Montana Rogue (Big Sky Mavericks Book 7)

by Debra Salonen

  He blew off management when they begged him to come on the cruise. “So not happening. I have a date with reality, man.”

  He skipped the shower he desperately needed, threw on his clothes, and headed for the dressing room door.

  To his shock—because Max never let the public close to the talent—two women were waiting for him when he opened the door. “Amanda. Oh, baby.”

  He kissed her without waiting for as much as a hello. He’d seen desire in her eyes, along with answers and questions and need. Pray to God, it was need he saw because he needed her so badly his knees went weak thinking about her. He’d planned on heading to New York as soon as the ship left.

  “I bought a tent,” he told her between the kisses he plastered all over her face and neck. “A small one. I planned to camp out on your doorstep until you let me in. Oh, baby, I’ve missed you so much. Tell me you’re here for the same reason.”

  She put her hands on the sides of his face and made him stop talking long enough to look her straight in the eyes. She smiled. “I missed you, too. More than I thought I could survive. But I had to fight dragons. I couldn’t let anybody else do that for me.”

  “I get it. I didn’t when you left, but I do now.”

  He’d wrestled with his own demons for a wasted week of booze and sulking and howling at the moon alone in the Bayou after he’d closed the zip line for winter. He’d shined on Ona’s trip to New York City to watch his mother perform with her blessing.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, no,” Ona had cried after taking one look at him when he got home. “There’ll be other times to see Caro. You need the swamp, boy.”

  He came back sicker than a dog, bug bitten and miserable, but Ona pronounced him fit for human companionship again. He’d taken a hard look at his finances and knew he had to dance, even if his heart wasn’t in it.

  “I quit my job,” he blurted out. “I don’t know how we’ll make it until the Zip Line opens up in the spring, but I’ll find work. Maybe I can get on a fire crew.” He let the thought hang when his gaze followed hers to the stranger watching from a step or two behind. A woman with white blond hair tipped in brilliant pink. She looked familiar but the hair threw him until he realized it was a wig and the woman was his mother.

  He drew a sharp breath of pure shock. Caroline Mayhue was here. She watched me dance. His cheeks heated with a most unfamiliar blush.

  “I’m sorry to hear you’re retiring from American Male,” his mother said. “I’ve enjoyed watching you grow as an entertainer over the years. Magic Mike’s got nothing on you, Mountie Montgomery.”

  His jaw dropped. He couldn’t have made a complete sentence if someone had poked him with a cattle prod. “You? Saw? When?”

  Caroline laughed and looked at Amanda. “We need to leave now before the final group number is over. Devoted fans swamp the door for autographs and kisses. We’ll be here for hours.”

  “Truth. You really have been to one of these before.” He took Amanda’s hand and pulled her toward the exit. Caroline followed, her hip look making her appear years younger than fifty-four.

  A stretch limo waited around the corner. They barely made it to the door before female fans started pouring out of the resort venue. Tucker found himself sharing the backseat between his mother and the woman he loved. He wanted to be alone with Amanda, of course, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

  “How is it that you two are in my audience and sharing a limo?”

  Caroline made a “you first” gesture to Amanda.

  “Caro hired me when I quit at Painbridge.” She winked to let him know she’d changed the name on purpose. “I moved out of my parents’ place shortly after I left Montana. I received a letter from a law firm explaining that it had come to light that my grandmother, Molly O’Neal, had set up a small trust fund on my behalf. The total sum was attached as a check. I used half of it to rent an apartment and the other half I sent to Mia Zabrinski to petition the court to make me Molly’s guardian.”

  “Really? Did she do it?”

  “We have a hearing at the end of next week. I’d really like you to be there to testify on my behalf. I don’t expect you to lie, but you could elaborate on my stellar healing techniques. It worked on your ankle, right?”

  He laughed and kissed her. “I love you. You know that, right?”

  She beamed but didn’t echo the words back to him. Instead, she went on with her story. “I kept working because I had to eat, but every day was an ordeal. I hated my life. I hated my family. And I hated myself for not telling you the truth about why I left Montana.”

  The heavy tone in her voice made him bite his lip. He glanced at his mother, who reached out as if to reassure him. He’d have welcomed her touch, he realized in shock. But before he could make sense of that profound wonder, he heard Amanda say, “My parents threatened to ruin you. Mother said my father would muster up a frivolous law suit which would make your insurance company drop you and the state would revoke your license.”

  She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “She also threatened to make trouble for American Male, but when you posted your decision to quit on Facebook...I quit, too. And that’s when I met Caro.”

  He knew there was more to the story. He could tell they were friends, close even. What he wasn’t expecting was the quiver in Amanda’s voice when she told him, “She’s always been there for you, Tucker. She’s always had your back. You just didn’t know it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your music college tuition.”

  “Her parents.”

  He looked at Caroline who looked sad and shook her head. “My mother and father lived according to a very narrow doctrine that didn’t have room for change. They regarded your father—the man I loved with all my heart—as an interloper, an opportunist out to take something of value from them. My value, of course, being my God-given talent.”

  “You paid for my college. But you didn’t come to see me play.” A pivotal hurt that triggered years of wasted anger and rage.

