Second Chance Bride (Montana Born Brides)

by Morey, Trish

  “But our plane leaves in two.”

  She cracked them open again and looked at him. “What plane? Where’s the wedding?”

  “Broome, on the north west coast. Pearl capital of Australia. Sandy beaches, camel rides at night and the best sunset in the world. And if the weather gods are favorable, the not-to-be-missed Staircase to the Moon. Are you coming?”

  She blinked, his words adding six more pros to the mix right there. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” She’d heard about Broome while she’d been waiting tables in a cafe in Perth. Heard the buzz about the Staircase to the Moon effect across the mud flats at full moon and how it wasn’t to be missed if she could get there. She’d given up all hope of getting there this visit. Assumed it was just another addition to the bucket list of things in Australia that she’d have to go home without seeing this time.

  “So?” he said, staring at her like she was crazy, “Will you do it?”

  “Hell, yes!” she said, punching his arm and with a smile that felt a mile wide. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to let you turn up alone and look like some kind of loser.”

  “What’s your name?”

  Scarlett was sitting on an arm chair in his rented apartment doing a Sudoku while Mitch was on the phone to his travel agent or airline or something. He’d found her a single apartment in the same complex and she’d stashed her pack away and hung up her dress—the wedding dress—new, with tags—that continued to go irritatingly bid-less on eBay—in the little closet. And now she was waiting for him to finish whatever he was doing so they could go out for Chinese food.

  “Hey!” He was frowning when she looked up. “What’s your name?”

  “Scarlett,” she said back, wondering why he was having such trouble remembering her name. She’d told him, what, twice already?

  “No. Your second name.”

  “Oh. Buck.”

  “What?”

  “Buck. Scarlett Buck. Have you got a problem with that?”

  “Buck? No, no,” he said shaking his head to whomever was on the phone, though they would miss the head shaking completely. “I said Buck. B-U-C-K. B. For brandy. Not—” he laughed. “Yeah, not that.” He raised his eyebrows at her and she laughed and went back to her Sudoku as he pulled out his credit card and finished the reservation.

  “All done,” he said, repocketing his cell, “Ms. Scarlett Buck.”

  Something about the way he said her name alerted her. She looked up from her puzzle. “Yes?”

  He was smiling. “Cute name.”

  “Yeah. Bella thought so too.”

  His smile widened. “I bet. Probably thought she was going to make a killing. Guess you must have had a bit of a rough time growing up though.”

  She screwed up her nose. “You better believe it. Tara and I spent an entire childhood being pooped on from a great height because of our name.” She shrugged. ‘”We got so used to it after a while that someone would say something and we’d just laugh and say it was water off a Buck’s back.” She grinned up at him. “They breed us tough in Montana.”

  He liked it. “Beer?” he asked, as he pulled a Corona from the fridge and held it up. He pulled out another and flipped both lids when she nodded. “What’s she like, this sister of yours?” he asked, as he handed her the longneck and sat down in the other arm chair, his elbows resting on wide-apart knees. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up and his forearms were strong and lean, and she didn’t know what it was about him but just looking at him was intoxicating and one beer would likely put her over the limit. Lucky she wasn’t driving. “Same as you?”

  She laughed at that, happy to be distracted. “Hardly.”

  “But you’re twins, right?”

  “We’re twins, but not identical. We’re pretty different, when all’s said and done.”

  “How so?”

  She shrugged. “Tara’s real pretty—”

  “Not so different then,” he said, and she felt a bloom of heat burst open inside her right there.

  She bowed her head and raised her beer at him. “Thank you, kind sir. What I was going to say, is Tara’s real pretty only she doesn’t like to show it too much. I mean, she’s got the most gorgeous long blonde hair, but she pulls it back real tight and wouldn’t be caught dead getting a color—well,” she lifted up her hair, “anything like this. And she’s real sensible and does everything right.” She took a sip of her beer. “Whereas, and you may have noticed this, I tend to be the one who jumps in feet first and, more often than not, bucks up.”

  He laughed into the neck of his beer before he took a draught. “Sounds like you’re pretty hard on yourself. She can’t be that perfect.”

  “Ha, then listen to this. She doesn’t just have a good job, she’s a cop—a patrol officer over at Bozeman and she’s marrying sensible Simon the history teacher later this year. No doubt about it, Tara is the perfect daughter.”

  “Definitely hard on yourself.”

  She shook her head and threw her legs over the arm of the chair and looked up at the ceiling, the bottom of her beer resting on her belly. “You know, I think I’m just starting to realize how much grief I’ve put everyone through these past twenty-six years. Tara’s the sensible twin and I’m the flaky one, the one who dropped out of school, the one who spent more time under the bleachers researching anatomy with boys than cheering my sister on her ribbon-winning way from up top. And sometimes I’ve thought Tara’s just being a party pooper when she gives me advice or tells me not to do something, but I’m starting to see that sometimes she’s even a little bit right. Well, a lot right, actually, come to think of it. Sometimes I think I should be more like her.”

  He sipped his beer. “Interesting.”

