Linda Lael Miller Montana Creeds Series Volume 1: Montana Creeds: LoganMontana Creeds: DylanMontana Creeds: Tyler

by Linda Lael Miller

“What a cutie,” Briana said, when he reached the porch.

  For one moment of unadulterated stupidity, Logan thought she was talking about him. He’d been called a lot of things in his life, but a cutie wasn’t one of them. She means the dog, dick-brain, he told himself.

  “Meet Snookums,” he said.

  She giggled. Looked up at him. “‘Snookums’?”

  “Hereafter,” Logan decided aloud, “Snooks. He’ll get laughed out of Montana otherwise.”

  He set the crate down on the porch, and Sidekick and Wanda sniffed curiously, causing Snooks to retreat to the back of the plastic box.

  “Oh, he’s scared,” Briana said, gently shooing Sidekick and Wanda back and plunking herself on the top step to open the door on the crate and reach inside.

  The little dog quivered, licked her face anxiously.

  Logan wished he could do that. Lick, not quiver.

  Briana laughed softly. “It’s all right,” she told Snooks. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  Sidekick and Wanda eased forward to sniff some more, then lost interest and went to chase bugs in the yard.

  Belatedly, Logan sat down opposite Briana, on the top step, and interlaced his fingers, letting his hands dangle between his knees. Briana seemed oblivious to the mosquitoes now—all her attention was focused on that hairball of a dog.

  “A Yorkie,” she said, still admiring Snooks. Holding him up, the way she might have held a baby, just lifted from a crib. “Not the kind of dog I’d expect you to choose.”

  “I didn’t choose him,” Logan grumbled, though he was softening toward the poor little critter, despite the fact that he’d be in for some ribbing when Jim and the construction crews got a look at cutie-pooch. “He was my ex-wife’s dog. She couldn’t keep him because of her lease or something.”

  Briana didn’t answer right away, didn’t look at him, either. The flush blossomed again, along her jawline, under her ear. A need to kiss her there ground through Logan like some kind of heavy equipment in low gear.

  “Josh and Alec were wondering if you had any children,” she ventured, and blushed harder.

  “I haven’t been that lucky,” Logan said. “Shouldn’t we go inside, Briana? Before the mosquitoes eat you alive?”

  She met his gaze then. Set Snooks in his lap and stood up, but not to go inside, like he’d suggested. She had the look of a woman headed home, ready to wind things down.

  “It was nice,” she said. “Tonight, I mean. Thanks.”

  “I should have warned you that Jim was coming. It was a last-minute deal, and—”

  “No problem,” she replied. “I like Jim.”

  How much? Logan wanted to ask, but he didn’t. He rose slowly off the porch step, careful not to jostle the nervous Yorkie, nearly lost in his hands. The thing was hardly bigger than a rat. What kind of ranch dog would he be?

  “Want me to carry you to the truck?” Logan said, without thinking, and then could have kicked himself for sounding like such an idiot.

  “I think I can make it on my own,” Briana told him, and though her mouth didn’t change, her eyes sparkled with laughter. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

  He watched as she teetered toward the rig Dylan had driven in high school, Wanda tagging after her. She paused once, probably to regain her balance, and looked toward the horses standing quietly in the corral, the sun setting behind them, rimming their manes and the lines of their bodies with gold.

  Was it that peculiarly Montanan sight that made Logan’s breath catch, or was it the woman gazing at them with one hand shading her eyes?

  The moment seemed eminently precious, the kind of thing a man remembered for a lifetime. Logan knew he would sit on this porch, as an old, old man, remembering the way it all was, the horses and the sunset and Briana standing there like that, stilled by grace.

  Too quickly, it was over.

  Snooks squirmed in his hands, and he put the dog down on the floor of the porch. The Yorkie lifted a hind leg and let fly against a flowerpot with some long-dead plant inside.

  And Briana waved, got into the truck—a delightful maneuver in itself, considering how short that sundress was—and drove away.

  Logan watched her out of sight.

  Maybe Jim was right, he thought. He’d always been confident around women, known what to do and say. With Briana it was different—she made him feel awkward and, at the same time, more of a man.

