Montana Mornings (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 3)

by Kim Law

  At least, she assumed it was. But at the same time, she kind of hoped that it wasn’t.

  Chapter Ten

  The view off his brother’s wraparound deck, though not the usual mountains Gabe saw every morning from Birch Bay, was breathtaking. The city of Billings spilled out in the valley below the house, while the craggy face of the Rimrocks rose up behind them. Gabe leaned forward in his chair, elbows on knees, and breathed in the crisp air loaded heavy with evergreens. “That play you showed me last weekend is going to be gold,” he said to Cord, who sat in a matching chair near his.

  “That play won me a college championship.”

  It was the middle of the week, but since the school day had been a half day for teachers only, Gabe had talked his sister-in-law into flying him to Billings.

  “We’ve been working on it every day,” Gabe added. “I plan to put it in the lineup this week since the game is at home. If we pull it off, it might help erase the home crowd’s memory of those first two games. I want to talk about that other idea I sent you, though. I need your honest opinion.” He’d had inspiration for a Hail Mary play that could be used in a tight game, but he wasn’t sure it was quite right yet.

  Ever since Cord had shown up the previous Friday night, he and Gabe had talked daily. Cord had gotten a firsthand look at what Gabe was working with, and they’d spent hours late into the nights reviewing team video and working through drills that would make the guys stronger. Thanks to all the help, Gabe had seen a virtual one-eighty in a matter of days. The team and he had grown in both skill and confidence. Even his assistant coach had stepped up his game.

  “I looked at it earlier today,” Cord said. He picked up the iPad he’d brought outside with him and pulled up the image from Gabe. “This is good.” He drew a slash over two previous lines and marked out different routes for each. “But consider this adjustment. It might be better.”

  Gabe scooted forward to get a better look. “I see what you mean.”

  He took the tablet and studied the image before deciding it needed just a bit more tweaking. Then he mapped one final change, twisting the play in a way he hadn’t yet considered. Cord’s eyes traced the changes, taking in each detail, and when he finally looked up, an intensity burned deep in his gaze.

  “Yes.” Cord tapped the screen. “This. You don’t need me anymore, man. You got this.”

  “Oh, I need you. In fact, I’d darn near commit a felony to get you home to be my offensive coordinator.”

  “Offensive coordinator?” Cord grabbed two beers from the mini fridge beside him and passed one to Gabe. “If I came home, I’d take your job.”

  Though he knew it was a joke, Gabe hesitated at the words. It wouldn’t be as if coming home would be a foreign notion for one of them. Nick had already returned to Birch Bay, and now Gabe. Their family wasn’t quite as splintered as it had once seemed.

  He studied his brother as he uncapped his beer. “Would you consider coming home?”

  Cord shot Gabe a look. “Why in the hell would I do that?” He motioned toward the lights beginning to twinkle in the distance. “I have a sweet deal here. Primo partnership, prime location. All the women I could want.” He pulled out a thin cigar and lit it up. “I’m good where I am. I’m settled.”

  “That’s what I thought.” But still, Gabe couldn’t help but wonder about his brother’s life. Cord did seem settled. Yet at the same time, there were all those women he’d spoken of. Which didn’t reek of settled at all.

  Then he thought of his own life. Was he settled?

  He was trying to be.

  He’d moved back home, had a new job, new life, and he’d bought a house that suited both him and Jenna. It wasn’t huge, but he and his daughter didn’t need a lot. What they needed was a place where they were allowed to be themselves. His bedroom was on the first floor, while hers and a spare were upstairs. The layout would allow both of them to have some separation as Jenna grew older, while still being small enough not to get lost in the space.

  Of course, moving back hadn’t been his first plan. It had taken a good hard shove for that to happen, but once it had, he’d seen the longtime error of his ways. Having Michelle out of their lives was the best option. It was the only option.

  Yet that didn’t keep him from second-guessing every single move he’d made since stepping foot into his lawyer’s office.

