Holding a Hero

by Layne, Lyssa

  Something about Montana felt different. Almost like a safe place to fall.

  He held in a chuckle. Very little about the woman was soft. Her tall, athletic body wasn’t the round and curvy type he usually went for, the job she did wasn’t one for any pussy and her sharp tongue cut like a razorblade. But underneath her granite exterior, he sensed a heart filled with compassion.

  Fuck!

  A few hot kisses had him seeing things that weren’t there. He’d better gather his emotions before he did something stupid and spilled his guts. If he fucked up and forgot caution, he’d be reading all about himself in the gossip rags by the time he hit L.A.

  With his mood substantially darker than it had been half an hour earlier, he slumped in the saddle. The brandy in his saddlebags pulled at him. Twisting in his seat, he opened the leather straps and withdrew the bottle. To hell with a cup; he’d drink from the bottle. If only it were vodka.

  Instead of crossing the Hanging Bridge—what a fuckin’ rush—Montana led them down a game trail switchbacking through the pines, heading for the creek bed where they’d seen the elk. An hour and an empty brandy bottle later, Johnny felt a lot worse.

  He felt so rotten he began to sing Rocker Man’s Woman.

  Montana spun in her saddle and stared at him in disbelief. “Are you drunk?”

  “Yup.” He swayed. “All fuckered up.”

  “Get off.”

  “Here? I thought we covered that.” He burped.

  She rolled her eyes, dismounted and stalked to him. “Get down from that horse right now. Before you fall off, break your stupid neck and sue me.”

  Damn, she was cute with her eyes blazing and her mouth all tight. She looked mad enough to spit nails. With a chuckle he swung his right leg over Gunsmoke’s neck. His left foot, still in the stirrup, hung him.

  Upside down.

  “Dammit,” Montana hissed.

  Laughter gurgled out of him. When he tried to release his foot by twisting, his big boot lodged a little tighter in the stirrup. Gunsmoke snorted and sidestepped. Montana grabbed the reins.

  “Steady, boy.”

  “I’m steady.” Johnny gurgled. “Just a little hung up right now.”

  “I meant the horse, meathead. I ought to let him drag you. Maybe it’d knock some sense into your head.” She gave his ankle a hard twist.

  He landed on the ground with a loud oomph. Staring up into Montana’s stormy gray eyes, Johnny didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so beautiful. Or sexy.

  “Thanks for not dragging me to my death, Gunsmoke.” Laughing, he reached up to pet the gelding’s nose. “Although you wouldn’t ever hurt me. Would you, boy?” The gelding snorted and shied away.

  “Sober up.” Montana stalked away, leading an equally indignant horse.

  Johnny flopped flat onto his back, mirth forgotten. He couldn’t remember the last time someone hadn’t found his drunken foolery funny. Hot shame filled him that Montana thought him ridiculous. Time to sober up.

  He rolled over and pushed to his feet. “Got any coffee left?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Johnny sat with his back against a pine tree, coffee cup in hand, steam rising in the cold air. He stared at the mountain peaks, lost in thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt bad about getting drunk. From the time he and Keifer had begun sneaking into clubs, imbibing large amounts of alcohol had been the cool thing to do.

  The scorn in Montana’s eyes deflated him. Made him angry and ashamed. Emotions he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Feelings that made him want to reach for the bottle again. He lifted the cup and sipped, wishing for vodka instead.

  Montana sat a few feet from him, munching trail mix. She hadn’t spoken to him since she freed him from the stirrup. Even from here, he could feel anger radiating from her. After handing him a cup of coffee, she’d taken a seat and ignored him. To his surprise, he felt like apologizing.

  “I guess I overdid it a little.”

  She lifted her head from studying the trail mix in her hand like it held all the answers to the world’s mysteries. “A bit.”

  “Don’t you ever want to forget? Just block it all out?”

  “All the time,” she said. “But I can’t do that because there’s no one there to pick me up. Unlike you, I don’t have people surrounding me, ready to catch me before I fall.”

