Montana Cowboy Romance (Wyatt Brothers of Montana Book 1)

by Jane Porter

  His fingers tightened around hers. “Let’s move you in, then. I think I’ll start sleeping better once you’re under the same roof.”

  “I don’t work Saturday. I could pack up my car and head up in the morning.”

  “Or, I move you up tomorrow night, and you’d have all day Saturday to settle in.”

  She pictured moving up to the ranch after a long day on her feet and it didn’t sound appealing at all. “Can we wait until Saturday? I’d rather feel rested and refreshed before I descend on her.”

  “If you think that’s best.”

  “I do.” But Sophie’s stomach churned and her nerves returned. She wasn’t as confident as she used to be. She’d never doubted her worth before, but she struggled with insecurity now. “Are you going to tell her that I’m coming? I think you should give her some warning. I have a feeling she’ll take the news hard. I’m sure she’s still not comfortable with the engagement… can you imagine how she’d react if she knew we were already married?”

  “That’s a bridge we don’t have to cross yet. We will tell her we’re married when we’re ready to tell her. And frankly, maybe by being around you more, she’ll accept that we are committed, and going to stay together. Perhaps this is good this is happening. Mom just needs to see how your presence at the ranch makes things better, not just for me, but for everyone.”

  “I can only hope,” Sophie answered.

  He studied her face, his expression gentling. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, but her voice wasn’t quite steady.

  He lifted their linked hands, and kissed the back of hers. “It might not be okay right away, but it will eventually be okay. My mom is not a monster. She’s afraid, and worried that I will be hurt. She’s also probably worried that she’s being replaced, and worried about all the things she can’t control, but she doesn’t have to protect me. You’re not Charity, and I’m not Leo, and we’re not going to walk away from each other.”

  *

  Saturday morning, after waking at five, Joe made coffee and headed to the barn to look after the horses. Granddad was in the kitchen when Joe returned. “Looking forward to seeing her here, aren’t you?” his grandfather asked.

  Joe grabbed the skillet to fry up sausage and eggs. “I worry about Mom, though.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Melvin answered, drawing out a chair at the old kitchen table. The scuffed pine table had dominated the kitchen for nearly seventy-five years. It had been one of the first pieces of furniture built for the house by Joe’s great-grandfather, Melvin’s father. “You’ll be fine, too. Don’t worry so much.”

  “I don’t—” Joe protested.

  “You do,” Melvin answered. “That’s because you’re the firstborn. You can’t help it.”

  “You don’t worry?”

  “Wasn’t the firstborn.”

  Granddad had an older brother who died in Vietnam. He never talked about him, but every now and then a reminder came up and Joe knew that even if his grandfather didn’t talk about the people he’d loved who had passed, it didn’t mean he’d forgotten them.

  “Want eggs?” Joe asked.

  “No. I’m meeting Fred Carlisle for breakfast in Livingston. I hear he’s considering selling his place in Clyde Park. Big spread. Lot of land.”

  “Isn’t a lot of that acreage higher up?”

  “The property goes from low to high. It’s got a couple rivers and a lake. Good for fishing and hunting. He’s thinking someone might want to buy it and turn it into a dude ranch.” Melvin’s tone revealed his distaste. “But I suppose people have to make a buck somehow.” He rose from the table. “Want me to drop you off in town on my way? Might put your mind at ease if you’re in the car the first time your girl drives up here.”

  “It would.”

  “Can we leave at seven?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  *

  Sophie was having breakfast in the Bramble House dining room when Joe walked in. Heads pivoted to watch him as he crossed the room to her. He looked rugged and almost unbearably handsome in his boots and hat.

  “Morning,” he greeted her.

  “Good morning.” She rose and kissed him hello. “This is a surprise.”

  “You have all those suitcases and two flights of stairs,” he said. “Figured you could use a hand.”

  “Well, let’s get out of here then,” she said. “I’ve packed up everything but it’s still in my room.”