  “At the time, I was under contract to a man not unlike Amanda’s father. He wanted me to play in St. Petersburg, Russia, and he threatened to ruin me and drag my name through the mud if I didn’t perform for his sold-out audience. I wasn’t old enough or wise enough to know how to protect myself—that’s one thing your grandfather was very good at. I’d grown up insulated, with no natural defense mechanisms. I think that’s partly why your father’s death devastated me so completely. Bad things didn’t happen to a Mayhue...or so I’d been told.”

  He looked around, realizing for the first time they were headed away from the hotels and nightlife that lined the shore. “Where are we going?”

  “I have a home a few minutes from here. My winter getaway.”

  “A freakin’ palace,” he murmured when the car slowed to allow the electronic gate to slide open. “On the Intercoastal? Wow. Nice.”

  The limo pulled under an antebellum portcullis and parked. The driver opened his mother’s door first. The man knew who was paying the bills here. The guy seemed nice enough when he grabbed Tucker’s backpack so he, in turn, could help Amanda out. Her long legs and sexy heels brought back the memory of the first day they met...which led to the memory of their first night together.

  He waited until the driver was gone and his mother was inside the house before he pulled her close and kissed her the way they both needed. “Is this for real? You and me finding a way to be together?”

  She pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. “Oh, I have a way, my love. You just have to trust me.”

  Trust wasn’t his strong suit. It was hard to trust when the one person who should have been there for you from Day One walked away and left you behind. He looked over his shoulder at the open door behind them. “I guess that’s why she’s here. To let bygones be bygones?”

  Her expression softened. “Oh, Tucker, I know this is hard for you, but I need you to open that big old heart of yours to the poss
ibility that your mother never left you.”

  Before he could point out the obvious—he hadn’t seen Caroline Mayhue in a dozen or so years—she brought her finger to his lips and asked him, “Who put up the money for the Zip Line?”

  A shiver of doubt passed down his spine. “Ona.”

  She gave him a “Really” look.

  “She saved it.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, my God.” He pointed toward the house. “Caroline. Caro. My mother?”

  “Always. Every time you needed anything. She and your grandmother speak every day. Every day, Tucker. She knew about me long before I knew about her. She knows my parents. She knows what they’re capable of. She saw that train wreck in Montana coming long before I did.”

  “Couldn’t she have done something to intervene with Molly?”

  “She did. There’s new management at Molly’s care facility. Kat checked them out and she likes them a lot. They treat the elders in their care with dignity. I spoke with Molly this morning. I told her I’d be there soon.”

  “You two don’t have to stand on the porch all night,” Caroline said from the doorway. She’d changed into a flowing caftan the color of a Florida sunset and lost the wig. Her short, messy hair was an attractive blend of blond and silver. “You have a room. Clear on the opposite side of the house from mine. Have as much fun as you like, but do try to get some sleep. We have an early flight.”

  Amanda took his hand and led him to their room—as posh as any five-star hotel he’d ever stayed in. She got undressed without a word and slid into the king-size bed, leaving ample room for him. “Now, that’s my kind of turn down service,” he said.

  Then he stripped—because he was very good at it.

  Tucker awoke before dawn, replete and content in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling. He knew why, of course—the woman sleeping peacefully at his side.

  They’d talked, filled in the gaps of the past few months, between making love. The love and tenderness he felt for Amanda Heller couldn’t be described in words. It just felt right. And he had one person to thank for making this dream come true.

  His mother.

  He listened hard to see if anyone else in the house was up. The sound of a faint tinkle of some sort spurred him to drop a quick kiss on Amanda’s shoulder then dress. Luckily, they’d showered together after...during...the last time they’d made love.

  He took his time walking toward the heart of the house. The architecture impressed him, as did his mother’s taste in art. Several pieces spoke to him and he admitted, “I’d have bought that one, too, if I had the money and the place to display it.”

  That knowledge made a curious shiver pass down his spine. So much for trying to distance myself from my absentee mom, he thought with a rueful shake of the head. He was still musing over the idea when he spotted the bright white glow from the kitchen, which was set at the back of the house overlooking a pool and yard that spilled down to a dock where a very large boat was moored.

  Two people sat across from each other at a granite island, a pot of fragrant coffee and two cups between them. Caro and her chauffeur-who-might-be-more-than-a-chauffeur, Philip.

  “I can’t say exactly what’s between them,” Amanda had told Tucker last night. “But he’s very protective of her, and she seems to have shared her deepest secrets with him.”

  “Good morning,” Tucker greeted the pair as he walked into the crisp, clean, white room, which was saved from resembling a surgical theater by whimsical touches of aquamarine and sunshine yellow. “I thought I smelled coffee.”

  Caro jumped to her feet a bit guiltily. “Hello. Philip and I were just discussing our departure schedule and whether or not we could afford to give you two another couple of hours of sleep.”

  Tucker walked to where the chauffeur remained seated. He held out his hand. “I know we were introduced last night, but I was a bit preoccupied. Amanda told me you’ve been a vital cog in this elaborate production and we wouldn’t be here if not for your help. So, thank you, very much, Philip. I’m really happy to make your acquaintance.”

