The Montana Cowboy's Heart

by Kaylie Newell

  “It can happen,” Porter said, leaning against the gate and looking in at Abby. “But when it does, other moms step up to take care of the baby. Or people do. It’s hard, and it takes some adjustment, but it’s the love and care that really counts.” Same goes with human babies, Champ, he wanted to say, but didn’t.

  Justine caught Porter’s eye then and mouthed thank you.

  He winked at her. He’d rather promise Cat that everything would work out great with Abby’s baby, but of course, he couldn’t. Things happened. And as young as Cat was, it was clear that he understood this perfectly. He knew, even at the age of eleven, that life was messy.

  “I run into town for some feed and look what I miss.”

  They all turned at the sound of the voice behind them. Brooks stood there, his black Stetson pushed high on his forehead. His old Carhartt jacket was spotted with rain. The storm was getting closer.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked, stepping up to the stall to take a look.

  “So far, so good,” Porter said.

  The horse lowered her head and swung it from side to side.

  “I’d say she’s getting close,” Brooks said. “Not too much longer now. Who could use some coffee?”

  “Me!” Cat shot his hand in the air.

  “Nice try, son. We’ve got some hot chocolate with your name on it, though.”

  “I can help carry it out,” Justine said. “I need to run to the bathroom anyway.”

  Porter looked over at her. “You sure you don’t have anywhere to be? Anything else to do?”

  “Not a thing. And I don’t think I could drag Cat away even if we did.”

  Cat grinned. He was in his element. Enjoying every second. Again, Porter thought of Calvin Roberson. He should be the one teaching his son about horses having their foals. About how a ranch worked. About how to be a man, and not just that, how to be a good man. Cat deserved all those things.

  Abby finally dropped to her knees in the straw and rolled over with a groan. Outside, the wind picked up, pushing against the barn in grumpy gusts.

  “Actually, I’d wait on that coffee,” Porter said, opening the stall gate. “If you don’t want to miss the show.”

  Chapter Nine

  Justine pulled her little hatchback up to the ranch house and cut the engine. A midnight rain had started on the way back from her house, coming in sheets over Marietta.

  She sat there with it drumming on the roof of the car and looked over at the barn where a warm light spilled out the door. The foal had come a few hours ago, a lovely black colt to match his mama, only he had a bold white blaze running down his face. He was beautiful and healthy, and Cat was absolutely in love.

  She smiled at the memory of the birth, still fresh behind her eyes. It hadn’t taken the baby long to get his wobbly legs underneath him, and they’d all watched in wonder as he took his first tentative steps in the straw, with Abby nudging him from behind.

  Brooks had given Cat naming rights, which had been like a Christmas and birthday present rolled into one. And when Cat had asked if he could stay the night in the barn with Abby and her foal, Justine had looked over at Porter helplessly. She had no idea how to say no to him, his eyes shining in wonder for this little creature.

  Luckily, Porter was on the same page and had pulled her aside while Cat was busy running names by Brooks.

  “I used to sleep outside all the time when I was his age,” he’d said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “If you’re okay with it, you can stay in one of the guest rooms in the main house. They’re all made up; you can take your pick. And Cat will have an adventure he’ll never forget, I promise.”

  She’d frowned as the wind moaned around the barn. “But the weather?”

  “I have a down sleeping bag, and Clifford will curl up with him. He’ll keep him nice and toasty.”

  Justine had looked over at Cat, who was watching the foal nurse with greedy little head buts. She honestly hadn’t seen him this happy in ages. There was something about tonight, about this new life coming into the world, that had touched him deeply. He felt part of the magic, and Porter was right. He would remember it forever.

  “Okay,” she’d said quietly. “I’ll just run back to my place and get some clothes and things. He’ll need some long johns and thicker socks.”

  Porter had smiled down at her. “You take good care of him.”

