Montana Maverick

by Debra Salonen

  Meg nodded.

  “The same way I don’t want to deprive you of a child.”

  She blinked in surprise. She honestly hadn’t seen the parallel before. “With one slight difference. Before Mia’s surgery, her doctor convinced her to harvest some eggs. Just in case.”

  “Oh.” He made an aha sound. “So when you told her you saw yourself giving birth to her child, you meant it literally. Like a surrogate.”

  “Yes. Although, the idea never crossed my mind until…”

  “Your dream…where you saw Laurel.”

  She closed her eyes. “I must have imagined that. Maybe I saw her photo when you carried me in.”

  “I suppose that’s possible, but you were pretty out of it at the time.”

  “Maybe I got up at some point and went to the bathroom. Or I could have seen her picture in the kids’ stuff at my place.”

  “Annie keeps Laurel’s picture in her little purse, but I’m not sure that went with us in the helicopter.”

  Meg sighed deeply. “I can’t explain it, but if you tell me she was a midwife, I’m going to hit you.”

  He snickered softly. “She taught preschool. She loved children. That’s why she never gave her own life a second thought when she found out she was pregnant with Mystic.”

  They lay together in silence for many minutes before Henry asked, “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

  “No. I told Mia I’d come to talk to her tomorrow if I’m feeling better…and I do think the worst of whatever this was has passed. Have you heard from the kids’ dad?”

  “No. I tried calling him half a dozen times today. No answer. I left a bunch of messages. But I feel hopeful now that I’ve got Mia on my side. She’s a pistol.”

  “Her Montana Mavericks call sign was Nitro.”

  “I believe it. She told me to man-up and adopt the kids. Of course, the thought crossed my mind, but I didn’t think a single man my age would have a chance.”

  A single man my age. Single.

  She yawned, the need to sleep coming over her again. “So, get a wife,” she murmured.

  She closed her eyes and was nearly asleep when she felt Henry press a kiss to her cheek.

  “Good idea,” he said. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  A noise woke her.

  She opened her eyes and took stock.

  Morning. No fever. A thick coating of nastiness on her tongue. An intense thirst made her roll to her side and reach for the tall glass of water that was waiting for her. She polished it off.

  Henry, she thought. Part nurse, part…

  Before she could muster her thoughts to compose a proper list, she heard the sound again.

  My phone.

  She found it upside down with the volume off. But the vibration was enough to catch her attention.

  She picked it up and saw that her mother had texted her: Call me.

  Meg fluffed up her pillows and arranged the blankets around her before she hit autodial.

  “Hi, Mom, you’re up early.”

  “Your dad and I are having breakfast at Denny’s. We just dropped your brother and Bailey at the airport. Paul wanted to get an early start.”

  “They just left?”

  “Plans change. The weather was a bugaboo, but we had a great visit. I wanted them to stay through New Year’s, but apparently Austen and Serena are throwing a big party at his house. With a bonfire.”

  Meg smiled. “And Paul loves bonfires. How come I wasn’t invited?”

  “You told everybody you were going to be in your cabin writing your novel and not to bother you.”

  True. Her hurt feelings were somewhat assuaged. “Well, as you said, plans change.”

  “Mia called last night. Told us everything you talked about. Bailey wept so much Paul thought she was going to have a miscarriage.”

  Meg cringed. “Sorry about that.”

  “The baby is making her a hormonal mess. But, honestly, we were all blubbering fools. Are you serious about this, dear? Mia said you’ve been sick. You shouldn’t make a big, life-changing decision when you’re not feeling your best.”

  Was her mother counseling her not to have Mia’s baby?

  “Mom, you’re right. And there are other factors to take into consideration.” Four…no, five of them, counting Henry.

  She looked at the ceiling as the pink light of dawn began to filter through the wide wooden slats of the plantation blinds. “I’ve decided to close up the cabin and move home for the rest of my sabbatical. I won’t make any decision without talking to you and Dad, first, so don’t worry, but I am considering this. It feels like the right thing to do, Mom.”

