by D'Ann Lindun
Her lips curved into an unwilling smile in return. “Right.”
The horses began to climb the steep mountain trail and Montana’s mind went to the mules, making sure their packs stayed straight. She didn’t have time to wonder if Johnny was watching her backside.
As they climbed high into the Rockies, heavy gray clouds gathered, signaling an oncoming storm. Montana untied her brown Carhartt coat from behind her saddle and pulled it over her sweatshirt. The warm fall day had suddenly turned brisk and wintery. Not an uncommon occurrence in the mountains.
She scanned the valleys below. Although clouds obscured some of the scenery, she scouted for game. A movement at the edge of some pines caught her eye—several elk grazed below.
Catching Ryan’s attention, she pointed.
He followed the line of her finger, nodding when he spotted the herd.
Like a train screeching to a halt, Ryan reined in his bay gelding. The mules came to a stop, grateful for a chance to rest. The riders took note of the big animals below. One of the horses snorted and stamped. The group sat in silent awe as an impressive bull lifted his head, heavy with antlers, and bugled, his mating call echoing across the mountains.
Pleased her hunters had seen such impressive game their first day, Montana glanced at each of them. Both Adrian and Stoney pulled out binoculars and aimed them at the enormous animal below. They stared transfixed at the bull.
To Montana’s surprise, Joel had his phone out again. Instead of admiring the trophy elk like everyone else, he texted madly. Sure her eyes deceived her, surprised he could even get service, Montana watched his fingers fly over the screen, as if his life depended upon it.
Curious if the rock star also found business at home more interesting than the animal he’d purportedly come to hunt, she glanced over her shoulder. Unlike the others, he’d slipped his rifle from his scabbard and pointed it at the elk. While she watched, he peered through the scope.
So he knew how to sight a target.
He’d been hunting before; maybe this whole trip wasn’t a complete farce after all.
Wearing his coat—a black duster straight out of a western movie—with his trademark straw cowboy hat and long hair falling down his back, he looked like a mountain man.
Sexy as hell.
Whoa! What?
Sexy?
The lack of oxygen must be getting to her because there was no way in hell she’d ever find Johnny remotely attractive.
Liar.
The first man to remotely catch her interest since her ex fiancé had to be a bigger star than the running back. With even more women chasing him.
Turning her head was one thing, acting on it another. Like she would a painting or statue, she could admire him without touching.
Spooked, the elk suddenly fled.
“Aren’t they something?” she asked.
“Sure are.” Johnny looked her way and a slow smile slid over his face. “Incredible beauty.”
He meant the elk. Surely.
Holding her gaze, he pushed his rifle back into its scabbard. Sensual. Sexual. Deliberate.
Telltale heat climbed up her face and she looked away.
Ryan whistled to let the mules know it was time to move and the line of animals started up the trail, breaking the weird spell Johnny had just cast over her. Montana touched her heels to Sunflower’s sides.
What the hell had just happened?
It had to be the elevation getting to her.
CHAPTER SIX
The campsite sat at the edge of a pine-edged bowl high in the mountains. Steam from a nearby natural hot spring rose in the chilly air, meeting the hovering clouds above. They obliterated the nearby peaks, and a steady cold drizzle had everyone hunching their shoulders against the onslaught.
No one, including Shannon or Ryan, looked happy to be riding in a mountain storm. At this time of year there might be a foot of snow on the ground by morning, or the sun could be blazing. It was impossible to know.
Montana and Ryan had ridden in earlier in the week to set three large white canvas tents in a semicircle near the pine trees. All they had to do was unpack.
With only an hour left until dark, a lot had to be done in a short amount of time.
Like a well-oiled machine, the trio of guides jumped into action. Dismounting, Montana led Sunflower to a pine tree and tied him, and then hurried to help Ryan with the mules. They unloaded coolers and supplies from the tired animals. Shannon made sure their guests dismounted and the horses were tied before she headed for the tents to start a fire in the big barrel stoves they’d packed in ahead of time.
