A Montana Christmas Reunion

by Roz Denny Fox

  Having no idea how to respond, Jewell dipped her head and slid into a chair across the table from him. Opening her food carton, she sniffed the pungent garlic scent. “This looks and smells fantastic. Can we eat first and talk after I appease my empty stomach?”

  Chuckling, Saxon scooped lasagna onto his plate, along with asparagus and two slices of toasted garlic bread. “I can’t say I’m sorry the only restaurant open was Italian. Remember that little hole-in-the-wall place near campus that served the world’s best spaghetti and meatballs? I recall it every time I eat Italian food.”

  Jewell smiled and felt the knot in her stomach ease. “Rossiano’s. Good food and cheap. I wonder if it’s still there. I have to admit I rarely get out of Snowy Owl Crossing these days.”

  “Yet here you are.” Saxon picked up his wineglass and took a drink. Setting it down, he said, “You mentioned asking a committee to buy some of Uncle Leland’s land. Is he selling out? If so, I suppose he wants a fortune.”

  “His Realtor advised him not to break up the ranch, which includes the area where owls nest.” After blotting red sauce off her lips, Jewell set her napkin back on her lap. “My meeting with the federal committee didn’t go as I’d hoped.” Between bites, she launched into an explanation of the efforts already put forth by the Artsy Ladies. “One member of the national committee said maybe we can partner with a birder group to buy the land.”

  “Who are the Artsy Ladies?”

  Jewell named them. “We all make and sell crafts. We hope the money will one day buy land for a snowy owl refuge.”

  “Okay, I know most everyone. I’m drawing a blank on Myra Maxwell.”

  “Until this past spring she was Myra Odell. Remember she only spent summers with her grandparents? Her grandmother passed and Myra moved to Snowy Owl Crossing to run the ranch the last three years. Then her grandfather died.”

  “Now I can place her. I’m sorry to hear about the Odells. You say Myra married someone named Maxwell? That name doesn’t ring any bells.”

  “It’s quite a story. Myra’s dad gave the ranch to Zeke Maxwell, an ex-military guy who saved her brother’s life. Myra and Zeke fell in love and married. They run the Flying Owl now. Zeke has a twin, Seth. Before I left home, I sensed he and Lila Jenkins will be the next in our group to walk down the aisle.”

  “Lila? Did she and Keith divorce?” Saxon paused in eating and frowned. “Rafe didn’t mention anyone but you when we talked. He travels a lot selling farm equipment. Sometime after college he left Montana for Tulsa.”

  “You really are behind times.” She glossed over the horrific mine accident in which Keith and other miners died.

  “Gosh, I’m sorry to hear it. I remember they got married right out of high school. And didn’t they have a son about the time we graduated from college?”

  “Yes. Rory is nine. He’s nuts about playing baseball, something Seth Maxwell’s been helping with. Actually, another of Zeke’s groomsmen, a guy who lost a leg in Afghanistan, kinda fell for Tawana. We expect he’ll move back when he’s done with rehab at the VA. They all fit well into the community.” She ate a few bites to let Saxon absorb all she’d said.

  “In my mind things in Snowy Owl Crossing remain as they were when I left. Obviously not.”

  “You could’ve caught up if you’d bothered to touch base with anyone,” Jewell said pointedly.

  He idly broke apart a slice of garlic bread. “I had a tough time believing we were through, Jewell. You were my rock. The constant in my life.”

  “Your only living relative is still in town, Saxon. Leland is aging,” she chided softly. “He looks poorly but doesn’t complain. At least, not to me. What did he have to say in the letter I brought?”

  “You didn’t give me a letter.”

  “Donovan took it. I planned to leave when the show ended. Your uncle didn’t share what he wrote, but he was anxious enough to bribe me to hand-deliver it. He paid for my ticket to your show.” She finished off her wine.

  Filling their glasses again, Saxon paused, his eyebrows diving together. “Donovan will give me the letter next time I see him. But I don’t want to talk about my uncle. You, of all people, know he’s why I had to leave Snowy Owl Crossing.”

