Searching for Love (The Bradens & Montgomerys (Pleasant Hill - Oak Falls) Book 6)

by Melissa Foster

  “You’re smiling, so I take it they were good plans?”

  Her smile was caused by how easy and nice it was to be with Zev more than the plans they were talking about. But she kept that little tidbit to herself and said, “Scary, but good. The weekend I arrived, Marie took me to Redemption Ranch, which is owned by Birdie’s parents, Tiny and Wynnie Whiskey. I’m not sure if you remember, but Marie isn’t my real aunt.”

  “I remember. She was your mom’s best friend, right?”

  “Yes.” She loved that he remembered. “Marie is Wynnie’s sister, which is how I met Birdie. She was only fourteen at the time, and I was nineteen. I know that seems like a big age gap, but she was so full of life and I was so down. She was a godsend.”

  “She’s pretty chipper.”

  “She’s a hot mess sometimes, but she’s brilliant, and one of the best, most caring people I’ve ever known. Tiny was one of the founders of the Colorado chapter of the Dark Knights motorcycle club, and all of her brothers are members. They’re tough, and some of them look rough, but they’ve got hearts of gold. Her family and the people at the ranch helped me tremendously. You met one of Birdie’s brothers, Callahan, Cowboy, at my shop the other night. He’s like a brother to me. All of the Whiskeys have become like family.”

  “Hey, I’m not judging you or anything, but it’s kind of gross to have an open relationship with someone you consider a brother.” He squeezed her hand and winked.

  “I’ve missed your sense of humor. It’s still so easy to talk to you.”

  “I’m glad. I’ve missed everything about you.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it as they made their way around a boulder. “Tell me more about how they helped you.”

  “They did so much. Redemption Ranch doesn’t just rescue horses; they also help people. Wynnie is a licensed psychologist. She and a team of other medical professionals, mostly comprised of Dark Knights and their family members, work at the ranch and hold daily therapy sessions for groups and individuals. They hire ex-cons, recovering drug addicts, and people with social and emotional issues to work on the ranch, and through the work they do, and therapy, they help them heal, find their purpose, and get back on their feet. The first three months I was in Colorado, I worked at the ranch and went through therapy during the week, and I worked at my aunt’s shop on the weekends. There was always someone at the ranch to talk to who had been through worse things than I had, who had suffered losses and knew how to help me through my grief. Working with the horses gave me something to focus on and a physical outlet for some of my frustrations. Therapy gave me the tools and knowledge I needed to heal, and the Whiskeys gave me a family of friends, which I desperately needed for a hundred different reasons.”

  “I’m so glad you had them,” Zev said as they made their way up a steep incline. “But now I feel like a dick for wanting to kill Cowboy.”

  She laughed softly.

  “Seriously, though, I’m glad you have people who have your back. Is Wynnie the therapist you mentioned last night?”

  “Yes. I told her about us, and she’s the only person besides you who knows about Mexico and the miscarriage. She helped me realize that so much had happened all at once with losing Tory and our breakup that I had never fully grieved losing either of you. Then leaving you the way I did in Mexico and the miscarriage just piled on guilt and more grief.”

  She stopped walking and faced him as things became clearer to her. “Zevy, I grieved for all of those losses a long time ago. I think most of last night’s tears were from finally being able to get it all out to the right person. Some were also for you, since it was the first you’d heard about the pregnancy. But I’m sorry I yelled and that I shoved you. I didn’t realize how much was trapped inside me until it started coming out like Mount Saint Helens.”

  He smiled, but it wasn’t a humorous smile; it was a thoughtful one, the type that urged her to hear his next words. “I’m sorry, too. My anger wasn’t directed at you. It was all at me, but I never should have raised my voice.”

  “I know it was hard for both of us, but I’m glad we got it out. I feel better than I have in a long time.”

  “I do, too, but I’ll always regret hurting you.”