Someone appeared at Montana’s left elbow.
Johnny.
Rain dripped from the brim of his hat. “Where do you want us? Hand me something to carry.”
Surprised by the offer, she pointed. “Guys’ tent on the right. Women to the left. All these coolers go in the middle one.”
He nodded and chose the heaviest container. “Got it.”
As Montana continued to unload supplies, the other hunters approached. Adrian stuffed a sleeping bag under each arm, Stoney grabbed a cooler and Joel selected their duffle bags. Johnny returned and picked up another load.
The mules were unpacked and the horses unsaddled within minutes.
Together, Montana and Ryan stowed their tack under a blue tarp staked between two giant pine trees. He pulled a burlap bag free from the pile and dug inside it. Selecting a pair of hobbles, he bent and fastened them around a mule’s front legs. Satisfied the molly wouldn’t roam too far, he turned her loose. One by one, he hobbled every animal.
Hopping like kangaroos, the herd headed for the mountain meadow to graze. Although they were free to move about, the hobbles kept them in camp. Satisfied they were content, Montana turned toward the cook tent, eager to warm up her icy hands. The scent of wood smoke filled the air. Shannon would have hot coffee ready for them.
Montana and Ryan were hurrying toward the cook tent when Johnny intercepted them. “Do we have everything? Do I need to get the gang out here for anything else?”
“We got it. Thanks.” With her chin, Montana indicated the canvas shelter. “Let’s get inside for some hot coffee.”
“No problem.” He smiled and her heart stuttered. “A fire sounds good.”
In spite of standing in the pouring rain, her body suddenly heated. “Yes.”
Shannon had a fire blazing and the scent of hot, bubbling coffee filled the air as they entered. Everyone sat in camp chairs in a semicircle around the stove.
“Coffee?” Shannon held up the pot.
Montana rubbed her cold hands together. “Please.”
“Hell yeah,” Johnny said.
Montana and Johnny took the last two empty chairs while Shannon filled two mugs for them. The number of people in the tent forced everyone close. Montana’s knee bumped Johnny’s.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Not a problem.”
Something deep in Montana’s stomach folded and unfolded. Her hand shook as she lifted the mug to her lips. But not from cold. With so many bodies packed into such a small space, being chilled wasn’t the issue.
Being so close to Johnny made her long for things she couldn’t have.
Raising the cup, she sipped the strong black brew. The question of why this particular man had her hormones spinning out of control confused her. She’d been around animals her entire life and understood base attraction. That had to be all the funny fluttering in her belly amounted to.
“Man, this country is something else,” Adrian commented. “Much more rugged than I expected.”
“You’ve hunted before?” Ryan asked.
She nodded. “All my life. But I’ve never been this high.”
Stoney snorted. “Right.”
She glared at him. “Shut up. I’m not talking about dope and you know it.”
Ryan rose and stuffed another log into the stove. “Where are you from?”
“South Louisiana. Can�
��t you hear the Cajun?” Adrian grinned. “Not exactly the height of elk-hunting land. But an ex introduced me to deer hunting down south and I try to go as often as Cowboy’s touring and recording schedule allows.”
“One of your girlfriends taught you how to hunt?” Stoney’s brows lifted to his hairline.
Adrian frowned. “Yeah. What’s so weird about that? Because it was a girl and not a guy?”
Stoney shrugged. “Not at all.”
Ryan reclaimed his seat and wagged his fingers between Joel and Stoney. “What about you two? What’s your experience in the great outdoors?”
“I’ve never hunted before. At least not an animal.” Stoney laughed. “And Joel’s been to the park once. Maybe.”
Joel laughed. “True.”
“You camped with me in college,” Montana reminded him.
“I’ve tried to block it out,” he said.
In his typical nosey fashion, Ryan asked what they all wondered. “What made you decide to come on this trip?”