  With Joe’s help, they were able to make just one trip down with her luggage, and while Joe loaded everything into her car, she went to check out. Eliza Bramble told her the room had already been paid for, and gave her a hug, and told her to stay in touch.

  Outside, Sophie found Joe leaning against her Jeep. “You paid for my room,” she said.

  “I did.”

  “I can pay my own bills.”

  “And I can pay your bills, too.”

  “I don’t want to be an extra expense.”

  “Sophie, are we going to do this our whole marriage? When do you let me start taking care of you?”

  Her mouth opened, closed. She didn’t have an answer for that because she wasn’t accustomed to anyone paying for things for her, or taking care of her. She’d been pretty much on her own for years now. “Are you going to let me contribute to ranch expenses?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? I’ll be living there.”

  “Because the ranch pays for itself.”

  “Then what’s my income for?”

  “It’s for you to decide.”

  “So you don’t care what I spend my money on?”

  “No.”

  “So I could spend it on you?”

  He gave her a look like she was impossible. “If that’s what you want to do. Now let’s get on the road. You’re driving. I want to see how well you can do on our rough roads.”

  “I can handle your rough roads. Just watch.”

  “I will. Let’s go home.”

  *

  Home. Such a strange word, Sophie thought, as she drove south on Highway 89. The one-lane highway wasn’t quite familiar yet, but she loved how pretty it was this morning, everything green along the sparkling, splashing blue of the Yellowstone River.

  As she drove, Joe told her a little bit about the town of Pray, and how it had a population of roughly six hundred and fifty people. Twenty-five miles south of Marietta, and thirty miles north of the entrance to Yellowstone, the town consisted of about five acres, and was privately owned, with the current owner both the mayor and sheriff.

  She was trying to soak up everything she could since Paradise Valley was going to be her forever home.

  That was a strange thought, too.

  She’d spent her life in California. She’d only traveled a little bit, mostly to Lake Tahoe for skiing and San Diego for beach vacations, and those trips had usually been organized by Leo since he liked nice hotels with nice pools.

  “Have you done a lot of traveling?” she asked Joe.

  “When I competed, yes.”

  “Where did you go?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty much everywhere in the US, except for Hawaii, and Alaska.”

  “Every state has a rodeo?”

  “Surprisingly, yes.”

  “Wow.” She glanced at him with fresh appreciation. “Is there any place you haven’t been that you’d like to go?”

  “Australia,” he said promptly. “I’d like to go there. One of my friends married a girl from New South Wales and I’d like to visit them.”

  “You should.”

  “We will,” he said, emphasizing the we. “Just as soon as I can get someone to cover the ranch for me.”

  “One day, maybe.”

  “Hopefully sooner than that. Thinking it could be a good honeymoon.”

  “That’d be amazing.”

  “I think so, too.”

  Chapter Seven

  The dogs barked as they arrived, but their tails were a
lso wagging. Sophie noticed that Runt’s huge tail was wagging awfully hard. Maybe he wasn’t quite so scary after all.

  Joe directed her where to park, in the open spot near his big black truck. The dogs circled as they unpacked her Jeep, sniffing her a bit, but then ran off when they heard one of the ranch hands opening a far gate.

  Inside the house, there was no need for another tour. Sophie remembered the basics, and when Joe carried her luggage up the stairs to the second floor, they both hesitated in the narrow hall, uncertain as to the right bedroom for her.

  Mrs. Wyatt emerged from her bedroom at the end of the hall, and sorted their indecision out for them, saying that Sam’s room would do nicely for Sophie, and Joe, of course, would have his room.

  “I’m not comfortable with you sharing a bedroom here,” Summer said. “I know you’re both adults, and independent, but since you’re not married, you need to be sensitive to your grandfather’s values.”

