Montana Dreams

by Anna J. Stewart

  * * *

  MATTEO WASN’T SURE what was worse: a screaming, fit-throwing six-year-old or a sullen, silent boy who was blaming him for Peyton leaving them behind.

  It was a question Matteo had asked himself multiple times during the past few days, and he did so again on this first night back in his apartment now that Gino had refused his favorite dinner—pasta rings with mini meatballs. He should count himself lucky the kid didn’t chuck them at the wall. It had been that kind of day.

  Their morning arrival in California had left Matteo with plenty of hours to fill, which he did by checking out nearby schools, including, much to his personal irritation, the learning academy Peyton had recommended.

  She’d been right. It was the perfect school for his son, right down to the dedicated, small-classroom attention for students with learning differences. He’d have to get over the navy blue and burgundy blazers. He couldn’t believe he was even considering sending his son to a place like that, but thanks to the bonus and double-time payment from Electryone, not to mention the promotion he’d officially received via email yesterday, a promotion that would mean he could stay in California, he could make it work tuitionwise. At least for a couple of years until Gino was more settled.

  He had an appointment with the president of the academy the day after tomorrow, but his initial phone conversation had gone well, so he’d take that as a good sign.

  Matteo dumped the dregs of Gino’s dinner down the disposal, fixed himself a turkey sandwich before heading to check on his son in his room. He knocked on the door.

  Gino didn’t answer.

  Matteo turned the knob and pushed open the door. “Gino, we need to talk.”

  “Are you going to send me back now?”

  “What?” He stepped inside and sat next to Gino on his bed. “No, I’m not sending you back anywhere. Why would you say that?”

  Gino shrugged and tugged on the ears of one of his stuffed animals. “It’s what Mom always used to say when I was bad or got angry. That she was going to send me away to boarding school, and she’d never have to see me again.”

  Bitterness pulsed through his veins. “You never told me she said that.”

  “I didn’t want you to get angry with her. I was afraid you’d change your mind about wanting me, and now I did that anyway and maybe I can go live with Peyton if you don’t want to be my dad anymore.” Tears trickled down his face.

  “Oh, my boy.” Matteo pulled Gino into his lap. “You really have had it rougher than I thought, haven’t you?” He rocked him gently. “I want you to listen to me, all right? There is nothing, absolutely nothing, you could ever do that would make me not want you. You are all I’ve thought about since the day you were born. I love you so much it hurts me inside. A good hurt. I’ll admit I don’t like it when you get angry or stop talking to me or throw a fit that scares the horses.”

  Gino snorted. “I did do that, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did.” He tucked Gino into the crook of his arm. “We’re going to work on getting those emotions of yours under control and aimed in the right direction, okay?”

  “’Kay. What about Peyton?”

  Matteo closed his eyes, feeling his heart break all over again at the mention of her name. “What about her?”

  “I miss her, Dad. What did she do wrong that you stopped liking her?”

  “I—” Matteo stopped, frowned. “That isn’t what happened, Gino.”

  Gino shrugged. “Then, what did?”

  Matteo couldn’t believe... Wait. Was that right? When all was said and done, is that what had happened? Had he let his pride, his ego, get in the way of something that could be...that could be a dream come true? Except dreams didn’t come true for boys like Matteo. Dreams were nothing more than wishes thrown into the night sky that never gave you the answers you needed.

  Except he wasn’t that little boy anymore. He’d walked out of that life and into a new one—one that had put him in the path of a woman he knew now he’d loved almost from the start. A woman he’d been too arrogant to let help him. “You know what, G?”

  “What?”

  “I think you might be the smartest little boy I’ve ever met.”

  “I am?” Gino looked up. Clearly, given his expression, he didn’t think his father knew very many little boys. “How come?”

  “Because you see things I don’t. You know what? We’ve got a plan to make.” He stood up, dumped a squealing Gino over his shoulder and headed back into the living room. “And I’ve got someone I need to talk to.”

  * * *

  PEYTON STARED AT her cell phone, trying to feel some regret about the call she’d just made. It hadn’t been spur-of-the-moment. She didn’t make spur-of-the-moment decisions. She thought things out in meticulous detail. That included skiving off work ever since she’d gotten home over the weekend so she could finally, just a few hours ago, come to the conclusion that this apartment, her life, everything about her, screamed one thing: loneliness.

  Her life had been so full these last few weeks. Full of mindless fun and laughter and emotions she hadn’t let herself feel since, well, since before her real father had left. All of the pain and anger she’d had about her father leaving had taken off, and at the secrets she’d been forced to keep, all of it had been healed because of one man and his perfect little boy.

  Perfect. Peyton laughed to herself. Gino Rossi was far from perfect—instead, he was just like any other child. But he was perfect for his father. And he was perfect for her. Whether Matteo wanted to see her again or not, whether he’d ever see that what she’d done with his ex-wife was done for the best couldn’t matter. She’d had it in her power to give Gino every advantage in the world. And so, she had.

