Surviving Love (Montana Wilds Book 1) (4 page)

“Get her to drop her pants. Just say it! Get her to give it up. I’m not eleven anymore; you can be honest.”

“The scenery helps, yeah. But I like this place. It’s quiet. Peaceful.”

She nodded, looking out at the night. She let her head fall back, letting her gaze trace the blanket of stars above. “It’s breathtaking. All of this. Montana. It blows my mind. It’s everything I always hoped it would be.”

“Wait until winter. It’ll freeze your mind.”

“I won’t be hanging around for winter. I leave in late September.”

He leaned toward her. “Then what?”

She shrugged, fresh tears springing. She swiped at her face and set her jaw for a moment, willing herself to be strong. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“I heard about Phil from my mom. Sorry. Must be hard.”

Words like that were as helpful as an iron belt on a swimmer. She blinked a few times to clear her vision. “How did you hear?”

“My mom. Everyone was shocked. I think that’s why my mom mentioned it to me.”

Sara shrugged, trying to dislodge the emotion. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. It’d just make her cry. “I didn’t really recognize you. You’re all tall and broad and everything. No trace of that baby fat anymore.”

“It wasn’t baby fat—I was a pudgy little kid.” He nudged her shoulder with a chuckle, then settled back onto his elbow, looking out over the ledge peacefully. “I had another growth spurt after I left you. Kind of a late bloomer. I was skinny until I went into the Special Forces. They whipped me up pretty good.”

“I must look exactly the same. Plus a few dozen wrinkles.”

“I thought you’d have more laugh lines, actually. You used to laugh all the time. But I guess the breakup…”

“No, I stopped laughing long before then. Stuff just stopped being funny somewhere along the way. Not sure why.”

“Are you okay?” he asked so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

Her body bowed, slumping next to him. Her lower lip trembled as she struggled to keep the pain inside. But it was too late. His soft and caring words yanked open the cavity where the hurt was hiding.

Tears streamed down her face and sobs racked her body as all the tumultuous emotion poured out. Flooded her.

A moment later he was there, wrapping her up and hugging her tight, tucking her into his big body. She snaked her arms around his middle, holding on for dear life, wishing he could smooth over the pain. Quell the hurt. Take them back to all those years ago, before they knew he would move away, when they thought they had the rest of their lives to climb the monkey bars and cheat at hopscotch. When they thought the worst hurt they’d ever face was scraping their knees or breaking an arm.

“It’ll get better. This will heal,” Mikey murmured, resting his cheek on her head as he gently rocked her. “This pain won’t last forever.”

She nodded, her sobs slowing. “I know. It’s just… I feel so violated. He’d been with another woman for a
year,
Mikey. A woman that was basically me without the history. Without the drooping face and tired eyes. He took the best part of me, and discarded the worst. Who’s going to want me now? I’m all used up. I’m—”

“Shhh.” Mike rubbed her back. “You’re talking nonsense. I recognized you right away. Age has sharpened your beauty, not dulled it. You’re a woman now. Men will line up for you. Phil was giving up a Mona Lisa in exchange for a piece of modern art—a masterpiece versus a toilet seat on a canvas covered in feces. Trust me, I went to a modern art museum a while back, and that stuff is weird!”

Sara couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.

“So hush, now. Don’t talk like that. You’re in your prime. Life for a woman your age is just starting to get good. You didn’t leave anything behind. Actually, if Phil wasn’t such a knucklehead, he would’ve held on tight and rode the hurricane when your sexy systems blossomed.”

Sobs turned into body chuckles. “What are you even talking about?”

Mikey was chuckling, too. “I don’t know. I feel like a kid again. Just that, men get sexual when they’re eighteen, and women get it when they’re in their thirties. You’re going to get all horny soon.”

“You sound like you’re fifteen!” Sara couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying at this point, with her body hiccupping into him, wrapped in his arms. She sniffed and backed off, leaving her hands on his chest.

He put his palm on her cheek, his eyes softening. “What do you need from me? I should’ve been there when it happened. I made myself your watchdog when you were two years old. That was for life. I should’ve been there. Through all of it.”