  Sophie’s face burned. “I understand completely,” she said, ducking her head, feeling embarrassed and yet also relieved since she wasn’t ready to share a room, or a bed, with her new husband. She didn’t know when she would be, and so if she could overlook Mrs. Wyatt’s stern tone, and judgmental expression, Sophie was happy with their sleeping arrangements.

  “I’m sorry I’m old-fashioned,” Mrs. Wyatt added, without sounding the least bit apologetic. “Now, if you had your own house, that would be different, but this is your grandfather’s house and it would be disrespectful to shack up under his roof.”

  “I’ll just unpack,” Sophie said, slipping away, and closing the door.

  Joe watched the door to Sam—not Sophie’s room—close, and waited until he heard the click before he faced his mom. “That was a little heavy-handed, Mom. You’re determined to make Sophie as uncomfortable as possible.”

  “That’s not true. I just think it’s important we be upfront about expectations and rules.”

  “But shack up? Come on, Mom, I don’t think anyone says that anymore.”

  “Sorry I’m not hip and cool.”

  He rubbed his face and counted to ten. He didn’t understand his mother. She had never been so unreasonable before. She’d adored Charity, had welcomed Charity with open arms. Why couldn’t she be a little more welcoming for Sophie? “You don’t have to be hip and cool. I just want you to give Sophie a chance. You’d like Sophie if you spent any time with her. She’s really a nice person, a very kind person, and while she doesn’t look anything like Charity, she’s actually a lot like her.”

  “Well, I guess I’m going to get that opportunity now that she’s staying here.” Summer paused. “Just how long is she staying here for?”

  “Forever.” He saw his mom’s eyes widen and he battled his temper. “We’re engaged, and we’re going to marry soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “Very soon,” he repeated. “A week? Two weeks?”

  “Is she pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “You can tell me the truth.”

  “Mom, trust me. Sophie is not pregnant.”

  His mom shifted the cane, resting her weight on it. “You don’t have to rush into anything. You’ve only just met—”

  “Don’t do this. Don’t come between us. I’m marrying Sophie. She’s going to be your daughter-in-law, the mom to my kids, and we want kids. We’re excited to start a family. I’m hoping by Christmas we’ll have one on the way.”

  “I just don’t understand why everything is rush, rush. Get married soon, then, but take some time to be a couple in love. Enjoy the freedom—”

  “Let’s not kid ourselves, Mom. I don’t have a lot of freedom. I’m not complaining, but I’m pretty much tied down here, and have been tied down here, for years. Getting engaged to Sophie is the first thing I’ve done for myself since returning home five plus years ago. I should be allowed to make some decisions for myself.”

  Summer held his gaze a long moment before sighing softly. “So I guess we’re planning a wedding.”

  “We’ll handle that, Mom.”

  “No, if you’re going to get married, we need to do it properly. Can’t have people thinking it’s a shotgun wedding.”

  “I don’t really care what people think.”

  “I don’t care what people think, but I also won’t have them talking about you. It’s not fair to your grandfather, either. He deserves to see his oldest grandson married well.”

  Joe had to hand it to his mom. She wasn’t just stubborn. She was relentless. “What does that even mean?”

  “A minister, a church, a nice reception with a sit-down dinner—”

  “That’s not what Sophie and I want. We want small, intimate, private.”

  “Your granddad doesn’t go to church every Sunday, but he reads his Bible and prays twice a day. He’ll want to see you married by a minister.”

  “Sophie and I were thinking Las Vegas, just like you and Dad did.”

  “It broke your granddad’s heart that JC and I married in Vegas. Don’t do it. We made a mistake. Have your wedding here so he can celebrate with you. We’ll also want to invite the neighbors, and your brothers, of course. Sophie’s family, too. Does she have a big family? How many do you think we’d be inviting?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Either way, we’ve got a lot of planning to do, and all that planning takes time—”

  “We’re getting married in two weeks—”

  “Impossible to plan a wedding in two weeks! You can’t even get invitations printed in two weeks.”

  “Then email everyone.”

  “We’re doing this right. We need a month at least, Joe—”

  “Too long. That’s too stressful.”