  Jewell moved her plate so she could set her elbows on the table. “I know he seemed detached and hard on you as a kid. People can change, Saxon,” she said, propping her chin on folded hands. “It’s not healthy to hold a grudge so long.”

  “You haven’t held one against me?”

  “What? No. Do you not know how shocked I was to learn we had such conflicting goals? I assumed we would...” She lowered her eyes. “Plainly, back then we were both naive. I’ve often wondered how you’re doing,” she murmured, picking up her wine.

  “Yeah. You probably hoped I’d fail and have to return to Montana.” He took a long drink from his glass.

  “What a horrible thing to say. With your talent, I knew you’d succeed.”

  “I almost didn’t. My first five years in Nashville were a hand-to-mouth struggle to get anyone to hear a demo. All I wanted was to live up to your expectations. I owe you so much but have no idea how to repay you.”

  “I don’t want to be repaid for anything, Saxon. I wanted us both to have our careers. I’m sorry we lost touch.”

  “Really? I phoned your mom during one of my lowest periods. You were off at veterinary school in Washington State.”

  “You talked to Mom? She never told me.”

  “Yes, well, she never came right out and said it was best I forget you, but it was implied. And once I got my head screwed on straight enough to admit you deserved to be the hometown vet, I focused all my energy on making my music work. I stuck it out even when I lived in a dive of an apartment and couldn’t afford to feed myself.”

  Jewell bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have any idea your life was so hard.” She indicated the room with a wave of one hand. “I’d say things have picked up.”

  “I suppose I should thank you for dumping me. Had you gone with me to Nashville, there’s no way I could’ve made a go of my music and paid for you to attend vet school like I promised.”

  She took a drink, then swirled the wine. “I’d like to say I was smart enough to see that. Closer to the truth, I was crushed when you made clear you could never live in Snowy Owl Crossing. Not even for me.” She finished the wine and set down her empty glass.

  “If it means anything, I never got you out of my system. I hung on to the fact that your mother said you were happy.” Leaning forward, Saxon took her hands, which forced her to stare straight into his somber gray eyes.

  As if stuck in a dream, she squeezed his warm hands. But eventually she pulled hers free. “That’s bullshit, Saxon. Remote as we are, we have cell towers. Once when I was surfing the web, I ran across photos of you with a cute little blonde singer. There was speculation that you two planned to marry.”

  “Marry? I’ve dated, but never got engaged like you apparently did. But I can’t think... Ah, you must mean Toni French. We had the same agent and recording label for a while. They splash all that hype around because fans love what they believe is access into recording artists’ private lives. Toni and I were never romantically involved. In fact, she moved to a different label. Are you saying you cared?”

  Jewell shrugged. “I figured you’d gotten married and maybe even divorced like so many performers.”

  “Did you?”

  “Did I what?” She thought she’d missed something because his forehead was furrowed again.

  “You aren’t wearing a wedding ring, but Rafe said he heard you were engaged. Have you married and divorced? If so, to anyone I know?”

  That last part of his query sounded testy enough for Jewell to slowly shake her head, just feeling sad. “My engagement was brief. Now I’m too busy to date. But it’s
pointless for us to travel this path, Saxon. I’ll help you clear the table and then try to find a place to stay. Or if the storm’s abated, I’ll return to my hotel.” The last had barely left her lips when wind rocked the bus and they could hear bands of rain striking the metal siding.

  Saxon got up to peer out a window. He dropped the curtain and dug a cell phone out of his pocket. “It’s too dark to see much. But the wind is definitely tossing stuff around.” He pushed a few buttons on his phone. “Althea’s now listed as a strong tropical storm packing heavy rain and high winds. No way will I let you drive anywhere in these conditions. You can sleep here.”

  Jewell’s heart did a little flip as she recalled how even when they were kids, Saxon had looked out for her safety and well-being. “How long before it’ll be over?”

  He scrolled more. “Wee hours of the morning.”

  She watched him return his stare to her, and she unconsciously licked her lips as their history kept playing over and over in her head. Trying to shake off the memories, she found her voice. “I trust this luxury conveyance has two bedrooms.”