Joel shot a quick glance between the band members. “We just thought it would be good for Cowboy to slip out of the spotlight for a while. This seemed as far away as we could get from the press and still hang onto the barest edges of civilization.”
“Hiding from women, huh?” Ryan laughed. “I know how that goes.”
Montana exhaled sharply. “Ryan!”
Instead of taking offense, Johnny tipped his head back, his laughter loud and raucous. “Exactly.”
“Most of my troubles stem from the ladies,” Ryan said. “Hunting season is great. You get to escape up in the hills and leave your problems at home.”
“Precisely,” Johnny agreed.
Joel shifted. “Cowboy—”
Ignoring him, Johnny said, “Every single one of my trials and tribulations comes from bitches.”
“Why bitches?” Shannon stared at him as if he had two heads. “I mean you could date anyone, right?”
“You need a nice country girl like Montana or Shannon,” Ryan said. “They’re the best. Not all bat-shit crazy like some of those city chicks I’ve met.”
Shannon giggled.
Montana motioned with her empty cup at the pot on the stove, hoping to distract her friends from grilling their guest. Her face heated. What had made Ryan suggest something so crazy? She glared at him and he peered back with an innocent look.
Johnny stared into his cup. “It’s not easy to meet someone who doesn’t want my money or fame.”
“You could have had Peyton—”
“She was too good for me.” His tone went flat.
Adrian snorted. “If you’d quit chasing airheads and bimbos, you’d find someone decent.”
“Like you have?” he shot back.
“Touché.” She looked around. “Where’s our liquor? I think I need some brandy. Excellent as my coffee is, I need something a bit stronger.”
“I’ll find it.” Montana jumped up, desperately wishing for a table to crawl under. All this talk of what kind of woman Johnny preferred had her squirming inside. Who was Peyton? One thing was certain—whatever type he preferred had nothing to do with her.
After scrambling over everyone’s legs, she took her time looking for the liquor. Digging around long enough to let her heated face cool, she found the alcohol stacked in a neat pile at the back corner of the tent. She glanced over her shoulder to ask Adrian what she wanted and found Johnny’s hot gaze on her.
As clear as if he spoke the words, his eyes conveyed a message…
I want you.
Her knees trembled, making her glad she wasn’t standing. She forced her gaze back to the task at hand.
“Found it. What do you want?” Thank God her voice didn’t shake.
“There should be some cherry brandy there. Maybe some plum. Grab them, will you?” Adrian asked.
“Will you also grab a bottle of vodka for me?” Johnny requested.
“Sure.” Montana found both items. Now how could she get them to Adrian while avoiding Johnny’s unnerving stare?
Simply no way. The eastern side of the tent had all the coolers lined up along it, and people filled the other side. She had to clamber over everyone’s feet to get back to her chair, while trying to ignore Johnny’s silent come-on.
What the hell was wrong with him? She’d met rabbits less horny than this guy. Well, it didn’t matter. She was off limits. Ignoring him, she scrambled over everyone’s legs back to her seat.
She gave Johnny his vodka, careful not to touch him. “Here you go.”
“Ah, perfect.” He unscrewed the cap and poured a liberal amount into his coffee cup.
Montana handed the brandy to Adrian. “Here’s yours.”
“Thanks, love.” Adrian opened the bottle of cherry brandy. “Who wants some?”
Joel and Stoney lifted their coffee mugs. Adrian filled them, then gestured at the guides. “You want some? It’s good.”
Ryan held out his cup. “I do.”
Shannon accepted a shot with a nod.
Adrian tipped the bottle at Montana.
Why not? One drink wasn’t going to send her into a drunken stupor that would have her climbing into bed with Johnny. Or anyone else for that matter. She shrugged. “Sure.”
“That’s the spirit.” Adrian grinned at her own wit.
Montana drank the liquor in a quick gulp. She coughed as the sweet flavor spread across her tongue, then slid down her throat and throughout her limbs.
Johnny laughed. “Easy does it, lightweight.”
“Whoa, slow down,” Adrian said. “Keep that up and we’ll be carrying you to bed.”
