The Rancher's Secret Love (The Montana McGregor Brothers Book 2)

by Paula Altenburg

  The key scorched his skin as he transferred it from his palm to hers.

  “You’ve made nothing hard on me. Nothing,” he said.

  His throat burned a little. If she thought she could tell him she wanted him, and look at him with so much regret, then expect him to give her up, she had another thing coming. He cleared his throat. Telling her he needed her had been the wrong thing to say, because she’d misunderstood. He didn’t need her help to make his decisions for him, or to do what was right. He needed her the way his lungs needed air.

  He caught hold of her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. Just a quick one, because he agreed they both should step back and see where their futures were headed and if they could ever align.

  “Don’t give up on us,” he added. “I won’t be.”

  Leaving her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He sat in his car for a while, wrapped in darkness, facing the closed gate of the cemetery where his parents now rested. He wished he could ask them for advice.

  They’d had such a happy marriage. They’d loved him and his brothers and sister, but there had also been a relationship between them that hadn’t involved family. His mother had once said that her children would grow up and leave her, but her husband was with her forever.

  When he pictured forever, he pictured Mara.

  He planned to get that key back from her. This time, however, he intended to earn it.

  *

  “Mara, can you flip pancakes for a few minutes?” Diana asked.

  Her cheeks were red from the heat. Strands of hair stuck to her forehead and neck. She was still breastfeeding and Randy was giving her a hand signal from one of the picnic tables that said the baby was hungry and refused to be pacified by anything else.

  Mara moved into position on the assembly line, taking the spatula from her friend’s hand and guarding the golden pancakes sizzling on one of the six electric griddles hooked up to a string of industrial-sized extension cords. The cords led to a power supply at one of the local businesses close by.

  Grand celebrated Founder’s Day on the second of August each year. Rain had finally broken the drought and the past few days had seen spattering remnants of the deluge, but today had dawned clear. A giant tent had been set up on the Yellowstone’s riverfront boardwalk, where the local ladies’ auxiliary annual breakfast had begun at seven that morning to kick-start events. It was now fast approaching nine o’clock and the crowd showed no signs of letting up.

  Mara wished her knee could say the same, but she was having too much fun to bow out. Hay sculptures were to be judged at ten, while barrel racing and team roping events began at eleven. There’d be a picnic lunch and face painting for the children.

  She’d been asked to enter one of her classes in the talent show scheduled for later that afternoon. While it was tempting to choose the youngest children because of the cuteness appeal, she’d opted for the fifteen-year-olds. They were less likely to bolt and run when they performed in front of a crowd. They also illustrated her teaching abilities the best.

  After the talent show came the barbecue, then a parade, and finally, a street dance. A large section of Yellowstone Drive running through the downtown would be cordoned off. The night would end with a fireworks display.

  She’d seen Luke the past few Saturday mornings since he’d broken his news because he’d had to bring Finn to class. He’d stopped calling her because she didn’t answer, but she’d read his texts, and those came every day. She’d responded to those. He could be pretty funny.

  He’d asked her to save a dance for him, tonight. She hadn’t responded to that.

  She wasn’t ready to give up on him, but she’d meant it when she said she’d influenced him enough. A real relationship was about a lot more than sex, no matter how great the sex was. Diana and Randy were a shining example, as were her own parents, and while she and Luke might have been on the cusp of something more, they hadn’t progressed beyond being lovers.

  He was going to be a father. Any decisions he made from now on would have to be with that in mind. And she’d have to accept them, no matter how painful it was. She’d recover.

  She removed the pancakes from the griddle and slid them onto a waiting plate.

  “Hi, Mara.”

  She looked up. “Hi, Dan.”

  She smiled at the rugged blond sheriff. He was her landlord’s grandson and she’d gone out with him a few times. She liked him but there’d been something missing.

  Dan ignored the long lineup forming behind him. “Will you be at the dance tonight?”

  She wasn’t sure if she should. Luke planned to be there, and if he tried to claim that dance he’d asked her to save, she wouldn’t say no. She missed him. She missed the intimacy. She missed their talks the most, which surprised her, considering how little they had in common.

