by Layne, Lyssa
“Learned the hard way.” Shannon squeezed her tight. “So you don’t have to.”
Could she do it? Be with Johnny and not fall in love? And more importantly, could she hide her emotions if she did allow herself to give into her burgeoning feelings for him?
CHAPTER NINE
Ryan rode out of camp around eight, Stoney and Joel with him. He said he’d be back by dusk at the latest unless they bagged an elk. In that event they would return sooner.
Shannon handed Montana two sack lunches. “Remember what I said.”
“I will.” Montana’s stomach knotted. An entire day alone with Johnny. She stiffened her shoulders. Today he was just another big game hunter, same as she’d guided a million times. Just another day at the office.
Right!
She ignored her little voice and grabbed a thermos. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Be careful.”
Montana was pretty sure her friend meant emotionally more than physically. She nodded. “I will.”
Carrying their lunches, her rifle and an extra pair of gloves, she headed for the horses. Johnny had beaten her there and stood next to Gunsmoke, stroking the dun’s neck.
When he spotted her, he straightened. “Hi.”
The first word he’d spoken since his comment about her being just another girl. Like Peyton? Whoever that might be. Shannon’s words rang in Montana’s ears. She lifted her chin and met his gaze with a cool one of her own. “You ready?”
He hefted his rifle. “Absolutely.”
Montana handed him his lunch, then sheathed her gun in the scabbard hanging from her saddle. “As soon as you’re set we can ride.”
He nodded and tucked his weapon into the scabbard on his saddle. Unlike last time, he didn’t make a show of it, just slid the high-powered rifle into the leather sheath and buckled the strap.
Relieved he hadn’t done something sexual, Montana waited until he untied the dun. “Be careful when you first get on Gunsmoke. Sometimes he has a bit of a cold back.”
Johnny peered at her under the gelding’s neck. “You telling me he’s going to buck me off?”
“No. But he humps up.” Montana motioned toward Sunflower. “Do you want to trade? I can ride Gunsmoke if you like.”
“No, I want to ride him,” Johnny insisted. “I haven’t been bucked off lately.”
Montana shot him a sharp look, but for once his comment didn’t seem to have sexual overtones. “Suit yourself.”
She turned away and placed her lunch and thermos in her saddlebags. When she turned around, Johnny was sitting on the big dun. Both appeared relaxed and ready to start the day.
With a mental shrug, Montana mounted Sunflower. She tapped the gelding with her heels to signal him to go. Cutting across the meadow, they skirted the hot springs toward a game trail that wound high into the mountains.
Although the sun had risen above the peaks, warmth had yet to penetrate the deep woods. Patches of snow from the previous night’s storm remained under the pines. Glad for her coat and gloves, Montana glanced over her shoulder at Johnny. “You warm?”
“Toasty.” He flashed a smile, but she could tell he lied by his hunched shoulders and tightly clenched hands. Like her, he wore Carhartt bibs over a camouflage hoodie, an orange vest and Sorel boots with two sets of socks. She knew about the socks because she’d told everyone the night before to dress warm even if the snow melted off and he’d commented on how he planned to double up for warmth.
“We’ll come into the sun soon.”
“It’s a lot frostier here than in L.A.”
She shrugged. “Different place.”
“Yeah. Poles apart in many ways.”
“I would imagine so.” What were they talking about here? The weather? Or their moral compasses being miles apart?
They entered a small meadow and Montana placed her fingers over her lips. Elk often grazed here during the night. They would be heading for cover with the sunlight. She reined in Sunflower and Johnny guided Gunsmoke next to her. Their knees and ankles bumped, distracting Montana from her search.
She glanced at Johnny.
He studied her in turn.
Almost as if he’d never seen her before, something flickered in the depths of his blue eyes. Regret? For what? The way he’d talked about her earlier?
Montana shook off her thoughts. He’d made no move to apologize. Why would he? He’d spoken the truth. To him she was just another girl. Nothing special. Bitterness filled her mouth.