  “Three weeks, then.”

  Joe shot a desperate look at the closed door to Sam’s room, glad Sophie couldn’t hear this, but also dreading the moment he’d break the news to her that there just might be a wedding in the works. “Fine. Three weeks, but not a day longer.”

  *

  Sophie could have sworn she heard Joe and his mother discussing a wedding in the hall. She tried to listen through the closed door, but the walls were thick, and the door was solid, and she only caught every fifth word, which seemed to be wedding, wedding, wedding, wedding.

  Dear God, his mom wasn’t trying to convince Joe that he needed to marry her?

  She closed her eyes and drew a slow breath, trying to ease the panic building. It had seemed so easy answering the ad, and flying to Montana, but since arriving, it had been anything but easy.

  Things went from challenging to complicated to impossibly complicated.

  Maybe they just needed to tell Mrs. Wyatt the truth. They were married. End of story.

  And yet she pictured Mrs. Wyatt’s face, her blue eyes the same cool blue as Joe’s, and Sophie pictured her eyes turning glacier blue.

  Sophie really didn’t want to be frozen out.

  She needed Mrs. Wyatt to like her. It would be intolerable living in this house together if they were enemies.

  Later that evening, she crept from her room and knocked softly on Joe’s bedroom door. He opened almost right away, wearing sweatpants and a faded red T-shirt. She’d never seen him in sweats or a T-shirt, and he looked amazing. His upper half all hard muscular planes and thick biceps, while the dark heather-gray sweatpants hung from his lean hips, revealing a flat, chiseled abdomen.

  She must have spent considerable time admiring his physique because when she finally looked up into his face, one brow was lifted quizzically, and his lips were curved. “Do I meet your approval?”

  “I’ve just never seen you in anything but those really stiff Wranglers and button-down shirts,” she said, blushing. “You’re quite… fit.”

  “Thank you. I think?”

  She rolled her eyes and stepped past him to enter his room. “You look good and you know it.” Sophie quietly closed the door behind her before turning to face him. “I heard you and your mom talking in the
hall earlier tonight. I couldn’t hear everything but I could have sworn she mentioned a wedding, and you… agreed?”

  “As you know, she had some concerns about you being here, but I told her it’s not temporary, that we don’t want a long engagement, and that we’re planning on being married soon.”

  Sophie sat down on the edge of his bed. “That’s not really what I heard, though.”

  His arms folded across his chest, drawing the faded red T-shirt higher, revealing more of his impressive abs. “What did you hear?”

  She tore her attention from his body to his face. “I thought you agreed to a wedding, in a month’s time.”

  “I’m sorry, I did.”

  “Oh, Joe.”

  “I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to handle her lately. She’s impossible, and difficult. I don’t want to lose my temper, and so I give in to keep from getting angry. But maybe I should just get angry—”

  “No. Don’t do that.”

  “I’m at a loss, Sophie.”

  “I know, me too, but we’ll figure this out.” She sighed, remembering the bits and pieces of the conversation she’d overheard. “It’s as if she wants us to have a real wedding with a real reception.” Sophie had visions of the long-sleeved white satin bridal gown that had once hung in her closet, and the lush red and cream and green floral bouquets that the bridal party would have carried. She’d dreamed of a Christmas wedding since she was a little girl. She loved Christmas and nothing seemed more romantic. Leo had obliged, proposing one Christmas, and agreeing to marry in December of the following year. “We didn’t want one of those, remember?”

  Joe walked the length of his bedroom floor and ended up at the window overlooking the valley. The moon was just a sliver in the sky and all was dark beyond the glass. “I know.” He turned to face Sophie. “They didn’t, either, because they went to Vegas. Maybe that’s why this is so important to her. Maybe it’s why it’s so important to Granddad. My mom seems to think he’d be hurt if he wasn’t present at our wedding, and if it’s important to him, it’s important to me. My granddad—”