Montana Promises

by Law, Kim

  “It’s my dad.” She held the face of her phone out toward him. “He’s not coming. Again.”

  Nate reached for her cell phone. “Your dad was coming to visit?”

  She snorted at that. “Of course he wasn’t. He never planned to. Even though he texted me just yesterday to tell me that he’d stop by tomorrow morning.”

  She’d known she shouldn’t get her hopes up. But darn it, she almost had. She’d even pulled out her resume and considered updating it.

  She snorted again, disgust rolling through her, and then realized she’d handed her phone over to Nate. She turned her back to him, not wanting to face anyone at this point, but at the same time, not really caring if he read her father’s lies or not. What did it matter?

  “What’s this about a resume?” he said, and she looked back. He’d apparently scrolled up.

  “He wants me to send him one,” she told him. “He thinks I should work for some big company based in Chicago.”

  “A tech company?”

  Like she cared what kind of company it was. “It’s an Artificial Intelligence Research Scientist position.”

  “And what? You’re now looking to move? I thought you wanted to stay here.”

  She snatched her phone out of his hand, tired of the questions. “No, Nate. I’m not looking to move. He wants me to move. He wants me to live up to my ‘full potential.’” She stared down at the phone, tears suddenly trying to get the best of her, and found herself unable to contain her contempt. “And hell. Maybe I should go. Maybe that would finally score me some points.”

  “What?” He looked confused, and she turned away again. She hadn’t meant to say that.

  “Nothing,” she muttered.

  “It’s something. What do you mean, points?”

  When she didn’t respond, his hands landed on her shoulders. They tugged slightly, trying to turn her around, but she resisted.

  “Meg.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you, Nate. I don’t want to talk to anyone.” But without meaning to, she faced him again. She stared at him without saying anything at first, her focus zeroed in on the concern written across his face. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. That was true.

  She didn’t want to talk, or think, or give her father yet one more chance to make her feel less.

  She didn’t want to hurt, dammit.

  But Nate stood there, and he looked so concerned for her. And it had been such a long time since someone had truly seemed to see her and the hurts she carried. So, she opened her mouth and let a flood of words come out.

  “There are things I don’t talk about.” The words came out slow at first. “Like how my father couldn’t care less if he ever saw me. Or that I also haven’t seen my mother in two years, because she’s off chasing around what she hopes to be her fourth husband since my parents’ divorce. Nor do I share with people that none of my three siblings have time to call me. Ever.” She shook her head again, the hurt from years past and the pain of years to come rising like bile in the back of her throat, blocking out all reason. “And, of course, you don’t want me either, do you? You’re just fine patting me on the head and being my ‘friend.’ Sending me off to date your friends. You couldn’t care less if I—”

  His mouth closed over hers, and she stopped breathing.

  Her heart seemed to miss a beat before it suddenly took off again, and when Nate’s hand slid around the back of her neck, gripping her a little too tight and holding her punishingly to his mouth, she moaned.

  This was what she needed.

  This heat. This passion.

  Nate stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and the hard, solid, one hundred percent male that was Nate Wilde, pressed into her from head to toe. His mouth then proceeded to ravage hers, while his other hand came up to hold her chin in place—as if there were any chance she might break contact with this—and then she managed to get them even closer.

  No space existed between them as she stood on her toes and slid her arms around his neck, and when a deep guttural groan rumbled from the back of his throat, she hitched one leg around his thigh.

  Nate’s hands lowered, gripping her under the bottom curve of her butt, his fingertips digging into the stretchy material of her dress and the tops of her thighs, and she lifted her other leg to wrap both around him. Then everything that had been on the corner of the countertop hit the floor, and he plopped her down in front of him. The cold of the granite against the backs of her bare thighs had her gasping and arching backward, and when her mouth pulled away from his, she could see the full amount of his desire coloring his features. He was mindless with it.

  “Nate,” she whispered, and his mouth was back on hers.

  He yanked her forward until the hard length of him pressed against her, and a whimper escaped her throat.

  “Too many clothes,” he muttered.

  One hand moved to the buttons on the front of her dress, the other grabbing her by the hair and angling her head back, and then his mouth and teeth got busy at her neck. As teeth scraped against the tendons and a quick nip at the base of her throat had her going instantly wet, his fingers never stalled. One by one, the buttons down her chest came free, and by the time cool air whispered across the lace of her bra, everything about her throbbed.

  She blindly reached out, desperate to feel him as he was now doing to her, and as her fingers fumbled to shove at his jacket and started with the buttons of his shirt, he removed his hands from her to help. As he did, her lips sought out his, heat and need and urgency all combining to fuse their mouths together as their fingers feverishly worked.

  She heard the jangle of his belt buckle, and her breathing became even more rapid. This was the last thing she’d expected when she’d come home tonight, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It might be crazy, but she wanted Nate. And whether this was a one-night thing or whether they’d have a wild fling until he left for better pastures, she wouldn’t complain. She wanted this, and she was going to have it.

