What’s going on? You look upset.”

Mia closed the door and checked out the tiny space to be sure they were alone. “I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind. Or having a panic attack. Take your pick.”

Serena jumped to her feet and rushed to her side. “You’re flushed and breathless.” She laid the back of her hand against Mia’s cheek. “No fever. Sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

Once they were seated across from each other at two student desks, Mia’s panic started to recede, but that didn’t mean she was ready to blurt out the truth—especially when she honestly couldn’t explain what got into her.
Or didn’t
, a part of her added.

She bit down on a naughty smile that started to form on her lips.

God knew she would have liked to have made love with Ryker. Full on, naked, crazy sex. But that was even scarier than a quick, one-sided hook-up. Sex was messy, no way around it.

Serena glanced at the clock above her desk. “Class change is in six minutes. Can you tell me what’s going on in that time or should we meet after school? If you come to the ranch, you can have some alpaca therapy. One hug from a big fuzzy helps cure what ails you.”

Mia shook her head. “I’ll pass. Thank you. I can’t see Austen right now.”

“I meant the alpacas. Austen’s big, but not very cuddly—unless you catch him in the right mood. Besides, he’s in Helena, remember?”

The joke made Mia smile but also provided a valuable reality check. Meg might advocate having a little fling with a handsome young loner, but the rest of her family would not be so open minded. Austen could be a terrible bore when he thought someone was taking advantage of a family member. He’d been a complete pain in Bailey’s behind until the day Paul ordered him to back off because he and Bailey were getting married. If Austen perceived Ryker as a threat to Mia, the scene would not be pretty. Mia couldn’t burden her new friend with the kind of secret that might cause problems between her and Austen.

“Being a single mom is a lot harder than I thought it would be,” Mia said. A different kind of confession from the one she intended to share, but, true, nonetheless.

Serena’s head tilted to one side. “This is about Em?”

“I’m pretty sure she hates me. And I’m afraid the way I reacted to her skipping school might have pushed her further away and—God forbid—driven her into the wrong crowd.” All true—even if Emilee wasn’t the cause of Mia’s initial panic.

“Emilee’s a great kid, Mia. She’s still figuring things out in Marietta and you’re taking the brunt of that angst. But I have complete faith that you’re both going to be just fine. Give her a little more time and try not to take anything she says personally. I gave my mother all kinds of grief when I was fourteen—and poor Mom was my homeschool teacher. She never could catch a break.”

Serena offered a few more hints to ease relations with Emilee and shared the news that the boy Emilee ditched school with was no longer in the picture. “Thanks, Serena. It helps to know you care.”

“Any time. Hey, I was single for a long time before I met your brother. If you ever want some girl talk, I promise it won’t go any further. What Austen doesn’t need to know, won’t come from me.”

Mia’s heart sped up again. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask “Am I crazy to feel this way about a guy who’s all wrong for me?” when the bell sounded. “I’ve gotta run before Emilee sees me. I don’t want Em to think I’m going behind her back. But, I’m glad we talked. I feel better already.”

Mia meant it. She liked knowing one person in town wouldn’t judge her if she continued seeing Ryker Bensen, who, after this weekend would be living in a house, not a tent on her land.

As she hurried back to her car, she admitted to herself that she wasn’t ready to end things with him. Not yet. Maybe after they got a ruling on their land. Since she was fairly sure she’d be the victor in the tussle over the lot, Ryker would have no reason to stay.

Maybe Meg was right. Ryker might be the perfect crush. Who else did she know who could guarantee a brief, finite union?

They’d keep things superficial—sex only. But she hadn’t been kidding when she described her disconnect with her new boobs. If Ryker wanted to have sex with her, he’d figure out a way to deal with her sports bra, which she had no intention of removing. Ever.

If?

She dashed the last half block to her car, the blood singing in her ears. What if? Ryker Bensen was a man. There would be sex.