  “Ever heard from her?”

  Gabe took a drink of his beer. “Who?”

  “The woman you’re thinking of, idiot. Your wife.”

  “What makes you think I’m thinking about Michelle?”

  “That sour-ass look on your face, for one thing.” The phone buzzed at Cord’s hip, but he ignored it. “And the way you’re clenching that beer in your hand, for another.”

  Gabe stared at the white-knuckled grip he had going on, and forced his fingers to relax. He’d messed up over the summer and shared things with his oldest brother he would’ve normally kept to himself, but everyone had been in for harvest, and when Gabe found himself alone in the field with Cord, his mouth had suddenly disconnected from his brain. He’d spilled everything.

  “Not since February,” he forced himself to answer. Seven months, and not a word that hadn’t been siphoned through their lawyers. Could he truly hope it would be that easy?

  “Yet the divorce got delayed?”

  “Paperwork issue.”

  Cord drew deep on his cigar. “Makes you wonder.”

  Gabe didn’t want to wonder. He simply wanted his ex out of the picture for good.

  He rose, crossing to the balcony railing. He tried hard to remain calm, but irritation built. As it always did when he thought about Michelle. He turned back to Cord. “What exactly does it make you wonder?”

  The smoke formed a small O as Cord exhaled. “If the divorce is really going to happen.”

  “Of course it’s going to happen.” Gabe’s hand fisted the bottle too tightly again. That made twice in the last month that one of his siblings had suggested such. “Why the fuck wouldn’t it happen? You know what she’s like.”

  “I do know. I also know that she’s the one who left you.”

  Anger swirled. “Yet I’m the one who filed. What’s your point?”

  The lines on either side of Cord’s mouth pulled taut as he snubbed out the cigar, mumbling about how the things were going to kill him, then he rose and joined Gabe. “My point—if I have one—is that we’re here for you if you need us. We’re all worried about you. We want to see this over and done.”

  The words made Gabe more nervous than comforted. “So you’ve all been talking about me behind my back?”

  Cord gave him a wry look. “We don’t have to talk. You know Dani is worried, and I’m telling you that I am. Dad has probably been wringing his hands for months.”

  “Dad has more things to be concerned about than me.”

  Cord’s brow went up at Gabe’s outburst, but he didn’t change course. “You’ve done this all alone, and I can appreciate that. I would have, too. But we all know what she’s like.” The sound of car doors slamming came from below. “So we’re here for you. We’re here for Jenna. All you have to do is let us know what you need.”

  Jenna’s voice came from below the deck, followed by Harper’s and Haley’s. His sister-in-law had made it a girls’ afternoon.

  “I’m good,” Gabe assured him. “I’ve got this.” He didn’t need anything.

  He could handle his divorce, just like he could handle raising his daughter.

  As the girls made their way into the house down below, Cord pulled out his cell and sent a text, and Gabe considered retrieving his and doing the same. All this talk of Michelle had him thinking of someone else. And something else.

  He hadn’t spoken to Erica since she’d singed him over the weekend with that kiss, and he suddenly wanted to do just that. He’d been trying to stay away, but he couldn’t help himself. She was a breath of fresh air after all the years he’d put in with his ex, and he lik
ed being around her. At the same time, he also knew that seeking her out wasn’t the best plan for anyone. Jenna needed his attention, the team needed him focused. No one needed him thinking about a cute little brunette with a to-die-for rear.

  Except him.

  The apartment across the road remained dark and quiet, and Gabe paced to the far side of his small porch. He looked up at the single room on the top floor before pacing back the other way. His resolution to stay away had lasted exactly two more days. Good idea or not, he didn’t care any longer. He wanted Erica awake. And he didn’t want to wait until daylight for that to happen.

  He punched in another text, hoping the second one would wake her, but after another two minutes of silence, he decided it was time to go another route. He crossed the quiet street, stooping down to pick up a handful of pebbles as he went, and when he reached her place he sent one after the other flying.