  He flinched. “I hit the ground, too, you know.”

  “You apparently bounce right back up,” she stated.

  “What makes you think that?”

  She shrugged. “How long has it been since your divorce?”

  “Why? What does that have to do with anything?” Johnny wasn’t connecting the dots.

  “How long?” she repeated.

  “About six months,” he finally said.

  “Yet you’re kissing me, promising to make love to me at every turn.” She picked the raisins out of her trail mix and tossed them aside. “That’s a quick bounce.”

  “Teal and I were separated for six months before that.” He ignored the part about making love. Love had nothing to do with what he wanted to do to her.

  “I doubt I’m the first woman you’ve been within a year.” Montana popped her food into her mouth and chewed.

  No. In the first six months after the breakup, he’d screwed more women than he could count, or even remember, although losing himself in wine, women and song hadn’t helped. Meaningless sex had ruined his work relationship with Peyton. Morning always came and the hurt always returned along with the sun.

  “Point taken.”

  She smiled without humor. “I’ve been kicked to the curb, too.”

  The thought of someone injuring her made his hands clench. “Who did that to you, Montana-girl?”

  “What man except my dad hasn’t?” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Do you think you have the corner on breakups because you’re famous? Everyone gets taken down sometime. It’s no worse for you than anyone else.”

  “I disagree,” he said. “If you’re famous you can’t hole up and lick your wounds. Everyone wants to dig and pick at the scab until you bleed.”

  “I guess I can see that,” she conceded. “But it’s still not easy to recover from being trampled.”

  “How did you recover if not with booze?” He genuinely wanted to hear her answer.

  “I threw myself into my schoolwork,” she said. “I studied until I was so tired I couldn’t think about anything. I was supposed to graduate in the spring, but I got done early. In January.”

  He nodded. “I get that. For me it was losing myself in music.”

  “Did it help?”

  “Usually. Not so much this time.” The upcoming album was filled with heartbreak songs. Instead of picking himself up and walking away from treachery, he’d wallowed in it. The new album was even named Betrayed.

  His rock fans were going to hate it.

  The thought startled him.

  They’d despised Heartbeat for being full of country love songs. Unless he went back to his roots and rocked it up, he was going to alienate them further. This album had a few hard-core tunes on it, but the majority were angry-girl songs about love and loss. The CD was scheduled to drop in a few months. There wasn’t time to write, record and release an entirely new album.

  Was there?

  If they hit it hard, maybe they could make it work if they killed the country sound and replaced it with rock. Why wait? He, Stoney and Adrian could start tonight. His Montana lyrics sprang to mind. He quickly banished them. The last thing this album needed was more syrupy songs about love.

  Love songs?

  He lifted the cup and drained it. He liked Montana, planned to screw her until she screamed his name, but he wasn’t falling in love ever again. And if he was stupid enough to do so, he sure the hell wouldn’t sing about it.

  A renewed purpose filled him.

  He hadn’t been this excited about writing in a long time.

  Montana
pulled him back to the present. “Doesn’t your music help?”

  “No.” Because he missed Keifer, damn it. The music felt empty without his friend, his brother. His bandmate and bass player. Keifer’s absence left a wound that just wouldn’t heal. They hadn’t spoken since the night Johnny found Keifer and Teal fucking in the studio, because what was there to say? Their actions had been clear enough.

  He shook off the bitter memory. “It’s over. Time to move on.” He realized he hadn’t really answered her, but instead spoken his thoughts out loud. “Because everything changed and I wasn’t ready.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I get that.”

  “Did you lose your wife and best friend in one shitty moment?”

  She seemed fascinated with her fingers all of a sudden. “No.”

  “Then what?” he pressed. “I’ve bared my soul. Your turn.”

  When their eyes met, hers were full of the same hurt and anger he’d seen in the mirror so many times. He flinched at the emotions bared there.