  They talked a little longer before the server brought their breakfast and Mom had to hang up.

  Meg got out of bed and stretched. She spotted the carry-on suitcase she’d packed with a change of clothes and her cosmetics bag. She unpacked what she needed and headed to the impressive spa-like bathroom she’d visited last night.

  Moving as quietly as possible, she tiptoed down the hallway and slipped into the room, locking the door behind her. It didn’t take long for the steam shower to heat up, and after brushing her teeth, she stripped off the clothes she’d slept in and stepped into a cloud of steamy bliss.

  She lathered her hair, twice, and grinned at Hank’s choice of body wash: Mountain Meadow. What she wouldn’t have given to make love with him in the big meadow about a mile from her cabin.

  A mile from the cabin…

  The thought lingered as she applied a large dollop of the fragrant gel on her washcloth and scrubbed away any residual trace of illness. Her insides felt hollowed out. Her muscles were spent, but food and coffee would probably fix that.

  After completing her scrub, she stood directly under the dinner-plate size rain showerhead and closed her eyes. Bliss.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  She blinked in surprise to see Henry—every bit as naked as she—step into the two-person space.

  He avoided the steam jet as he advanced toward her. Desire, need, and hunger tag-teamed her, making her knees quiver.

  “I thought I locked the door. How did you get in?” she asked, trying to keep from throwing herself in his arms.

  She remembered him lying beside her last night after she broke down in the hallway, but she couldn’t pull up the gist of their conversation. Was he for or against her new plan?

  “There’s a key on the top trim of almost every door. Bravo went through a locking-door stage. Wasn’t pretty.” He looked her over from the tips of her toes to her crown. “But you are…gorgeous. And feeling better, yes?”

  “Better now than even a minute ago,” she admitted. “Need your back scrubbed?”

  “Absolutely. And my front,” he said with a playful twinkle in his gray suede eyes.

  He took a step closer, crowding her, but in a good way. His hands flattened against the white subway tile behind her, locking her between his arms. “Good morning,” he said before tilting his head to kiss her.

  She opened her lips, invitingly. Peppermint toothpaste. Their tongues danced in remembered joy, getting more serious with every thrust. The heat between her legs turned moist and tingly. She’d wanted this yesterday morning…until she got sick.

  “I could have germs,” she warned.

  “Too late for that. We might as well go all out.”

  He pulled her to him, wet and slippery. The Mountain Meadow scent opened her mind to every possibility and the built-in bench gave her an idea. She took his shoulders between her hands and walked him sideways and backwards until he had to sit. A wicked sexy grin formed on his lips.

  “I like,” he said, drawing her toward him until she straddled his legs and his very primed body.

  She squeezed a dollop of bath gel in the palm of her hand then lathered the length of him, slowly twisting her hand in a corkscrew fashion. His breath came short and choppy. His hands gripped the tile bench. “Sl
ow down, baby, this ends…right…”

  “Now,” Meg said, one hand behind his head to draw his lips to her breast.

  He sucked hard in rhythm to her hand motion until there came a point where his head fell back, his hips lifted and he gave a low, harsh cry of completion. “Holy…wow…I wasn’t expecting that. Mutual pleasure, yes, but, damn, Meg, that rocked my world.”

  For a man of few words, he knew just what to say at the right time. She picked up the hand-held showerhead and used it to wash them both. Then she kissed him and backed away. “I’m turning into a prune and I need coffee. Can I take a rain check on that whole mutual pleasure thing?”

  He cocked his head. “I don’t know. Can you? I thought you were going back to your cabin.”

  She stepped onto a fluffy white bath mat and wrapped her body in a thick towel that smelled as fresh as the body wash. As she dried her arms and neck, she told him, “I am…to close up and lock it down. Mia and Ryker and I need to talk. I have a lot to think about, so my book is going to go to the back burner for a few days until I figure out this baby thing.”

  “Sounds smart. But, then, you are, so I’m not surprised.”

  She liked that he appreciated her intelligence. Her language skills and quick thinking had intimidated a number of men she’d known. Ken Morrison, for example.

