Nathan's Big Sky

by M. L. Buchman

  She tried one. Thick, crunchy, and heavy on the salt with just a hint of something spicy. Several more followed the first before she recalled the sandwich in her hand. Julie bit in and sighed: last night’s roast, thick brown mustard, winter spinach, and pepper jack cheese.

  “This is so good,” she took a second bite before answering his question. “I got home fine, but you were right, I needed my keys.”

  “You did? Now I feel awful for leaving.” He actually sounded upset, as if he could have helped.

  “My brothers aren’t the smartest cattle on the ranch. They locked the doors to prank me, but Mark and Luke left their window unlocked. They’re both sound sleepers…until I dumped a five-gallon bucket of snow all over them.” Their shouts had woken the entire household, but she’d slipped back out the window before they found the light switch and climbed up the outside of the porch into her own second-story room without anyone else the wiser. She’d locked both her window and the door to prevent retaliation.

  Nathan’s easy laugh had her smiling back at him. “Promise you’ll never teach your vengeful tricks to Patrick. I’m the only brother he’s got and I’d rather not wake up with snow in my bed.”

  “You make me another meal or two like this and you have a deal.” Julie wondered just what he did like in his bed and then was aghast at her own thought. She went back to eating her wonderful sandwich.

  “Done. You say when and I’ll gladly cook for you.”

  Nathan couldn’t stop smiling as he watched Julie eating his food with such obvious pleasure. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d simply watched someone eat his food. He liked the kind of deals he was making with Julie. They were easy, comfortable. They didn’t feel like the quid pro quo of the infinite tally sheet of the city. Sure I can lend you an extra eight lobsters, but you’ll owe me ten back. He always knew who he’d borrowed what from and what favors were outstanding when— Nathan wasn’t missing that at all.

  He also liked that she made no affectations about who she was. There wasn’t a woman in Manhattan that wouldn’t have checked her hair or brushed at her jeans if caught in mid-project the way he’d caught Julie—as if the city women he’d met would ever tackle such a thing. Instead, she’d been completely unapologetic about the mess she was. She sat there like a leather-clad warrior and not the alluring, Xena Warrior Princess kind. Julie looked impossibly real in her working gear.

  This is who I am, deal with it.

  And he was good with that. She had such a refreshing honesty. “I like that you don’t play games.”

  “Sure I do. Wait. What kind of games?”

  “Passive aggressive-ego manipulating kind of games.”

  “What would those be?”

  At first he thought she was joking, but maybe not. “Saying one thing. Meaning another.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Last night when you kissed me,” and then he wished he’d started anywhere else. It had been a means-nothing kiss of thanks that had cost him half a night’s sleep.

  “I told you not to read anything into it. I just…” and then she shrugged as if she wasn’t sure what she just…

  “I’m not. That’s my point. I mean, sure I’d like to kiss you again and do it like we meant it. But you meant it as a thanks and then you made sure that I knew that’s all it was and that it wasn’t a come-on or a tease or any kind of a future promise, it was just a friendly kiss and Holy wow but I’m babbling. Shutting up now.”

  She ate a couple more of the potato chips he’d made specially for her. “No. I don’t play those kinds of games. Half the ranch sons around here think I do, but I don’t. The other half think I’m a stuck up witch just because if I say no, I mean it.”

  “Same thing when you say yes?”

  She nodded.

  “I could really get to like you, lady.”

  “Don’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because at some point you’re going to go back to your big city. I’m not a country-girl-for-a-fling sort.”

  “Never thought you were,” Nathan couldn’t imagine anything further from who she was. But she was right about him going…even if he didn’t know where. “You strike me more as the one with the club.”

  “The club?”

  “Conk the man over the head and drag him back to your cave?” He could imagine her very easily in the role—right down to the leopard skin dress that she’d killed and cut herself.

  “Might be,” she nodded as she finished her sandwich, then chips, then soda in methodical order.

  “Well, there’s an image for me.”

  “If you’re picturing me in animal skins—” she left the threat hanging.

  “Bet you’d look good in them,” but he was unable to avoid the blush at being caught.

  “Be glad the snow already melted or you just might find a bucketful down your shorts. Cool down, city boy.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nathan offered his soberest tone, then decided his libido needed a subject change. “What are you working on?”

  “Fixing up these cabins for guests. First ones will be here end of month. Mac hired my company to fix windows, replace a bathroom, things like that.”

  “You own a construction company? Emily was right, you can do anything.”

  She was shaking her head. “I can’t fix the problem with the cabins we started construction on last fall.”

  “What problem?”

  In minutes, she’d shed most of her leather protection and was leading him past the cabins and up the hill in a light jacket and worn jeans that he was starting to think of as one of her trademarks. It was a trademark that, on her fine figure, he wholly approved of.

  He looked around for a distraction just as they were passing the last older cabin in the row.

  “Hey, I like this one.”

  “It’s my favorite. Its name is Aspen.”

  He didn’t know exactly why he liked it. There was just something about it. It looked…cozier than the others. It was two stories, set into the side of the hill. The only one with a porch on both floors.