A tear tumbled out, warmth filling her chest. His thumb swished her tear away, his eyes intently studying her.

“Just be my friend,” Sara replied softly. “I really need one right now.”

“Of course. Forever. We won’t let distance separate us again. I need my little fart factory.”

“Oh my God!” she squealed. “You remember that? Look, I was young; no one told me that gas wasn’t hilarious.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

She wasn’t laughing. She was cackling. Hands on her stomach, bending over at the waist, she helplessly guffawed. “I was so gross!”

“I do believe I won the farting competition most of the time. Looking back on it, I think I had a problem.” A crooked smile quirked Mikey’s lips.

“But you’re a boy. Boys are supposed to be gross. I was supposed to be all dainty and, I don’t know, belle-like.”

“
Belle-like
? More like bruiser-like.” He put his hand up, palm out, fingers spread apart.

Without even thinking, Sara put her palm to his, fitting her fingers between his. Electricity surged at the contact, sizzling through her arm and dumping into her body. Swirls of exuberance washed through her, joy and bliss making a spicy cocktail.

A smile lit up her face. “Wow, we still have that weird electrical socket thing. When was the first time that happened?”

“We were in the treehouse, remember? I was twelve and you had just turned ten.”

“That’s right, we’re not a whole three years apart.” She thought back to the soft petals of sun drifting through the tree branches and floating around them. Mikey had held his hand up, just like he had a million times, only this time, when she threaded her fingers through his, a jolt of pure electricity singed her palm and raced up through her arm. It had settled strangely in her body, tickling some parts and tingling others.

She’d been terrified at the time, unsure what it was and why it happened. She hadn’t liked the strange surge and the answering stirrings. Now, though, she let the pleasant feeling settle deep into her body, humming through her. It was safety and comfort. Like him.

“I tried to kiss you that day,” he said softly. “A real kiss. Remember?”

She nodded, still sitting in that treehouse. His beautiful hazel eyes, so expressive, had been looking at her with an intense gleam. He seemed scared, curious, and sure of himself, all at the same time. The strange feeling of holding his hand, and then that look, had been enough to unsettle her. When his lips touched hers, fear had overcome the curiosity.

“I gave you a bloody nose,” she said with a laugh. “I wasn’t ready for kissing boys. You were older.”

“And are you now?” His voice was so deep. So soft.

That pleasant hum heated, turning into something suggestive.

The icy tendrils of fear gripped her, pain and insecurity bubbling up. The memory of Phil driving away accosted her. Tore at her.

Her eyes widened in shock. She loosened her hand from his.

“No, I mean, have you moved on? Put your ex behind you?” Mikey said hastily, dropping his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Oh no.” She waved the thought away. “No, of course you didn’t. Duh! No, I know. Just surprised me, is all.”

She sucked in a deep breath and let the relieved sigh tumble out, taking all her insecurity with it. This was Mikey! He was almost family, not to mention Mr. Lady-Killer. No way was he coming on to her!

“What’s funny?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m dumb. Anyway, in answer to your question, no, I’m not ready. Truthfully, I don’t know that I’ll be ready again. I don’t think I love him anymore. Haven’t for a while, if I’m extremely honest with myself. But then, I stopped loving myself, too…”

She turned away, looking out at the night. She wasn’t ready to admit the depth of how Phil had hurt her. Saying it out loud, admitting her lack of worth—she wasn’t strong enough yet not to believe it.

“I’ll never push you, Sara, you know that,” Mikey said quietly, gentle words on a breeze. “But I always have an ear open, should you need it. Please know that.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m just not ready for a lot of things, I guess.”

“That’s to be expected. Time is a great healer, though.”

“So they say.”

“Yes, they do. Or why else would they put it in a fortune cookie, which is where I got that excellent cliché.”

Laughter bubbled up despite her mood. She leaned so her head could rest on his shoulder. “You always knew just what to say.”

“Lies.”

“Not lies. I’m just gently bending the truth.”

He huffed out a laugh, and then fell into comfortable silence.

Sara stared out at the shimmering stars. On that ledge, it was like the world dropped away and they were floating together in the syrup of the Milky Way. Her muscles relaxed as she leaned into him more heavily, craving his warmth. Remembering the companionship and closeness forged with popping bubble gum and skinned knees. Lord, she had missed this. Missed the contentment of it.