  The compliment felt good. Her heart seemed to have stretched to twice its size since Cat had come to stay with her. Her neat and tidy house was more cluttered now—noisier, smaller, all things that had thrown her stiff routine and structure right out the window. But they were things that she’d come to love. She liked having someone to take care of. She liked having someone to fuss over.

  Porter watched her, and for a second, everything else seemed to fall away. The horses and their sweet, comforting smell. Brooks and Cat, sipping on their hot drinks and talking about names. The storm brewing outside, a reminder that fall was in full swing, and winter would follow. And that soon, she was going to be leaving all this behind.

  “Justine, how about Wookiee?”

  She’d glanced over at Cat. He was going through a Star Wars phase, as all eleven-year-olds should, in her opinion.

  “I like it, buddy.”

  “So,” Porter said. “It’s a sleepover, then.”

  Justine sat in her car now, remembering how the words had made her heart flutter. So casual, so innocent. Yet packed with meaning.

  She reached for the two small bags she’d brought for her and Cat. A sleepover, indeed…

  The wind pushed against her little car as she zipped her jacket up to her chin. But before she could open the door, Porter appeared. Dark, hatless in the rain. With his own jacket collar pulled high.

  He opened her door. “Here, hand me those,” he said, nodding toward the bags. “Ready to make a run for it?”

  She grabbed his free hand, and he helped her out of the car.

  “Ready!”

  They took off, jostling against each other and splashing in every puddle along the way. When they got to the porch, they were laughing so hard, Justine’s stomach hurt. She was soaked, and so was he.

  They clomped up the old steps, breathless. Porter ruffled a hand through his hair and water droplets went flying.

  “You might need a towel,” he said, eyeing her with a boyish grin.

  “Maybe just a little one.”

  Inside, the house was nice and warm. It smelled like woodsmoke and bacon, and even though it was ten o’clock at night, Justine’s mouth watered. Brooks had brought out sandwiches to the barn earlier, but she’d been too excited to eat. Now, she wished she had.

  Porter set the bags by the door. “If you give me your coat, I’ll hang it by the fire.”

  “Oh, I should probably run that bag out to Cat first.”

  “I’ll do that. I’ll get him all set up, but honestly, he’s pretty comfortable as it is. Clifford is happy to have his very own boy for the night. So is Abby, I think. She likes the company.”

  “Oh, good. He might have to use the bathroom, though…”

  “He came up here while you were gone. Even brushed his teeth. We keep lots of toiletries for guests, so he was good to go. I just hope he actually gets some sleep.”

  She shrugged off her jacket and handed it to him. Her hair hung in damp, ropy strands next to her face, and she pushed it behind her shoulder. “This is really sweet of you, Porter. To have us over like this. I think you made Cat’s entire year.”

  “He’s a great kid. Actually, he’s an extraordinary kid.”

  She walked over to the fireplace and held her hands out to warm them. “I told him about his dad today…that he might be in town soon.”

  “Oh yeah?” Frowning, Porter hung her jacket up. “And how did that go?”

  “Okay, I guess. He wants to see him. No surprise there.”

  “Maybe he won’t even show up. What then?”

  “We’ll just have to take it as it
comes. But I’m relieved that he knows. He’ll be twelve soon. Almost a teenager. Nola’s right. It should be his choice.”

  Porter stepped closer, the firelight playing over his face. “And how’s Nola?”

  “She’s doing pretty well, actually. But she’s worn out. I worry about Cat going back to her. I worry about both of them.”

  “I know you do. Because you’re a good person.”

  She looked down at the popping flames. “I’m just doing what anyone would.”

  He chuckled softly. “Are you kidding? You’re doing what nobody I know would do. At least that they’d do well. You’re basically a foster mom. And I’m here to tell you, when you’re Cat’s age and you don’t have a mother, or a dad who’s around…it’s hard.”

  “But you had your aunt, right?”