  Only, his hands stopped moving. And then his eyes opened.

  He looked at her, their faces too close to focus, and as he leaned slightly back, she watched a flicker of confusion pass through his eyes—quickly followed by horror.

  “Oh, Christ.” He jerked away from her, his arms bent at the elbows and his hands going in the air on either side of him. “Megan.” He panted, trying to catch his breath. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”

  His words trailed off as one hand waved toward her exposed body, and her anger from earlier returned. “You didn’t mean to what?” she snapped. “Kiss me? Undress me?”

  “No. God . . . no!” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to do any of it.”

  She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. He didn’t have to sound so damned disgusted by the fact that he’d laid his hands on her. “Then why did you, Nate?”

  “Because you . . .” He swallowed compulsively and motioned toward her chest again, then he glanced toward the front door as if regretting ever walking through it. His other hand dragged down over his face, likely hoping it would erase the error of his ways, and she wanted to vomit. How humiliating.

  She didn’t move to cover herself up, though. He wouldn’t get that from her.

  “Why did you?” She asked the question again. “Was it only because I went out with your friend and that made you jealous?” She should have known he wasn’t really into her.

  “Yes!” He nodded, the movement quick and jerky, and then seemed to think better of the answer—or maybe it was the death glare she sent his way. “I mean . . . no.” He shook his head. “That’s not why I did it. That was just the impetus for me coming here tonight.”

  “The impetus?” Well, at least he was honest about that. Though why some men didn’t want a woman but didn’t want other men to have her either was beyond her. “Then why did you kiss me
once you were here? Why did you touch me?”

  The way his face crumpled, he looked like a kid pleading for forgiveness, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. He’d been about to make love to her . . . and now he was horrified. What the fuck?

  She continued to glare at him, and he finally uttered, “I kissed you because I wanted to, okay?”

  “You wanted to?”

  “Yes! I wanted to!” His arms flailed out toward her, and then he seemed to remember that he wasn’t fully dressed himself. As his fingers once again fumbled with his own shirt, closing up what they’d previously opened, he seemed to get himself partially under control. His breathing slowed, and the look of horror morphed back to apology. “I also kissed you because I couldn’t stand to see you hurting from your dad. And because every damned time I see you, I want to put my mouth on yours, okay? Does hearing that make you happy?” He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering momentarily where her dress gaped. “I want to put my mouth on your lips, Megan. Your neck. Your body.” He dragged his eyes back to hers. “I want my hands roaming over every square inch of you. Every damned time I see you.”

  That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear at all.

  “Only . . . that’s not going to happen again.” He stepped closer and began buttoning her dress.

  “Why isn’t it?” She remained ticked—and humiliated—but not enough to never want his hands on her again.

  But the look he gave her wasn’t promising at all. The heat had disappeared from his eyes. The light inside them dimmed. “Because you’re my brother’s ex. And I won’t do that to him.”

  She closed her eyes. That’s what he was hung up on?

  Well, she could set the record straight on that.

  Hopping down from the counter, she squared her shoulders, going for confident and not looking nearly as shook up as she was, and she peered up at him. “Listen to me, Nate Wilde. For the record, I’m okay with what just happened here. With what almost happened here. Clearly you aren’t, and that’s okay. But Jaden and I broke up months ago. He’s wildly happy and in love. And I’m confident he’d want the same for me.”

  Panic flared in Nate’s eyes, and he moved back so quickly that he stumbled, and his elbow hit the pole. “Who said anything about love?”

  She let out a half-growl-half-sigh. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that if kissing you makes me happy . . . if doing more with you made me happy . . . then he’d be okay with that.”

  He rubbed his elbow. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “And why is that? Do you think he wants to be kissing me again?”

  “No.” He made a face at the idea of that.

  “Then why would he care who I’m kissing?”

  “Because I’m his brother, Megan! You don’t do that to brothers.”

  Granted, she’d never been overly close to any of her siblings, but still . . . she and Jaden had parted on completely friendly terms. His whole family even still liked her. Was this honestly that taboo? “You wouldn’t be doing anything to him, Nate. That’s my point. He’s moved on. Or wait”—she held up a hand, one finger in the air, as she clued in to the likely issue—“is the problem simply that he and I were together to begin with? That you know I’ve kissed him? That I’ve done more with him?”

  The look of distaste on his face would have been comical if she wasn’t still ticked off. “I know what happens in a four-year relationship, Megan. I’m not dense.”

  “Okay, then. So, you just think that your brother still has some sort of tie on me?”

  “No. Of course I don’t. I just think it’s wrong. Brothers don’t do that to brothers. End of story.” A look of chagrin tightened the lines around his mouth. “Plus, I’m not looking for forever. You know that. I’ll be leaving soon. So, what would be the point?”

  Sexual satisfaction? But she didn’t suggest that. Because he did have a point. She’d just temporarily forgotten the end game.

  “I suppose you’re correct,” she said, her anger deflating. “You and me getting together would be nothing more than a waste of time.”

