Redeeming Her Montana Love Read online

  It felt good to think of herself as a woman, a little unnerving but life-affirming.

  “Tackling all of Lynx isn’t something I’d want to do alone,” she thought to say. “I love going for hikes, even ones that include some serious uphill trekking, but mountain climbing’s another story.”

  “Hmm.” He swallowed and rested his shoes on one of the rocks ringing the firepit. “I brought my trail bike but unfortunately I have to wait for more snow to melt in the back country before I can really explore.”

  “Trail bike?” She frowned. “They aren’t allowed around the cabins. I’m pretty sure it’s the same in the forest.”

  “What the Feds don’t know isn’t going to hurt them.”

  “It’s not just rules for rules’ sake. We don’t want to disturb the wildlife.”

  “They’ll survive.”

  Much as she felt compelled to point out that he was missing the point that he’d be breaking the law, she didn’t say anything. The last thing she wanted was for the conversation to go sideways.

  “Have you done that a lot?” she asked. “Taken your bike into the wilderness.”

  “I’m on it every minute I can. Being here all winter with so much snow on the ground wasn’t easy. I felt hemmed in.”

  His tone said bike riding was more than a hobby. Feeling energy and freedom under him was vital to his well-being. Maybe she’d try it once her schedule loosened up.

  “Where’s home?” she asked.

  “Nowhere really. One reason I agreed to work here is so I’d have a place to live.”

  Homeless and content to be. A concept foreign to her. “You make me think of a gypsy. Can you really earn a living like that?”

  When he didn’t immediately respond, she replayed what she’d just said. Darn it, she was pushing too hard, probing when she had no right to. She wanted to get to know him but was going at it all wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

  “That’s all right.” Going by his expression, she suspected he didn’t mean it. Everyone had barriers. She just needed to learn where his were. “Living the way I do, I don’t have a lot of expenses. No ties. My truck has a camper shell. I’ve lived in it more than once.” He patted his front pocket where she’d seen the outline of a cell phone. “That’s my office.”

  Unable to come up with a response, she sipped on her wine. Nate was a tumbleweed, one moment here, gone the next. She didn’t dare forget that.

  “What?” he asked. “You don’t approve of my lifestyle?”

  “No, it isn’t that. How you live is none of my business.” I just want to know more. “I’ve spent all of mine anchored in one city.”

  “Missoula?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re content with that? You don’t want to explore or experience other areas?”

  She wished they were discussing sports, their favorite foods, music or movies, something simple without the potential of ending what was just starting.

  “I moved to Chicago for the last two years of college so it isn’t as if I’ve spent all my time in one place.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “I was such a fish out of water in a big city. Lost and overwhelmed despite the friends I made.”

  “I’ve been there. The traffic sucks.”

  “Yes, it does. My mother’s health was precarious so I moved back as soon as I graduated.”

  “Willingly or because you felt obligated?”

  The unexpected, hard-digging question made her lean back. Her reasons for what she did or didn’t do were none of his business. The opposite was true. Then he started rubbing his neck, a neck undoubtedly made tender by hours spent crawling around. They had a relationship of sorts, a fragile thing that had the potential to deepen if they were both willing. She hadn’t had many of what she’d consider close friends and none of the opposite sex. Most of the time she was content with her life, but right now she wanted something different.

  “Some of both,” she told him. “My mother had isolated herself. I was one of the few people she let in.”

  He frowned. “You took care of your mother?”

  “I hate admitting it, but yes, that’s pretty much what it was.” Surprised by how much she’d revealed, she tried to blame the setting and wine, but it was more than that. “Also, if I went back to work in Dad’s business, I wouldn’t have to start at the bottom at another place.”

  He stared at her, his deep-set eyes giving away nothing of his thoughts. “I couldn’t do what you did.” He clenched his teeth. “It’s a moot point because I don’t have family obligations.”

  Why not? Because he didn’t have a family or because he’d distanced himself from them?

  Again that was none of her business.

  “Life can get pretty complex.” She winced. Then she lifted her right foot and rested her heel on Bruce’s back.

  “I’ve had him for a couple of years. I wasn’t in the market for a dog, told myself I had enough on my plate without pet ownership. Then one day I went to a site to take some pictures. The place had been closed up for a while. I started to open the gate—there was cyclone fencing all around—when I spotted him crouched in the shadows.”

  “He was trying to hide?”

  “I think he was overwhelmed. Someone had put him in there without food or water.” She fought down a familiar wave of anger. “I don’t know how long he’d been there. He was skinny. Fortunately, it had rained, but he was drinking out of a mud puddle.”

  “No living thing should be thrown away.”

  Struck by the passion behind his words, she set her wine glass on the ground. Looking at Nate, she leaned over and ran her hands over her dog’s strong back.

  “No, they shouldn’t. I was upset, relieved I’d come before it was too late. Bruce was pretty skittish. I couldn’t get him to come to me so I went to a fast food restaurant and bought several plain hamburger patties.”

