by Layne, Lyssa
Ryan picked up his guitar. “I’m game for a song.”
Stoney reached for the instrument. “Do you mind if I borrow that for a minute?” When Ryan shook his head and released the guitar, Stoney began to strum the strings. “Remember this old tune, Cowboy? I think it might be just the ticket for what you want to do.” He began to sing a fast lyric about a man who loved all the ladies and couldn’t stick with just one.
Montana began thumping her knee with her hand. The tune, a little raunchy, was catchy. On the bridge, Ryan joined Stoney, their voices blending surprisingly well. Sneaking a look at Johnny, Montana saw a man who listened intently with his eyes half closed, his attention entirely on the music. All signs of the jokester, the guy with one thing on his mind, disappeared. In his place was a man serious about what he did.
After the song finished, Stoney strummed a few bars. “What do you think, Cowboy?”
“I like that one.” Johnny looked at the guides. “What did you think?”
“Loved it,” Ryan enthused.
Shannon nodded. “Me, too.”
“Montana?” Johnny actually seemed to care what she thought.
“It’s good,” she told him. Not her normal thing, but the song had caught her imagination.
He smiled. “Thanks.”
“Is it on a CD?” she asked.
“Not yet, but we’re considering it for the one coming out.” He turned his attention toward Stoney. “I think that one would be a good choice. See what the rest of the band says, okay?”
Ryan reached for his guitar. “Have you ever heard this one?” He began to sing a raunchy, off-color limerick.
On the second verse, Johnny added his voice, echoing Ryan’s words. Montana sat spellbound. She knew he had to be talented to make it in the music business, but hearing his voice up close and personal made her not only a believer, but a true fan. She could see what made girls go all goofy around him.
Ryan stopped singing with a laugh. “Maybe that one could make your next CD.”
“Maybe.” Johnny chuckled. “My fans would love it.”
“It was dirty enough for most of them,” Stoney said.
“That’s what I love about your music,” Ryan told him. “The raunchy songs. The way you straight out say what you think. Your music speaks to me like no one else’s.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” Johnny glanced at Stoney. “Exactly what I was talking about earlier. The fans like a certain sound, which I lost sight of for a while.”
“The chicks really dig your music,” Ryan said.
Shooting a glance between Montana and Shannon, Johnny raised a brow. “That true?”
“I love it as much as Ryan does,” Shannon agreed.
“You must have plenty of girls who are fans.” Montana struggled to find a way to not totally offend him. But she didn’t like his filthy lyrics very much.
Johnny laughed. “I can tell you’re not one of them, Montana.”
She fidgeted. “Not so much.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
“Sorry.”
“You loved the one from Heartbeat,” Shannon reminded her. Rocker Man’s Woman.”
“That’s true. I did like that one a lot.” She smiled at Johnny, hoping she hadn’t insulted him too much.
“From the country CD,” he said. “The flop.”
Ryan began to play an old Hank Williams tune, Jambalaya. “Know this one?”
“You bet,” Johnny said. “One of my dad’s favorites.”
They all began to sing—amateur and professional—voices raised in the joy of music. One song led to another, everything from country classics to rock’n’roll. The harmony wasn’t perfect, but no one seemed to care. Even Joel loosened up a little and joined in, his voice surprisingly good.
Finally Ryan set his guitar aside. “I need to piss.”
In the ensuing silence, Montana looked at Johnny. “You didn’t come here to work.”
“Are you kidding?” Johnny chuckled. “This is like candy for us. What do you think we do when we’re off? We sit around and jam.”
Stoney nodded. “Yup.”
Now that reality had settled in, Montana was embarrassed by her uninhibited wailing. “We’re not professionals like you and Stoney. We just like to sing.”
“I’m not an expert hunter. Doesn’t mean I can’t do it or enjoy it,” Johnny said. “So sing your heart out. I like your voices. In fact, you could all be professionals with a little training.”