  “Right.”

  “Right,” she repeated, and she felt almost as sad in that moment as she had the day she’d come home from college to bury her aunt. She moved to the door. “It’s time for you to go, Nate.”

  She opened the door, and he picked up his coat and the notepad he’d come in with, but before stepping out, he stopped in front of her. She had the idea that he might say something that in some way would make up for what had happened there tonight. Or what hadn’t happened.

  He didn’t, though.

  What he said instead was, “Don’t go out with Dre again.”

  She blinked up at him. “Excuse me?”

  “I said don’t—”

  “I heard you clearly the first time,” she growled out. “But why in the hell not?”

  And who did he think he was to say that to her?

  He lifted his shoulders halfheartedly, as if he had no real excuse. “Because I don’t want you to.”

  The bark of laughter she bit out could probably be heard all the way to where his truck sat at the farthest end of her street. “Wrong answer, Wilde. Now get out of my house.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He just walked out. And she slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I still can’t believe he had you practically naked, and he stopped.” Brooke paced across the kitchen in Megan’s apartment, stopping to look at the spot on the counter where Megan had sat hot and wanton only twelve hours before. “What kind of man does that?”

  “One that has more willpower than I do,” Megan muttered.

  “Or one that’s a moron,” Brooke corrected.

  “That, too.”

  “But I still don’t understand how it even happened.” Brooke spun back to face Megan, who sat on the opposite side of the kitchen at the dining room table. Brooke had come over as soon as Megan texted to offer brunch and mimosas, and though they were on their second drink, brunch hadn’t yet happened. Instead, all they’d done was talk about Nate.

  “It happened because I went out with Dre, and Nate didn’t like it.”

  “No.” Brooke waved off the explanation. “I know that part. You said that already. But how? As in, how did you let it happen. I thought you were just going to be friends with him?”

  “I was. I am.”

  “Then how did last night go from looking at design notes at midnight to stripping each other on the kitchen island?”

  Megan took another sip of her mimosa as Brooke returned to the table. “I got a text from my dad that upset me.”

  “Okay?” The utter perplexity on her friend’s face turned her heavy, almond-shaped eyes into narrow slits.

  Megan had never told Brooke anything about her parents other than the basics, so she added, “We have an ‘unstable’ relationship.” But that wasn’t exactly true. They had the relationship that her dad wanted . . . and she just always let him get away with it.

  She’d yet to call him out on never having time for her. It had been bad enough when he and her mother divorced and he’d moved to Seattle, but once she’d finished high school, it was as if he’d washed his hands of her. Like his job had been finished.

  Except, he still expected her to live up to her full potential.

  “I don’t see him often,” she explained, “and I guess deep inside, I’m a daddy’s girl.” At least, as a kid she’d considered herself to be one. She’d once followed him around everywhere. “It’s been a while, and I miss him. So, Friday he texted that he would stop by today on his way back out of the country, and last night he changed his mind. I was upset. And . . . I got a little heated.”

  “And that made Nate kiss you?” Doubt crept into Brooke’s voice, but Megan wasn’t sure how else to explain it.

  “Yes. That made him kiss me. He apparently didn’t like seeing me upset.”

  Brooke nodded. “Okay. I get that. Men don’t do well w
ith tears.”

  “I wasn’t crying.”

  “Still. He knew you were hurting. Maybe he thought he’d kiss you before you cried.”

  Megan gave her friend a contemptuous look. She was not a crier. “I wasn’t even on the verge of tears. In fact, I was screaming. And I might have also screamed something about how he didn’t want me, either. That he’d rather pat me on the head and just be my friend.”

  “Ah.”

  “Ah, what?”

  “Ah, you goaded him into kissing you.”

  The statement was an insult. “I did no such thing.”

  Brooke studied her with a gleam in her eyes. “I think you did. And I also think that you meant to. Just like you meant to get all naked and do the deed in the ‘heat of the moment’ right there on your counter.”

  Megan gaped at her friend. Then she looked at her countertop.

  Brooke was being ridiculous.

  “And I think you’re reading far more into this than there is,” Megan returned.

  “Umm-hmm.” Brooke fired off a look of superiority. “Like I read more into your dinner out with him a couple of weeks ago, right?”

  “You did read more into that. It was nothing but two friends.”

  “A friend you’ve since cooked a meal for, had lunch with, and then volunteered to help him design the cabins.”

  “I also flirted with his friends and went out with one of them last night,” she retorted.

  “And did you kiss him?”

  Megan was caught red-handed. Brooke knew her too well.

  “I’ll bet he wanted to,” Brooke went on. “I saw the way he looked at you at the club that night, so no way did he not want to lay one on you. And he drove you home, so he had the perfect opportunity to do so.”

  Megan finished off her mimosa, using that as an excuse to ignore her friend a bit longer, but when she set her glass down, Brooke was leaning across the table, her face directly in front of Megan’s.

  “Dre wanted to kiss you last night, didn’t he, Meg?”