A Montana Mavericks Christmas

by Susan Mallery

  Angela found herself in a small room attractively decorated in creams and pale blues. The walls were light, as were the lace curtains. The brass bedstead lent the room its old-fashioned air, enhanced by a blue gingham bedspread and lace-trimmed pillows. Small antique-framed pictures filled the walls. An obviously hand-woven throw rug warmed the center of the oak-planked flooring. The contrast between this well-decorated room and the rest of the house startled her.

  “Okay, what’s her name?” she asked with a grin. “Some woman had her hand in this. If you’re not married, there must be an ex-wife lurking in the background somewhere. Or did Nancy fix this up for you?”

  Shane set her suitcase on the floor. “Why do you say that? Is this room really that different?”

  “There are pictures, and lace on the pillows, not to mention a throw rug. Guys do not do throw rugs.”

  She’d thought he might remain monosyllabic, as he had been in the kitchen, but instead he chuckled. “You’re right. I’ve never bought a throw rug in my life.” His humor faded. “There’s no ex-wife. I was engaged a while back. She was going to fix up the house. This is where she started. But then she broke off the engagement and I never bothered with the rest of it.”

  Angela didn’t know what to say. Shane had been engaged? It made sense. Someone as good-looking and nice as he was had to have women swarming on him like bees on honey. Lord knew she felt a little strange when she was around him. Now that he’d shared a piece of his past with her, she found that she had about a dozen questions. Such as what had happened to end the engagement? Did the mysterious woman know what she’d lost? But it wasn’t her place to ask. She was here as Shane’s guest.

  “I need to get back to the station,” he said. “Sometime this afternoon I’ll have one of the guys at work drive me out to the motel so I can bring your car back, along with the rest of your things.” He paused. “There’s not much food in the house. Go ahead and make a list of what you need, then call it in to the grocery store. Their number is by the phone in the kitchen. I have an account with them and they’ll add your order to that. I don’t want you driving around by yourself for the next few days. Not until things settle down.”

  A shiver rippled through her. She didn’t like thinking about why she was really in Shane’s house. She didn’t like thinking that there were bad men out there who might want to do her harm. She didn’t want to think about the little girl already in their clutches. She didn’t know anything about what Tom had done, but she knew those men wouldn’t believe her. They wanted whatever money they thought he had. Better for her to follow Shane’s advice and stay safe.

  “Thank you for offering me a room here,” she said. “I won’t be in the way. I’d like to repay you for your hospitality. What would you like me to cook for dinner? And don’t say it’s not required. I like cooking.”

  “I’m easy,” he said. “Fix your favorite and I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

  He gave a quick wave and was gone. Angela forced herself to start unpacking when what she really wanted to do was to stare out the window to see how long he spent talking to his beautiful neighbor before leaving for work. When she’d finished putting away her things, she told herself that the twinge in her stomach came from hunger, not jealousy, this despite the large breakfast she’d eaten only a few hours before. Shane McBride was a very nice man, but nothing more. As far as she was concerned, he was a Good Samaritan. As far as he was concerned, she was a civilian in need. If she didn’t remember those two facts, she was going to end up making a really big fool out of herself. And wasn’t her life already messed up enough?

  So she would be the perfect guest and as soon as possible, she would be out of here and into a place of her own. Despite the attack in the parking lot and the bad men hiding out, she had a new job in Whitehorn and a chance to start over. This time, she was determined to get it right.

  Four

  “That was great,” Shane said as he finished the last bite of his chocolate cake.

  Angela laughed. “I could have served you just about anything and you would have enjoyed it,” she teased. “I saw what was in your freezer and pantry. You’ve been living on frozen dinners and canned soup for I don’t know how long.”

  He thought of the chicken she’d roasted, the perfectly browned scalloped potatoes and the fresh vegetables, not to mention the two-layer cake covered in thick frosting. “I would have liked dinner regardless of what I’d been eating for the past couple of years. You’re a great cook.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She rose to her feet and gave him a mock curtsey, then picked up several dishes and carried them over to the counter by the sink.

  Shane stood and grabbed the rest of the plates. Despite the risk to the crockery, he didn’t pay as much attention to what he was doing as to the gentle sway of Angela’s hips beneath the soft-looking, moss-green dress she wore.

  In addition to ordering groceries and putting together dinner, she’d also changed her clothes. The dress fell to mid-calf on her, making her look taller than usual. The simple style minimized the barely noticeable bulge of her belly and allowed him to pretend he wasn’t fifteen kinds of a jerk for thinking she was not only attractive, but also sexy.

  Something about Angela Sheppard got to him. It had taken a year after Mary had broken their engagement before he’d been ready to start dating again. He’d gone slow, seeing women casually so as not to get caught on the rebound. But even though a couple of the relationships had progressed to the point of physical intimacy, he’d never felt any kind of connection. About eight months ago, he’d decided to take a break for a while. First dates had started to wear on him and he’d begun to wonder if he wasn’t just better off on his own.

  Until a pregnant amnesiac had made his blood boil in ways it never had before. Was this chemistry—an unexplained but wholly physical attraction to someone he didn’t even know? Yet it wasn’t all physical. The more time he spent with Angela, the more he liked her.

