Surviving Love (Montana Wilds Book 1)

by Willow Summers

  The second thing she noticed was the large bronzed shoulders absorbing the sun in the barn doorway. His black tank top hugged his muscular body, showing off his bumpy pecs and flat stomach. His mouth twisted in a sardonic smile while his eyes caught her like prey.

  Sara started to salivate.

  “Oh, h-hi,” she stammered.

  He pushed off the door and sauntered closer, weaving in and out of the displayed leather. “Told you I’d meet up with you. Our time was cut short yesterday.”

  A sexy pose was definitely needed right now. She might not be interested, but his absolute hotness seemed to warrant the effort.

  She cocked her hip to the side, her rag rising in the air like a balloon. She tilted her head and smiled.

  What’s this pose? Look at me, I’m a psychopath?

  She dropped her hand before trying on a giggle. Then opted for not giggling. She was absolutely failing at this!

  “I, ah, so that—well, yeah. Here we are. I guess.”

  Stop giggling!

  “Yes.” He was five feet from her now, not stopping. His body was so taut and spectacular. “We could start with the pleasantries, like how are you finding the job so far, or what do you think of Montana, but why not just cut to the chase, huh? What are you doing after this?”

  His body was right in front of her, heat radiating off his skin like he’d stolen a piece of the sun and now showed off his wares. His muddy brown eyes smacked into her, forcing his presence on her. It also forced out a sudden moistness between her thighs. Her knees became wobbly as a handsome smile worked up his face.

  “I’m going to take you out tonight,” he continued. “Show you around. You should wear a cute little number so I can show you off.”

  That confident smile. Virgins were deflowered with that smile.

  “I-I have to…” The words kind of trailed away. She had no idea what it was she had to do. In the face of a man this hot, there wasn’t much to do besides go quietly.

  “Duke.” The name rang through the room like a machine gun.

  Sara’s head jolted toward the speaker, finding Jake in the middle of the barn door, his older body silhouetted by the light. She witnessed the first expression she’d ever seen him make.

  Her mouth dried up and her whole body flexed, ready for flight. She didn’t know what Jake’s deal was, but with a mask of quiet rage promising enough death to decide a war, she didn’t want to know. She wanted to get the hell away.

  “What do you want, old man?” Duke leaned toward her, his hand resting on a saddle just behind her back.

  “There ain’t no reason for you to be here. Get on, now. She needs to get her work done.”

  “Or what?”

  “So, I better get back to work…” Sara said hesitantly, shuffling toward the next saddle in the row.

  “It’s gettin’ late, Sara. You best get on back.” Jake hadn’t stopped staring at Duke. He didn’t need to tell her twice. Something was going on between those two, and she didn’t want to get involved.

  “Right, great. Okay. See ya.” She unintentionally waved like Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump.

  “I’ll see you in town, Sara, if not before.” Duke spared her a heat-filled glance.

  “Sure,” she mumbled, her sex pounding.

  She hurried from the barn as she wiped the perspiration from her forehead. When she got back to the room, she sighed as she plopped onto the bed, rubbing her aching arm. Duke’s perfect pecs and washboard stomach flashed into her memory, followed by that scorching stare. Heat filled her. The man was incredibly attractive.

  “Too hot for me,” she mumbled, wiping the images from her mind.

  Before she could reflect further, the bathroom door swung open. Hot steam unfurled into the room. Christie stepped out after it, wrapped in a fluffy pink robe.

  “Hey,” Christie said. She bent over before wrapping a towel around her head. “Wait until I tell you about shoveling horse crap!”

  She straightened up, gave Sara a suffering glance, and then went to her dresser. “Mike was there—obviously, or why did I sign up, right?—and that little pony camp floozy Addy was there, right? Was she supposed to help? No. But she stopped by anyway, saying something about the stupid freaking tackle or something. I don’t even know what. But that slut’s trying to slide in and snatch him!”

  Christie tore the towel off her head and rubbed her hair to finish drying it. “She has a great pair of jugs, too, and doesn’t she just go out of her way to show them off to all the boys.”