  Ping. Ping. Ping.

  If he broke her bedroom window, it would be a small price to pay if that meant getting Erica down here to see him.

  Ping. Ping.

  Finally, a soft light came on in the room.

  Ping.

  And there she was.

  He tossed one more pebble, pulling her attention to the spot where he stood just below her, and then he smiled like the fool that he was when she finally looked down. He hadn’t succeeded in getting her out of his mind for a second.

  She lifted the window and peered out into the night. “Gabe?”

  “Morning,” he said.

  She sent a look of doubt toward the east. “I don’t think so. What are you doing out there?”

  “I thought we could have our Saturday morning after-game chat.”

  She yawned behind her hand, the light on the far side of the room casting just enough glow to outline her in the window, and Gabe drank in the sight of her mussed hair and bare shoulders. Then she seemed to wake up enough to digest his words. She squinted down at him. “I wasn’t aware we have a Saturday morning after-game chat.”

  “Sure we do.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since last week. Don’t you remember? Jenna started it.”

  He could tell his charm wasn’t working on her.

  “Come on, E. You won’t come to the games, so you can do this for me, right? Don’t you want to know how it went?” It had been a big night for him, and he was dying to talk about it.

  “I know how it went. Congratulations, by the way. That one sounded like a solid win.”

  Pride puffed up inside his chest at the knowledge that she’d listened to another game—even though she hadn’t once said that her listening had anything to do with him.

  “So . . .” He drew the word out. “Saturday morning after-game chat?”

  She hid another yawn. “You do know that it’s not yet Saturday morning?”

  “Sure it is.” He held up his phone, face backlit. “Five minutes after midnight. I’ve been waiting for it to become tomorrow. Now, come on. Come down here and sit outside with me.” He cocked his head toward his house. “Haley came home with us after the game, so I have to stay close in case one of them wakes up. We can sit on my porch.”

  Erica looked down at herself then, so Gabe did the same. She still slept in tanks, and he could very clearly remember how good she used to look in them.

  “You want me to put on clothes at midnight,” she began, “and come sit in the chilly night air with you?”

  “You’re welcome to skip the clothes part.”

  She shot him her down-the-nose haughty teacher look.

  “It was worth a shot,” he added, only partly teasing.

  She merely rolled her eyes at him and closed the window, and he held his breath, hoping that meant she planned to come down. Tank top or not, he wanted to see her. He’d continued telling himself all week that he had to forget that kiss. To forget the way she’d felt in his hands and molded to his body. How hot her mouth had been as she’d met him move for move, and how all she’d had to do was ask and he would have been putty in her very sweet hands.

  Yet, he hadn’t forgotten one second of it. He couldn’t forget.

  It still didn’t mean he planned to do anything about it. But it also didn’t mean he intended to avoid her, either. Erica made him feel good inside, and it had been too long since he’d felt that way.

  The door opened in front of him, and pleasure exploded like a firework. “Morning,” he greeted her.

  She’d put on clothes.

  “Good morning,” she replied. She’d also grabbed a quilt, an opened bottle of wine, and looked cute as a button inside a too-large Big Sky sweatshirt.

  He scanned down over the rest of her, and barely kept himself from asking her to turn around when he saw that she had on black leggings.

  He spun on his heel and headed back across the street, too much blood already leaving his brain, and said a silent thanks when he heard her following behind him. A second thanks was given for only having room on his porch for the one bench.

  Leading the way to it, he motioned to both ends. “Lady’s choice.”

  “I choose to tell you that you owe me some sleep,” she muttered. But snarky or not, she sat on his bench. After choosing an end, she arranged the blanket over her lap, tucking one corner under the edge of one leg, then lifted the opposite corner and motioned to it with her head. “You going to sit out here and freeze, Coach, or are you going to join me under this quilt?”

  That was not a question he had to be asked twice.