  A chill passed down her spine. She brushed the name from her mind, and fell forward to dry her hair.

  By the time Henry stepped from the shower—after impressing her with his use of a squeegee to wipe down the glass walls, she was dressed in clean jeans, a bra, tank, insulated undershirt and long-sleeve wool blouse. “If you wait, the kids and I could go with you. Help you pack.”

  She walked to him and took his face in one hand to kiss him firmly. “Thanks, but I’ll get more done if I’m alone.”

  “Will you come back here? I’ll cook. Free-range highland beef.”

  Her stomach made a loud gurgling noise. “Sounds great.”

  He tucked the towel around his waist. “Will you stay with us? At least, through New Year’s?”

  New Year’s Eve. “Mom told me my brother, Austen, is throwing a big party. Let me get the details. If it’s kid-friendly, maybe we all could go.”

  He faced the mirror, his hand running—sandpaper-like—over his chin. “I need a shave.” Their gazes met in the mirror. “Are you taking off right away?”

  “God, no. I need food. And I want to see the kids. Who’s watching Mystic?”

  He worked up a lather with hand soap and took a disposable razor from the medicine cabinet cleverly hidden behind the mirror.

  “Still asleep. She was up from three to five. Then, Annie woke up crying for her mommy. I don’t know if it was because of your dream or what, but Laurel seems to be on everybody’s mind lately.”

  Meg felt a shiver pass down her spine. A different sort of shiver. Not creepy, like when she thought of Ken, but eerie…as if Laurel’s spirit reached out to touch her.

  She wasn’t completely sure how she felt about the idea. The scientist in her scoffed, but the memory of Laurel’s gentle compassion remained vivid in Meg’s mind.

  She shook off the sensation and started toward the door. “Don’t cut yourself. I like that face. A lot. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

  “Make yourself at home,” he said, turning his attention to the mirror.

  Home.

  She couldn’t wait to explore the place to confirm whether or not her intuition was right. She certainly felt at home.

  Hank watched as Meg’s white truck disappeared from sight. He’d spent most of their time together since their amazing shower sex worrying.

  Something about the idea of her going back to the cabin alone bothered him. Granted, it made no sense. She’d been living there for a month on her own before he and the kids dropped out of the sky and crashed her solo party. He had no reason to think she was in any kind danger, but the nagging worry in the pit of his gut wouldn’t let go.

  Finally, he’d asked her if she’d mind taking Rook with her.

  “Why? Are you afraid I won’t come back? I don’t lie, Henry.”

  “I trust you, but there could be scavengers in the area looking for the helo. I fully expect it might be stripped by the time I get back there to haul it out. I’d feel better if Rook had your back since I can’t leave.”

  He’d forgotten that he’d scheduled his accountant to stop by and pick up December’s bills and payroll. He could try to re-schedule, but the man practically worked for free out of the goodness of his heart and an old debt he thought he owed. Henry tried to make the poor guy’s job as easy as possible.

  Meg didn’t hesitate to accept his offer. “Why not? I can use the company.”

  Half an hour later, JJ found him in the barn, the baby monitor humming away. In theory, Annie was babysitting her youngest sibling as Mystic napped. Bravo sat on a low stack of hay bales playing with a month-old litter of kittens.

  Hank hadn’t been completely honest with Meg earlier that morning when he mentioned Annie’s early morning breakdown. According to Annie, “Mommy told me not to worry, that everything would be okay. She said you would fix things with Meg because we need her and she needs us. Mommy picked her for us.”

  Picked her for us.

  Hank didn’t know what to make of that.

  “What do you need, Jazz?”

  “Is Meg coming back?”

  “Yes. I’ve got a roast in the slow cooker. I thought maybe you’d make some garlic mashed potatoes later. You’re really good at that.”

  Laurel had insisted her son learn one go-to recipe because, in her opinion, “Real men cook. And clean. And know how to operate a washing machine.”

  God, he missed that girl.

