by Layne, Lyssa
Being attracted to him was way too dangerous.
Even though she should go straight home and get ready for the morning, Montana knew she’d be too wound up to settle down for a few hours. Picking up her cell phone from the cup holder next to her, she dialed her best friend. When Rose answered, Montana said, “You up for a visit?”
Although surprised, Rose confirmed she would be delighted to have company.
“See you in a few.”
Rose had a cup of spiced apple tea ready when Montana reached her house a few minutes later. “Here. You look like you could use this. Or you want something stronger?”
“No.” Montana took the steaming tea, inhaling the comforting aroma of apples and cinnamon. “Thanks.”
“You look like you saw a ghost.” The pretty redhead settled on her blue plaid couch, indicating Montana should take the other end. “What’s wrong?”
After settling on the opposite end of the sofa, Montana sipped her tea while she gathered her thoughts. She told her best friend everything. They’d never kept secrets between them. Joel’s request that she keep her client’s identity a secret weighed against her desire to hear Rose’s sage advice.
“I was thinking about Tom tonight. Those old memories got me down,” Montana confessed.
Rose arched her auburn brows. “After all this time? Why? What happened?”
A rock star turned my head…someone I wouldn’t let touch me with a ten-foot pole.
“The bank is threatening to foreclose on the ranch,” she admitted. “Rawls suggested I talk to Colleen to see if she had any overflow, but they’re in as bad of shape as me. So much so that they are taking Tom Kerrigan on a hunt.”
Rose stared openmouthed at her. “Damn, girl. Why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble?”
Montana shrugged. “What good would it have done to bitch and moan? At the final hour I got a client. Someone well known.”
“Who is it?” Rose leaned forward. “Tell me.”
What the hell? Rose wouldn’t blab and even if she did, the star and his entourage hadn’t exactly been hiding while partying in the small bar. By morning the girls with him would have spread the news of his presence all over town. “A singer named Cowboy. And some of his band.”
Rose’s brown eyes grew enormous. “Holy shit! You’re kidding.”
“No.” Montana sipped her tea. “I’m not.”
“He’s huge,” Rose said. “A superstar. Mega-famous.” She fanned her face. “And hot. Oh my God. Have you met him yet? I can tell by the look on your face you have. What’s he like? As gorgeous as he looks on TV and the web?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” Montana said. “Because he’s down at The Waterfall with Mary-Jane Powell and Serena Southward draped all over him. Partying like the rock star he is.”
Rose eyed her the way only a best friend could. “You’re upset about the groupies. It reminded you of Tom.”
There was no point denying it. “Yeah.”
“Oh, hon. Not every man is like him.” Rose reached for Montana’s hand and squeezed.
“All the famous ones seem unable to keep their jeans zipped,” Montana muttered.
“There has to be a man who has fame and fortune and is also decent. You can’t judge all men on Tom’s actions.” Rose squeezed again before letting go of Montana’s hand.
“From what I saw, this one’s exactly the same.” Montana sipped her tea without tasting. “You should have seen Mary-Jane and Serena crawling all over him like he was a sofa. Disgusting.”
“It’s probably pretty hard to shake them off.” Rose stood and walked into the kitchen. She refilled their cups and settled back on the couch. “From what I’ve read, this guy’s just gone through a pretty rough patch. He married some girl who almost immediately slept with his best friend. The band almost broke up over the whole mess.”
She rose and dug through a pile of newspapers stacked by the fireplace. “At least that’s what the tabloids say. Here’s one.” She brought a trash rag to Montana and pointed to a picture of a bleached blonde on the cover. “That’s his ex, Teal McNamara.”
Montana didn’t fess up that she’d already snooped around on the internet and read all about the short marriage between Cowboy and his bimbo. She shot a disgusted glanced at the bombshell smiling into the camera before tossing the paper aside. “You know how these things are. These rags make up lies to sell copies. None of this garbage is probably even true. For all we know, he cheated on her first.”
