Holding a Hero

by Layne, Lyssa

  “Man, this country is something else,” Adrian commented. “Much more rugged than I expected.”

  “You’ve hunted before?” Ryan asked.

  She nodded. “All my life. But I’ve never been this high.”

  Stoney snorted. “Right.”

  She glared at him. “Shut up. I’m not talking about dope and you know it.”

  Ryan rose and stuffed another log into the stove. “Where are you from?”

  “South Louisiana. Can’t you hear the Cajun?” Adrian grinned. “Not exactly the height of elk-hunting land. But an ex introduced me to deer hunting down south and I try to go as often as Cowboy’s touring and recording schedule allows.”

  “One of your girlfriends taught you how to hunt?” Stoney’s brows lifted to his hairline.

  Adrian frowned. “Yeah. What’s so weird about that? Because it was a girl and not a guy?”

  Stoney shrugged. “Not at all.”

  Ryan reclaimed his seat and wagged his fingers between Joel and Stoney. “What about you two? What’s your experience in the great outdoors?”

  “I’ve never hunted before. At least not an animal.” Stoney laughed. “And Joel’s been to the park once. Maybe.”

  Joel laughed. “True.”

  “You camped with me in college,” Montana reminded him.

  “I’ve tried to block it out,” he said.

  In his typical nosey fashion, Ryan asked what they all wondered. “What made you decide to come on this trip?”

  Joel shot a quick glance between the band members. “We just thought it would be good for Cowboy to slip out of the spotlight for a while. This seemed as far away as we could get from the press and still hang onto the barest edges of civilization.”

  “Hiding from women, huh?” Ryan laughed. “I know how that goes.”

  Montana exhaled sharply. “Ryan!”

  Instead of taking offense, Johnny tipped his head back, his laughter loud and raucous. “Exactly.”

  “Most of my troubles stem from the ladies,” Ryan said. “Hunting season is great. You get to escape up in the hills and leave your problems at home.”

  “Precisely,” Johnny agreed.

  Joel shifted. “Cowboy—”

  Ignoring him, Johnny said, “Every single one of my trials and tribulations comes from bitches.”

  “Why bitches?” Shannon stared at him as if he had two heads. “I mean you could date anyone, right?”

  “You need a nice country girl like Montana or Shannon,” Ryan said. “They’re the best. Not all bat-shit crazy like some of those city chicks I’ve met.”

  Shannon giggled.

  Montana motioned with her empty cup at the pot on the stove, hoping to distract her friends from grilling their guest. Her face heated. What had made Ryan suggest something so crazy? She glared at him and he peered back with an innocent look.

  Johnny stared into his cup. “It’s not easy to meet someone who doesn’t want my money or fame.”

  “You could have had Peyton—”

  “She was too good for me.” His tone went flat.

  Adrian snorted. “If you’d quit chasing airheads and bimbos, you’d find someone decent.”

  “Like you have?” he shot back.

  “Touché.” She looked around. “Where’s our liquor? I think I need some brandy. Excellent as my coffee is, I need something a bit stronger.”

  “I’ll find it.” Montana jumped up, desperately wishing for a table to crawl under. All this talk of what kind of woman Johnny preferred had her squirming inside. Who was Peyton? One thing was certain—whatever type he preferred had nothing to do with her.

  After scrambling over everyone’s legs, she took her time looking for the liquor. Digging around long enough to let her heated face cool, she found the alcohol stacked in a neat pile at the back corner of the tent. She glanced over her shoulder to ask Adrian what she wanted and found Johnny’s hot gaze on her.

  As clear as if he spoke the words, his eyes conveyed a message…

  I want you.

  Her knees trembled, making her glad she wasn’t standing. She forced her gaze back to the task at hand.

  “Found it. What do you want?” Thank God her voice didn’t shake.

  “There should be some cherry brandy there. Maybe some plum. Grab them, will you?” Adrian asked.

  “Will you also grab a bottle of vodka for me?” Johnny requested.