Something moved at the edge of the trees. Sunflower pricked his ears and shifted uneasily under her. Gunsmoke flicked his ears back and forth and blew a soft snort. Montana focused hard, trying to see what had made the horses nervous.
A large shape lumbered through the chokecherry bushes lining the field. A black bear. Most likely grabbing one of his last meals before a long hibernation. No danger to them if they stayed out of his way.
The bear rose on its hind legs and sniffed the air.
They sat frozen. Waiting. Montana put her hand on her rifle, ready to dismount and shoot at the slightest indication the bear planned to charge. Out of the corner of one eye, she watched Johnny. He sat mesmerized by the bear. Almost transfixed. A little bit of her anger melted as she watched the hardened rock star admire one of God’s amazing creatures.
The enormous animal dropped to all fours and disappeared.
Montana exhaled. “Whew.”
“Damn. That was something else.”
“Yeah,” she said. “It was.”
Johnny laughed. “Don’t see many bears in L.A.”
“I’ve never been there,” Montana said. “Never wanted to.”
“You’re kidding.” Johnny sounded as if she’d said the world had just turned upside down.
“I’m serious.” She shifted in her saddle to fully look at him. “I’ve never wanted to visit it.” With a wave of her hand, she said, “Look around. I’d miss all this too much.”
“I grew up in a place not so different.” He sighed. “I hated it. Couldn’t wait to escape. I spent every hour I could in the clubs in Seattle. Playing music. Trying to get a deal. I wanted nothing more than to arrive in L.A.”
“Was it all you’d hoped?”
“That and more.” A smile flashed across his face. “Drugs. Money. Bit—women.”
Montana flinched. He sounded so much like Tom. The exact same spiel—girls were for the taking. She didn’t want to hear any more. “The bear’s gone. Let’s move.”
Johnny nodded.
As she led them away from the meadow, Montana mulled over Johnny’s words. He had been honest; he hadn’t lied. But telling the truth didn’t make it right. It made her sick. What was wrong with her that she kept being attracted to the same kind of man? The kind that only wanted to keep her in a stable full of women to be taken out, bedded and put back with no more thought than if she were a mare to be bred.
Ice settled around her heart.
Her future looked bleak. Lonely. Childless.
They rode in silence, the clink of horseshoes striking granite, creak of a saddle or occasional clank of a bit the only sounds. The sun had risen above the peaks, warming her shoulders. She tugged off her wool cap and stuffed it into one of her coat pockets.
They left the trees, breaking out along a steep hillside. Montana reined in and withdrew her binoculars from a case around her neck. Peering through them, she spotted a big bull elk and three cows in the bottom of the ravine several hundred feet below them. She pointed. Johnny followed the line of her finger and nodded.
“I see him.” He reached for his rifle.
“I don’t think you can hit the bull from here,” Montana said. “Let’s get a little closer.”
Johnny pushed his rifle back into the scabbard. “How?”
“Follow me. I know a shortcut called Hanging Bridge.”
“A real bridge?”
“No, it’s a narrow granite wall that connects to peaks. About five hundred feet long and
about six feet wide.”
Although she’d grown up in the mountains, and ridden through them a million times, Montana had never liked heights. The particular trail she spoke of bothered her more than most. Out in the open, with steep drop-offs on both sides, the narrow path made her heart race.
A few minutes later she touched her lips with the tip of her tongue. The horses were surefooted, trustworthy. The scary part only lasted a short distance before dropping into a copse of pines where she and Johnny could dismount and get a better aim at the elk.
She reined Sunflower along the ridge out onto the narrow path. Snow dusted the purple-tipped mountains all around them and the rocky creek bed hundreds of feet below. “Steady does it, boy.”
As they crossed the rock face, Johnny muttered, “Damn.”
“You okay?” Montana wound her fingers tight around her saddlehorn and risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Johnny had Gunsmoke’s nose right on Sunflower’s haunches. But the man looked relaxed. Not remotely frightened.
“This is fuckin’ awesome.”