  He was being polite, she was sure. She’d seen Amtrak timetables that were more engaging than the details of her family’s dynamics. “What about you? Have you got family somewhere around?”

  “Mum’s still going well in Melbourne. Dad died a few years back. Heart attack.”

  “Nasty. Our Dad left when we were thirteen. I think Mom would have been a lot happier if he’d had a heart attack.” She looked over. “Oh, damn, I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  She smiled her thanks. “So, any other family?”

  His lips pulled tight. “I had a sister. Once.”

  Crap. She’d done it again. She really had to learn to quit while she was ahead. She put her beer down. “I need the bathroom.”

  She was half way to her feet when he said, “Thank you,” from whatever dark place he was inhabiting.

  “What for?”

  His eyes, when he looked up, were more gray than blue, a clear sky scudded with clouds. “For not saying you were sorry like it was somehow your fault, like most people do.”

  That was a hard one to respond to. “I am sorry though, but for your losses. Especially for your sister. Because as much as my own sister drives me crazy trying to protect me, I can’t imagine life without her.”

  He took a deep breath and smiled uncertainly as he raised his beer. “To sisters, then,” and she picked up her beer and they clinked bottles.

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  They had Chinese food in a restaurant nearby, honey shrimp—except they were called prawns here—and crispy duck with fried rice washed down with an almost local Margaret River white wine. The food was small-town Chinese restaurant good, and Mitch talked about his fly-in fly-out job at the mines, about the fourteen day shifts filled with twelve hour work days and big meals in the mess and maybe a swim before bed and then getting up the next day to do it all over again. Scarlett listened and crunched shrimp tails between her teeth and sucked honey off her fingers and thought that maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea that she’d come to Australia after all, or she would never have known about any of this kind of lifestyle.

  Or more importantly, that otherwise she would never have met Mitch. Maybe she should send Travis a thank-you postcard from Broome? She
was halfway tempted.

  And Mitch watched a woman who could follow his every word and ask questions while eating with gusto and relish and who wasn’t afraid to get her fingers dirty in the process. And he liked it. A lot.

  When she licked her fingers clean, he wished she’d offered them to him first.

  And then he smacked his lustful thoughts down hard. He was trying to help her out. Offer her a solution to her problems, so that whatever was bothering her would disappear.

  At least, that had been his intention.

  Now that she was coming with him to Broome he wasn’t so sure of his motives. She was fun. A breath of fresh air into his highly regulated existence. A temporary cowgirl for a short-term problem.

  And while sex wasn’t part of their deal, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t welcome it if it happened. He wasn’t looking for commitment but where was the risk? She was going home in a few days. And they were going to be sharing a villa after all. Sure, it was a big villa. Loads of space for two.

  Loads and loads of space.

  And one really big bed.

  Chapter Five

  They went shopping the next day, to a boutique in a building that would have been right at home in Marietta: an old three level Victorian with arched windows and a veranda that had been prettified up outside in pinks and whites. Inside was a confection of dainty bow-legged furniture topped with flower arrangements and there were crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and wall-length mirrors reflecting the rows and rows of tulle, satin, and silk dresses.

  Scarlett had to pause for a second, remembering a trip not long ago to the local bridal store, Married in Marietta, where she thought she’d found the bargain of the century. A two thousand dollar Vera Wang designer last-season gown marked down to three hundred and fifty bucks, all because some poor woman had been stood up at the church and wanted to return it. It had been crazy because she’d only gone in to the store for a look around because the town was full of the talk of the Graff Hotel’s one hundredth anniversary Great Wedding Giveaway. She knew she’d never be part of that, because she was so full of thinking about Travis and all his talk of soul mates and forever that she was dreaming what-ifs. But when she found the dress, it was like a sign. An omen.

  Even if it came with more yards of frothy tulle than she’d had frosty winter mornings.

  Even if it teetered so very dangerously on her own personal borderline between classy and meringue. What the hell did that matter?

  It was a Vera Wang two thousand dollar dress on sale for three hundred and fifty bucks.

  And she’d had to have it.

  Travis would love it, she’d told herself. He’d get the surprise of his life when she turned up on his doorstep, and then she’d be wearing it in mere weeks! She’d beat her sensible sister down the aisle and wouldn’t she be the good daughter for once?

  Idiot!

  “You okay?”

  She looked into Mitch’s sky-blue eyes and blinked away the past. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

  He made her try on a dozen gorgeous cocktail dresses, any of which she would have been perfectly happy to wear, but he only let her stop when he found it: emerald green and the perfect foil to her hair, in a strapless design that hugged her breasts and fitted slim over her waist and hips in layers of ribbon-wide satin.

  “You look amazing,” he said, and it wasn’t his words that warmed her through and through, it was the husky quality to his Aussie drawl and the raw heat in his eyes. If she’d had any qualms that he was dressing her to make his ex feel bad, they were banished before they could take root. He was dressing her for him.

  She’d never thought blue was a warm color, not until now, not until she’d felt this slow, warm glide of his eyes over her form leaving a smoking trail of heat.

  So sex wasn’t part of this deal?

  Didn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen.