  He settled in next to her, and due to the size of the bench, their thighs touched.

  Maybe getting her out there with him hadn’t been such a good idea, after all. He already couldn’t think straight around her, and now sitting and touching her at the same time?

  This was going to be one long night.

  “So you listened to the game again?” he asked, when what he really wanted to know was if she’d listened because of him.

  “I did. There’s not a lot else to do around here on a Friday night.”

  He looked at her. “You could be at the game.”

  Her reply was a dry chuckle and a sip of her wine.

  “Well, it’s your loss.” He leaned back, stretching his arms and chest out almost comically, as he tried to pull off “tough and sexy.” “Because I hear the coach is a stud.”

  Erica eyed him silently, shadows casting most of her face in the dark, but not enough that he couldn’t watch her watching him. She took her time with it, too, letting her gaze linger a little here, a little there. Knocking out every intention he had of being funny. The questions that formed in his head during her scrutiny—wondering what crossed her mind when she looked at him, wanting to know if she was thinking about that kiss the same as he—made it difficult to sit still in front of her.

  Then finally, she gave a slow nod and took another taste of her wine. “I’d have to agree with that assessment.”

  His mouth went dry. “You going to share that wine, or keep it all to yourself?”

  She held the bottle out in front of her until the glow from the streetlight hit it, then squinted one eye and checked the level of the liquid inside. It was almost full. She turned the bottle up, drank for several long seconds while Gabe sat transfixed, then without a word, she passed it over to him.

  She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “I can share. It’ll warm you up.”

  “I’m actually pretty hot as it is,” he croaked. But he still turned up the bottle. The woman had him tied in knots, and he couldn’t tell if she was actively flirting or just being a smart-ass for having been woken up. He cleared his throat, determined to stay on target. Determined not to jump her.

  After-game chat.

  “A couple of Boise State guys showed up tonight,” he told her.

  The words meant nothing at first, he could tell by her blank expression, and then he saw understanding dawn. She shifted, turning slightly toward him. “Recruiters?” Anyone who knew anything about football kne
w that Boise State was a good place to be.

  Gabe’s chest swelled. “I have this one kid on the team—man, he’s a beast. Moved here from Oklahoma last year. He totally deserves a scholarship, and I think we helped him show the recruiters why tonight.”

  “Congratulations.” Erica leaned in as she spoke, her face now inches from his, and he could smell the wine on her breath. “For both the win and the recruiter. I know you must be proud.”

  “I am.” He also wanted to kiss her.

  “Cord come to the game tonight?”

  Well, that zapped the urge to kiss her. “You got a thing for my brother, E?”

  A teasing smile played at her lips. “Not at all, G.”

  He growled at her quick zing. “I sometimes think you’re as feisty as your sister, you know that?”

  “You got a thing for my sister?”

  He laughed at her naughty smirk. He liked her drinking wine.

  He liked her, period.

  And he’d like her even better if he were currently kissing her.

  Taking the bottle from her, he downed a swallow for courage, then went back to the excuse that first got her lips on his. “You been getting any more texts from your ex?” he asked. “I could kiss you again if you have. Give you something else to focus on.”

  “Please. I kissed you, remember?”

  “Huh-uh. You only started it.”

  She looked at his lips then, her throat moving as she swallowed, and her voice shifted, becoming more serious. “Maybe so. But still, it’s probably not a good idea, right? Us kissing again?” She sounded hopeful that he’d disagree. “I mean, you’re trying to find your place with Jenna. I’m still a mess from my divorce.”

  “Yet that doesn’t stop me from wanting to.”

  The heat of her breaths caressed his chin. “It doesn’t stop me from wanting to, either.”

  His balls tightened at her words, but when she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, he realized the words hadn’t been an offer. Merely a fact.

  “So tell me how Jenna’s been for you this week,” she requested. “Her behavior has continued to improve in the classroom, but that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been the occasional trying time. All in all, though, I’m pleased.”