Montana blushed. “Thank you.”
“Wow,” Shannon said. “That’s high praise.”
“I mean it.” He looked between the women with a guarded expression. “You’ve got talent.”
Joel began to say something, but a strong look from Johnny shut him up.
“Well, there aren’t any worries about me leaving home to head west and try and make my fortune in the music biz. I know my limitations.” Montana pointed at Shannon. “Her, on the other hand…”
Shannon snorted. “Right. Like that’s ever going to happen.”
Johnny seemed to relax a fraction and he smiled. “Let’s sing. Stoney, how about another one?”
The guitarist reached for the six string. “You got it.”
Not sure what had just happened, Montana felt like she’d passed some kind of test. Did Johnny think she was going to jump on him the minute he said she could sing and beg him to make her a star? If he did, he didn’t know her at all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Shortly after eight a.m., Montana and Ryan hustled around, loading mules and saddling horses, including Sunflower and Gunsmoke. Montana and Johnny planned to leave camp at the same time as the others, but in the opposite direction.
The overnight storm had blown over, leaving brilliant blue skies and about a foot of snow on the ground. Although the sun shone brightly, the temperature had dipped below freezing and snow crunched underfoot. With every breath the horses and mules exhaled, frosty plumes hung in the air.
Johnny came from his tent, pulling on a pair of gloves. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. But you do need your sleeping bag and a change of clothes. We won’t be staying here tonight. The trip is too long to come back today,” she said. “My friends have a cabin where we’ll be staying.”
A slow, sexy grin slid across his face. “Great.”
He turned to retrieve his things. She watched him stride away, realizing the coming night would be a trial of wills between them.
Who would win?
Which would lose?
Her heart stampeded at the thought of it being her.
When Ryan moved toward the women’s quarters, Montana stopped him. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t need three structures now. It makes more sense for you and Johnny to sleep in the cook tent. Easier to keep the fire going in one. I already moved your cot and clothes over there.” Ryan untied the first rope.
Johnny walked up with his duffle and sleeping bags. He placed both in the right pannier on a small black mule. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
Montana shivered at the thought of him sleeping in the same room with her. “No. Don’t tear down the second tent. I want my own space for dressing and stuff.”
Ryan shrugged. “Okay.”
For once, Johnny didn’t make a comment about combined body heat. Thank God. She was already a bundle of nerves without his sexual innuendos adding to her anxiety.
The three of them dismantled the men’s canvas structure, folded it and placed it on the back of one of the sorrel mules. The plywood floor and little stove remained as a lonely monument to where the tent had been. When Ryan and Shannon came back at the end of the week, they would take them then.
The quartered elk was stowed in panniers on one of the mules, with the trophy head perched on top of the load in silent vigil.
Joel and Stoney appeared from inside the cook tent, carrying their gear. Shannon also came out lugging duffle bags
belonging to her and Adrian. She hurried back to the tent, returning with their rifles, which she secured to their saddles.
After quickly stowing the luggage inside panniers hanging from the patient mules, Montana and Ryan double checked for anything left behind. Not that it mattered all that much; anything missed would be picked up on the next trip.
“I guess that’s it.” Montana glanced at her friend. “You ready?”
“As soon as we eat,” Ryan said.
They headed for the cook tent. Steam from the coffeepot and a pan of boiling water for dishes warmed the room. The scent of biscuits and sausage gravy filled the air.
Stoney and Joel had already begun breakfast, sitting in their usual spots. Adrian huddled near the fire, wrapped in a blanket.
Montana touched Adrian’s shoulder. “How you doing? You up to riding?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Take it easy. If you need to rest along the way, don’t hesitate to tell Ryan to stop.” Montana filled a cup with coffee and sipped. Taking Adrian out was the right choice. The sooner she got medical attention, the better. Although not critical, she was very ill.