  “Then we’re even, because of the way I left you in Mexico. But I’m not still grieving those things. It’s all in the past. Now I know why you left, and you know why I left in Mexico. Wynnie, Marie, and the Whiskeys showed me I could move on, and I know we can, too. I really want to put all that behind us and enjoy this time together.”

  “I’d like nothing more,” he said softly, as if it took a lot to get the words out.

  As another weight lifted from her shoulders, their eyes locked, turning that relief to something much hotter. His chest expanded with a deep inhalation, his muscles cording with restraint. It was good to know she wasn’t treading alone in the well of their desires. She wanted to bridge the gap, to seal their words with a kiss, but she knew where that would lead, and she wasn’t quite ready for that just yet. He must have seen that in her eyes, because without a word, he took a step, bringing her with him along the trail. Thank you, Zevy.

  “I’m trying here, Carls,” he said, holding her hand tight as a vise. “But you better talk before I give in and kiss you.”

  She wrestled with the desire to lean in and kiss him, but before she could make up her mind, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye and said, “You’re making this very hard.”

  A giggle bubbled out, breaking her spell.

  “If you don’t start talking, we’re not going to make it to the cliffs. I’ll haul your gorgeous ass over my shoulder and carry you off to a cave.”

  “Oh my…That does not sound so bad.”

  “Carls,” he growled, making her laugh again. “As much as I want you, I’m not doing that to us. I won’t do anything that you might regret later. Please, cut me a break and talk about something that can’t be taken sexually.”

  “That’s hard to do with you.”

  He glared at her. She realized what she’d said and laughed hysterically, earning more stern looks, which only made her laugh harder.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to tamp down her laughter, scrambling for something to talk about. “Okay. Let’s see. I told you I never finished college, but I went back to school to become a chocolatier, and it was a good thing, because a few years ago my aunt sold her house and most of her belongings, packed a couple of suitcases, and said she was going off to see the world.” She noticed his grip on her hand had eased and stole a glance at him. He was breathing a little easier. “Marie was the most independent woman I’d ever met. She’s never been married, never had a long-term relationship as far as I know, and she owned her own business. But she’d never gone anywhere. She said if she didn’t do it then, she might never get the chance. She signed the business over to me, and I’ve been running it ever since. How bizarre is that?”

  “I think it’s pretty awesome. It sounds like it was just what you needed.”

  “Yeah, I think it was the right thing at the right time, like last night.”

  He pulled her closer, guiding her around a rock in the trail, and said, “What’s your life like now?”

  “It isn’t very adventurous anymore, and that’s okay. I have little adventures. Between festivals and concerts, there’s always something going on around here. Next week is Festival on the Green, one of my favorite events, and of course working with Birdie is always an adventure,” she joked. “I have a good life here, and I think we’ve talked about it enough. I want to know what you’ve been doing all these years. I’m sure your life is a million times more exciting than mine.”

  “You’ve overcome so much. You’ve become a chocolatier and you run a business that you never planned to run. I’d say that’s a hell of an adventurous life.”

  “That’s sweet, and maybe kind of true. I haven’t ever thought about it that way.” She pointed to her sneakers and said, “But these feet have not left the ground i
n years. Please tell me about your life so I can live vicariously through your stories. I want to hear it all. Except about the women. You can leave them out the same way I left out the men in mine.”

  He scowled, but his eyes gave his joke away as he said, “You mean there’ve been other men in your life?”

  “So, so many,” she said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Between my open relationships with cowboys and my dozens of other rough and rugged boyfriends, it’s hard to keep track.” She loved playing games with Zev, but she wanted him to know the truth about who she was, so she said, “There haven’t been that many men in my life, but there have been enough. I’m sure you haven’t been a saint for all these years while you’ve been out on your Pirates of the Caribbean adventures.”

  “I haven’t been a saint, but nothing’s ever clicked.”