  “Sure.” Montana found both items. Now how could she get them to Adrian while avoiding Johnny’s unnerving stare?

  Simply no way. The eastern side of the tent had all the coolers lined up along it, and people filled the other side. She had to clamber over everyone’s feet to get back to her chair, while trying to ignore Johnny’s silent come-on.

  What the hell was wrong with him? She’d met rabbits less horny than this guy. Well, it didn’t matter. She was off limits. Ignoring him, she scrambled over everyone’s legs back to her seat.

  She gave Johnny his vodka, careful not to touch him. “Here you go.”

  “Ah, perfect.” He unscrewed the cap and poured a liberal amount into his coffee cup.

  Montana handed the brandy to Adrian. “Here’s yours.”

  “Thanks, love.” Adrian opened the bottle of cherry brandy. “Who wants some?”

  Joel and Stoney lifted their coffee mugs. Adrian filled them, then gestured at the guides. “You want some? It’s good.”

  Ryan held out his cup. “I do.”

  Shannon accepted a shot with a nod.

  Adrian tipped the bottle at Montana.

  Why not? One drink wasn’t going to send her into a drunken stupor that would have her climbing into bed with Johnny. Or anyone else for that matter. She shrugged. “Sure.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Adrian grinned at her own wit.

  Montana drank the liquor in a quick gulp. She coughed as the sweet flavor spread across her tongue, then slid down her throat and throughout her limbs.

  Johnny laughed. “Easy does it, lightweight.”

  “Whoa, slow down,” Adrian said. “Keep that up and we’ll be carrying you to bed.”

  “Not a problem.” Johnny winked at her.

  An image of him taking her to bed made Montana clench her thighs. She knew she had to keep her head. In the morning she would be taking novices into the wilderness. “We better eat. What are we having, Shannon?”

  “Fresh salmon with baked potatoes. Raspberries over cheesecake for desert.”

  “Wow,” Adrian said. “Damn, girl. I was expecting bologna sandwiches and chips.”

  Even Stoney perked up. “That sounds great.”

  Johnny rubbed his stomach with both hands. “I’m starving.”

  “The altitude will do that to you,” Ryan said. “And Shannon’s cooking will make a believer out of you.”

  A gust of wind rattled the tent’s canvas walls.

  “I need to round up the horses before dark.” Montana reached for her Stetson and coat. “The storm’s picking up speed.”

  Ryan was already on his feet. “I’m on it.”

  Johnny reached for his hat. “I want to help.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Montana said. “Ryan and I have it. You’re our guest—”

  “I insist.” He stood and slipped into his long black duster. “This trip is about getting away and being free to do what I want for a change. And I want to round up horses.”

  Montana opened her mouth to protest again, then snapped it shut. He was the guest. What he wanted came first. To a point. If he wanted to go out in the rain, so be it. If he decided to put on the spoiled star act, she’d put him in his place fast.

  He hasn’t acted up yet.

  So far he’s been nothing but nice and cooperative.

  Ducking her head through the tent’s opening, Montana stepped into the storm. The drizzle had turned into hard driving sleet. The frozen ice hit her directly in the face and she blinked hard. Following Ryan to the tarp where the tack had been stored, she refused to
look over her shoulder to see if Johnny was with her. If he wanted to play cowboy, let him see just how hard the real thing was. He could call himself the name all day long. Being one was a little tougher.

  Each of them grabbed an armload of halters and headed for the meadow. The animals had been here many times and knew to huddle under the pine trees. Unfortunately, they liked the far end of the field where there was more protection. As the trio walked, the sleet clinging to tall grass soaked their pant legs. Without their protective bibs they’d be sopping wet to the skin in no time.

  “Sunflower, come on, boy.”

  At Montana’s soft call, the palomino came toward her. The other horses continued to crowd under the trees. She quickly haltered her gelding, and seeing Johnny standing nearby, handed him the lead rope.

  “Hold him, please. I’ll get another one.”