All too soon, though, Mikey reached into his pocket and brought out his phone. The world obtrusively lit up. From the glow, she could see him grimace. A moment later, he slowly stood up and reached down a hand for her.

Once she was standing, he said, “I have a feeling that you haven’t changed all that much. Or why would you be here, in your childhood dream?”

Sara wormed her arm through his, turning solemn. “Working as a waitress isn’t really the dream, but yeah, the responsible job I had didn’t make as much sense anymore. I just figured I might get out there and experience some life.”

As they came back in sight of the fire pit, half a dozen girls glanced their way. Only one or two went back to what they were doing. The rest stared at Mikey, tracking his progress as he approached.

Sara grinned, about to comment, then he stopped. He turned to her, his face serious. “My dream was to be G.I. Joe. There is always a way to claim what’s ours if we keep our eye on the prize. Okay?”

“Um… yes. Got it.”

“Give me your phone.”

Sara dug in her hoody pocket and produced a smartphone. He quickly pecked at the face and then handed it back. “My number’s in there. The service out here is spotty at best, but call me anytime. Preferably more often than anytime. And leave messages. Or text. Texting works usually.”

“Definitely.” She bobbed her head, clutching the phone tightly.

He lifted her hand to his mouth like in an old western, the softness of his lips grazing her knuckles. He winked, a smile lighting up his face, before he turned.

“Kissing my hand doesn’t make you a cowboy—”

Sara cut off as she realized that the stint in the Special Forces was to fulfill the G.I. Joe calling. That his life on the ranch wrangling cows
did
make him a cowboy. He was knocking out all his dreams one by one.

“You’re still just as much of a goof!” she yelled after him, forgetting for a minute she wasn’t a rambunctious preteen.

He turned and bowed with a flourish before darkness swallowed him up.

“What was
that
all about?” Christie said as she and Sam walked up.

“Since when does Mountain Man Mike have a sense of humor?” Sam’s expression was befuddled as he watched the spot where Mikey had disappeared.

“We were just reliving the good ol’ days. We were a couple of weird kids, I’ll say that much. We didn’t care that we were nerds because we had each other.” She shrugged. “Back to real life, though.”

Christie grabbed an imaginary train whistle and tugged. “Toot, toot! All aboard.”

M
ike could barely feel
his legs. It felt like he’d just jumped out of a plane without a parachute with his eyes closed. He had no idea when he’d smack into the ground.

He knew she’d be here, of course. He’d heard of the split—his mom still talked to hers. He’d heard of her fiancé picking someone else. Sara had been the laughing stock of their family for years. The man she’d been engaged to was some piece of trash. Gambling addiction with the debt to prove it, no drive, no prospects, no future. She’d kept them afloat through it all, shedding her dreams when she should have shed the man.

And then he’d dumped her. She’d bled for the man, and he just tossed her aside. What a dick.

When Mike had heard all this, he knew he had to call her. She’d been on his mind off and on his whole life, constantly popping up randomly, begging him to remember. Hearing, though, that she’d be making a horrible mistake—said her parents—and quitting her high-powered job to become a nobody in some dude ranch, Mike knew exactly where she’d go. She’d always loved Montana; she’d head here first.

After that, it was just a matter of keeping his ears open. With her skill set and age, not many larger establishments would use her. Why should they? There were stacks of applications from people with ranching or hospitality experience. So when he told Jake to keep his eyes open, as soon as the golden ticket came in, Mike made sure she got brought on.

And here she was.
Ho-ly crap
.

Did no one think to mention her beauty? His brothers had seen her occasionally, though probably never stopped to say “Hi”, but they’d
seen
her. Could they not have mentioned,
in passing
, that the girl was a knockout? Deadly curves, soft brown hair to the middle of her back, large, almond-shaped eyes in a delicate face. He’d got a hard-on the second he’d seen her.

She looked sad, though. Her shoulders hunched, her eyes constantly strayed to the side as thoughts pushed into her head unbidden—her ex had done a number on her. She’d had expectations, and he’d let her down.