Almost A Bride (Montana Born Brides)

by Mayberry, Sarah

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” she spluttered, her face red, her green eyes wide.

  “Believe it. You want to grab something to eat before I take you home or not?”

  She made a face to let him know she thought he was demented.

  “No, Dalton, I do not want to grab a burger with you after you just rained on my parade like the biggest wet blanket of all time. What I’d like is for you to stop being the fun police and leave me to my awesome night out.” She planted her hands on her hips, her chin tilted aggressively.

  So drunk. A part of him wanted to laugh at her, but most of him just wanted to get her out of the seedy end of town.

  “Answer me honestly—do you know a single person in that bar?”

  “Sure. The tall guy is Jonah. The guy with the white hat is Drew. Or maybe Duncan... something with a D, anyway.” She frowned as she tried to remember.

  “And how many drinks do you think those good ol’ boys have bought you since you’ve been here?” he asked.

  “I’m not stupid, Reid. I can take care of myself.”

  There was a reckless, almost dangerous light in her eyes. He’d never seen her like this before, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just because she’d had a few too many.

  “What’s going on, Tara? Why are you hanging out at this dump? Why did I hear from your sister tonight that you bought a motorbike?”

  “Because I did. And I love it.”

  Her chin ratcheted higher. He narrowed his eyes, trying to work out what was going on with her.

  “Is this because of what Simon did? Are you trying to prove something to him or—”

  “This is about me.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest. “About who I am, and how much I’ve missed out on because I’m such a goody-two-shoes. I’m sick of always doing the right thing, Reid. I’m sick of being the one who always picks up the pieces. And I’m really sick of being so careful all the time.”

  She was trembling with the vehemence of her words, her shoulders thrown back as though she was declaring herself or claiming territory for her country. He thought about what he knew of her life—her scatterbrained, irresponsible twin, her melodramatic mom, the way she conducted herself at work, what he’d seen of her relationship with her ex—and he started to get an inkling of where she was coming from.

  Because Tara was a good person. She always did the right thing, always stepped up, never said no. She worked hard, pitched in to help her mom out, dug her sister out of rough spots.

  “Okay. I get that,” he said. “But do you really think breaking your neck on a stupid bull is the right way to fix any of that?”

  Tara took a step toward him, her expression fierce. “What do I care about the right way? Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be afraid any more. I don’t want to worry about what people think or what might happen or when people will leave or if they’ll stop loving me. I’m over it.”

  Tears flooded her eyes and her chin wobbled. Her jaw set, she lifted her gaze to the sky and blinked like crazy, trying to suck it all back in.

  “It’s okay,” he said quietly.

  He wasn’t going to think any less of her for crying.

  She shook her head. “No. I’ve cried enough. I’m done with it.”

  He wanted to put his arms around her so badly his shoulders ached. But they’d never had that kind of relationship and he figured now was probably a really bad time to start.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let me take you home.”

  For a moment he thought she was going to object, but after a short pause she nodded and fell into step beside him as he walked to his pickup. He held the door open for her and she climbed inside. He could feel her watching him as he rounded the front of the truck.

  “I’m not taking the bike back,” she said as he slid behind the wheel.

  He held his hands in the air. “Like you said, I’m not the boss of you.”

  She sniffed, and he got the sense she was disappointed he hadn’t offered her an argument.

  “And I could have handled that bull, too. I’m a natural.”

  He started the truck and put it into gear. “Hip fucking hooray. I’ll alert the Nobel Prize Committee.”

  There was a moment of shocked silence. Then Tara started laughing. The sound was so infectious, he couldn’t help smiling as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” she said.

  “Only one?”

  “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you. I’m still getting over the fact that you just carried me out of a bar like a sack of potatoes.”

  “You weigh more than a sack of potatoes. For the record.”

  The corners of her mouth curled into a rueful smile. “You know what the sad thing is? That’s the most charming thing you’ve said to me all night.”

  “I wasn’t aiming for charming.”

  “You got that right.”

  The brightly-lit window of the Main Street Diner was coming up on his left. He glanced at her.

  “Sure you don’t want a coffee?”

  “I’m thinking that I probably wouldn’t mind a shower,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Is it just me, or do I smell like beer?”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything. But yeah, you do.”

  “Your honesty is so refreshing.”

  “Wish I could say the same for that beer stink.”

  She huffed out a little laugh. She was still smiling when he turned into the driveway of her townhouse development, driving past the other houses until he reached hers at the end, but her smile faded as he braked to a stop.

  “I suppose I should thank you,” she said grudgingly.

  “You can call me tomorrow if you like, when you’ll mean it.”

  She glanced out at the townhouse but didn’t make a move to exit.

  “I could have handled that bull.”

  “You’re the expert.”

  “And you’re a smart ass and a wet blanket.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Her smile was more fleeting this time, and he got it—she didn’t want to go inside.