  “I did. And she was great. Took really good care of us. But she was busy with her own life. She cared about us, but there wasn’t a ton of time for nurturing three boys.”

  Justine nodded. Having Cat was a joy, but she couldn’t imagine having two more just like him. Exhausting wasn’t a strong enough word. By the time she taught all day, then got home to make dinner and supervise homework, showered, did some chores…she practically fell into bed every night.

  They stood there for a minute, silence settling between them. The fire crackled, its warmth pulsing against Justine’s cheeks. It was strange how comfortable she felt in this house, with this man. It was like something had been missing for her all this time, and when she met Porter, things just fell into place. She hadn’t been expecting that. She hadn’t expected any of it.

  He reached out and touched one of her curls that was almost dry from the heat of the fire.

  “Looks like you don’t need that towel after all.”

  Gazing up at him, she took a deep breath. She thought she could smell the faint scent of his shaving cream, although it looked like he hadn’t bothered with a razor that morning. Even in the dim light of the room, she could make out the individual points of dark stubble on his chin, and she immediately imagined how that scruff would feel against her skin.

  Her hands began trembling at her sides. This was what he did to her. She wondered if he felt the same tremors, the same heat in his veins.

  As if answering her, he stepped closer. So close that his jacket rubbed up against her sweater. He’d unzipped it when they’d come inside, and her gaze dropped to his blue plaid shirt that gaped open at his throat. It seemed to be drawn there, to that spot where she knew she’d be able to feel his pulse tap underneath her lips.

  “Hey.” He put two fingers underneath her chin and lifted it until her eyes met his. “What are you thinking?”

  She swallowed hard. What am I thinking? That she’d like to kiss him. That it had been so long since she’d met a really nice guy, that she’d forgotten what they looked like. That there was zero hope of this actually going anywhere, because she was leaving the country in just a few short months. It would be over before it could even get started.

  “I’m thinking…”

  He watched her, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

  “I’m thinking that this isn’t such a good idea,” she finished softly.

  He nodded but remained quiet. The firelight danced in his eyes, making them look like they were burning.

  “I mean—”

  “I know,” he said, his voice husky. “I know you want to be careful, that you’re leaving, all those things. I want to be careful, too. But I also want to kiss you, and I think you might want to be kissed.”

  It was probably written all over her face. She couldn’t help it. And maybe she didn’t want to help it, either.

  Before she could say anything else, he leaned close. He was so tall, that she had to tilt her head all the way back to see into his eyes. And at that moment, all she could do was fall into them. Into their dark, flickering depths, where she’d been drawn since that very first day.

  “Do you want to be kissed, Justine?”

  She tried to answer, but her voice wouldn’t cooperate. She was afraid of what she would say. So instead, she just nodded.

  At that, he leaned the rest of the way in and pressed his lips to hers. So gently, that at first, they felt like butterfly wings, moving against her mouth. He didn’t want to spook her, she knew that. He was taking it slow, giving her the space she needed to decide what it was she really wanted.

  The thought that she was in control of this big, strong man, electrified her. She knew if she told him to stop, he would. She knew if she began unbuttoning his shirt, he’d probably let her. It electrified her. And it also scared her to death.

  But instead of breaking the kiss and backing away like she absolutely knew she should, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  With a sound deep in his throat, he pulled her closer. She felt his belt buckle press against her hip, felt her blood rush in her ears. How many women had he kissed just like this? How many hearts had he broken in his lifetime? Because at the end of the day, that’s what Porter Cole was—a heartbreaker. Would he break her heart, too? She really couldn’t imagine any other outcome, since the thought of leaving him tonight, or six months from now, made the backs of her eyes sting and her stomach knot almost painfully. They were playing with fire. She knew it, and he had to know it, too.

  At that, she finally pulled away. He was so handsome that she had to blink a few times to clear her head. It was swimming with desire, with longing, her knees still trembling from the kiss. She was in deep. Very, very deep, and the realization was growing stronger with every ragged breath she took.