Rose sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“Just skeptical.” Montana frowned at her friend. “And refusing to ever be gullible again.”
“If you don’t take a risk, how will you ever find someone great?” Rose asked. “Have those kids you’re craving? You’re not the type to go it alone.”
“I’ll take a chance on love someday,” Montana said. “Just not on someone I can’t trust to keep his pants zipped. My kids will have a father they can rely on. The list of people I don’t have any faith in includes football players and music stars.”
“Cowboy can pick me then.” Rose waved her hand. “Because I’d settle for just one night with the man.”
“I’ll be sure to give him your number,” Montana said drily. “So he can add your name to his list of conquests. It’ll go on his headboard right behind Mary-Jane Powell and Serena Southward.”
“No thanks.” Rose laughed. “Besides, a week with Cowboy and you’re going to want to keep him all to yourself.”
“I seriously doubt that.” Montana drained her cup. “More likely I’ll be ready to shoot someone. Probably me.”
“Don’t do that because I want to hear every dirty detail when you get back.” Rose sighed dramatically. “And I seriously want an introduction to Cowboy’s also-extremely-hot guitar player before he leaves town.”
“There won’t be any dirty details from me. I’m guiding a hunt, nothing else.” Montana stood and carried her cup to the sink. “If you hurry you could run down to The Waterfall and join the rest of the girls drooling on him.”
“I’d rather stay here with you,” Rose declared loyally.
Montana laughed. “No you wouldn’t. But you’re a good friend and I love you for it.”
Rose followed her into the kitchen and leaned a hip against the counter. “I love you, too. I just want you to be happy.”
“I know.” Rose was more than a friend. She was family. A sister.
Rose grabbed a marker from a cup on the counter and moved to the calendar hanging on the wall. “Are you staying at your regular camp? So I know where to look if you get lost?”
“Yeah. Mint Creek.”
“When will you be back?”
“Nine days from tomorrow. We leave at dawn.”
Rose made notations on the calendar. “You think your rock star is going to be out of bed at that time of day? Especially if he’s partying all night with those girls?”
Montana ignored the little twinge of jealousy pinching her stomach at the thought of the guy spending the night in the arms of Mary-Jane and Serena. “He’s not my rock star. If he’s not awake I’ll go without him. This isn’t some Bahamas getaway where we sleep until noon. He’s either here to hunt, or he’s not.”
“Ryan and Shannon going with you?” Rose named the brother and sister team whom Montana often hired to help her with clients.
“Yeah. They helped me pack groceries and tack.”
“I bet Shannon’s all twitterpated about the rock star.”
“You have no idea.” Montana sighed. “Even Ryan went all fangirly over the news of who we’re taking in.”
Rose chuckled. “I bet he’s packing his guitar and planning his record deal right now. He was pretty brokenhearted when Maura left town without him.”
Montana’s breath caught. “I hope not. I don’t want this guy thinking we’re trying to use him in any way. Otherwise we’re no better than Teal McNamara.”
“Ah-ha! So you do think he got treated badly by her.”
Rose waggled her finger. “I knew it.”
“Maybe,” Montana admitted reluctantly.
“You’re softening,” Rose said. “I won’t be surprised if you’re head over heels for the rock star by the end of the week.”
“Not a chance.” She’d risked her heart once to someone famous and got burned. She wouldn’t do so twice.
~*~
By the time the sun peeked over the San Juans, Montana and Shannon had the horses saddled and loaded in the trailer. They’d already hauled the mules to the trailhead where Ryan was busy packing their supplies.
There was no sign of the hunters.
Montana fought irritation. Typical attitude of the rich and famous. They all thought the rules didn’t apply to them.
Shannon sat on the wheel well of the trailer, absently kicking the tire. “I bet they don’t show up until noon, if at all.”
Montana feared so, too. “I know.”
Shannon crossed and uncrossed her legs. “Have you tried calling?”
“Yeah. Nobody’s answering.” Probably sleeping off their drunken haze.