“Not a problem.” Johnny winked at her.
An image of him taking her to bed made Montana clench her thighs. She knew she had to keep her head. In the morning she would be taking novices into the wilderness. “We better eat. What are we having, Shannon?”
“Fresh salmon with baked potatoes. Raspberries over cheesecake for desert.”
“Wow,” Adrian said. “Damn, girl. I was expecting bologna sandwiches and chips.”
Even Stoney perked up. “That sounds great.”
Johnny rubbed his stomach with both hands. “I’m starving.”
“The altitude will do that to you,” Ryan said. “And Shannon’s cooking will make a believer out of you.”
A gust of wind rattled the tent’s canvas walls.
“I need to round up the horses before dark.” Montana reached for her Stetson and coat. “The storm’s picking up speed.”
Ryan was already on his feet. “I’m on it.”
Johnny reached for his hat. “I want to help.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Montana said. “Ryan and I have it. You’re our guest—”
“I insist.” He stood and slipped into his long black duster. “This trip is about getting away and being free to do what I want for a change. And I want to round up horses.”
Montana opened her mouth to protest again, then snapped it shut. He was the guest. What he wanted came first. To a point. If he wanted to go out in the rain, so be it. If he decided to put on the spoiled star act, she’d put him in his place fast.
He hasn’t acted up yet.
So far he’s been nothing but nice and cooperative.
Ducking her head through the tent’s opening, Montana stepped into the storm. The drizzle had turned into hard driving sleet. The frozen ice hit her directly in the face and she blinked hard. Following Ryan to the tarp where the tack had been stored, she refused to look over her shoulder to see if Johnny was with her. If he wanted to play cowboy, let him see just how hard the real thing was. He could call himself the name all day long. Being one was a little tougher.
Each of them grabbed an armload of halters and headed for the meadow. The animals had been here many times and knew to huddle under the pine trees. Unfortunately, they liked the far end of the field where there was more protection. As the trio walked, the sleet clinging to tall grass soaked their pant legs. Without their p
rotective bibs they’d be sopping wet to the skin in no time.
“Sunflower, come on, boy.”
At Montana’s soft call, the palomino came toward her. The other horses continued to crowd under the trees. She quickly haltered her gelding, and seeing Johnny standing nearby, handed him the lead rope.
“Hold him, please. I’ll get another one.”
He traded the lead for a halter like he knew what to do.
Not bad for a drugstore cowboy.
Together, Montana and Ryan caught the horses and mules and handed the lead ropes to Johnny. For a moment, she stopped and stared. The famous rock star looked like any other cowhand in his long black duster and cowboy hat. With the sleet pouring over him, he reminded her of any cowboy doing his job.
When all the animals had been caught, Ryan knelt and removed their hobbles, and they headed toward the tents.
It only took a few moments before Johnny caught on and jumped in to help. The three of them worked together as if they’d been doing it for years, tying the horses to the trees whipping at the edge of camp and feeding each a measure of grain.
Montana couldn’t fault Johnny’s work ethic.
The internet articles said he’d worked his butt off to get a record deal. She began to see his determination. He hadn’t bitched and moaned about the cold, wet conditions and had jumped in at every turn.
After the last horse had been fed, she shot Johnny a smile. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.” His wink made her pulse pick up a few notches. “I could use another drink about now. How about you?”
“Ryan and I need to build fires in the sleeping tents. They’ll be icy if we don’t do it now,” she said. “We’ll be there shortly.”
Instead of heading for the cook tent and vodka, he said, “Show me what to do.”
“You really don’t need to,” she protested.
“Didn’t we already cover this?”
He stepped so close, the brims of their hats bumped and the little flecks of navy in his crystal blue eyes stood out like lasers. She refused to back up. “We did.”
“Then tell me how to help you.” His voice was husky.
Why did his simple request conjure up images that had nothing to do with building a fire? At least not the kind done in a woodstove. She touched her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.