  “I’m thinking about it,” she said.

  “Why don’t I swing by and give you a lift?”

  “Thank you,” she said, “but it’s only a few minutes’ walk from the studio. I can manage.”

  Dan was another overprotective cowboy who’d tried to coddle her because of her damaged leg, and she didn’t want that. Her knee was getting stronger every day. Standing around serving pancakes was harder than walking, and yet, here she was.

  “See you tonight, then.” Dan moved on toward the supply of sausage and bacon keeping warm under the heat lamp at the end of the line.

  The crowd had begun to thin out. Mara looked around. Cars were lined along Yellowstone Drive for as far as the eye could see. The parking lot butting the boardwalk was packed. A few spaces had opened up, however, as the early risers who’d shown up mainly for the food began to depart. A familiar car occupied one of the vacated spaces.

  That was all she had time to note. The pancake line began moving again.

  “I’m back,” Diana announced. She nudged Mara aside with her hip. “Go get your breakfast. You’ve been standing long enough.”

  Mara filled her plate with a stack of pancakes and found a spot at one of the picnic tables. She set her plate down and went to get a cup of coffee. When she returned, Luke was getting the children settled into the empty seats next to hers. He glanced at her and her breath caught. Now she knew what was missing with Dan. He wasn’t Luke.

  Four pairs of black-lashed, striking green eyes assailed her.

  “Finn asked if we could sit with you,” Luke said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” What else could she say?

  Who could resist four pairs of McGregor eyes?

  “Hi, Miss Ramos.” Finn wriggled on the bench, his energy level approaching full throttle. She bit the inside of her lip. Someone was going to sleep well tonight. “Uncle Luke says I can ride a sheep.”

  “They have a sheep rodeo for the little kids,” Mac, who was a more mature ten, supplied. His tone strongly inferred he wouldn’t be caught dead participating. “I’m going to train my horse for team roping.”

  Luke passed Lydia to Mac. “Keep an eye on your sister while I get the pancakes.”

  Mara’s phone chirped a few minutes later. She retrieved her phone from her jeans pocket and read the text. “I hear Dan McKillop has herpes.”

  She smiled. Another text flashed. “Herpes is no laughing matter.”

  “What’s so funny?” Finn asked.

  “Mind your own business,” Mac told him.

  Mara felt a small hand on her leg. She peered under the table. A sweet little face peered back.

  “Up,” Lydia said. She tried to stand and bumped her blond, fluff-tufted head. “Ow.” Tears flooded enormous green eyes and she started to cry.

  Mac half stood, preparing to launch himself across the table and rescue his sister, proving the protective gene ran deep in the McGregor clan. For some of them, at least. Finn took a look, decided Lydia would live, and went back to business as usual.

  “I’ve got her,” Mara reassured Mac. She reached down with both hands, took the little girl under th
e arms, and carefully maneuvered her onto her knee. “Let me see where it hurts, honey.” She examined the bump. “All it needs is a kiss.” She pressed her lips to the fuzzy mop, breathing deep. Lydia smelled like baby and bubblegum shampoo, two irresistible scents.

  Lydia settled her padded bottom on Mara’s lap, making herself at home, the bump forgotten as she spotted the cooling pancakes on Mara’s plate. Mara cut off a small morsel, dipped it in maple syrup, and popped it in Lydia’s mouth. Lydia chewed, swallowed, and opened her mouth for more.

  “Uncle Jake says Lyddie eats like a horse,” Finn said.

  Shame on Uncle Jake.

  “There’s nothing wrong with a growing girl owning a healthy appetite,” Mara replied.

  She was curious about Mac. She already knew Finn and Lydia. He looked a lot like Luke, but as if smiling might hurt him. He watched his younger siblings like a hawk—or maybe a mother hen. Her heart went out. Luke said he was taking the loss of his parents the hardest, and had a few anger issues, but that Jake had it well in hand.