“Yeah.” Glad he was enjoying himself, she signaled Sunflower to continue. The palomino obeyed, his steps sure across the slick rock.
A large pebble dislodged by one of his hooves bounced off the trail, falling into space. It hit the boulders below with a resounding ping. Montana’s heart lurched. Her fingers, wrapped around the saddlehorn, turned white.
Shit!
Had they spooked the elk? Montana risked a glance into the valley below. Yes! The small herd was on the move, trotting up the creek bed away from them. Johnny would miss his shot if they didn’t hurry. With a little prayer, she tapped Sunflower’s sides. The horse picked up his pace to a fast walk. Montana would risk no more. To do so was asking for trouble, maybe even a fall. Falling would mean certain death.
Thankfully, they crossed the narrow area within a few minutes. Pine trees began to litter the side of the mountain, obscuring the drop-off and the view of the creek bed below. Montana drew a relieved breath. She hated that part of the trail.
“Hurry. I think you can still get your shot.” She dismounted, quickly tied her horse to a slender quaking aspen tree and grabbed her rifle.
She led the way through the trees at a jog out onto a jagged point, careful to avoid the farthest, loose edge. She grabbed her binoculars again and quickly spotted the elk. They’d stood in a tight cluster, clearly uneasy, among a pile of dark gray boulders. “There.”
“I see him.” Johnny peered through his scope. “Damn. I don’t think I can get a clear shot. I might hit one of the cows.” He lowered the rifle and slung it around his neck.
Impressed more than she cared to admit, Montana knew half the hunters she guided would have made a wild shot and hit one of the cows, or God knows what else. “Good call. That’s just the first one. We’ll find more.”
Johnny took another step forward on the ledge.
Montana felt the earth shift. “Johnny! Get off there! Now!”
She spun sideways and shoved him with all her might. They fell together in a tangle of arms and legs as the ground gave way with a cracking noise like a cannon shot.
Montana lay on top of Johnny with his arms wrapped around her waist. Her heart pounded louder than a herd of galloping elk.
“You okay?” she managed through numb lips.
“Thanks to you.” His voice was low, intense.
“I didn’t see that fissure soon enough.” A tremor ripped through her.
His arms tightened. “We’re alive.”
She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead onto his. Her breathing came raspy and harsh. “You scared the devil out of me.”
“Hey.” He placed his hands on either side of her head and lifted her face.
She opened her eyes and stared into his blue depths.
“You saved my sorry ass.” Gratitude in his eyes turned to something else. Hot. Heavy. Desire.
Shannon’s words rang in Montana’s ears— Kiss him. Tease him. Even sleep with him, but don’t let him see your emotions. It will make him crazy, wondering what you’re thinking. Men love a challenge. Even rock stars.
With a shuddering breath, she pressed her mouth to his.
The kiss was hard, fast and made no pretense of being anything but raw need. Tongues tangled together much like their limbs. He tasted like pure desire. A little whimper slid from her throat.
His hands moved from her face to her hair, tangling in it. Holding her captive. He didn’t have to; she couldn’t have moved if the bear they’d sighted earlier charged them. She was as lost in need as him.
She wanted to touch him; she wanted him to touch her, too.
A vest, coat, hoodie, shirt and thermal underwear stood between her palms and his skin. Frustrated, she fisted her hands in the top layer. She spread her legs, her knees on the frozen ground. Straddling him, Montana felt the effects of his desire pressing against her core.
Hard. Demanding.
Her body responded with wet heat.
With shaking hands, she reached for the buttons on his vest. He caught her wrists and tore his mouth from hers.
“As much as I want you, babe, making it on the cold ground doesn’t hold a lot of appeal.” His voice was husky, deep. “I want this to last and freezing my dick off won’t make it as good for you as I’d like.”
A quake of embarrassment ripped through her. Shoving against his chest, she stood. She smoothed her hair. She turned and walked toward the horses. What was it about this man’s kisses that made her lose all sense? She’d been ready and willing to have sex with him in the middle of nowhere on the freezing ground.