After they filled their plates and settled into chairs, Ryan spoke. “Which way are you going today, Montana? Still thinking Windy Peak?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to chance crossing Hanging Bridge today because it’s probably slick. I think we’ll circle around the backside to Miner’s Point instead.”
“Good plan.” Ryan nodded his approval. “You going to stay at Marshe’s cabin?”
“Yeah.” Her heart thudded at the thought of being alone in the small structure with Johnny. She fought to focus. “Be careful going down. Although I don’t think you have anything to worry about since the storm blew over.”
“Nah, it’s an easy ride on a clear day.” Ryan stood, dropped his plate in the dishpan and tugged on his coat and gloves. “I’m ready when everyone else is.”
Joel stood and poured another cup of coffee. He blew on it, then sipped. “Cowboy, you sure you won’t come, too?”
“No way. I’m staying.” He arched a brow at Montana. “Unless Montana wants me to go?”
“No.” She shook her head. “You still have to bag an elk.”
He winked at her. “My thoughts exactly.”
A shiver danced up and down her spine. Would he make a move the minute the others disappeared? Would she be able to withstand his constant pressure? Did she want to?
“Can I borrow your guitar?” Johnny asked Ryan.
“Sure. No problem.” He pointed to the corner of the tent. “It’s right there.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
Breakfast was quickly finished, and the dishes done and stowed in their boxes.
Shannon indicated a gunny sack and a thermos on an empty chair. “I made lunch for you guys. Plus, there’s food for tonight and tomorrow morning, too.”
Montana hugged her. “Thanks. Be safe.”
“You, too.” Shannon held tight for a moment, then released her.
Part regret and part anticipation filled Montana. What would happen when they were gone? Would she be able to fend off her growing feelings for Johnny?
“We better ride,” she said. “Daylight’s burning.”
Adrian pushed to her feet. “I’m ready.”
Shannon took her elbow. “Easy does it.”
“Ryan, bring Hawk up to the tent, will you?” At his nod, Montana moved to Adrian’s other side and took the petite woman’s arm. “Go slow. Your horse is right outside.”
They led Adrian outside, where she stopped and blinked in the bright light bouncing off the snow. “Wow. I can’t see.”
Johnny followed them outside. “Where are your sunglasses?”
“In my saddlebags, I think.”
He stepped around them and searched inside the leather bags. “Yup. Found them.”
She took the Ray-Bans with a shaky hand. “Thanks.”
With a gentleness that surprised Montana, he lifted the petite woman and sat her on the pinto’s broad back. She swayed and he grabbed her knee. “You okay, babe?”
“Just a little lightheaded. I’ll be fine.” She took her reins from Ryan. “Thanks.”
Shannon mounted her gray. “I’m going right in front of you. Holler if you need me. Stoney will follow.”
“I will. Thank you, Shannon.” Adrian smiled wanly.
Stoney gently slapped her knee. “We got you.”
Ryan settled in the middle of his chestnut and lifted the lead rope of the lead mule. With a nod at Montana, he whistled to let the mules know it was time to move out. Like a ribbon uncoiling—Ryan, the mules, Shannon, Adrian, Stoney and Joel bringing up the rear—they hit the trail.
Sunflower neighed and pawed, anxious about being left behind. Montana placed a reassuring hand on his neck. “It’s okay, boy. They’re coming back in a few days.”
The horse neighed again, clearly not buying it. Partly because the other horses had left, and partly because of the weather, the horses and mule left behind to carry their supplies were nervous and edgy.
Montana and Johnny watched until the riders disappeared from sight. After the last tail vanished into the trees, she glanced at Johnny. “You ready to ride?”
He grinned, but for once he didn’t say anything raunchy, seeming to sense such a move would send her bolting after the others. “I’m set.”
“I need to make sure the fire’s out and grab our lunches. Keep an eye on the horses and mule, please.” Her heart pounded an uneven, fast rhythm as she hurried toward the tent. The wall of people protecting her from Johnny had just vanished, leaving her on her own.