  “Tell me about your horse,” Mara said to him. “Why do you want to teach it to be a team roper?”

  Mac’s grim expression lightened a notch. “Uncle Jake knows all about horses and team roping and he said he’ll help.”

  By the time Luke returned with four plates, two empty and two of them heavily loaded with food, she’d heard all about Thunder and how amazing he was. It was also plain that Mac idolized Jake, the uncle Mara hadn’t yet met.

  Luke set the plates down and began dividing the food. Once the children were eating, he made a few extra trips for coffee and juice.

  He sat down next to Mac, across from Mara. He smiled at her. Brown hair, almost black, flopped over his forehead into his eyes and he flipped it back with his fingers.

  “Are we having fun yet?” he asked.

  “I can’t speak for others, but I am,” she replied, holding the tiny plastic cup filled with apple juice for Lydia to sip from.

  She was. She liked children, and these three were well-mannered and sweet. She had Lydia on her lap and Finn snuggled up as close as he could get without ousting his sister. Mac had lost a lot of his sullen air, excited about the rodeo events he’d get to see for the first time. It seemed “cowboy” was genetic. Montana was going to be good for him.

  And Luke…

  He was going to make a fantastic father.

  She’d been so angry at first, when she thought he’d had his fun and lost interest in her, forgetting how complicated his circumstances were. It hadn’t once occurred to her that those circumstances might have become more complicated still.

  Ignoring reality was her issue to overcome. From the beginning, he’d tried his best to be realistic and she’d convinced him to set responsibility aside. She didn’t begrudge him his pending fatherhood, but she’d visited the orphanage where her mother volunteered. She’d witnessed how starved for adult affection those children were. Lydia and Finn, both so eager for a woman’s attention, were another shining example of children in need.

  She refused to compete with a child.

  Luke reached for his phone, casually flicking the buttons. Her phone, sitting on the weathered wooden table beside her, chirped again.

  “Me too. Save me that dance.”

  Chapter Twelve

  After the barbecue, Mara went home to shower and change.

  The girls’ talent show performance that afternoon had gone off without a hitch. They’d teamed up with their high school show choir, chosen a jazz number from the movie Chicago to perform, and it had been fun. A little scandalous for Grand Town Day, perhaps. But Mara had dialed the dance routine back to PG and she was so proud of them. Even better, they were proud of themselves.

  Days like today reminded her of why she liked teaching.

  She chose a short dress, a deep, purple eggplant in color, with a rounded tunic hemline that came to mid-thigh. The off-the-shoulder neckline attached to long sleeves that flared wide at the cuffs. She added dramatic eye makeup and a dark lipstick that matched her dress, and left her hair loose. Delicate gold bangles and enormous hooped earrings dragged the eye upward, away from her knee. After waffling back and forth over the best shoes for the dress, she settled on ballet flats better suited for dancing.

  She’d considered skipping the dance tonight altogether. Then, she’d asked herself why. Because she didn’t think she’d enjoy it?

  Or because there was only one man she wanted to dance with and she hadn’t yet made up her mind?

  Luke hadn’t lingered after finishing breakfast. He’d brought the children for their entertainment, not his, and that one final text was the last she’d received from him all day, to her disappointment. His texts never failed to make her smile.

  She was getting a stronger sense of the man he’d been before disaster befell him, and he was proving a hard man to resist. Worse, she was finding out what she stood to lose. It terrified her because she knew in her heart that his ex-fiancée, the mother of his child, wasn’t going to give up on him without a fight, and in the end, Luke would do what he believed to be right. He had to be able to live with himself.

  Why would he give up so much for a woman he’d only known a few months?

  The walk from her studio to the waterfront didn’t take long. She carried a cane that she used when her leg was tired, and after a long day, yes, she was unsteady, and therefore, not taking chances. Falling in front of Luke had been humiliating enough, although she’d gotten over it almost at once. He hadn’t turned it into a big deal.

  If she fell in front of the whole town, however, she’d have to move.