  “Nope. One bed almost fills the only bedroom. It could sleep four. I have any number of oversize T-shirts I can lend you. We’ll have to pretend it’s old times.”

  As Jewell mulled over his offer to share a bed, he added, “How many times did we study so late we made do crammed together in one narrow dorm bed?”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “For me those years melted away the minute I laid eyes on you. Can you honestly say seeing me hasn’t triggered some wistful feelings in you?”

  She gave a slow shake of her head. “The music...” Her voice cracked and she stood. “When did you write songs for me, Saxon?”

  He grew serious again. “I’ve written a few with you in mind.” Brushing her bangs aside with the backs of his fingers, he curved one hand around the side of her neck. Bending, he kissed her. Softly at first, but he continued kissing her with more fervor until both her hands slid up and down his chest and finally she clamped her hands over his shoulders.

  The coach swayed in the wind, but the air Jewell breathed felt hot and sultry. Yes, she remembered loving him, loving his kisses. She might have been a girl back then, but she’d loved him like a woman. The good times they’d had tumbled over and over in fond memories that ran together in a blur. It didn’t take long for the old excitement to flutter in her belly and she wanted him with every fiber of her being.

  He picked her up as if even in boots, jeans and a jacket she were feather light. Some small slice of her brain said she should object to being carried down a dim hall into a dark room. Then he sat with her on his lap, and their kisses went on until Jewell thought she’d go mad unless she touched his skin and he touched hers. She made the first move, ripping open the snaps down the front of his Western-style shirt.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Saxon pulled back. He sucked in a breath. “Let’s have some light and lose enough clothes to get comfortable.”

  Jewell blinked even though the bedside lamp he snapped on was little more than an amber glow. His hands had always been strong but seemed more so now as he removed her boots and set them beneath a bedside chair.

  Because her bones were limp as cooked noodles, and because she drowned in his crooked smile, she had nothing to say when her damp jacket and wrinkled shirt landed on the chair. Suffused in heat, she still shivered when Saxon strung soft kisses from below her ear down her torso, stopping at the V of her bra. Dazedly, she ran her hands over the sculpted muscles of his back.

  “I hate like the devil to interrupt what we’ve got going, but I need to make a quick check in the bathroom to see if my agent stocked, uh...protection.”

  Rising, he placed a finger over Jewell’s trembling lips. “Before you get all huffy and ask why Sid would do that? Agents just do. They assume all performers meet and fall into bed with groupies. Some do. I don’t. But agents and managers are charged with making sure the label doesn’t get sued. No matter how many times I’ve said I only want Tylenol, soap and aftershave, Sid puts a packet or two in my medicine cabinet. Be right back.” And he disappeared.

  In the respite Jewell tried to clear her head. What flashed there like a neon sign was a niggling thought that spending a night making love with Saxon probably wasn’t smart. But even as she sat alone, she burned with desire for him. Wants and needs she hadn’t felt in a long time clouded her vision and made mush of her brain. Really, he was the only one who’d ever made her feel this way.

  Saxon returned and handed her a crumpled foil packet and a T-shirt. “Maybe Sid finally got my message. I found one condom.” He sat at her side and caressed her cheek. “You’re still wearing way too many clothes.” He knelt to slowly peel away her jeans.

  Jewell saw all he wore on his lean, tanned body was a pair of navy briefs. She could have admired the view longer, but he sank down beside her and tipped up her face, and she again grew weak from his kisses.

  Beyond, in the tail of the coach, the wind whistled. Feeling pulled into the vortex of the storm, Jewell wedged a space. “Give me a minute in the bathroom, please.”

  “By all means. Lights or no lights tonight?”

  “I haven’t changed that much,” she said.

  He studied her without blinking. “Darkness it is, even if I want to see every beautiful inch of you.”

  She scurried into the opulent bathroom. Her heart slammed erratically in her chest as she stood for a moment clutching the T-shirt that smelled of the woodsy, smoky sandalwood scent that still always had her looking around for Saxon in the café or at a rodeo. Quickly she slipped on his large T-shirt, but wondered if she was being foolish. The pull of not knowing left her jittery, but eager.