  The scholarship she’d set up for the boy at the education academy would be specifically for Gino’s tuition. “What’s Matteo going to do?” Peyton muttered to herself. “Stop talking to me? Cut me out of his life? Too late.”

  She tossed her phone onto the coffee table. “Nope, still not going to apologize,” she muttered. “Boy’s where he needs to be. That’s all that matters.”

  But being without them, even for these few days, hurt far more than she thought possible. The take-out container–strewn kitchen was proof of that. Her suitcase was still packed and sitting by the door. She hadn’t made her bed in days, and she’d wept her way through a good three seasons’ worth of crappy reality television that she swore had begun to rot her brain.

  “Time to stop sulking and get back to it.”

  Except nothing—and that included her job—held much appeal without having someone to share...well, everything with.

  With the sun dipping into the horizon, she went to draw the curtains and prepare for another sleepless night. Someone knocking on her door had her stopping in her tracks.

  She frowned, turned to the door, hesitating a second as she wondered whether she should answer it.

  The knock came again, only this time she heard a soft, familiar voice on the other side. “Peyton? It’s cold out here.”

  “Gino?” She ran for the door, yanked it open and found a beaming Gino standing on the other side. “What do you mean it’s cold? You’re inside.” She bent down and grabbed hold of him to pull him close. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? Where’s your dad?” Matteo never would have let Gino come here alone. She stood up, scanned the hallway in both directions. “Gino, you didn’t come here by yourself, did you?”

  “I’m a special delivery.” Gino held up a crumpled note.

  “What’s this?” Her cell phone rang. “Darn it. Gino, come inside.” She took his hand and pulled him in, retrieved her phone. She didn’t bother to glance at the screen when she picked it up. “Yes?”

  “Read it.” Matteo’s voice melted away all the hurt and grief she’d piled onto herself since leaving Montana.

  “He didn
’t come here alone.” Relief swept over her. “Thank goodness.”

  “Read the note, Peyton.” He hung up.

  She sat on the sofa, tears misting her eyes as Gino came around and sat next to her. “Don’t cry, Peyton.”

  “These are happy tears, little man.” She reached out and drew him against her, pressed her lips to the top of his head. “I’ve missed you.”

  “You have to read the note.”

  “Right. The note.” Peyton uncrumpled the paper, smoothed it out on her thigh.

  You were wrong. Gino doesn’t just belong with me. He belongs with us. Forgive me. I love you.

  Peyton laughed, the last of the heaviness breaking away from her heart. “Oh, you two.” She hugged Gino again and sprinted for the door when Matteo knocked.

  She barely had it open before she launched herself into his arms. “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong in my life.” Peyton kissed him, kicking up her feet as he twirled her around. “You were right. I should have talked to you...”

  He kissed her silent.

  “You risked everything we’d begun to build to give him what he needed,” he murmured against her lips. “That’s all I ever need to know about you. That you love my son as much as I hope you love me.”

  “You don’t have to hope.” She clung to him, then felt tiny hands reach up and grab her hand from behind his father.

  “Did it work? Does this mean Peyton’s coming home with us?”

  “You know what I think would be great?” Peyton said as she stepped back and scooped him up. “I think maybe we should all look for a new place together. Someplace with a home office so I can spend more time with you both.”

  Matteo’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

  “To be with you? Absolutely. Oh.” She bit her lip. “There might be one teeny, tiny thing I did about Gino’s schooling you might not be happy about.”

  Matteo looked at her, looked at his son. “You covered his tuition, didn’t you?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not like you could have been any angrier with me. And he deserves the best. Just like his father does.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Matteo said as she led him and his sweet, smiling son into her apartment. “Together.”

  EPILOGUE

  One week later...

  Santa Barbara, CA

  THE RAPPING ON the door of the RV brought Big E to his feet. Who could this be? he asked himself.

  Rudy Harrison, beer bottle in hand, casually leaned back in his chair as the door popped open and Matteo Rossi stepped inside.

  “Evening,” Matteo said. “You two aren’t all that easy to track down, you know that?”

  “Ever consider that might be by design, son?” Big E slapped his hand on Matteo’s shoulder affectionately and drew the younger man in. “Don’t know why you’d be looking for two old codgers like us.”

  “How did things go with Peyton?” Rudy asked. “You admit to being an overreacting fool?”

  Matteo looked at Rudy for a long time before speaking. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think I can answer that truthfully now that you’re going to be my father-in-law.”

  Rudy’s face split into a grin so wide Big E swore he saw his back molars.

  Big E shook Matteo’s hand. “Well, good on you, son. Knew you and Peyton would make a great pair as soon as I saw you two together in that restaurant.”

  “No taking complete credit,” Matteo said, grinning. “But I’ll give you some. And I owe you. That’s why I made the drive down here to Santa Barbara.” He took an envelope from his jacket pocket and set it on the counter. “I called in a few favors, reached out to former intelligence operatives and asked them to do a deep dive for Thomas Blackwell.”

  “You...did what?” Rudy was on his feet in an instant, but he wasn’t fast enough to beat Big E to the envelope.