  “It’s solidly enough built to ride out the winter without trouble and it’s tucked in a nice little shelter of its namesake trees. I also like the proportions. Come inside, it gets even better.” She looked a little surprised at her own suggestion, but he followed.

  The cabin was a single room deep. Either side of the main door was a living room and kitchen/dining room. Up the heavy-tread stairs was a pair of snug bedrooms and a small office, all facing the southern view. It was done in the same style as the ranch house: heavy timber beams and hardwood floors. But that was where the similarities stopped. It was cozy rather than majestic. The layout was for three or four people (plus a few sleeper couches for extra guests), but not forty.

  After the tour, he gravitated back to the kitchen. It would take very little to make it an ideal space for testing new dishes or cooking for a family. He’d add an island with an extra sink and maybe a wok burner. Enough width for a couple of stools at the island so that stormy-day meals could be eaten at the counter while looking out the big windows.

  “I love this place,” Julie’s voice was unexpectedly soft.

  “It’s easy to imagine you here.” And it was. Her beloved Montana out the front door, but safe and warm within. Horse barns only a few hundred yards below.

  “What about you? Can you imagine yourself here?”

  Julie was aghast at her own question.

  She could picture Nathan here. Right here. Beside her.

  That simply wasn’t possible.

  He leaned on the sink counter and stared out the window for a long time.

  Unable to retract her question, her only choice was to wait.

  “I don’t know what I want anymore,” his voice was rough; harsh in a way she wouldn’t have thought him capable of.

  “Something different?” Julie prompted him when he again fell silent.

  “All I know is that I don’t want what I h
ad. I’m almost thirty. I had an executive chef position at a top restaurant called Vite. It means ‘breeze’ in French—not like a wind, but like an easy motion. Could have had my own restaurant in another year or two. Guess that I could have a couple years ago, but for some reason never got around to it.” Then he looked down at the sink and appeared to be holding onto the edge with both hands as hard as he could.

  She wanted to apologize for asking. For breaking whatever shield of lightness that he’d been projecting. She had the sudden suspicion that his problems were far worse than her own.

  “I’ve done nothing but been a chef for over a dozen years. And then one day, I was making my eight millionth steak au poivre with a side of tiger prawn-stuffed mushrooms and it was all so meaningless. I finished the dinner service, packed my knives and my car, left a note for my landlord, and hit the road by two a.m. Slept a night outside Chicago in a yurt of all things in some granola hippie motel along the interstate. Now I’m here and I’ll be haven’t a clue why.”

  Something tugged at Julie, made her want to go to him, but she didn’t know what she’d do if she went. Consoling a horse was one thing. Consoling a man? She didn’t have a clue.

  “Sorry,” he stood up and wiped a hand down his face as if brushing off his past. “My garbage. Shouldn’t be making you wallow in it. Let’s go see your new cabins.” And he was out the door before she could think what to say.

  He was well up the trail by the time she caught up with him.

  “Nathan, I—”

  “No. Don’t say anything. You’re right. I’m probably going back to the city someday. I don’t know why I would, but it’s where I’ve always been. And I sure can’t imagine myself anywhere else, though I keep trying.” Then he stopped so suddenly that she almost ran into him, and he took a deep breath. “I can see why you might love this though. There’s nothing here and it goes on forever. It’s like there’s no pressure.”

  “No pressure?” Julie practically screamed at him in her own shock. “My entire company, getting out of my psychotic house, depends on this working. Do you think I want to live with my father and three brothers the rest of my life?”

  He turned and blinked at her in surprise.

  Julie wanted to pound a fist into his smug face.

  Except it wasn’t smug.

  Instead it had that worried look again, like when he was asking if she’d be okay getting home fifty paces from the house she’d grown up in.

  “You’re right,” he said in a tone of apology. “I don’t know anything about living out here or what you’re dealing with. I’m just a lost city boy. Sorry.”

  And he looked doubly sad.

  Julie searched for some calm and wasn’t having much luck. This had to work. She’d never had so much riding on a single problem. If she could beat the basements into the ground with her fists, she’d do it.

  “Sorry,” he shrugged an uncomfortable apology. “Maybe we’ll get together and have a mutual whining session about it some time.”

  She felt the bile knot up in her stomach at even the thought of failure.

  “Or maybe not.”

  Her expression must have been dire for him to be backpedaling so fast.

  “For now, tell me about your cabins.”

  Julie managed to rein in her fears and worries. This must be how Nathan felt only moments ago, holding on to that sink for dear life.

  He retreated a step and she felt bad for it.

  “I get it now. My garbage. Shouldn’t be making you wallow in it.” Her simple repetition of what he’d said brought a soft smile of understanding to his face.

  He brushed a warm finger down her cold cheek as if signing a pact between them to set all that aside for the moment. The gesture was both surprisingly intimate and infinitely kind.

  The combination took her breath away for a moment.

  “Where are these cabins?”

  “You’re standing in one.”

  He looked down at his feet in puzzlement and then back at her.