  If he didn’t care so much, if he didn’t want her so much, he’d invite himself in for coffee, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea.

  “All right. Maybe I’ll call you tomorrow and thank you, maybe I won’t,” she said, finally moving to open the car door.

  The interior light came on, and he saw her face properly. She looked sad, and more than a little lost.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because I asked.”

  She studied him for a beat. “Nothing, I guess. Except for collecting my car.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear your swimsuit, and bring a change of clothes.”

  She blinked. “My swimsuit.”

  “Seven sharp. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  She thought about it for a second, then she slid from the car. “I don’t suppose there’s any point asking what we’ll be doing or where we’ll be going?”

  “Correct.”

  She shut the door, shooting him a look through the window to let him know she didn’t think he was funny. He gave her a mock salute, then put the car into gear and backed out of the driveway.

  When he reached the road and glanced back, the lights were on in her townhouse, the door safely shut.

  He paused for a moment, thinking about what she’d said to him, what he’d seen. Then he headed for home. He had an early start tomorrow.

  Chapter Seven

  The electronic screech of the alarm clock woke Tara at six-thirty, and she batted the damned thing off the bedside table in a futile attempt to silence it. It kept squealing from its new position on the floor near the foot of the bed, and she threw back the covers with a disgusted grunt.

  Which was when she registered she was the proud owner of a throbbing headache, and that her right shoulder was inexplicably sore. Then last night came bac
k to her and she realized that her sore shoulder was perfectly explicable, given that the mechanical bull had tried to rip it from its socket several times last night.

  The clock was still nagging at her, so she crawled to the end of the bed and switched it off. She flopped back onto the mattress, lying on her belly, her sore arm hanging over the side of the bed, and wondered what Reid would do if she texted him and told him she’d changed her mind about their outing.

  He’ll just turn up anyway.

  He would. He’d knock on the door and honk his horn and bully her until she got dressed and went with him—wherever that might be—so she might as well suck it up and have a shower and try to choke down some breakfast.

  The shower was good, the hot water easing some of the stiffness in her shoulder, but food wasn’t something she could do, she decided. She’d never been a great drinker, but she’d had two hangovers in the space of a week—one from her vodka night with Scarlett, and today’s doozy. Probably time to ease up on her alcohol consumption for the foreseeable future.

  She swallowed a couple of painkillers and was just stuffing a towel and underwear into her backpack when she heard the rumble of Reid’s truck.

  She went to the door but hesitated a moment before opening it. She wasn’t sure how she felt about last night, about what he’d done and the things she’d said to him. She definitely felt exposed—that was not up for debate—but she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed with him for dragging her out of the bar or grateful or maybe even touched that he cared enough to do what he’d done in the first place.

  But her feelings had always been complicated where he was concerned. From the moment he walked in the door at Bozeman PD, she’d been drawn to him. At first she’d told herself it was natural that she’d be curious about him after she’d heard the other guys talk about him so much. He’d only served as a Patrol Officer for four years before heading overseas to work in private security, but enough of the guys who’d trained and worked with him were still around that she’d heard plenty of stories about Reid Dalton.

  Then they’d been on foot patrol during their first week of being partnered together, and he’d reached out to catch her when she’d stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, and she’d been forced to admit that what she felt for him was more than simple curiosity. The echo of his touch had burned through her body, sending heat up into her face and down to places she hadn’t wanted to think about, pushing her heart rate sky high, making her jumpy and self-conscious and hyper-aware of him.

  She’d been living with Simon for a year by then, and it hadn’t taken her long to rationalize the moment into a nice, safe little box. Reid was a good-looking guy, after all. Any woman would get a little hot under the collar if he grabbed her around the waist and saved her from an embarrassing face plant. He also had a dry, sometimes goofy sense of humor, was extremely well-read and well-traveled, and wasn’t afraid to let the world know when he cared about something. All in all, a pretty appealing package, and she was only human. It didn’t mean anything.

  Amazing how long she’d been able to cling to that piece of self-delusion.

  She heard Reid’s heavy tread mounting the steps to her front door and pulled it open before he could knock. His hair was wet from the shower, making it appear almost black, and a long-sleeved black T-shirt and jeans made the most of his lean, strong body.

  Pretty appealing package, my ass.

  The man was gorgeous, that was the truth of it, but it was the kindness and intelligence behind his eyes that she’d always found the most appealing. God help her.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Two seconds,” she said.

  She turned on her heel and went to collect her wallet, house keys and phone. He was standing on the porch when she turned around. Watching her.

  She’d gotten pretty good at reading his expressions over the past year. His eyebrows tended to lower a little when he was serious, and his eyes shone with laughter when he was amused. She couldn’t read his expression now, though.

  “You ready to tell me where we’re going yet?” she asked as she shouldered her backpack.

  “Thought you might enjoy guessing.”

  She shooed him down the porch steps so she could lock the front door. “You thought wrong. I hate surprises.”