  Sara laughed, standing and stripping out of her shirt. “So no face time with the boss, huh?”

  “Not really. He said hi and asked how I was. He didn’t ask anyone else—I think it’s because I hang out with you. So thanks for that. But that’s about it. He’s a tough nut. The guy doesn’t say much.”

  “What’s the story with Duke?”

  Christie’s bad temper slowly sucked out of her being. “You met Duke?”

  “Yeah. Why aren’t you making a play for him? Why aren’t I making a play for him? My God, he nearly blasted my undies off. I am on board with the triangle aspect of him, too. I swear, being in a committed relationship all your life, you don’t really notice men. You do, but kind of in an ‘oh, that’s nice’ sorta way. Now that I have clear skies and the ability to date—why are you looking at me like that?”

  “He’s bad news, Sara. Stay away from him. Don’t go anywhere alone with that guy, okay?”

  Christie’s uncharacteristically somber tone had Sara stopping in her shower preparation. “Why?”

  “He may have date-raped a girl a few years ago. No one’s sure, and she didn’t press charges, but she told people she’d said no. That they went for dinner and drinks, and she drank some, but when he came on to her she was lucid enough to say no. He didn’t stop.”

  Sara’s mouth dropped, her spine tingling.

  Christie shrugged. “There’s a rumor that that wasn’t an isolated incident, but no one has ever pressed charges, so…”

  “And he still works here?”

  Christie shrugged again. “No one ever pressed charges. There was no proof either way, and he’s a smooth talker. Always gets out of trouble. He’s pretty much the ringleader of the triangle boys.”

  “Mikey wouldn’t hang out with someone like that.”

  “He doesn’t, no. Nor his friend Greg, but the rest of them kinda follow Duke’s lead.”

  “Yikes. You wouldn’t think Duke would need to force anyone. He’s freaking hawt.”

  Christie shook her head. “Not as hot as Mike, though, so I’m all set. Kinda. Probably not, but here’s hopin’.”

  “You and your fascination with Mikey.” Sara shook her head. “It’s getting kinda gross. I don’t want to think of—ew! See, I just pictured his man parts—ew! I did it again.”

  “It’s not just me. Get back here, this is not only my obsession!” Christie barged her way into the bathroom, just catching Sara slipping into the shower and clearly not caring about something as trivial as nudity when in the face of making a point. “It has been put to a vote, and Mike won ‘hottest guy here,’ hands down. Even over Duke—I mean, you know, if Duke wasn’t disgusting. So don’t go raining on my parade just because you knew him when he was a chunky, pre-pubescent boy with acne.”

  Sara laughed as fresh steam filled the bathroom, thankfully obscuring any view Christie might’ve had through the tempered glass. “He was a cute kid, not ugly. But okay, okay, whatever you say. Just… Duke was… Man, too bad he’s a loser.”

  “Stay away, Sara.”

  “Did you just warn me to stay away from a rapist? You’re projecting your blonde hair color onto me again.”

  “Cute,” Sara responded in a dry tone, leaving the bathroom. “And yes, you need highlights.”

  “I didn’t ask!”

  * * *

  Mike entered the ranch house, noticing Jake in the corner by the cold wood stove. They didn’t need a fire this time of year, though the prese
nce of one was always nice.

  Mike shot the other man a nod and headed for the oven, where food would be kept warm for the returning staff. After heaping the standard fare of meat, potatoes, and veggies on his plate, he sat at a dirty table and commenced shoveling food into his mouth.

  It had been a long day. Teaching survival to soft city dwellers taxed his patience to extremely low levels. Then he had to deal with female staff members that would rather chatter and gawk than get their work done. He tried to be nice to that girl Christie, since she was Sara’s friend, but he didn’t want to lead her on. As that was all she wanted, it made the situation… dicey.

  “Duke is after your girlfriend.”

  It took Mike a moment to realize Jake had spoken. He turned to look at the older man. “Come again?”

  “Duke. He’s after your girlfriend. Caught him in the barn. Tried to get her to go out with him.”