  “Snowberry, Ninebark, Wood’s Rose, Beargrass, and Meadowrue,” she pointed as she named them. “The downslope cabins are the trees. This cluster are to be named for the bushes and grasses.”

  “Still not really seeing it, Julie.”

  She sighed and looked at the grassy slope. “Neither am I. That’s the problem. An early freeze last fall meant that we didn’t get the basements cut into the soil before the ground froze too hard.”

  “The ground freezes basement deep here? Patrick said it got cold, but I never thought he meant that cold.”

  “It can freeze down a couple of feet. We have to go down to five or six to avoid frost heave. But if I build the basements starting now…” she struggled against the ill feeling.

  “There won’t be any way to get the cabins built by summer for them to pay for themselves,” Nathan finished with deep insight. “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve run a number of different restaurants. I know how to run a business.”

  Julie sighed and sat down on the grass—and regretted it immediately. The snow had melted, but the ground was still too frozen for the water to go very far. Her behind was instantly soaked.

  “Don’t!” But Nathan had already landed beside her.

  “Thanks for the too-late warning, cowgirl.”

  “Anything for a friend, city boy.”

  “So, since neither of us is smart enough to stand back up…”

  “Yep.”

  “What if you didn’t dig the basements?”

  “The buildings would tend to shift around. Buildings don’t like that.”

  “Big pilings?”

  Julie tried to picture it. Pilings would probably take more concrete than a basement, but there would be savings in the digging. Could run the utilities up in an insulated box. And the cabins had no use for a basement except as a support. “Maybe…”

  “Can you do that and still have time to build the cabins?”

  “Not even with a crew.” So much for hope.

  “What about those temporary things?”

  “Tents?”

  “No, yurts. It didn’t look as if there was much to those.”

  “Yurts?”

  “Sure. Like that one I stayed in outside Chicago. They were mighty proud of it; told me that state parks are using them all over the place. Little ones, big ones. It was kind of nice, once I got over the strangeness of it. I liked the domed skylight and all of the wood lattice work inside. I don’t know anything about yurts or building, but it looked like the only built structure was a circular deck for a floor.”

  “Would they survive a winter?” Julie was liking this idea. Liking the glimmer of hope even more. A cluster of yurts could really be attractive here. She’d put down some extra pilings for outside decks to open up the view of the ranch. From up here she could even see Larson’s Double-L Ranch and was surprised that at enough distance, even it looked picturesque. Far more importantly, pilings and yurts could be fast.

  “Do you need them for guests in the winter?”

  “Winter guests are rare, but—” And then she saw it. If they went up fast, it meant they’d also go down fast. Up in the spring, down in the fall. Drain the utilities and leave the decks in place. Maybe with a protective cover.

  Julie grabbed onto his arm. Hard. She was far stronger even than she appeared.

  Nathan could see her thoughts were churning. “More adventurous than the cabins. ‘Stay in a yurt on the Montana Front Range.’ It even sounds adventurous.”

  “And you could upgrade them to cabins later, then shift the yurts into another section as the place grows. Could even do a communal bath and showers like a campground so there’s only one set of utilities to put in this spring. Microwaves and water coolers in the cabins.”

  She began shaking him back and forth by her grasp on his arm.

  “I take it you like the idea.”

  “Like it? Like it! That could actually work. You’re brilliant.”

  “No, I just
passed out in one near Chicago is all.”

  “Cut it out,” she shook him again. “This is good. I’ve got to go run some numbers. I have to find Mac. This could really do it.”

  Nathan liked how she looked when she was excited. There was more than beauty, there was joy, and it looked really good on her. He hoped that it worked out.

  “You’re a lifesaver!”

  “Great!” Her change in mood was incredible. It was easy to feel swept up in it. “Do I get a prize?”

  “Sure!” She let go of his arm, grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, and pulled him into a hard kiss.

  His thigh squished into the cold mud as he rocked toward her.

  She didn’t just make it a short, hard smack. In moments she was leaning into it as hard as he was. He got a hand around her back, though he wasn’t sure which of them he was steadying, and gave back as good as he was getting. As with everything else she did, when Julie Larson kissed him, he knew that, by all that is good in heaven and earth, he was being kissed.

  Then between one instant and the next, she leapt from his arms up onto her feet.

  He was far too dazed to follow.

  “I’ve got to go,” she started off, displaying a perfect muddy imprint on the seat of her pants.

  “Hey, cowgirl!”

  “What?” She stopped ten feet away and turned back to him. Her dazzling blue eyes, her blond hair caught in the light breeze, her unthinking stance of grace and power: she looked like a miracle.

  “I just want you to know,” he’d meant to make it a question, but that wasn’t how it was coming out. “I am absolutely going to be reading something into that kiss.”

  “Why?” A look of uncertainty slid across her face.

  “Because it was absolutely lethal. That’s why.”

  “Lethal, huh?” Her smile lit her up brighter than the sun playing across her hair. “I like the sound of that.”

  And then she was gone, practically skipping down the hill.

  Chapter 5

  Nathan sat in the chill mud with the taste of spring and brown mustard on his tongue.

  He’d had his share of lovers over the years.