One of the horses snorted and another one kicked impatiently. Montana felt like kicking something, too. “If they do show up they’re going to be hungover. Probably still drunk.”
Shannon frowned. “Great. I love hungover people.”
“Yeah. They’re a lot of fun.”
Boots barked and jumped to his feet, signaling an arrival. Both girls watched as a trail of dust rose on the road. In a moment, a black Escalade came into sight.
Montana’s heartbeat sped up. They had come after all. “Looks like they managed to get out of bed. You ready for this?”
Shannon stood. “Bring it on.”
The SUV parked and four people stepped out of it. Montana’s gaze went straight to Johnny Cortez. He wore a straw cowboy hat with a feather band, a pair of camouflage bibs and Sorel boots. But it was his broad smile that caught her gaze. He looked genuinely happy to be there. And sober.
The other three, not so much.
All wore sunglasses and frowns.
Montana’s gaze snapped back to the rock star as he walked toward her. She met him halfway and held out her hand. “You made it.”
He took her hand and held it a little longer than necessary. With the other hand, he removed his sunglasses and did a lingering appraisal of her body. “Are you going to run away this time? You already know my name. I’d like to hear yours.”
She doubted he found her Stetson, Wranglers and Justins too appealing and heat crawled up her face. Damn. She’d hoped he would have forgotten how she’d fled last night. “I’m Montana Weaver.”
“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cortez.”
“Call me Cowboy.” He had a rich, deep voice. A lot like Kentucky bourbon. Smooth. Addicting.
She ignored her suddenly dry mouth and studied him. Not handsome in a classical sense, he had sharp cheekbones and full lips. His bottom teeth were a little crooked. He wore his longish hair in a ponytail. Realizing she was staring, she pulled her hand free and indicated Shannon. “My friend and our camp cook, Shannon Lamb.”
He gave her hand a brief shake. “Cowboy.”
“I know.” She giggled.
The others joined them, and Joel stepped forward and hugged Montana. He smelled like expensive cologne and the hair mousse with which he’d spiked his hair into sharp points. She wondered if he’d brought along a suitcase full of grooming aids.
“It’s good to see you, Montana.”
“You, too. It’s been a long time.”
She barely recognized her old college buddy. Heavier, taller than he’d been back then. Gone was the insecure boy, replaced by a man with a cocky stance and attitude, although he looked completely out of place in a pair of brown Carhartt bibs and Sorel boots. Almost as out of place as he’d been back in that long-ago science class.
He perused her as openly as she did him, his eyes hidden behind expensive sunglasses. “Too long, Montana. You look amazing.”
“Thanks.”
He indicated the two people standing silently behind him. “Montana, I’d like you to meet Dalton Stone and Adrian Devereaux.”
The long-haired man lifted a hand. “Hey. Call me Stoney.”
The girl, dressed all in black, smiled and stepped forward. “Great to meet you.”
“You, too.” Montana motioned to the woman at her elbow. “This is my good friend, Shannon. She’ll be cooking for us.”
“Great,” Adrian said.
“Do you have your gear?” Montana asked.
Joel waved a hand at the black SUV. “In there.”
“You can’t take that vehicle where we’re going. It’s a four-wheel only road. We need to put your gear in the Jeep,” Montana said.
To her surprise, Johnny Cortez jumped immediately into action. He walked toward the vehicles with a long-legged, purposeful stride. Without waiting for anyone to help, he began pulling gun scabbards, sleeping bags and boxes of liquor from the trunk.
After their gear had been safely stowed in the back of the Jeep, Shannon settled in the driver’s seat. “Who’s with me?”
“Me.” Adrian jumped into the front passenger seat.
Stoney climbed into the back seat and closed his eyes.
Johnny smiled at Montana. “Looks like I’m riding with you.”
Her heart thudded a little faster. “Okay. Anyone else?”
When Joel moved her way, Cowboy shook his head. “You go with Shannon.”