  “You want to wash or dry?” she asked.

  Shane set the dishes on the counter. “Either. Or both. Are you tired? You just got out of the hospital today. Maybe you should rest and let me worry about cleaning up. After all, you did the cooking.”

  Angela pressed her hands to her chest and sighed. “Be still my heart. Deputy McBride, if that had been a test, you would have passed with flying colors.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She wrinkled her pert nose. “You’re strong, responsible and good around the house. You even volunteer to clean. Why hasn’t some female snapped you up before now? I know you said you’d been engaged, so I’m figuring you had to be the one to break it off, or she was pretty stupid and you’re better off without her.”

  He wasn’t sure if she really wanted an answer to her question, nor was he sure what the question was. “So do you want me to clean the kitchen?”

  “No, I’ll wash, you dry.” She turned on the taps, then reached under the sink for the liquid detergent. “I took a nap,” she said as if that explained everything. “Except for the gaps in my memory, I feel fine. What about you?”

  He leaned against the counter and studied her. When had he stopped following the conversation? “I feel fine, too,” he said cautiously.

  She rolled her eyes. “No. Tell me about your engagement. Why did you break up with her?”

  He pressed his mouth into a firm line. He rarely discussed his personal life with anyone. Nancy, his neighbor, knew the details because about six months after Mary had left, he’d needed to talk to a woman so he could figure out what had happened. She’d been helpful and had tried to make him see the situation hadn’t been his fault, but he still wasn’t sure. Was it just him or did all men find women confusing?

  “She’s the one who broke things off,” he said before he could stop himself.

  Angela placed a sinkful of dishes into the soapy water, then plunged her hands into the suds. “Just as I thought. She was dumb. I bet she’s spent the rest of her life
regretting it.”

  “If she has, she’s managed to keep that fact to herself.”

  Angela’s green eyes softened with compassion. “Do you mind talking about it, or would you rather not? And before you answer, I have to tell you that I’m chronically curious about everyone, so the fact that I’m giving you an out is an example of my high esteem for you.”

  Despite the uncomfortable subject matter, he couldn’t help smiling at her. “I’m honored.”

  “Honored enough to spill your guts?” She handed him a clean plate.

  He picked up a dishcloth and began to dry. As he thought about what he was going to say, he realized the pain from that time was gone. He could barely feel the emotional scar. When had he finished healing?

  “There’s not much to tell,” he said slowly. “We were engaged. I bought this house for the two of us. She started decorating it. Then one day she thought she might be pregnant.”

  He set the clean plate into the cupboard and reached for another. He remembered his excitement when she’d phoned him. Mary had been crying and panicked, but at that moment he’d wanted nothing more than to have a child of his own.

  “Was she pregnant?” Angela asked.

  “No. It was just a scare. But it was too much for her. She decided that she wasn’t ready for kids. Turns out she wasn’t ready for marriage, either. About a month after that, she broke the engagement and headed out of town. I haven’t seen her since.”

  Angela looked at him. “That’s so sad. She must not have realized what she was losing. You’re prime husband and father material—father especially.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve accused me of that. I’m not the father type.” What he wasn’t about to tell her was the thought of kids both thrilled and terrified him. While he wanted a family of his own, nothing in his background had prepared him for the job.

  “Answer me this,” she said, finishing with plates and moving on to bowls. “Were you happy at the thought of her having a baby.”

  “Yes, but—”

  She held up a hand to stop him in mid-sentence. “That’s all you get to say. You wanted a child with her. You adore those kids next door. End of story.”

  If only that were the truth. “It’s not so simple. I had a lot of difficult experiences when I was growing up.” There was an understatement, he thought grimly. The best of the foster homes had meant months of benign neglect. The worst had meant beatings and emotional abandonment. “I never learned how to do it right.”

  “Family?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “You could learn how. You weren’t born knowing what it takes to be a sheriff, right? You got some instruction and lots of on-the-job training. Parenting is like that.” She touched her stomach. “At least I hope so, because I’ll admit to being a little scared myself.”

  But it was different for her, he reminded himself. He’d grown up a loner and had avoided commitments. His one attempt to change that had ended with Mary leaving him.

  “Mary didn’t trust me with herself or a kid,” he said.

  “Maybe it wasn’t about you,” Angela said as she handed him a bowl. “Maybe the problem was with her. Maybe she was even more scared than you were.”

  Shane couldn’t believe they were talking about his personal life this way. He should feel awkward, or at the very least, embarrassed. But for some reason it seemed right—as if a voice inside of him was saying it was okay to talk to this woman.

  She grabbed another towel and dried her hands. “I have the perfect test,” she said. “I’ll be right back and we’ll decide the father issue once and for all.” She walked out of the room, paused in the doorway and gave him a saucy grin. “Don’t move.”

  He didn’t know which intrigued him more—the flirty flip of her skirt when she walked or her willingness to tread where no one had dared before. If he wasn’t careful, she was going to get him to confess every embarrassing or emotional event from his childhood.