‡

R
yker locked the
back door of B. Dazzled, pocketed the key and retrieved his bike from the garage. The mornings were getting downright chilly. His thermal hoody made getting around on bike tolerable if he didn’t peddle too fast.

He clicked the plastic connector chinstrap of his helmet and pulled on his gloves. Today was his last day on the job. The past week had flown by in a blur. Bailey was a sweet—if distracted—landlord. She—or, maybe, her mother—provided a double bed, sheets, blankets and pillows, and a comfy recliner where he could work on the laptop Bailey was lending him. The second “spare” bedroom had been converted from a storage room to a photography studio. He’d been pleasantly surprised by how quickly his shipping containers arrived. Mom even included an extra box, which he had yet to open. Her note alluded to “
things you probably should have
.”

He didn’t trust her to know him well enough to have any idea what he “should” have. For now, he stashed it in the corner of one of his freight boxes. Out of sight and out of mind—just like he was to her.

As he had every morning that week, he paused a moment to look at the sky and smile. Somewhere nearby, Mia Zabrinski was waking up—or, knowing how she drove herself, she’d been up for hours. He’d given up trying to get her out of his head. He simply couldn’t
not
think of her. He’d tried. When the money from Flynn appeared in his bank account, he’d treated himself to a night at Grey’s Saloon where he’d flirted with several cute girls and played pool with one who gave him her number and said, “Call me. Let’s have some fun.”

Fun. The concept didn’t register on his scope of reference. His beautiful Colette would never have fun again, so why should he?

But Ryker knew life didn’t work that way. It was time to re-engage with the world—as he knew Colette would want him to do.

Which is why he planned to use some of his paycheck to take Mia on a date…if she’d agree to go out with him.

“Bring it on,” he said with a grin as he pushed his bike through the gate.

Bailey and her “minions,” as her gregarious, chatty workers called themselves, would be here soon. He’d only bumped into the four women a few times. As pleasant, gregarious and motherly as they were, he’d felt like a new pet goldfish under scrutiny in a sparkly fishbowl. This job got him out of the house before the jewelry crowd arrived.

Maybe he’d try to find another steady gig.

He wove gracefully around parked cars, barely avoiding a cat that would have given up one of his lives if Ryker had been in a car. He turned on Fifth, slowing to cross the tracks—a treacherous task on a bike. If he lived here permanently, he’d make building dedicated bike lanes one of his first initiatives.

Traffic picked up as he neared the school, but he was early enough to be able to spot the Raines Photography van in the high school parking lot without a problem.

“Morning. Punctual. Like that,” Bob Raines, his temporary boss, said when Ryker glided to a stop beside the impossible-to-miss vehicle. Bob liked things organized and on schedule. He tended to talk in Twitter-speak. Short. Succinct. Verb-challenged.

Ryker chained his bike to a nearby rack and removed his helmet.

“Clean-shaven, too, I see. Good and bad.”

“What do you mean? Yesterday, you called me scruffy.”

Bob handed him a clipboard. “True. Better for the teachers. Worse for the girls.”

Ryker ran his hand over his smooth jaw. The whole time he’d spent shaving, he’d pictured himself kissing Mia, rubbing his smooth cheek against her tender skin, trying to imagine what she’d gone through with her surgery and cancer treatments. Last night, he’d read a few breast cancer survivors’ journals online to get some idea of her ordeal.

“Worse? How?”

Bob yanked a tripod out of the van and passed it to Ryker. “Watch ’em go all Bieber on you.”

Bieber?
Ryker had a vague idea who Justin Bieber was, but he’d didn’t get what Bob was implying until the man added, “Giggles. Blushes. Flirting. Adds time to every single shot.”

Three hours later, Ryker understood. Teenage girls…who knew? As a herd, they reminded him of gazelles. He’d observed a hundred or so females grazing with grace and casual indifference until a cheetah appeared in the distance. Suddenly, the dynamic changed and Ryker was lucky he wasn’t trampled in the resulting stampede. He felt the same jolt of panic when the first group of high school kids showed up for their moment in the spotlight.