  “Hey, what do you say we take a sleigh ride to your mom’s special place after my accountant leaves? The fresh air would be good for us.”

  JJ’s face changed. The poor kid carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, anyway, but from the look of it, something else was wrong. Before Hank could ask, JJ headed toward the sleigh, which was parked in the far corner of the barn beside the wagon they used to give hayrides.

  “Can I drive Samuel?” Samuel was Hank’s hundred-year-old mule. Samuel wasn’t quite that old, but he was no spring chicken.

  “No better time to learn.”

  That wasn’t exactly true—as what happened to his helicopter proved. Thinking about the chopper made Hank uneasy again.

  He followed his grandson to the far end of the barn. The larger wagon featured a single bench seat and a large bed behind it resting on wood spoke wheels. The smaller unit was a two-seater his dad restored before Hank was born. Dad turned the four handsomely curved wooden blades himself.

  Hank pulled off the dusty cover and started to fold it up when he spotted a sag in one of the uprights. Two of the supports were broken.

  “Oh, dang. I wonder how that happened,” he said, squatting to study the break. “Almost looks like a horse kicked them.”

  JJ, who had followed him, looked at the ground, his cheeks flushing red as a flashing “guilty” sign.

  “Something you want to tell me, Jazz?”

  JJ swallowed. “After Mom died, I was really mad. I came out here and threw a few things around and I…um…kicked the buggy. I didn’t mean to break it.”

  Hank stood and pulled the boy to his chest. “The rungs can be fixed. I know how you felt that day. I was pretty mad, too. But mostly I was sad.”

  “Is that why you won’t ask Meg to marry you? Because you’re afraid if she has a baby for her sister she’ll die, too?”

  Hank’s jaw dropped. “How did you come up with that?” He knew kids listened too well sometimes when adults were talking—and came to their own conclusions on matters beyond their understanding. No matter how hard he and Glory tried to hide their growing unhappiness, Laurel knew what was happening—and blamed herself.

  To JJ, Hank asked, “How much do you know about the birds and the bee
s?”

  JJ looked at his little brother. “Mom explained everything when she was pregnant with Bravo.”

  Of course. Never pass up a teaching moment, right, Laurel?

  “So, you know that Mia can’t have any more children, but she’d like to have one with her new husband.”

  JJ nodded. “Mom looked into becoming a surrogate. She loved babies and she didn’t think she’d ever meet someone she wanted to have children with…until she met David.”

  Hank was shocked, but he shouldn’t have been. His daughter died to give her last baby life.

  “That sounds like Laurel,” he mumbled.

  JJ looked at him intently.

  “If I could convince Meg to marry us, and she decided to be a surrogate for Mia, do you think you and Annie and Bravo would understand that we wouldn’t get to keep the baby?”

  His grandson made a sound of pure disgust. “Annie might want another baby, but I don’t. Yuck.” He shuddered. “But I wouldn’t mind another mother. Especially Meg. She’s cool.”

  “That she is. But, Meg has a life.”

  “Yeah, I know,” JJ said, interrupting. “A big, important life. But what’s more important than ranching? We feed people.”

  Hank stared at the boy a moment. “For a minute, you sounded just like your dad.”

  JJ looked pleased. “It’s the truth.”

  But the truth was rarely simple, Hank thought.

  “What makes you think Meg would agree to give up everything and marry me?”

  “Annie said Mom told her.”

  A shiver passed down Hank’s spine. He shook his head and clapped his hands as if brushing off hay.

  “Okay. For the record, Annie is ten. I’m sure she believes her mother’s spirit is still with her, but there’s no such thing as a ghost.”

  Bravo looked up from the kitten he cradled in his arms, like a tiny baby. “Yes, there is, Grandpa. That man over there is around all the time. I think he’s JJ’s daddy.”

  Hank looked where his youngest grandson was pointing. Of course, he didn’t see a thing. No shimmering specter or even a thick collection of dust motes.

  He bent down and gently removed the kitten from the boy’s hands and picked up the little tyke, tossing him in the air.