  Only a faint light from the living room sconces that Saxon had left on guided her into his open arms. How often over the years had she awakened from a dream to a vivid memory of this man’s delicious exploration of her body? Too many times to count, but she’d never admit that to him.

  Soon he drove her to a fevered pitch, let her sink and drove her up again until she shattered around him. Jewell curled into him and whispered against his muscular chest, “You haven’t lost your touch.”

  His pleasure at her comment was reflected in how snugly he wrapped her in his arms. “You complete me, Jewell. You always have. The music used to be enough, but lately I’ve wanted...more.”

  What did he mean? Was he ready to put down roots in Snowy Owl Crossing? Molding her cheek to his toasty skin, she yawned. “Uh-um,” she murmured sleepily.

  “Monday I have a four-day gig in Nashville, then head into a month-long tour across the South and Southwest. We end in LA for a benefit where a host of recording stars are raising money to fight against world hunger. Come with me.”

  “Wha...hat?” She lifted her head slightly.

  “I mean it. I make good money now. And you’re an experienced veterinarian who can hang her shingle anywhere. If you’d prefer, we can give living together a try before doing anything permanent. How does that sound?”

  “Like I’m fuzzy headed from too much wine.” Unable to sort out his comments, she yawned bigger and tightened her arm across his chest.

  His chuckle was a low rumble in her ear. She nodded when he proposed they sleep on it and talk again in the morning.

  Saxon fell asleep almost immediately. But in spite of how tired Jewell was, she lay listening to him breathe, timing the sound to wind that eventually stopped buffeting the coach. She battled still loving him against a sick feeling that while he hadn’t discounted her career like before, he ignored her love for Snowy Owl Crossing. Ignored that she had a life and fulfilling career there. Really, nothing had changed except they were older. He no longer struggled to make ends meet, and she should be happy to tag along.

  Very close to crying yet not wanting to wake him, she slid out of bed. Wish
ing badly that things could be different but knowing it wasn’t possible, she silently gathered her clothes and tiptoed down the hall to dress under the soft living room lighting. She looked around for something on which to scribble him a note. A few business cards sat on the coffee table. Holding one under a sconce, she saw it belonged to Saxon’s agent, Sid Andrews. She stuck one in her purse for Leland. She’d have to trust Donovan would give Saxon his uncle’s letter. But from the way Saxon balked at discussing his uncle, that’d probably be the end of it.

  She turned over another card and wrote, “It’s roundup time at home. And I’m scheduled as the vet for the July Fourth rodeo. Sorry.” She scribbled a J. Really, what else could she say? Surely he’d see it was the storm, the wine and memories that got to them. Casting a last look around his chosen home, she slipped out into a predawn that smelled of recent rain.

  She ran through the parking lot, and it wasn’t until she reached her rental car that she breathed again.

  Sniffling away tears, she listened to the disembodied voice from the GPS. It crossed her mind how much better her life would be if she could stop crying over Saxon Conrad.

  Chapter Three

  Saxon woke up feeling more rested than he had in longer than he could remember. Rested and smiling—a huge deal for someone who wasn’t a morning person. He stretched and suddenly remembered why he was happy. Jewell had come back into his life.

  Rolling over, he reached for her, but his arm swept cool, empty space.

  Assuming she was in the kitchen, he swung out of bed. And dang it all, when he’d drifted off to sleep after their fantastic hour of lovemaking, his plan had been to fix her breakfast.

  It wasn’t pitch-black in the bedroom. Enough light filtered through the window blinds that he was able to see the chair where Jewell had stacked her clothes was empty.

  Thoughts of the storm that had caused the cancellation of his show and that was responsible for Jewell spending the night flooded back into his foggy morning brain. His feet tangled in his undershorts, which had ended up on the floor. For propriety’s sake, he donned them and even stopped to grab his jeans from the hook on the back of his bathroom door. If he didn’t have a guest, he’d as likely tramp off buck naked to make coffee.