  He reached up and cupped her face in both hands, running his thumbs across her cheeks. “I’m not gonna lie,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve been wanting to do that forever.”

  She wasn’t going to tell him how much she’d been wanting it, too. She was going to regain her composure and protect what was left of her heart. Only, even as she thought it, she couldn’t help but close her eyes at the feel of his calloused fingers against her skin. He touched her like she was made of glass, like she was beautiful and something to cherish. She’d never been touched like this before. She certainly hadn’t felt like this before.

  She opened her eyes again and gazed up at him, so many thoughts tumbling around in her head, that she was having trouble catching just one.

  “Say something, honey,” he said quietly.

  And the fact that he’d just called her that, made her want to cry.

  She shook her head, looking over at the fire for a few seconds until the ache in her throat had eased. When she looked back, her eyes felt bright, glassy.

  “When my dad left,” she said, “it planted a seed in me.”

  He nodded, watching her, his eyes mirroring the expression on her face. Somber, quiet.

  “I’ve let that seed grow over the years,” she continued. “I’ve nurtured it by not trusting people, by keeping myself guarded and alone…”

  She let her voice trail off then.

  “You don’t have to explain.” He reached for her hand. Squeezing it gently, he ran his thumb over her knuckles. “I have the same seed in me. Maybe I’ve had more relationships than you; maybe I’ve jumped into bed with more people. But I’m shit when it comes to opening up. Because people leave, right? They always leave.”

  She gazed up at him. Loving him right then, and knowing that was ridiculous, because people didn’t fall in love this easy. But the feeling was as real as anything she’d ever experienced, and at that moment, she wasn’t up to fighting it. She just wanted to let it wash over her, like a warm, sparkling wave.

  “Do you think you’ll try and find your mom?” she asked.

  He was quiet, and for a second, she worried that she’d broken the spell. That he’d shut down, and she’d shut down, too. Because that was the safest thing to do. The smartest thing.

  But then he nodded. “I might,” he said. “And I never thought I’d say that.”

  “I never thought I’
d end up in Marietta, either. There was a time when I didn’t think I’d ever want to see my dad again. But here I am.” She smiled up at him. “I’m probably the last person who should be giving advice on forgiveness, because I still have a long way to go. But letting my dad back into my life was one of the best things I ever did.”

  “You think it’d be like that for me…”

  “I’m not sure. But I do know if you try and find her, you shouldn’t do it for her. Or even for the chance of a relationship with her. You should do it for you, Porter.”

  He nodded, and they were quiet. Each lost in their own thoughts.

  “Hey,” he said, suddenly. “It’s been a long night. Are you hungry?”

  She was starving. And was now convinced he could read her mind. Which was dangerous.

  “Actually,” she said, “I am.”

  “Me, too. There’s some leftover brick oven pizza in the fridge. One of Daisy’s specialties. Do you like pepperoni?”

  “I love pepperoni.”

  He reached up and brushed her hair away from her face. It was the kind of thing a lover did. A boyfriend did. And before Justine could rein her heart in, it swelled.

  “Why don’t you sit down and get comfortable?” he said. “I’ll run Cat’s things out to him and make sure he’s okay. Check on Abby and the foal. Then I’ll warm up some pizza for us and we can have a glass of wine by the fire. Sound good?”

  Justine didn’t trust herself to speak. Her emotions were running too high, and she was falling too fast. Instead, she nodded, biting the inside of her cheek.

  “Okay. Be right back.”

  She watched him head to the door, and open it into the grumpy storm. And then he was gone, disappearing into the autumn night like a ghost.

  Looking over at the fire, she sank down onto the couch and ran her fingertips over her lips. They were still tingling. She could still smell his warm, spicy scent on her hands, could still feel him against her skin.

  She sighed. Then leaned back against the soft, leather cushions, and decided to enjoy the moment.

  Even if it wouldn’t last.