  She frowned when she spotted his car. Two big white surfboards were sticking out of the back tray.

  She shot him a look. “You’re aware that Montana is a land-locked state, right?”

  “Shows what you know.”

  She climbed into the truck.

  “I think my geography is pretty solid on this one,” she said.

  “True. But those aren’t surfboards.”

  She twisted to look through the rear window at the boards. Sure enough, now that she saw them up close, they seemed wider than a normal surfboard, and the middle section was covered with what looked like a layer of rubbery matting.

  “You’ve got me,” she admitted. “I am officially bamboozled.”

  “You ever heard of stand-up paddle-boarding?”

  “No.”

  “Then today is going to be a voyage of discovery.” He shot her a grin before reversing out into the street.

  “And where is this voyage going to take me?”

  “Fairy Lake. Any more questions, Your Honor?”

  “I’m good for now. But thanks for asking.”

  His smile was small but it warmed something inside her to know that they understood—and enjoyed—each other so thoroughly.

  He headed north, stopping at a truck stop outside of Livingstone for gas. He returned to the car with a couple of coffees and two grease-marked bags. He tossed one into her lap and Tara was about to explain that she wasn’t up to eating when the smell of bacon hit her.

  Okay, maybe she could make an exception for bacon.

  “Oh, this is good,” she said as she swallowed her first mouthful of toasted cheese and bacon sandwich.

  “Bacon is nature’s cure-all,” Reid said.

  He pulled back onto the freeway, and she took a moment to unwrap his sandwich for him so he wouldn’t have to do it one-handed.

  “Thanks.”

  “Least I can do, since you went to all the trouble of getting me out of bed early,” she said.

  “Just being a good friend.”

  He was joking, she knew, but it seemed to her that his words were a timely reminder. They’d gone on dozens of cross country runs together, spent time together at the Bozeman firing range, idled away hours manning speed traps talking about their childhoods, past loves, families, but spending time with Reid felt... different now that she no longer had Simon in her life. For the first time since they’d known each other, they were both single, and the knowledge made her feel distinctly edgy.

  Get a grip, Buck. This man is your partner, and you are an object of pity right now.

  Both excellent points, and she made a promise to herself to keep them front and center in her mind for the rest of the day.

  The sandwich and coffee went a long way toward curing her hangover, and by the time Reid had turned off Bridger Canyon Drive and onto Fairy Lake Road she was feeling almost human. Which was just as well, because the final stretch of road was unsealed and creased with runnels and potholes, treating them to a bone-jarring ride for fifteen minutes before they rounded a bend and found themselves looking out over Fairy Lake.

  The chalky-white cliffs of Sacagawea Peak towered overhead, its slopes dotted with trees. The lake itself was thickly hemmed by tall pines, the still, deep green waters mirroring the surrounds. It was almost painfully beautiful, and they were both silent as Reid turned off the engine.

  “Have you done this before? The paddle-boarding thing?”

  “Got my own board and everything.” He threw her a small smile before exiting the truck.

  She followed him, watching as he hauled first one board then the other from the tray.

  “So where did you get the other board, then?” she a
sked.

  “A friend.”

  “I didn’t even know this was a thing,” she said, frowning as he collected two long-handled paddles and leaned them against the side of the pickup.

  “That’s because you’ve lived a sheltered life.”

  She knew he was only teasing her, but a part of her bristled. She had lived a sheltered life, in many ways. That was what last night—and the motorbike—had been all about.

  “Says the professional gypsy. Have you heard about that job in Chicago yet?”

  “Yesterday, actually. They want me to come in for a second interview.”

  “What’s wrong? Weren’t they bowled over by your many charms the first time around?”

  “Apparently not. Do you need to change? I can take these down to the water to give you privacy.”

  “I’ve got my swimsuit on already.”

  “Then keep your shoes on,” Reid advised. “The walk down to the water isn’t exactly comfortable barefoot.”

  He reached for the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. For a heart-stopping moment she thought he was stripping to bare skin, but he was wearing a form-fitting black tank underneath and she was able to breathe again.

  A little alarmed by her reaction, she pulled her own sweater off, leaving her T-shirt on over her bikini top. She could see him taking off his jeans out of the corners of her eyes and she popped the stud on hers, too. She’d done a lot of things with Reid, but none of them had included taking off their clothes together. Even though there was nothing remotely salacious or sexual about the situation, she was still acutely aware of the intimacy of the moment as she turned her back and pushed the denim down her legs.

  She folded her jeans and sweater neatly and set them on the passenger seat.

  “What can I carry?” she asked as she turned to face him.

  She almost stumbled over the last word when she saw that he’d stripped to a pair of dark grey swim shorts that left his long, powerful legs exposed.

  That explains the tan, then, a little voice noted in the back of her head.

  He lifted one of the boards, his shoulder and arm muscles flexing impressively.

  “Bring the paddles, I’ll come back for the other board,” he said before taking off down the slope toward the lake.