  The man stood, his smile friendly but reserved. “Amanda is too kind. I’m just doing my job.” He looked toward Caro and added, “If we’re still on track for the departure time we discussed, I’ll go alert the field and make sure the jet is ready for us.”

  Tucker’s eyes went wide when he looked at his mother. A jet?

  She carried a cup on a saucer with a spoon nestled beside it to the island. “That would be lovely, Philip. Thank you.”

  The man, who was Tucker’s height if not an inch or so taller, nodded and left. Questions percolated through Tucker’s mind. Questions he really had no right to ask, though, so he let them drift away.

  “May I pour you a cup?” Caro asked.

  “Please.”

  He sat beside her rather than across from her the way Philip had. They had air to clear, and a slate or two to wipe clean, if possible. Tucker hadn’t thought this day would ever come, but now that it was here, he was eager to talk to his mother and ask the hard questions.

  But before he could open the conversation, the juices in his mouth started watering because the aroma emanating from the coffee cup pulled him straight home to Louisiana. “Is that chicory I smell?”

  “It is. I’ve been told it’s an acquired taste but one that stays with you for life. One sip can transport me back to Ona’s porch.”

  “Amanda says you’re closer than I thought. I knew she’d kept in touch with you, but...”

  “She’s the mother I often wished for as a child. Like a living, breathing fairy godmother. Warm, supportive, loving.”

  “She is.”

  “I wouldn’t have left you with her if I hadn’t believed with all my heart that she and Twig would give you the best life possible. And looking at you now—the man you’ve grown into—I know I made the right decision.”

  He knew it, too. “You did. But I wouldn’t have known that if not for Amanda. Her parents—their lifestyle and fixation on money and the acquisition of things—reminded me of your parents. Ona never pulled any punches when she spoke of them. She told me once that letting you go back to them was the hardest thing she’d ever done short of burying her son, but she did because she knew my father would have wanted Caroline to follow the path she’d been on before they met, if they couldn’t travel the same path together.”

  Caro nodded, her expression reflective and sad. “That’s probably true, but we are the products of our choices. I chose music because it was always my escape.”

  He understood completely.

  They sat in companionable silence, sipping their coffee until Caro asked, “Why dance, Tucker? I saw the video of your performance in Carnegie Hall. Everyone called it brilliant. I heard so many say you had a bright future ahead of you. But, according to Ona, you never played again.”

  He looked toward the waterway where he could see the first hint of dawn reflected on the water. “I was so pissed off when you didn’t show up for my recital, I stormed off stage after the final bow and said, ‘Screw it. I’m done trying to please my non-existent mother.’”

  She winced from his harsh tone, which made him reach out and touch her forearm. She might look small and slight, he realized in surprise, but there were compact, tight muscles under that demure-looking sweater. One didn’t play cello professionally without a set of guns, he thought.

  “I was a kid at the time. Self-absorbed and full of shit. I joined my girlfriend and a bunch of other people to raise a little hell. I don’t know how, but we ended up at a club that featured male dancers. They stripped, yes, but some of them actually danced, and I remember thinking, ‘That’s what my dad did.’”

  He frowned. “I never actually saw a video of him dancing, but I was a little drunk and the idea of following his dream, instead of yours, made sense at the time.”

  “What about your dream?” she asked.

  “Well, actually, I wanted to be a firefigh
ter. What little boy doesn’t, right? And I needed to support myself while I learned how to dance. Somehow I managed to make the combination work for a long time. Probably thanks to my friends.”

  She glanced at the clock. “You should probably wake up Amanda,” she said. “But, first, I need to tell you that I’ve been proud of everything you’ve accomplished, Tucker. I held my breath every fire season, but I know you did so much good.”

  He was a little shocked at how good it felt to hear her say that.

  “As for your choice of dance venues, I swear I caught glimpses of your father in every one of your America Male routines. The steps you picked were steps he would have chosen. The way you moved was as fluid and skilled as Rey. But more than anything, both of you could light up the stage with your presence. I never felt slighted that you chose dance over music, my darling, because they’re two sides of the same coin. Your father would have been very proud of you, too, son.”

  He picked up her hand and brought the back of it to his lips. “Thank you. For everything.”

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she inhaled deeply and swallowed hard. “You’re welcome. Thank you for listening and letting me be a part of your life. I know it’s a lot to ask, but...”

  “Oh, hell,” he said, getting to his feet. He opened his arms and gave her a big old hug. “It’s never too late, Mom. We’re gonna figure this out.”

  He closed his eyes and savored the moment until Philip popped his head in and said, “Sorry to interrupt, Caro, but there’s a front moving toward Georgia. We’d better get out as soon as possible so we can go around it.”

  Tucker stepped back and gave the man a quick salute. “Let’s do this. Montana, here we come.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Amanda was shaking and it had nothing to do with the cold. She paced back and forth on the deck of Molly’s house, a broom in readiness in case any of the newly fallen snow decided to stick to the traction strips.

  She checked her phone. No call from Tucker, who was riding shotgun in the medi-van Caro had leased in Bozeman. They could have used the regular service, but Caro insisted a fresh start demanded a little extra hoopla.