“Okay.” Joel spun in that direction.
Montana stared in disbelief. Did anyone tell this guy no? If he expected her to jump at his every whim, he had another think coming. When Boots moved to the driver’s door, Montana motioned him toward the house. “Not this time. You stay here and keep an eye on things.”
“Why can’t he come?” Cowboy stroked the Border collie’s ears.
The dog whined, hoping.
“Because he’ll run off game,” she said.
Johnny frowned. “What will he eat?”
“I left his automatic feeder full and my friend Rose is going to stop by mid-week to check on him.” Did this guy think for a minute she’d leave her dog without food or water? Gosh, he’d have heart failure if he knew a mama cat and her kittens in the barn survived on mice and other small critters.
“I hate when I have to leave my dogs,” the rock star commented as he finally climbed into the truck. “I wish they could tag along everywhere I go.”
Montana slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “You have dogs?”
“Six. All rescues.”
She steered the rig behind the Jeep. “That’s a lot.”
“I’d have more, but my housekeeper refuses to take on any more responsibility.” He shrugged. “What can you do?”
“Sounds like you’re a good pet owner.” The guy was full of surprises. Who would have guessed he loved dogs? She softened a little. An animal lover went a long way in her book. “I feel that way about my horses. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them fed and here with me.”
He grinned at her. “Even put up with me?”
Montana couldn’t help smiling back. “Even that.”
His burst of laughter was rich and deep, making something low in her stomach clench. “You always so honest, Montana-girl?”
She shifted the truck’s gears. “I try to be.”
His gaze, behind his expensive dark sunglasses, rested on her hand on the gearshift. “You been driving a stick a long time?”
“Since I was twelve.” She glanced his way. “Why?”
He covered her hand with his. “I’d like you to finesse my stick like that sometime.”
Montana jerked her hand away as if he’d burned her. She glared at him. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Cortez. I’m not a member of your fan club, a stripper or a groupie. I’m the hunting guide you hired to scout big game. In no way is me sleeping with you included in the fee. I r
ealize you think most women want to jump all over you.” She drew a shuddering breath. “I am not one of them and I don’t appreciate your sexual innuendos. Please don’t speak to me like I’m some video vixen waiting in the wings for a few moments of your attention.”
He took his hand from hers as a slow smile spread across his face. “My bad. I apologize.”
“Thank you.” The warmth from his palm remained minutes after he removed it from her hand.
The unwelcome thought of how the guitar player’s fingers would feel on other parts of her body lingered even longer.
CHAPTER FIVE
Johnny hid a grin. He’d never met anyone like Montana Weaver. She almost appeared to dislike him. He was used to games. Chicks loved to play them, but she didn’t seem the type. Her distaste for him seemed genuine.
Why?
They’d never met before. He hadn’t offended her in some way. Hadn’t screwed her and left her crying. Or cussing him. He did his best to break things off gently, but sometimes hard feelings were inevitable.
Teal wanted to kill him, yet she’d been the one to fuck things up between them.
His come-on about the gearshift had been a dismal flop.
Being used to girls who lay down and spread their legs before he could say hello made meeting a girl who needed a bit more wooing not only a novelty, but a welcome challenge. He grinned openly. Sing her a song or two and she’d be all over him.
Before the week was over he’d have the gorgeous blonde begging for his cock.
Glancing in her direction, he liked what he saw. Long pale blonde hair held in a ponytail, white Stetson, plain olive green Henley that hugged smallish tits. Worn Wranglers snugged against long legs that he could easily imagine anchoring his waist as he rode her hard.
She noticed him studying her and looked at him. “Something on my face?”
No makeup. No false eyelashes. Just a spattering of freckles across her nose and a gorgeous mouth he’d love to see wrapped around his cock.
“Smile,” he said.
She flashed her teeth. “Better?”
He chuckled. “You’re a pistol, Montana-girl.”
“Please stop calling me that.” She turned her attention back to the bumpy dirt road.