  Clouds blackened the sky, hiding the moon, but the meteor shower lights crisscrossed from poles along the length of the boardwalk picked up the slack. The band had set up under the tent and they were conducting a sound check on their gear. A speaker squawked. Beyond the boardwalk, the slow, lazy waters of the Yellowstone River swirled past. The drought that had plagued Grand all summer had finally ended, but while it had spit drizzle a few times off and on throughout the day, the night remained calm and mild. The picnic tables had been pushed back to line the river’s edge. Bales of hay had been brought in for people to sit on.

  She looked around for familiar faces and saw Lacey Anderson, sitting with a few of the soccer moms, who also happened to be dance moms. Grand really was small.

  She liked the town. More than any other place she’d lived in her life. Its size was part of the appeal. She’d been made to feel welcome here at a point in her life when she’d needed people behind her who were more intent on protecting her right to privacy than in defending her reputation. Her family might be amazing, and they loved her, but they didn’t understand the American culture at all.

  Mara joined the women. She squeezed in beside Lacey, who gave off a satisfied air, as if all was right in her world. Mara was happy for her. Lacey was a good friend.

  “How’s your brother?” she asked, then wished she hadn’t, because Lacey’s cheerful smile dimmed.

  “Still not speaking to family.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Lacey’s contentment had nothing to do with her brother, then. That left only one likely option. She must have Jake McGregor right where she wanted him—which didn’t explain why she was here by herself. Maybe it was Jake’s night to look after the children, but if so, why wasn’t Lacey with him, helping out?

  If Jake was anything like Luke, Mara could guess. He would never introduce a woman into his young niece and nephews’ lives until he was sure she’d be permanent.

  “No need to be sorry,” Lacey said, recovering her smile. “It’s by Clayton’s own choice, and if that’s what he wants, then there’s nothing more I can do.”

  She was right. People made their own choices.

  Mara tucked her cane behind one of the bales of hay as the mostly Southern rock band kicked off with a popular hit by Little Big Town. A few of the husbands drifted over to claim their wives for a dance and the boardwalk
began filling with people. Someone urged Lacey to her feet.

  Mara’s toe tapped. Hay scratched the backs of her thighs. She longed to get up and join them. Her scarred leg, that people politely pretended not to notice, made it highly unlikely anyone—anyone but Luke—would ask.

  Dan McKillop sat down beside her. “Hey,” he said, bumping her shoulder. “Thought I’d come keep you company for a bit.”

  Mara didn’t want company. She wanted to dance.

  “Seriously, McKillop?” a familiar voice drawled from behind them, the sound drifting over her head. “You’re keeping a dance instructor company at a dance by sitting with her?”

  Mara looked around. Her heart sprang to life. Even though she’d known he would be here, she couldn’t help the twitch of excitement the sight of him gave her.

  Luke stepped over the row of baled hay and onto the boardwalk, looking exactly like what he was—a scholarly rancher. He wore a cowboy hat, hipster jeans, and white canvas shoes, with unabashed ease. Somehow, it worked.

  He extended a hand. “Shall we show the sheriff how it’s done?”

  She didn’t think twice. She did want to dance and she trusted Luke more than anyone else to keep her from falling. She wasn’t sure everyone in Grand would be onboard with his methods, however, if the mixed reactions to the dance routine that afternoon were any basis for judgment.

  At least they had their clothes on.

  The band shifted into a waltz by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Luke placed a hand on the small of her back, pressing her against him, and turned her ever so slightly so that her weak leg was braced by his hip, thigh, and knee on that side. They were close, possibly indecently so, yet not indecent enough to incite more than a ripple of gossip.

  He bent his head.

  “You can let me lead,” he whispered into her ear, his voice low, reassuring, and above all, so tantalizing. “This is the kind of dancing I know.”

  After a few steps, she relaxed in his arms. He really did.

  “Didn’t I warn you about herpes?” he chastised her.

  He was jealous. It shouldn’t make her feel so good, but it did. “I had no idea you could catch herpes by dancing, Dr. Pretty.”