  “The perfect way to a dog’s heart.”

  Nate wasn’t just throwing out a comment. Compassion was still in his voice. “It took several days before I could get a collar and leash on him. I bought my place so I didn’t have to worry about a landlord saying I couldn’t keep him, just my father who…”

  “What about your father?”

  How do I start, assuming I want to? And why am I telling you?

  “He insisted I was crazy for having such a big animal. That Bruce was a liability because he could hurt someone.”

  “You could have taken him to animal control.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” she snapped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just that that’s what Dad kept saying. You know how it is. As grown sons and daughters, we’re determined to live our own lives. We don’t want our parents telling us what to do.”

  Nate’s expression didn’t change. She couldn’t tell whether he was agreeing with her. A little confused, she patted Bruce then picked up her glass and swallowed. Her throat, breasts, and the fronts of her legs were hot from the fire while her shoulders and back were starting to get cold. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to risk ending this conversation by suggesting they go inside. As a teenager trapped at Lake Serene with her mother, she’d fantasized about sitting outside with a boyfriend, utterances of love spoken under the stars. She was older now, steeped in reality instead of fantasy. Nate was new to her world, not a lover.

  “It probably sounds crazy,” she went on, “but I consider myself Bruce’s rescuer. I showed him that he could trust a human. Despite his intimidating size, he’s calm and collected. I’ve needed that this past year.”

  Surprised she’d offered as much as she had, she waited for Nate to ask her to explain.

  Instead, he said, “I’d have a dog if I was more stable.”

  Stable could mean more than one thing as she knew all too well. “Are you talking about your housing situation?”

  “Pretty much.” He stood and turned so his back was to the fire. For a man who professed to need t
o be on the move, he seemed content to be here with her.

  Getting to know each other, that was all.

  Letting his stressed muscles relax. Nothing else.

  Nothing sexual.

  So far.

  Could what was developing between them turn in that direction? For someone who succeeded in the business world, floundering in the personal realm confused her. It was as if she was again a naïve, teenage girl full of hormones she didn’t understand who’d just come face to face with the high school jock.

  “The cabin has a lot of potential,” he said.

  Darn it! She was crazy to let her imagination get away from her. Nate Quaid wasn’t interested in jumping her bones. Time to get back on track. “All right. If it was yours, what would you do?”

  “And money was no object?”

  She chuckled. “Of course.”

  He studied the cabin then shifted his attention to her. She warned herself not to read too much in the intensity of his stare, but she wanted more—something.

  “I know about the restrictions on the size of the footprint,” he said, “so I’d go up, turn it into two stories. Open the middle with a winding cedar staircase. Floor to ceiling windows that face the lake. Ceiling fans to circulate heat from the wood stove. Tile floors in the kitchen and bathrooms. Thick carpet elsewhere for warmth.”

  What he was creating with his imagination made her long to have exactly that. She could almost smell the cedar. “What about the furnishings?”

  “Rustic. None of that modern stuff. I’d want it to look like a hunting cabin except the chairs and couches would be new and comfortable. Maybe a Navajo blanket on a wall. I’d keep your pictures of Lynx, add some of Glacier.”

  A hunting cabin and a Navajo wall hanging didn’t exactly go together, but she couldn’t agree more with his choice of wall art. They could decorate their place anyway they wanted.

  Their place? Now she was losing it. “How about a covered lean-to leading to the front door for storing wood? I’ve always wanted that.”

  “Good idea.” He indicated Bruce. “You could keep some old towels there for when he’s wet or muddy.”

  “And a bench to sit on while we take off or put on our boots? Also, we need room for our slippers.”

  The way his eyes widened, she guessed he’d picked up on her use of the plural pronoun. She didn’t know where that had come from.

  “Plenty of insulation would be essential and more room in the crawlspace,” he said.

  “I’m just sorry we’d have to have that. Enough.” Even though she wished the conversation could go on forever, she held up her hand. “I don’t believe in wishing for something I’m never going to have.”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s a crazy question. I’m not wired that way. Have you ever been part of something like what you were describing?”

  “Not really. Most of what I’ve done has been in subdivisions.”

  “Oh. You don’t sound too enthusiastic.”

  He shook his head. “They’re all pretty much all the same. I’m getting more of a challenge at the resort.”

  “You prefer that?”

  “I didn’t think I would, but yes, I like the challenge.”

  “Were you self-employed before you came here?”

  “I’ve always worked like that, different contractors around the country.”

  “Around the country? I can’t imagine doing that.”

  “It isn’t that difficult. As I’m sure you know, this is a word of mouth business. The construction companies, particularly the large ones in any given region, know about each other.”

  She didn’t say anything as she listened for pieces of information about the man she was sharing this quiet spring evening with.

  “I’m restless,” he said. “Always have been. I go online to research an area that appeals to me. When I learn about a new project getting underway in that area, I email whoever is in charge with my resume. I’m not bragging, I’m just saying I have decent recommendations. In the past two years I’ve worked in Texas, Florida, Alaska, and California. I’ve long wanted to explore the Rockies and Glacier is an amazing place. Soon as I’ve been here long enough to have earned some time off, that’s where I’m heading for a few days of hiking and camping.”