  He traded the lead for a halter like he knew what to do.

  Not bad for a drugstore cowboy.

  Together, Montana and Ryan caught the horses and mules and handed the lead ropes to Johnny. For a moment, she stopped and stared. The famous rock star looked like any other cowhand in his long black duster and cowboy hat. With the sleet pouring over him, he reminded her of any cowboy doing his job.

  When all the animals had been caught, Ryan knelt and removed their hobbles, and they headed toward the tents.

  It only took a few moments before Johnny caught on and jumped in to help. The three of them worked together as if they’d been doing it for years, tying the horses to the trees whipping at the edge of camp and feeding each a measure of grain.

  Montana couldn’t fault Johnny’s work ethic.

  The internet articles said he’d worked his butt off to get a record deal. She began to see his determination. He hadn’t bitched and moaned about the cold, wet conditions and had jumped in at every turn.

  After the last horse had been fed, she shot Johnny a smile. “Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem.” His wink made her pulse pick up a few notches. “I could use another drink about now. How about you?”

  “Ryan and I need to build fires in the sleeping tents. They’ll be icy if we don’t do it now,” she said. “We’ll be there shortly.”

  Instead of heading for the cook tent and vodka, he said, “Show me what to do.”

  “You really don’t need to,” she protested.

  “Didn’t we already cover this?”

  He stepped so close, the brims of their hats bumped and the little flecks of navy in his crystal blue eyes stood out like lasers. She refused to back up. “We did.”

  “Then tell me how to help you.” His voice was husky.

  Why did his simple request conjure up images that had nothing to do with building a fire? At least not the kind done in a woodstove. She touched her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “Come with me.”

  God, the sexual implication.

  She had to shut up. Now.

  She spun on her heel and hurried away.

  ~*~

  So he made the lady nervous. Intrigued more than he wanted to admit, Johnny followed at a slower pace than she set with her long-legged stride. To his great surprise he was having a fantastic time in the Colorado Mountains.

  Who would have ever guessed that a day on horseback in the rain, rounding up horses and camping in primitive conditions, would make him feel more alive than anything had in a very long time? A lot of his pleasure had to do with his leggy blonde guide. Montana was nothing like anyone he’d ever met before.

  Teal would have shit if he put her in this kind of situation. Her idea of roughing it was a four-star hotel.

  In the tent, Montana knelt in front of the woodstove, adding wadded newspapers. She ignored him when he entered. Smaller than the cook tent, this one had three cots lined up in the middle of the plywood floor. Sleeping bags and duffels marked each girl’s bed. Montana closest to the door, then Adrian, and Shannon last. Johnny grinned. Adrian’s dream. Sandwiched between two hot babes. Although Adrian would have a different kind of threesome in mind than either of the country girls would probably be into.

  He sat on the cot marked as Montana’s. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Hand me a piece of wood.”

  Opening his mouth to say something about how he’d love to give her wood, he remembered how she’d taken the gearshift comment and snapped his lips shut. Somehow he’d forgotten how to deal with a lady.

  He glanced around and saw a pile of cut-up logs near the door. Taking two off the top, he carried them to Montana. She shifted to the right and he tossed them on the pile of newspapers she’d placed in the stove.

  His thigh bumped her shoulder and he deliberately left it there for a moment longer than necessary. Even through several layers of clothing he felt her stiffen. She lit the newspaper with shaking hands. Was she cold, or did his presence affect her so strongly?

  The paper quickly lit and flames spread to the chunks of pine, licking at the rivulets of sap running off them.

  She held her hands over the flames for a moment. “That’s nice.”

  “Let me warm mine, too.” He knelt beside her, their thighs touching.

  When she began to scoot over, he grabbed her wrist. “There’s room for both of us here.”

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded husky.

  Together, they held their palms over the flames. In the confines of the small tent with the only sounds the crackling fire and the canvas flapping in the wind, a lyric begin to form in Johnny’s mind. He wished for a pen and paper or his phone. Because he had neither, he hoped his memory would suffice.