  “For me, either.” Their eyes met, and they both slowed their pace, the air between them thickening at the speed of light. Her pulse quickened as voices cut through the air, jerking her back to reality. It was just the distraction she needed. Silk Hollow was right around the other side of the boulder. She started jogging up the hill, tugging him behind her, and said, “Tell me about your adventures, Captain Jack!”

  “I don’t look like Captain Jack. He’s got really long hair,” he said as they rounded the boulder and Silk Hollow came into view.

  Tufts of lush grass poked out from the rocky landscape. People shouted as they jumped from various boulders surrounding the deep end of the gorge, serenaded by cheers from their friends below as they plunged into the water. A group of twentysomethings were sitting on the rocky dirt shore, listening to music and hollering to a group of people who had just started the trek up the boulders toward the dive spots.

  “Captain Jack is old, and his body kind of sucks,” Zev said with an arrogant grin.

  She laughed, loving his cockiness. “But Johnny Depp is still hot.” She let go of his hand and ran down the incline toward the water. “Come on, Johnny!”

  He took off after her and hollered, “Call me Johnny again, Carly Dylan, and you’ll pay for it.”

  She dropped her backpack on the rocks, squealing as he caught her by the waist and spun her around. “Can I call you Captain?” she shouted.

  “Only if I can call you mine.”

  Her heart said yes! and she wished it were that easy. But worry crept in, and she knew she needed to be smarter this time. To learn about his situation, just as he’d learned hers.

  “You wish, Captain Jack!” she said playfully, and wiggled free from his grasp. She stripped off her clothes, nearly igniting from the flames in his eyes, and yelled, “Race ya!” as she ran into the water.

  Chapter Eight

  ZEV DROPPED HIS backpack and took off after Carly hoping for icy water, because damn…She had curves that could make a dead man weep and the last thing he needed was to be sporting wood around all those other people. They splashed through the cold water, laughing like old times. When they hit the deep end, he dove for her, taking her under with him, and guided her slippery body back up to the surface. She gasped, laughing as he swept her into his arms, holding her soft wet body against him and kicking to keep them both afloat.

  “It’s so cold!” she said, pushing her hair from her eyes with one hand, her arm hooked around his neck.

  “I can help with that.” He leaned in for a kiss, but she wiggled free and dove beneath the surface.

  He took the hint—too much, too fast—but he still went after her. They splashed and laughed, swimming around the basin, careful to steer clear of the divers plunging around them. Carly went under, and he lost sight of her. He spun around just as she broke the surface, splashed him in the face, and swam away. He snagged her around the waist and lifted her into the air. She squealed, arms and feet flailing as he tossed her into the deeper water.

  Carly shrieked, “Zevy Braden!” in midair and plunged beneath the surface.

  She was the only person who called him Zevy, and he’d always loved the way she said it like he was all hers. Even as a kid she’d said it with authority and ownership. Other girls were silly, but Carly had always been different. She was funny and playful but so smart. Way smarter than him.

  He swam underwater, snagging her around the waist again, sparking more giggles. She sounded just like she had years ago, bringing a flood of memories of swimming together as kids back home, and later as teenagers, when the sight of her in a bathing suit made him hard as stone and the feel of her slippery body squirming against his was too much to take. He remembered them mastering how to kiss underwater and sneaking away from their families at the beach to make out. Memories came one right after another just as they had when they were hiking up the hill to get there. He remembered their youthful treks, hobo stick in hand, cereal in their backpacks. Even then his pulse beat faster around her. He hadn’t realized until years later that those pulse-racing, secret-keeping moments were woven into the fabric of falling in love with her. He’d thought of her every damn day and missed her with every iota of his being, and still he hadn’t realized exactly how much until now, when she was finally within reach.

  She put her arms around him, out of breath and smiling, and exclaimed, “This is so fun! I want to hear all about your adventures. Every single one of them.”

  “Nah, come on. They weren’t that great.” He wanted to keep playing around, holding her, watching her walls come down one laugh at a time.