  She sighed. “I’d love to go to Alaska.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s such a spectacularly beautiful place. Don’t you agree?”

  “Winter’s rough, a lot of it’s pretty isolated, and the mosquitoes are monster size.”

  “Yes but the mountains—”

  He chuckled. “You have some of the best mountains in the world here.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” She repositioned herself, but the log was too rough to be comfortable. “Call it research. How can I do a decent job of comparing both places without hands-on experience?”

  He rubbed his chin as if giving her question serious thought. “Good point. For me the best part of being in Alaska was being able to take my bike so many places.”

  “What about pictures?” she pressed. “Did you take a lot? I’m sure I would.”

  “Not so much.”

  How could that be? One thing this conversation was teaching her, she didn’t know Nate Quaid. And wanted to. “I dream of getting away from things, of being somewhere remote.”

  He studied her. “With no cell phone reception?”

  “Even better. That’s my idea of heaven but it isn’t going to happen.”

  He continued looking at her until she started to feel uncomfortable. Much as she wanted to believe he wanted to get to know her, she didn’t dare let her imagination go overboard. “Because the buck stops with you.”

  “How did you guess? Nate, there’s more than one buck and they all funnel to me.”

  He walked around to where she was sitting and positioned himself so he wasn’t standing between her and heat. Bruce looked up at him, sighed, and lowered his head. It was still light and yet she was aware of the approaching night, that time when no more outside work could be done. Many people kicked off their shoes and turned on the evening news, not that she cared what was going on in the world.

  It bothered her that Nate hadn’t emotionally connected with the places he’d gone to, but she couldn’t live his life. Heck, she could barely handle her own these days.

  “It sounds,” he said, “as if you need this place.” His gaze continued. “Unfortunately there’s cell reception but a lot of the job can’t follow you, right? You won’t have clients at the door. The only thing that matters is what color paint you’re going to put on the cabin.”

  If he kept talking like that, standing close and speaking in his deep voice with his legs within reach, she risked losing herself in the fantasy he was creating.

  Maybe losing herself in him.

  “Don’t tempt me.” She hoped she sounded more carefree than she felt. “Speaking of responsibilities, dinner’s going to dry out if I don’t rescue it.”

  He held out his hand and although she was perfectly capable of getting up on her own, she placed hers in his. His palms were calloused, the skin rough. Consideration for his skinned knuckles kept her from holding on too tight. He didn’t step back, stayed close and strong and warm. Something ached, heat and energy. Wonder.

  Bruce studied both of them.

  Chapter Six

  “THAT’S REALLY GOOD,” Nate said. “Lots of flavor and vegetables. Plenty of beef.”

  “You’re okay with the vegetables?”

  “I like most of them. Not big on kale.”

  She nodded. “Me either and you aren’t going to see any okra on my plate. Mom made sure we had fruit or vegetables with every meal until…”

  So far she hadn’t said a lot about her family, just enough for him to gather it hadn’t been perfect. He was tempted, almost tempted that was, to let her know he understood. His family had been so far from that state it was almost laughable, but he wasn’t about to open that can of worms. That w
as going to limit what they talked about. What if they ran out of things to say?

  “I’ll eat just about anything,” he said.

  “That makes you the perfect houseguest.” She frowned, which made him wonder if she was debating whether she’d said something she shouldn’t have by labeling him a houseguest.

  He didn’t know. Truth was he was still feeling his way where she was concerned. Almost to his surprise, he had yet to put a move on her. He couldn’t say why that was. In some respects getting to know her was like taking his bike down a new path. Despite his need to put pedal to the metal, a virgin-to-him trail quieted a little of his speed-urge. He’d always been more interested in what was around each turn than how quickly he could reach it.

  Comparing Alisha to a rutted dirt road made no sense. He’d noticed that she’d put effort into taking the cabin out of hibernation since yesterday. It no longer smelled disused and with the wood stove going, it was on its way to being homey. Going by what she’d told him about her career, he figured she didn’t have much time for domesticity but she’d made a stab at it here. She might be debating selling it. In the meantime, it was where she sometimes hung her hat, her getaway, her refuge.

  Maybe her effort had been an attempt to impress him. If he was right, he should tell her to relax because what his roof and walls looked like had never been important to him. Where he lived didn’t matter as long as he was free to do his thing.

  Mostly it was all about being free. No walls closing in, no restraints, no more fear.

  “There’s TV reception at the lodge.” He came up. “Satellite. You could do the same.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t sound enthusiastic.”

  “I’m not much into TV. I don’t have time to follow a program. Heck, I don’t even know which shows are popular.” She cut her pot pie into bite size pieces but didn’t pick one up. “My mother—depending on how she was doing, TV could agitate her so then it stayed off. Fortunately she liked music.”