  “Got it!” she sang as she sailed back into the room.

  He ignored the paper in her hand and instead studied her face. She still had a small bandage covering the stitches on the left side of her temple. The bruises there and by her eye were darker tonight. They would fade in time, but not before turning every color of the rainbow. She didn’t wear any makeup and there were circles under her eyes. But to him, she was lovely.

  “You have to look,” she said, thrusting the paper at him.

  “What is it?” he asked as he took it.

  “A picture. They took it in the hospital.”

  He glanced down at the black-and-white photo. At first he saw only a whitish blob surrounded by an uneven circle. He squinted to bring it into focus, then he realized what it was.

  “Your baby,” he said reverently, instinctively glancing from the picture to her stomach and back. “It’s great.”

  “I know.” Her face lit with an inner joy. “She’s not much to look at yet, but I love her, anyway.”

  Without warning, she took his free hand and placed it on her stomach. Shane knew it was too early for him to feel anything, but he held his palm against the roundness of her belly. There was something warm and intimate in that touch—a connection between them.

  Desire slammed into him. Some of it was sexual but most of it was so much more. He had an intense and unreasonable need to take care of this woman and her unborn child. To keep them safe, to provide for them, make them happy and in return to be a part of their lives.

  Insanity, he told himself. But the longing was so sharp, the pain of it cut through him until he could barely breathe.

  “I can see it in your eyes,” she said softly. “You feel it, too. The wonder of a new life. So don’t you ever try to tell me you’re not father material.”

  She’d been smiling, but suddenly her lips trembled and she took a step away. “Any woman would be lucky to have you,” she murmured, turning back to the sink. “You’ll be snapped up by someone before you know it.”

  Shane doubted that was true, but even if it was he had a bad feeling that the only one he wanted doing anything to him was her.

  “I want my baby.”

  Angela stared at Tom, then glanced around the room and tried to figure out where she was. The impressions of space and furniture were blurry and fading, but she thought she recognized the living room of their very first apartment.

  “Go away,” she said clearly, not exactly sure how she knew it was wrong for Tom to be talking to her, but still uncomfortable with the situation. “You’re not a part of my life anymore.”

  He took hold of her arm and pulled her close. “You’re my wife and that’s my baby.” His stern tone turned pleading. “Please, Angie. I want to take care of you both.”

  She jerked free of him. “No! You’re not going to keep pulling me down. You can’t even take care of yourself let alone me and a child.”

  His blue eyes darkened with rage. “I’ll never let you go. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” He lunged for her.

  Angela jumped back, but instead of slamming into a wall, she found herself falling into space, swirling and turning toward a darkness that threatened to engulf her. She screamed and screamed and screamed—

  “Angela?”

  Angela came awake with a start. She pushed up into a sitting position, then blinked when the light at the side of her bed clicked on. Shane crouched next to her.

  “Was it a dream?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “You were screaming.”

  A shiver rippled through her. She folded her arms over her chest and nodded, trying to push the memory of falling out of her mind. In an effort to distract herself, she glanced around the room, only to realize it wasn’t in focus. Startled, she touched her face and found her cheeks wet with tears.

  “I’m crying,” she said, then sniffed. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  She shivered again. Shane rose to his feet, then settled next to her on the mattres
s. He put an arm around her and pulled her close. It was only then that she felt herself trembling.

  “Shaking and crying,” she murmured. “I’m a wreck.”

  “You’ve been through some traumatic experiences in the past couple of days. No wonder you’re reacting. Just relax now. Everything is going to be fine.”

  He was so strong, she thought as she leaned against his bare chest. Strong and competent. He made her feel safe. She closed her eyes and let him hold her close. With each breath she took, the shaking stilled, as did the tears. He’s so warm, she thought as she rubbed her cheek against his skin.

  She wasn’t sure how long he held her, but slowly she became aware of several things. First, that her left hand rested on the rock-hard muscle of his thigh. Second, that her cheek rested on bare skin. Bare! She risked opening her eyes and saw that he wore jeans and nothing else. The jeans weren’t even fastened, which begged the question of how much or how little he wore when he slept. Then there was the whole issue of his flat, muscled stomach and the way she could see a tiny patch of white through the open vee of his jeans. The flash of briefs was amazingly erotic.

  She swallowed but the heat rising in her body didn’t go away. She told herself it was wrong. That she was pregnant and widowed and not especially attractive, what with her bruises and stitches and sleep-mussed hair. She told herself that Shane wasn’t the kind of man who would want to get involved with a woman such as her. Unfortunately, he was exactly the kind of man she’d dreamed about all her life.

  “Tell me about it,” he said softly, his chin resting on the top of her head.

  She stiffened. Tell him that she wanted him? Had he guessed? Color flooded her face. She wanted to die.

  “Tell me about the dream.”

  “Oh.” She cleared her throat. That she could talk about. “I dreamed Tom was still alive and that he knew about the baby. He wanted to take care of the two of us, and I wouldn’t let him. He wanted…” She pressed her lips together, then gave a soft gasp and pulled away from Shane. “I remember,” she told him.