  “My fiancé couldn’t keep his pants zipped,” she admitted. “It finally happened one too many times for me to look the other way.”

  “Damn.” Johnny had been with a lot of women, he’d never made any bones about it, but the moment Teal slipped that band of gold on his finger he’d kept his dick to himself. He might be a musician, but his parents had raised him with traditional values about marriage. Somehow he’d never lost those particular morals.

  “Yeah. Lucky for me, I got out before the wedding, but we had a future planned.” She chuckled without humor. “At least I did. Tom, not so much.”

  “He’s a fucking idiot.”

  Montana gave him a startled look. “I think so.”

  “I know so.” As easy as a memorized lyrics, the words slipped out of his mouth. He’d made pick-up lines an art form, but this one rang true.

  As limber as one of the elk they’d startled earlier, she leapt to her feet. “You clear-headed enough to ride now?”

  “Sober as a judge,” he said truthfully. The coffee, or maybe sharing, had chased the alcohol from his system.

  “Then let’s go.” She headed for the horses at a fast walk that drew his gaze to her long legs. He couldn’t wait to have them wrapped around his waist—

  He climbed to his feet and followed her. Montana ignored him as she untied and mounted her horse.

  Gunsmoke shifted uneasily when Johnny approached. He held out his hand. “I’m sorry, buddy. I was a bit of an asshole earlier.”

  The dun blew a soft breath as if agreeing.

  After a quick pat on the horse’s warm neck, Johnny untied him and climbed on. With a light touch of the reins, he turned the gelding toward Montana. “Which direction?”

  She motioned toward the pine forest. “That way.”

  As she led the way into the trees, a sudden gust of cold wind rattled the limbs. Johnny pulled his collar close.

  Montana retrieved her wool cap from her pocket and pulled it onto her head. Was she cold?

  He had ideas of how he could heat her up. Their kisses played through his mind. Damn, the woman could kiss like none other. Who had taught her? Tom-the-fucking-idiot? A flash of something akin to jealousy zipped through him.

  He almost laughed out loud.

  Who was he to be resentful of another man who’d once kissed Montana? He had no claim on her. And she had none on him. He’d kissed dozens, hell maybe hundreds. If someone had a problem with his past, tough. He’d been a free agent, rarely tied down to anyone for long. His career hadn’t been conducive to a long-term relationship. The road, with all its booze and groupies, didn’t enthrall any decent woman.

  None he knew anyway.

  ~*~

  No one but Montana’s closest friends knew about Tom’s wandering penis. When asked, she simply stated their engagement didn’t work out. She’d told Johnny more than most. From the time she met him, Tom had cheated. Rumors always circled him, but she ignored them as tall tales. The night she found him in the shower, all the stories made sense. Every single whisper had been true; they hadn’t been lies at all.

  The shame of being the victim of Tom’s ongoing infidelities still rankled as much as the humiliation of finding her fiancé with those girls.

  A wet branch slapped her cheek, drawing her attention back to the present. She swiped water off her face, noticing a cold wind swirling down from one of the peaks.

  After breaking out of the trees, she reined in and looked around. Under cover she hadn’t noticed gray clouds shrouding the mountains. Another storm on the horizon.

  She nudged Sunflower with her heels and he obediently moved forward.

  At a Y in the trail she paused again. The right fork led to the creek bed where they’d spotted the elk earlier. The left turn would take them to a large park where she’d often found game.

  A glance at her watch showed it was a little past noon. Plenty of time to hunt and make it to camp before dark.

  The oncoming snow wouldn’t bother them.

  No reason to turn back.

  Reining left, she scanned the area for elk, but didn’t spot any. The small herd they’d seen earlier had vanished. Something moved among the gray boulders. Raising her binoculars, she quickly found the source—a brown-gray coyote hunting for rodents.

  “What do you see?” Johnny asked.

  “A coyote.” She pointed. “There. He’s scrounging around for a meal.”

  He raised his own field glasses. “I see him.”