  Was he “gone on her,” as Jim had put it?

  He pondered the possibility, then shook his head.

  “Nah,” he said to Sidekick, and they both went back inside, Snooks bouncing along behind them.

  *

  THE HOUSE WAS too quiet, with just her and Wanda there.

  First thing, Briana got rid of the shoes. Not only took them off, but dropped them into the trash bin for good measure. She’d probably looked ridiculous, mincing around in those things like some Sex and the City wannabe.

  Briana wandered into the living room and switched on the TV. Flipped through a few channels. As usual, there was nothing on but news and no-brainer sitcoms. Without cable or a satellite dish, the Discovery and History channels, her favorites, didn’t come in.

  With a sigh, she shut the set off and meandered over to the window. The lights of Logan’s house twinkled like yellow lanterns through the branches of the venerable apple trees in the orchard.

  Briana smiled, recalling how incongruous Logan and the Yorkie looked together. Wondered what kind of relationship he had with his ex-wife, too. Obviously, they were friendly enough that he’d been willing to take in the woman’s dog on short notice.

  A muffled ringing sound reached her from the kitchen.

  She frowned, then realized it was her cell phone, jangling in the depths of her purse. Since only Vance, Heather, Josh and Alec had the number, she ran to answer, scrabbling through her purse to find the thing.

  The ringing stopped, then immediately started up again.

  “Hello?” Briana blurted, suddenly anxious.

  “B-Briana?” It was Heather’s voice, and she sounded choked up.

  The room whirled around Briana. “Yes! Heather, what is it—?”

  Heather began to sob.

  Oh my God, Briana thought, her heart cramming itself into the back of her throat. I knew it, I knew it—something is wrong—

  Vance came on. “Alec’s all right,” he said quickly, but his voice was deeper than usual, and grave.

  “Alec’s—Vance, what’s happened?”

  “He’s got a broken arm, that’s all,” Vance answered wearily. “Fool kid ran behind the van when Heather was backing out to go to the store for milk—must have been in her blind spot. Anyhow, she hit him, and we’re in the emergency room at the clinic.”

  Briana gripped the edge of the table, waiting for the kitchen to stop doing its tilt-a-whirl thing. “A broken—She hit him—?”

  “Take a breath,” Vance broke in. “It was an accident, and it isn’t serious. He’ll be in a cast for the rest of the summer, that’s all.”

  Briana began to hyperventilate. She had to get to the emergency room, but she was shaking so hard, she thought she might faint and run off the road if she tried, and besides that, she’d had a couple of beers next door, at Logan’s.

  “They’re not keeping him overnight or anything?” she heard herself ask. It was the strangest sensation, as though she’d separated into two people, one calm and matter-of-fact, the other bouncing off the walls like a human ping-pong ball.

  “No,” Vance said. “He’s pretty shaken up, but he’s all right.”

  “Josh—how is Josh?”

  “He’s fine,” Vance answered. “If they admit anybody, it will probably be Heather. She’s a real mess. I’d better get off the phone and try to calm her down a little.”

  The woman had backed a van into Briana’s son. Who cared if she was a mess?

  “I’ll be right there,” Briana said.

  “It might be a few hours before Alec is rele
ased,” Vance told her.

  Briana asked to talk to Alec.

  He was in an exam room.

  She asked to talk to Josh.

  “M-Mom?” her elder son said shakily. “Alec got hurt.”

  “I know, babe,” she said, pacing. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, so hang on, okay?”

  “O-okay,” Josh said. “But come quick, will you?” Logan. She would call Logan. Ask him to drive her to the clinic in town.

  “I’m on my way, honey. Tell your dad that, and Alec, if they let you see him. All right?”

  “All right, but hurry. Heather’s freaking out, and Dad’s face is this funny gray color and I’m scared he’s going to have a heart attack or the doctor will come out and say Alec is worse—”

  Me, too, Briana thought wildly. Me, too.

  She ended the conversation as quickly as she could, realized she didn’t know Logan’s number and called information to ask for it. Thank God he was listed, and he answered on the second ring.