  “Something I learned from your daughter, sir,” Matteo said. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission. I know you have your own sources—”

  “Naval records didn’t get us very far,” Rudy said as Big E scanned the information. “Well? What does it say, Elias?”

  “Confirms what we thought. That Thomas is still alive. Or was as of a year ago.” Big E closed his eyes and, unusually for him, offered a prayer of thanks. “This gives us information his military records didn’t, including locations he’s been known to work, VA benefits he tried to claim. It’s a lot more for us to go on, for our road map, Matteo.” Big E offered his hand again. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t just do it for you,” Matteo said. “I did it for Peyton. She loves you, Mr. Harrison. She loves you so much. But she needs closure with Thomas, if it’s at all possible. I want that hole in her heart to heal.”

  “The hole that started to heal thanks to you and Gino,” Rudy said.

  “I hope so. Well, if you’ll excuse me.” He pushed open the door.

  “Hang on.” Big E grabbed his arm. “You drove ninety minutes to an RV park just to drop this off and drive back? Son, that’s a bit above and beyond.”

  “No,” Matteo said. “It’s not.” He smiled and tapped two fingers against his heart. “It’s what you do for family.”

  * * *

  Don’t miss Montana Match, the next great installment of The Blackwell Sisters miniseries, coming next month from acclaimed author Carol Ross and Harlequin Heartwarming.

  For more compelling romances from Harlequin Heartwarming, please visit www.Harlequin.com today!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Mountain Mistletoe Christmas by Patricia Johns.

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  Mountain Mistletoe Christmas

  by Patricia Johns

  CHAPTER ONE

  WHEN UNCLE STU announced he was gay after thirty-five years of marriage, the entire family had been stunned. In Jen Taylor’s family, Uncle Stu and Aunt Gayle had been pillars of marital success—both with great careers, financial security and the sweetest way of toasting each other from across the room to a successfully served Thanksgiving dinner.

  “Gayle’s the best!” Stu always said, raising his glass. “She’s a real pal. Couldn’t do it all without her.”

  So, looking back on it, there had been...signs. But what woman wanted to face that unless she absolutely had to? Jen could sympathize. Divorce was the most painful experience of Jen’s life so far, too—almost like tearing off a limb. Trying it after thirty-five years of marriage was almost unfathomable.

  But the tragedy for her aunt and uncle was more than just Gayle’s decades of marriage to a man who never truly desired her. It was Stu’s decades of repressing who he really was. Painful as it was for everyone in the family, that divorce was for the best.

  So when her favorite aunt called with a verbal invitation for her second wedding, to a local retired real-estate lawyer named Matthew Pickard, how could Jen not attend? Just because Jen was recovering from her own painful divorce, and her twelve-year-old son was spending Christmas with her ex-husband, didn’t mean she couldn’t be happy for other people. Right? Her therapist had said so, at least, and she’d been repeating that mantra to herself for weeks. Besides, Jen had just moved back to Mountain Springs, Colorado, and she’d recently purchased the old mansion on South Avenue. It wasn’t like she couldn’t make it to the wedding...

  So here she was at Mount Springs Lodge—a lakeside lodge styled like a log cabin that had been redone to some real luxury in the past few years. Jen scanned the name cards. She had been marooned at a corner table with an arguably gorgeous view of the lake, with a bunch of women she didn’t know. Renata Spivovich, Angelina Cunningham, Belle Villeneuve and a coup
le—Melanie and Logan McTavish. Or siblings? She had no idea. For being so eager to have Jen come to the wedding, Aunt Gayle could have at least put her at a table with family. Jen picked up her name card and glanced across the dining room to where her sister, Lisa, was already chatting with some cousins.

  “Hi.”

  Jen started and sheepishly put the card back when a short, plump woman with a sparkling smile came up beside her. She wore a black sequined dress and her short hair was done in a messy, spiky do that suited her round face.

  “I’m Renata,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “Gayle’s told us all about you.”

  “Has she?” That was strange. “How do you know my aunt?”

  “We have a dinner club,” Renata replied. “She hasn’t told you about us?”

  “I think she mentioned a dinner club.” And her aunt had stuck her with them? Jen was trying not to be insulted here, but...

  “There’s Belle,” Renata said, looking past Jen’s shoulder, and Jen turned to see a lithe, brunette beauty sailing toward them in a formfitting silk sheath. Jen felt positively prepubescent next to her.

  “Hey, girl,” Belle said, leaning down to give Renata a hug; then she turned to Jen. “Are you Jen Taylor?”

  “Yeah—”

  “Great to meet you,” Belle said, and she enclosed her in a perfume-scented hug. “Sorry, I’m a hugger. I wasn’t always, but I like it.”

  Jen stared at her in mute surprise.

  “You okay?” Belle asked with a coaxing smile. “The hug was too much?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Jen chuckled. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Sit, sit,” Renata said, pulling out her chair. “The food is going to be amazing. Angelina was supervising everything—she owns this place, you know.”