  “We’ll leave him to his business,” Montana said. “Scavengers have a right to live, too. They actually do nature a service cleaning up remains of other animals.”

  “Kind of reminds me of the paparazzi,” Johnny said. “Although I’d argue that they don’t have a right to live by picking my bones clean.”

  Montana didn’t know how to respond to that. She couldn’t imagine being chased and hounded and photographed at all turns. The price of fame, she supposed.

  With a click she asked Sunflower to move. Hoofbeats and an occasional snort were the only sounds as they rode across the mountain. She scouted for game and Johnny seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

  The shrill, scream-like sound of a bugling elk—a bull calling for a mate—rent the air.

  Both horses’ heads went up and Gunsmoke did a little nervous dance.

  “What’s that?” Johnny asked.

  “A bull elk telling the other boys he’s found a girlfriend,” Montana said.

  Johnny grinned. “I thought so, but I’ve never heard one before. Sounds kind of like me onstage.”

  The bull called again, his love song echoing through the peaks.

  “Beautiful music.” Johnny sat enthralled.

  “It’s amazing.” Montana waited to see if the elk would bugle again, but he went silent. “He’s close. Let’s find him.”

  “Almost seems a shame to shoot at a guy while he’s in love,” Johnny said.

  Montana’s mouth curved up. “Probably better than when he’s not.”

  Johnny threw his head back as laughter poured out of him. When he finally regained control, he said, “I know a little about that. Truer words have never been spoken.”

  This guy was still in love with his ex. A little reminder for Montana to guard her heart. Not only was he free and easy with who he bedded, he was in rebound mode and that was a dangerous place.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  At the top of the ridge, they stopped and dismounted. The peaks around them had been completely clouded in, fog creeping lower even as they watched.

  Montana looked through binoculars at the valley below, where a herd of elk milled around. Several bulls with enormous antlers moved among the cows. She pointed at the biggest one in the middle of the group. “There’s your target. I think you can hit him from here.”

  She took both sets of reins.

  Johnny took his rifle from the scabbard and stared through the scope. When the enormous male moved to the edge of the he
rd, Johnny pulled the trigger. The sound boomed through the mountains, ricocheting across the peaks and valleys like an avalanche.

  The elk stampeded.

  Like a herd of racehorses, the terrified animals ran across the flat valley floor toward the safety of the trees. None lay in the meadow. Johnny had either missed or the bull was hit, but not critically.

  Johnny lowered his gun. “Damn. I missed.”

  Montana handed him Gunsmoke’s reins. “We need to check for blood. If you hit one we have to follow and make sure it’s not suffering.”

  After Johnny re-sheathed his rifle and mounted, Montana stepped on her horse. The ride to the valley floor was made by zigzagging down the steep hillside.

  Montana stepped off Sunflower and searched the ground for any sign of an injured animal. “I’m looking for blood.”

  Johnny also dismounted and began walking in slow circles, staring at the churned up earth and flattened grass. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Me neither,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I thought for sure I had him in my sights.”

  “It happens,” Montana said. “You’ll have other chances.”

  “Not if I keep shooting like that,” Johnny groused.

  “You have any idea how many times I’ve missed?” Montana asked. “Too many to count. Hitting a moving target isn’t easy, so don’t sweat it.”

  “Missing the target seems to be my modus operandi lately,” Johnny grumbled.

  Montana tugged his sleeve. “Forget it. Tomorrow’s another day.”

  A soft mist swirled, cocooning the two of them. The sad look in Johnny’s eyes made her want to kiss him again. Instead, she backed away and glanced up. “We better head in before it snows. I think it’s safe to say nothing was hit.”

  Johnny remounted his horse.

  As they rode, snow began to fall. Big, soft, fat flakes that stuck to the ground. Some clung to Montana’s eyelashes and she blinked them away. This was shaping up to be a big storm. Returning to camp the same way they’d come in was not a good idea. Much better to cut down the creek bed. Although steep, rocky and narrow, the shorter way still seemed the better option.