  “Dylan?” he said.

  Of course, Briana thought distractedly. He had caller ID, and the call would ring in under Dylan’s name, not hers.

  “It’s Briana,” she said quickly, but then got so tangled in the phone cord that she felt as though she’d been lassoed. “Alec’s at the clinic in town. His arm is broken and I—”

  “I’ll be right over,” Logan said. The calm strength in his voice brought tears to Briana’s eyes—tears of relief. She still had to be strong, but for once, somebody would be there to help her.

  Logan hung up without saying goodbye, and Briana hurried into her room, stripped off the sundress and wiggled into the jeans and lightweight sweater she’d meant to wear earlier. She put on socks and her tennis shoes, grabbed her purse on the way through the kitchen.

  Logan was just rolling in when she reached the back porch.

  She ran across the yard, leaped in on the passenger side. “I could have gone on my own, but I’m sort of shaken up and I didn’t think…”

  “You made the right decision,” Logan said, when her voice fell away. He shifted gears, turned the truck around and started for the main road. “Just how badly is Alec hurt?”

  Briana was shivering now; her teeth chattered so hard that Logan reached out and turned on the heater, even though it was a warm summer night.

  “Vance says it’s ‘just’ a broken arm,” she answered, breathing deeply and slowly, really trying not to lose it and get hysterical. “Heather was backing the van out and Alec ran behind her. She didn’t see him and she…she—” Briana stopped, put both hands over her face, pressing hard.

  Logan leaned sideways to give her nape a squeeze with one hand.

  “She hit him,” Briana finished, sputtering out the sentence as though it were a fish bone she’d nearly choked on.

  Logan’s profile was grim. “Damn,” he whispered, with a shake of his head.

  They barreled over those country roads, the headlights piercing the thickening twilight, slicing into the night, carving out a path for them to follow.

  When they pulled into the clinic’s parking lot, Briana was out of the seat and ready to leap off the running board before Logan brought the truck to a full stop.

  “Remind me to tell you that that was a really stupid thing to do,” he said, catching up to her and taking hold of her arm as they both sprinted toward the nearest entrance.

  Josh spotted them first, charged into Briana’s arms, nearly knocking her over. She hugged the boy hard, searching over his head for Vance or a doctor or a nurse—anyone who could lead her to Alec.

  “I yelled at him, Mom,” Josh half cried, his face buried against Briana. “I yelled at Alec to look out, but he didn’t stop—”

  “It’s okay,” Briana said. Vance was coming toward her by then, and she saw his gaze trip from her face to Logan and back again.

  “This way,” he said, turning on one heel.

  “You stay with Logan,” Briana told Josh, gripping his shoulders.

  Her son hesitated, then nodded.

  Briana hurried away with Vance.

  Everything was a blur around her—people in scrubs, equipment, tile walls. The lights were too bright, the noise too loud.

  And then a curtain was pulled aside, and there was Alec, looking small and as fragile as a baby bird, with his right arm in a cast. His face was as pale as the plaster, and at the sight of Briana, he gave a heartrending little wail and tried to get to her.

  She gathered him close.

  “It was an accident,” Vance said, from somewhere in the pulsing void surrounding Briana and her little boy.

  She ignored him.

  “Heather didn’t mean—”

  Briana looked up. Without speaking, she made it perfectly clear that she wanted him to shut up about Heather. This wasn’t about Heather, it was about Alec.

  “Can I go home, Mom?” Alec asked, his voice so small that Briana had to strain to hear it. “Will you take me home?”

  She stroked his cheek, kissed his forehead. “I have to talk to your doctor first,” she said. “If he says it’s okay, we’re out of here.”

  Alec’s smile was wobbly, but real. “Okay,” he said. “I came here in a real ambulance, with lights and sirens and everything.”

  “Dandy,” Briana said, and while her tone was geared to Alec, the look she gave Vance over the boy’s head was different.

  The doctor appeared shortly, told Vance he’d given Heather a sedative and finally turned to Briana and Alec.

  “You’re a very lucky young man,” Dr. Elliott said, smiling at Alec. He was the boys’ pediatrician, and thus familiar with their medical histories. “I trust you’ll be more careful in the future?”