No answer came to mind.
She was as bad as him. Worse. Her morals had rocketed down the mountain along with the point of the ledge.
She opened her saddlebags and withdrew a thermos. Pouring a cup, she lifted it to her lips.
“Is there enough for two?” Johnny had slipped next to her without her noticing.
Without comment, she handed him the cup.
He tasted. “That’s good. Could use a shot though.” He moved to his saddlebags and pulled out a bottle of brandy. He added a liberal amount to the mug.
“Why do you drink so much?” she couldn’t help asking.
He shrugged. “It tastes good. Kind of like pussy does.”
She flushed and looked away.
He poured a splash of liquor into the cup and handed it to her. Their eyes met and deep in his she caught a glimpse of hurt before he masked it.
Pain? From what? His ex-wife leaving him? Montana drank as she watched him. Waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she said, “Everyone hurts. It’s how you deal with it that counts.”
“What gets to you, Montana-girl?”
A lot. Her mother running off with another man when she was six. Her father’s death. Tom’s betrayal. Her lack of children. None of which she cared to share. Johnny was entitled to his secrets, too.
She shrugged. “Stuff.”
He laughed. “Good answer. I’ll have to remember it the next time a reporter pries into my personal shit.”
“That must get old,” she said.
“You have no idea.” He reached for the cup.
“Tell me.”
Halfway to his mouth, his hand holding the cup froze. “Share your childhood, Cowboy. Tell me about your first time, Cowboy. Who do you date, Cowboy? What’s it like to have a million fans screaming your name, Cowboy? Why’d you get married? Why’d you get divorced? Cowboy, Cowboy, Cowboy. Tell us every intimate detail of your life, and don’t leave out a single second.” He snorted. “You answer the best you can and God forbid you don’t remember the exact words. Because if you don’t, they’re going to come back and bite you in the ass.”
A spark of sympathy lit in her for what he had to deal with. “It must be tough.”
“It ain’t easy being me.” He drained the cup. “But it’s the life I wanted, so why bitch about it?”
She touched his arm. “I
think you’re entitled to admit there’s a downside to fame.”
“When ten million people would kill to trade places? Including my ex-wife?” He shook his head. “Not a fuckin’ chance.”
Montana’s heart pinched at the mention of his ex. What kind of woman was she that the only thing in life that mattered was fame? A cold-hearted one it seemed. She opened her mouth to ask, then snapped it shut. If she gave in to her curiosity, she’d be no better than all those prying reporters who wanted to pick Johnny’s bones clean.
Turning away, she replaced the thermos in her saddlebags. Before she responded to the ache in his voice and eyes and tried to kiss away the hurt. “Let me know when you’re ready to ride.”
“I’m always ready.” Full-of-himself Johnny was back.
Montana sighed. “Mount up.”
“Later,” he promised with a rich chuckle.
“Fat chance,” she muttered under her breath. She’d gotten her sanity back.
To hide the way her knees went weak at his pledge, she held onto her saddle with both hands. Getting her foot in the stirrup took two tries. Damn the man for making her so needy. Remembering Shannon’s advice, she stiffened her spine. She’d be damned if she let Johnny see how his words affected her.
~*~
Johnny preferred to keep his emotions to himself, sharing only through his songs. Much safer than letting people in, only to get burned. The few people he’d opened up to—a very small circle—were the members of the band, including Keifer and Teal, and a few family members, although some of them had sold him out, too. He even kept Joel at arm’s length most of the time. One of his backup singers, Peyton, had tried to crack his shell, but he’d been too train wrecked over Teal to care, and hurt her in the process. So much so, she’d left the band and gone to Nashville.
Just now he’d opened up to Montana more than he ever had to anyone. Although he’d only known her a short time, something about her felt safe. Probably a mistake. The minute he hit the road, she’d be calling the tabloids to give them every detail. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl shared his secrets for money. Or notoriety. Or whatever being with him gave her.