  “Whew, it doesn’t take long to get toasty.” Montana pulled her hands from the flames and stood. She picked up a Coleman lantern from the opposite corner and sat on her cot. “I’ll light this now and that way we can see when we return.”

  With quick efficiency she had the lantern going, its wick hissing as it caught the flame. She hung it from a peg on the lodge pole. “Shannon probably has dinner ready. Or at least getting close.”

  “I’m starving.” Johnny didn’t mean for food. The confines of the tent created an intimate atmosphere. The low light was seductive. Romantic. He held in a snort. He hadn’t seen romance since early in his and Teal’s relationship.

  Now that he thought about it, there hadn’t ever been much romance between them. They had fallen into bed, then marriage, with no more thought than choosing a bottle of wine for dinner. They liked to fuck. Other than great sex, they hadn’t had much in common.

  Even music hadn’t bonded them.

  In fact, it had pushed them apart. Teal craved stardom without work. Because Johnny had slaved his ass off for what he’d accomplished, her need for instant fame irked him. Although willing to help her, he didn’t want to just hand over part of his success.

  Apparently Keifer hadn’t suffered any of the same qualms.

  Or maybe he was just as blinded as Johnny had been by her pussy.

  Either way, they could have each other.

  Before bitter memories could ruin his great day, he turned his attention to Montana. For some indefinable reason, he doubted she would sleep with his best friend. “Ready?”

  She bent and added another log to the stove. “Yes. That’s banked. It’ll hold until bedtime.”

  If he had his way, she wouldn’t need a fire to keep warm. He could furnish plenty of body heat. He held open the tent flap. “After you.”

  She stepped into the face of the storm, ducking her head against its wrath. While they had been inside the wind had picked up, driving snow sideways. Frozen particles stuck to the tent, trees and everything else. The entire world had turned white. A far cry from L.A.’s ninety degrees.

  As they stumbled across the short distance separating the tents, Montana reached for his hand. “Hold on to me,” she shouted.

  When was the last time a woman had held his hand? He couldn’t remember. He liked the way her fingers curled around his. Just as they reached the cook
tent, a figure came from behind the men’s quarters.

  “Ryan?” Montana called.

  “It’s Joel.”

  “What are you doing out in this mess?” Montana asked.

  Joel shrugged. “I needed to piss.”

  “Is Ryan building the fire in your tent?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I need to check. If not, you’ll freeze when you climb in your sleeping bag.” She took a step in that direction. She would have let go of Johnny’s hand, but he held on.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Cowboy—”

  Johnny didn’t miss the warning Joel shot him. A clear message to stay away from Montana. Well, Joel could fuck himself. He wasn’t going off with Montana for a quick piece of ass. He was accompanying her because he didn't want her stumbling around alone in a snowstorm.

  “We’ll be right back. I need to check her fire.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” Clearly disbelieving him, Joel slipped inside.

  As Montana led the way across the uneven, snow-covered ground, Johnny thought about his manager’s unspoken message. He couldn’t really blame Joel for believing he had fucking on the brain. In the past he’d made no bones about his love of screwing as many women as possible. But a blind man could see Montana was different—obviously not the kind to lie down and spread her legs for just anybody.

  Not even Cowboy, rock star.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Montana ducked her head as she entered the tent. The mingled scents of baked salmon, coffee, damp clothes and a lot of bodies packed together hit her nose. The low hum of conversation, clink of utensils and sizzle and pop of the crackling fire created a welcoming atmosphere.

  Removing her gear, Montana hung it, along with the rest, on the lodge pole. “Smells good.”

  Shannon stood and grabbed two foil-covered plates from the back of the stove. “Your food is ready.”

  Montana took both plates and handed one to Johnny. He took it with a quick smile that made her stomach do a tumble. “Great. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Montana sank into the camp chair next to him and opened her meal. Steam rose off the salmon steak and she inhaled appreciatively. “Wow, yum.”