  Alec nodded solemnly. “Can I go home with my mom now?”

  Dr. Elliott nodded. Handed Briana a brown plastic prescription bottle. “These are for pain,” he said. “He may not need more than one or two doses. I’ll need to see Alec again in a week, in my office. Sooner if he hurts too much or develops any signs of infection, such as a fever.”

  Briana nodded numbly. Stuffed the bottle into her jeans pocket.

  A nurse brought a wheelchair, and she and Vance eased Alec into it. He’d been frightened when Briana arrived, but now he seemed to be enjoying the attention. As for Briana’s state of mind, well, she was already thinking in practicalities. Her insurance was good, thanks to the casino’s generous benefit package, so there wouldn’t be any significant doctor or hospital bills to pay, but she wouldn’t be ready to leave Alec and Josh with Heather anytime soon, nor could the boys stay home alone.

  Which meant she’d be missing who knew how much work, and she couldn’t qualify for sick leave because she wasn’t the one who’d been hurt.

  So much for the car fund.

  She gave herself a mental shake. Nothing mattered except that Alec was okay. Tonight’s scenario could have been tragically worse, if Heather had run over Alec, instead of bumping him with the rear fender.

  Logan and Josh were in the waiting room, and they both jumped out of their chairs atAlec’s approach. Vance had stayed in the back, probably seeing to Heather.

  Heather.

  Briana bit down on her lower lip. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  The patient was lying on a gurney in an exam room, Vance leaning over her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Heather said. Her eyes were like two burned holes in a blanket, as Briana’s father used to say. She was as white as the bedding except for her lips, which were a scary shade of lavender. “Oh, Briana, I’m so sorry—I didn’t see him. There was this awful thud and I slammed on the brakes, but—”

  Briana took the other woman’s hand. Squeezed it. “Alec will be fine, Heather,” she said. Actually, it was the better angel talking, not her. Inside, she didn’t feel gracious at all, didn’t want to forgive or even try to understand. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt him.”

  A big tear rolled through the smudged makeup on Heather’s cheek. Her grip was strong,
crushing Briana’s fingers together. “You’ll still let the boys come to our place, won’t you?”

  Briana swallowed, looked up to meet Vance’s eyes, looked down at Heather again. After a long time, she nodded. That was the better angel in action, too. Another part of her seethed.

  Without another word, she left the examining room. Stopped at the desk to show her insurance card and sign the necessary papers.

  Logan, Josh and Alec had already left the reception area when she got there, so she hurried to the parking lot.

  Josh and Alec were settled in the backseat of Logan’s truck. Logan himself was leaning against the left front fender with his arms folded. When he saw Briana, he gave her a wan grin and straightened.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He opened the passenger-side door for her and helped her in. Even buckled her seat belt.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so, well, taken care of. She straightened her spine, told herself not to be a sap. Logan Creed was a nice man; like any good neighbor, he’d been ready to pitch in and help out in a crisis.

  It didn’t mean a thing, beyond that.

  It really didn’t mean a thing.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ALEC NODDED OFF on the way home, probably swamped by excitement, exhaustion and the medications he’d been given at the clinic. Logan parked the truck as close to Briana’s back porch as he could, got out and lifted the sleeping child gently off the seat.

  The little boy smelled of fresh plaster, kid sweat and the greasy burgers Logan had bought for him and Josh at the drive-through place on the way out of town.

  Standing there in the moonlight, Briana looked poised to take Alec, carry him herself.

  Logan put a finger to his lips and shook his head. Even Josh was quiet, scrambling out of the rig to head for the house. Briana and Logan were still standing there in the yard, looking at each other, when he flipped on the lights.

  “I can take it from here,” Briana whispered.

  “I know,” Logan answered, and went past her with the boy. Carried him all the way inside, Josh leading the way, to the smaller of two bedrooms.

  Clearly shaken, Josh looked as though he’d been hit by a car, too. “He can have the bottom bunk,” he said, gesturing. It was a major concession, Logan knew, and it touched him. “He might fall out of the top one.”