  “Stop being humble. You live the life we dreamed of, and I want to hear about how wonderful it is.”

  His gut twisted with regret. “Carls.”

  “I’m not sad or begrudging you for all you’ve done, Zev.” She was beaming at him without an ounce of negativity. “We were put on separate paths, and you’ve heard all about mine. I want to hear about yours.”

  Carly had never been one to hold a grudge, but he was surprised that it still held true when he’d set off to live a life without walls or boundaries. A life that he had hoped he could get so lost in, he might be able to forget the hurt he’d caused without forgetting anything about the love they’d shared, even if it hadn’t turned out that way.

  She pushed out of his arms, swimming around him, and said, “The last time I did anything with archaeology was my second year of college. I interned for two semesters doing conservatory work and extracting items from concretions for a marine study. I’ve kept up my deep-sea diving skills, and I’ve gone on a couple of land-based archaeological getaways, but they weren’t anything like what we talked about.” Her expression turned sheepish. “I looked you up online after I saw you in Mexico, but I couldn’t find anything on you. I never looked again until Beau and Char hired me to cater their reception. For some reason, I still couldn’t find pictures of you, but I read about you finding a shipwreck with another guy.”

  “I didn’t let them photograph me for the articles about our discovery because people are batshit crazy when it comes to money. I’d rather be the grungy guy with the backpack that people give space to than the rich guy who found the sunken ship who becomes the target of every scam out there.”

  “I don’t blame you for that. But you’ve done amazing things, and I want to hear about them.”

  “None of it was romantic, like we imagined.” They’d dreamed of spending nights in cabanas and making love on boats beneath he stars. But what teenagers would let bugs and snakes into their dreams of makeshift tents or life-threatening squalls that left them praying for their lives and shaking with cold dampen their fantasies?

  She splashed him and said, “Let me be the judge of that. I forced myself not to think about you for so long, now that we’ve cleared the air, I kind of like thinking of you out there in the wild.”

  He swam underwater to her, guiding her to waist-deep water out of the shadows of the boulders, far away from the divers.

  “Tell me everything,” she said, sunlight twinkling in her eyes.

  He didn’t want to tell her about the lonely, painful months followin
g his leaving Pleasant Hill, when it had taken everything he had just to make it through the day, forcing himself to get as far from home as quickly as possible for fear of turning back. So he began with their last encounter. “The day after we hooked up in Mexico, I went to a bar to drown my sorrows, and that’s when I met Luis Rojas—”

  “The guy you found that ship with off the coast of the Bahamas?”

  “Yeah,” he said as a group of teenagers bounded into the water. He put an arm protectively around Carly and said, “Want to sit in the sun a bit?”

  She nodded, and they made their way back to their belongings. They spread towels on the ground beside the rocks, and as they sat down, Carly said, “Tell me about Luis.”

  “You’d like him. He’s an old-school kind of guy who doesn’t mince words and looks like an aging pirate. In fact, he’s got Captain Jack hair with some gray in it, a bushy beard, and eyes like my father’s that see everything. He’s very wise, and an underwater archaeologist. He’d just turned fifty-five when we met, and he’d been trying to find the wreckage from the Black Widow pirate ship for more than twenty years. We hit it off right away. Anyway, he was leaving the next day to head down the coast, and he hired me on. He became my mentor, my best friend, and if you ask him, he’d probably tell you that he was my therapist, too. We’ve had a lot of great conversations over the years. Not a day passes that I don’t miss working with him. And by the way, he often gave me hell for the way I left you.” Luis hadn’t known Carly, Tory, or Beau, which had made him safe for Zev to talk with about everything that had happened without seeing the devastation in his eyes that Zev had seen in everyone else’s. And even though Luis had given him a hard time about the way he’d left Carly, talking with Luis had also allowed him to revel in the sweetness of what he and Carly had once had.