After making sure the fire was out and all the food was put away, she grabbed their supplies. Taking a deep breath, she walked back to Johnny, who stood holding the horses and pack mule. She tried not to stare at Johnny as she stowed the food in one pannier.
He was so sexy. Bundled up in God knows how many layers, his broad shoulders and long legs still made her pulse race. The man could be the poster boy for jaw-dropping hot.
Montana took Sunflower’s reins and nodded at Gunsmoke. “Watch him today. He’s full of it.”
“Got it.” He led the horse in a couple circles before mounting. Again, the gelding acted perfectly gentle, showing no signs of his usual early-morning reluctance to be ridden.
Montana let out the breath she’d been holding. Gunsmoke had never bucked off anyone, but he sometimes made a believer out of a rider, humping his back and stiff-legging it around a few moments. So far, he hadn’t tried that stunt with Johnny.
“That horse likes you,” Montana said.
Johnny patted the dun’s neck. “He’s a good boy.”
“For you.”
“Maybe I’ll take him home.”
Montana laughed. “Where would you keep him? In your backyard?”
“Why not? Give the paparazzi something to take pictures of besides me.”
“I think he’s happier here,” Montana said.
Johnny gave her a long look. “Who wouldn’t be?”
“You wouldn’t,” she told him.
“You could change my mind.”
The look in his blue eyes made her knees weak. Clumsily, she climbed aboard Sunflower, leaned over to untie the mule and reined her palomino toward the same trail they had taken yesterday. The bright sun hit the snow, which made it impossible to see without heavy-duty sunglasses, and she pulled hers from her pocket. Although it was a beautiful day, the temperature hadn’t climbed much above freezing.
Six layers kept Montana toasty. She glanced over her shoulder at Johnny. “You warm enough?”
“Absolutely.” He flashed a smile and her stomach did a back flip.
“If you get cold, tell me and I’ll stop to build a fire.”
His rich chuckle washed over her. “Keep teasing me like that and I don’t know how long I can hold out.”
With a lift of her reins, she spun the little palomino around on his hocks to face the
rock star. The mule threw up his head and snorted. “Get one thing straight. We’re not searching for some spot under a tree to hump like bunnies.”
Instead of being offended, Johnny only grinned, infuriating her further. With a huff, she reined the gelding around. The man was impossible. Had he ever met a woman who refused his advances? Did he think all he had to do was smile, wink, maybe sing a line or two and every female would lie down, spread her legs and beg him to jump on?
Apparently.
He’d misjudged her; she wasn’t easy like that.
She’d almost slept with him yesterday. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
In the silence, broken only by soft hoof beats and the occasional plop of snow falling from tree branches onto the ground, she listened for bugling elk. Today they were quiet.
At the fork in the trail between Hanging Bridge and Miner’s Point, she hesitated. The right fork would cross Hanging Bridge where fresh snow made it treacherous. Trouble was the left fork was much longer, miles further.
Safety first, she reminded herself.
With only the two of them in the wilderness, she had to take every precaution. No way would she risk life and limb when she could find elk in another area. Nudging the palomino with her heels, she chose the safer route.
She turned her head to address Johnny. “What do you do for fun at home?” She paused a second. “Besides chase women.”
“You don’t think much of my lifestyle, do you?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I’m not familiar with it, so I can’t say one way or another.”
“I like to watch football, especially the Seahawks. When I can, I go to Laker games. I play golf once in a while. Pretty much what every other single guy does.” Then he added as if an afterthought, “Write music, jam with the band.”
“Hang out at a place called The Cave,” she prompted, curious about the place he liked.
“Sometimes. When I want to be seen, or get my name in the papers.”
She studied the nearby peaks, searching for movement. “Is fame difficult?”
“As far as grocery shopping, or going out to dinner, yes. Otherwise, no. I wanted recognition for my music, so I can’t complain about the shitty stuff that comes with being known.”