  Ice worked down Mike’s midsection. “What was her reaction?” Mike did a poor job of hiding the battle-hardened edge to his voice.

  Jake’s eyes dropped to the knife carving a dog out of a piece of wood.

  “She’s interested.” Mike banged the table with his fist, making his plate jump. “She can’t possibly like someone like him—she’s too smart for that. It’s all appearance.”

  Jake’s right eyebrow quirked marginally.

  Mike nodded. Duke had a good face—all the women seemed to think so. Unlike Mike, Duke pushed his physical attributes at women, relying on that to get in their pants. Mike had always thought of it as cheating. Too easy. Great sex stemmed from a deeper affection—Mike held out for the good stuff.

  But Sara was on the rebound. She wouldn’t want to wait. She would want someone good to look at.

  “Shit!” Mike said.

  “He’ll meet her in town. You’d better go.”

  Mike clenched and unclenched his fists, breathing deeply. He was a hair’s breadth from losing control and delivering a warning.

  Calming himself, he went back to his dinner without a word. He’d wait for now, heading to town with everyone else, but if he heard that one hair was out of place on Sara’s beautiful head, Mike would do what he hadn’t done since he’d met Duke—he’d engage with brutal force.

  Chapter 8

  After a laborious month, half the staff got their first furlough. Jake shuttled them into town and back in an old, rickety van. While it was just town, and a small one at that, there was still music and freedom and a chance to rock-’n’-roll.

  “You ready?” Christie clomped into the room in four-inch pink heels. Her skirt stopped just below her butt, which, amazingly, didn’t seem scandalous on her thin frame.

  “How can you possibly pull that off?” Sara shook her head in dismay. “I’d look like a doughboy made of sausage.”

  “Number one, that doesn’t make sense. Secondly, who died? Because really, Sara, what are you wearing?”

  Sara dropped her gaze to her faded black fitted shirt and equally faded black slacks. “I don’t have any clothes for going out. I didn’t want to wear jeans in case I ruin them—since they’re our uniform—and, well, this is all I have.”

  Christie’s expression turned calculating. “You aren’t my size, per se, but you can definitely rock something sexy. We have a half-hour. Get your little ass into that bathroom and do me up a smoky eye. Oh, or better yet, a cat eye with red lips. I’ll find something for you to wear.”

  “I don’t have red lipstick.”

  “I do, of course. We’ve got this. Now go! Time’s a-wastin’!”

  They might have been at the club for how much pounding Ethel and Florence were doing against the wall, trying to get Sara and Christie to quiet down. They were having too much fun, though. Either they were laughing because of stories or jokes, or they were fighting because of Christie’s choice in clothes.

  Sara didn’t care how great Christie thought her legs were, she adamantly refused the ripped fishnets. That meant, unfortunately, that she couldn’t refuse the tight black dress without Christie throwing a fit. And while the dress was very pretty, and probably fit Christie perfectly, the stretchy material felt like a second skin on Sara’s larger frame. No matter how much pulling and fidgeting Sara did, the thing had a death grip on her and would not loosen up.

  “I just don’t get how you have no going-out clothes,” Christie said as she tucked away the spare clothes. “Or even nice clothes. Did you never go to dinner with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?”

  “Phil and I never had much money. He thought going to dinner was a waste. And Voldemort was too preoccupied with little boys.”

  “Ha! Good one. Well, I am going to seduce Mike tonight—he better be out!—and then bat my eyes so he’ll take us shopping on our next day off together.”

  “We can’t just go on our own? I can’t imagine he loves shopping.”

  “He has a car. We don’t.”

  “Ah. Well, I can just ask him.”

  Christie threw her pointer finger in Sara’s face. “Don’t you strip away my challenges! I need something to aspire to rather than getting food orders right and not falling off a horse.”

  Sara chuckled as they walked out the door. “Fair enough. I’ll look terrible until you get around to dating my childhood friend.”

  “Exactly. Finally you catch on. Who said brunettes were intelligent?”