  Shoes and accessories were next. He took his time, not rushing and not checking out the sale items like she was, but going for top shelf every time.

  She wondered whether he was as attentive a lover as he was a shopper.

  And then she remembered that first encounter in Bella’s, and the hot stroke of his tongue against her breast.

  Oh yeah!

  “We should work out some kind of story,” he said, when the shopping was done and they stopped for a bite of lunch, “for when we’re in Broome. Someone’s bound to ask how we met.” Like Kristelle for example.

  “Sure. So who are we expecting to meet up there? Apart from your ex and her lover.”

  He shot her a dark look. “We’re staying at the same resort as Robbo and Kristelle and their parents.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “What, with the bride and groom and both sets of parents?”

  “Yeah, and the bridesmaid. Sharon, I think her name is.”

  The reality of the task ahead suddenly loomed. Maybe this wouldn’t be quite the cake walk she’d imagined. Pretending to partner Mitch for an ex who might or might not be out for revenge was one thing. But questions would invariably be asked and the lie would grow and grow, and barefaced lying to decent people whom she had no wish to deceive and who’d never and were never likely to do her or her nearest and dearest any harm was another thing entirely. “That sounds like fun,” she fibbed. “Will there be alcohol?”

  “Lots, I’m hoping. The villas have full butler service with all the trimmings.”

  “Excellent.” Those butlers would no doubt be busy. “So what’s our story then?”

  “I’m thinking we keep it simple. We met in Kalgoorlie. You were backpacking around Australia and we bumped into each other.”

  “Now there’s a bit of creative genius.”

  “So what would you say?”

  “No, I like it, let’s keep it simple. We met in Kalgoorlie. No lie there. Me the hapless tourist and you who just happened to be in town for a few days. Almost the truth. How long have we been seeing each other?”

  “Long enough to cover a couple of my leave periods. Let’s make it a bit over a month.”

  “Okay. I was barely in Australia back that far, but nobody’s going to check my travel arrangements surely?”

  “Exactly how long have you been here?”

  “Not long. Not relevant. I’m sure it won’t come up. So we met in Kalgoorlie and clicked and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “Yeah,” he said uncertainly, “That ought to do it. What do you think?”

  “Perfect,” she said. She just loved a man who spent time on the important things. Like shopping.

  “I’ll get this one,” she said, going to pick up the tab as they left.

  “Hey.” His hand came down on hers. “All expenses paid, remember?”

  “Yeah, and you just paid for some absolute doozies. So allow me a little pride.”

  He took his hand away. “Your wish is my command.”

  “Atta boy,” she said with a smile. “That’s definitely more like it.”

  The girl at the cash register punched in the order and brought up the total. “That’ll be twenty-five dollars and seventy cents, thanks.”

  “There you go,” she said, handing over the notes and change she had ready in her hand. The girl counted it and flicked her eyes up suspiciously.

  Scarlett had already turned away. “So where to next?”

  “What about your change?”

  “I gave her the right money.” She turned and the woman waved all okay.

  “So how did you know how much it would be before she’d put it in?”

  She shrugged. “I added it up.”

  “But there were no prices on the tab.”

  “But there were on the menu.”

  “You remembered?”

  “It’s not rocket science, Mitch, it’s just a lunch tab. Now, what do we do next?”

  They spent the rest of the day sightseeing. They walked the length of the main street, most of which Scarlett had already seen in passing, but this was stopping to check
out the history of the buildings. And then Mitch took her to the town’s biggest attraction. Scarlett gazed over the massive Super Pit, the gold mine that was more than a mile long, half that wide and a quarter mile deep and that never slept, the sides stepped and dusty from the endless parade of giant trucks up and down the tiered terrain twenty-four hours a day.

  It was late afternoon by the time they got there, and Scarlett’s feet were aching in her boots, but the view was breathtaking, the slanting sun casting a golden glow over the walls of the massive mine. Copper Mountain back home in Marietta had always seemed the biggest thing in the world to her, a huge backdrop to the town she’d grown up in, but this thing—this mine—was mammoth.

  “Is this like what you do up north?”

  “Kind of, but it’s iron ore country up there, rich and red like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “What do you actually do there?”

  “Lots of things. As a mining engineer it can be anything from feasibility studies to mine planning and open cut design to budgets and reports. It can be physical one day and then you’re stuck in meetings the next. But it’s good. What do you do back home?”

  She crossed her arms along the wire fence barrier and looked out over the vast hole in the ground. “Well, that’s a hard one. Drop out of things mostly. I worked in the local diner for a while. Tried a bit of work at the salon where Mom works as a nail technician but it didn’t appeal. I’m not really qualified to do anything. Apart from screwing up. If I could make a living from that I’d be doing great.”

  He was about to tell her she was being hard on herself again, but she was leaning her head on her arms looking at him and her green eyes were smiling and the sun was turning her scarlet hair as red as the Pilbara country where he worked. The breeze was turning the loose tendrils of hair around her face into snakes and he thought, beautiful and couldn’t help but lean closer.

  “You’ll find something,” he said, snagging a flying tendril and curling it behind her ear, knowing there just had to be something amazing in store that deserved this woman.