  Sara shoved a laughing Christie, letting her own laughter bubble up and spill over to match.

  * * *

  Text from Mikey: Where you at? Sausage fest. Need a pretty girl.

  Text from Sara: just call 1-900-need-a-babe

  Text from Mikey: Wrong number. Too many letters…

  Text from Sara: lying bathroom walls!

  Text from Mikey: Seriously, where r u?

  Text from Sara: almost there. hold yer horses partner. Jake drives 2 miles/hour

  Mikey chuckled and put his phone on the table. The anticipation of seeing her again was killing him. His stomach was in knots and adrenaline raced through his body.

  It had been one long month since he had tucked her into her bed. They’d had texts aplenty, a few calls to say goodnight that were supposed to last five minutes and instead lasted until well past midnight, and only two tiny meetups. It was driving him crazy.

  How had he existed without her all these years?

  “Why so antsy?” Greg asked from across the table, picking at the label on his beer.

  “Sara’s coming. On her way.” He couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice.

  Greg smirked toward the table. “Didn’t think anything could ruffle you, but you’ve been a space-case this last month. She the reason?”

  “Can’t get the glaringly obvious past you.”

  “No. I’m pretty quick. Funny, though—my mother was the only one to say so…”

  “Probably the only one to ever call you handsome, too.”

  Greg gave his beer a perplexed look. “Now that you mention it…”

  Mike laughed as the door opened, sucking his attention. A woman with a mess of teased blonde hair entered with a guy at her side.

  “I heard she’s got a handle on the operations stuff. Nearly overnight she had it all streamlined,” Greg said after surveying the newcomers.

  A surge of pride swelled Mike’s chest. That was an understatement. Jake had hinted that she’d basically reorganized the whole ranch from top to bottom. Regardless of who had the duty before, all deliveries now went through her, the layout of check-in was altered, and schedules and shifts were now on spreadsheets and calendars. Dan and May thought Sara was gold, and Jake thought she’d finally found the life she was destined for. They were both right.

  Mike let a smile tickle his face as he glanced at the phone. “She’s smart.”

  “So I hear. And experienced. She worked for some top-dollar corporation managing giant warehouses and whatnot. The way I hear it, Dan didn’t know what she could do until he realized his whole ranch was running ten times better. He’d never even
looked at her résumé. Apparently, she’d gotten hired because one of the staff golden boys recommended her…”

  “You, then?”

  “Golden boy, I said. Money earner. Not lackluster stable master.”

  Mike laughed as the door opened again, two more strangers coming in. Not being a huge tourist area in Montana, there weren’t usually many around the small, one-road town. With the ranch staff taking up three tables in the back, and a few more groups of townspeople out for the night, the bar was more than half filled. By the time Jake finished delivering everyone, the ranch crew would have taken over the place, dancing and laughing, enjoying one of their few nights out.

  “So I hear you’re finally going to pit yourself against Duke for a girl, huh?” Greg glanced at the other side of the bar where Duke sat.

  Mike raised his eyebrows as Greg went on, “What’s with this chick? She’s pretty, I’ll grant you, but a little watered down—uh oh, I’m about to hit a nerve, aren’t I…”

  Mike made himself unclench his fists and lean back, eyeing Duke at the other side of the bar. He had a table with a few of his cronies, eyeing all the women with interest.

  “She’s a childhood friend who has been through some tough stuff lately. She’s not watered down—just battling some insecurity. Her ex-fiancé left her for a younger chick. That’ll mess with anyone’s head.”

  “Ouch.”

  A swirl of chilly air circled the bar as the door swung open. Light gleamed off a stack of stunning cleavage attached to one of the most annoying girls alive.

  Mike discreetly shifted behind Greg, hiding his body from the newcomers. “I wouldn’t look if I were you. Addy just walked—”

  Obviously not paying attention to Mike, Greg turned to look behind him. His upper body swung back a moment later, his eyes popping. “I made that mistake once. It was after one of these things. Couldn’t resist all that breast. Needless to say, it wasn’t my finest moment. She tried to stick a finger up—”