The Montana Cowboy's Heart

by Kaylie Newell

  Porter sat in the driver’s seat of his truck, the engine running to keep the cab warm. Justine sat next to him; her face illuminated by the lights on the dash.

  They’d stopped talking a few minutes ago and were lost in their own thoughts. Porter was still having a hard time believing that tonight, he’d be sitting across from his mother for the first time in twenty years. Able to ask the questions that had plagued him since boyhood. Able to finally tell her what lay in his heart.

  He ground his teeth together. Before, when he’d told Griffin why he was doing this, it had seemed clearer. He’d felt more resolute. Here, now, with the heater blowing against his face, and Justine sitting beside him, he wasn’t so sure.

  Since finding his mom a week ago, they’d emailed back and forth. Just surface things, like what they did for a living, what kind of places they’d been on vacation. Things you might talk about with someone that you were waiting at a bus stop with. He hadn’t gone deeper, figuring they’d get there soon enough anyway. But now he had to wonder from the tone of those emails, if she was planning on digging into the stuff that really mattered. Why she’d left. And if she’d missed her boys at all over the years.

  Justine reached out and put her hand on his thigh. He hadn’t thought about asking her to come. He just assumed he’d be doing this by himself, since asking for help had never been his strong suit. But having her along had filled him with a quiet sense of strength that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to articulate if he tried.

  Instead, he wrapped his fingers around hers and looked over. She smiled, her eyes full of warmth.

  “How are you doing?” she asked.

  He glanced at the clock on the dash. Almost time. His mom had told him what she’d be wearing—a white wool coat and tan slacks. But he knew he’d recognize her anyway. Her face was burned into his memory. Into his heart.

  “I’m okay,” he said. “A little nervous, I guess. But okay.”

  “Are you sure you want me to come? I can stay in the truck if that’s easier.”

  “No, I want you there.”

  He leaned over and kissed her softly, desire stirring in his chest.

  “Ready?” he asked, leaning away again.

  “Ready.”

  They climbed out of the truck into the gritty fall evening. It was foggy, the mist settling around the Italian restaurant, making it look more like an apparition than a place to eat.

  Inside, they were shown to a table by the window that looked out over the murky shops across the street.

  Porter settled into his seat and looked at his watch again. Five thirty on the dot. He glanced around the restaurant, making sure they hadn’t missed her walking in.

  Justine shrugged her jacket off and draped it over the back of her chair. She was wearing a pale pink cardigan with little pearl buttons on the front. Her dark hair hung in loose ringlets past her collarbone, and her skin looked soft and translucent in the flickering candlelight.

  “May I get you two something to drink?” the waiter asked.

  “I’ll have a glass of white wine, please,” Justine said.

  “And I’ll have a beer. Whatever you have on tap. We might need a little time before we order. We’re expecting someone else.”

  “Certainly.”

  The waiter disappeared, leaving them alone again.

  Justine reached out and took his hand. “Just think,” she said. “In a few weeks, Cat will be doing this.”

  Porter smiled, but it felt tight. He’d been thinking the exact same thing. And wondering more and more how smart that was. He was a grown man, and this meeting was making him feel like he was going to be sick all over his boots. He could only guess how an eleven-year-old would handle it.

  Justine looked around. “She said five thirty?”

  “Yup.”

  They were quiet as she tucked her hands back in her lap. They both knew tonight was a roll of the dice.

  The waiter came back with their drinks, and Porter picked his beer up gratefully, taking a long gulp before setting it down again.

  The front door opened and they looked over, but it was a little old man in an overcoat and a fedora.

  Porter sat back in his chair. He felt like he wanted to crawl right out of his skin.

  “She never called herself mom,” he finally said, his voice low.

  “What?”

  He rubbed his thumb over the condensation on his mug and studied the trail of clarity it made on the glass.

  “She never said mom. In her emails. When she signed off, she said Christina.” He looked up. “Don’t you think that’s strange?”

  Justine thought about this, her mouth curving into a frown.

  “Maybe she was trying to be respectful,” she said. “Maybe she thought she’d lost that right.”

  “Maybe. But it felt more significant than that.” He looked at his watch again. She was twenty minutes late. But in reality, she was more like two decades late.

  Justine watched him, her eyes sad. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to sit here with you and have a nice dinner. I want to drink my beer, and talk, and not think about how Griffin was probably right. How this was probably a big mistake.”

  “She might just be running late. Maybe it’s the weather, or she had car problems…”

  Porter felt his shoulders stiffen at the excuses. He didn’t want to give his mother any more excuses. He was done with those.

  “She’s not running late,” he said. “She’s not coming.”

  And even though it was plausible that she might still walk through the door, he knew then that she wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel. Foolish? Hurt? Furious? Maybe all of the above. But mostly, he just felt tired.

  Justine worried her bottom lip with her teeth. It was obvious she wanted to say something, but there was nothing left to say. He’d known what kind of woman his mother was, and just because several years had passed, he hadn’t expected that she’d changed fundamentally. This stung, but it wasn’t a surprise.

  “Hey,” he said. “It’s okay. Really.”

  She didn’t look convinced. In fact, her eyes were a little too bright, her face a little too flushed.

  A distinctive heat crept up his neck, and he recognized it immediately as anger. So, that was the emotion that was going to push its way to the front of the line. He didn’t fight it. Just sat there, letting it wash over him. Anger at his mother. Anger at her selfishness. Anger at himself for having any kind of hope that she might want to see him again. It wasn’t okay. None of it was okay. And that was just something he was going to have to learn to live with. To get past, once and for all. But without any answers from his mother. Without any reckoning from her.

  The waiter stopped at their table again, looking hesitant. Probably sensing the tension in the air.

  “Do you folks need a little more time?”

  Porter gazed over at Justine. Time. If he had all the time in the world, would he ever have anything to offer a woman like her? Would he ever be whole enough to try?

  She smiled from across the table. “Yes, please,” she said.

  *

  Justine watched Porter step up to the window and pull the curtain back. The view was supposed to be overlooking downtown Boise, but the fog made it nearly impossible to see across the street. It cloaked the city in its eerie gray, the mist creeping past the hotel window like something alive. She shivered, even though they’d turned up the heat a few minutes ago.

  Porter stood there staring outside as if he didn’t see any of it. He’d been quiet since they’d left the restaurant, only answering her in short, clipped sentences. He was lost in thought, that was obvious. But she didn’t know what to say to bring him back to her.

  She got up from the bed and walked over, her footsteps quiet on the plush carpet. She knew he was wrestling with this. It didn’t matter if you were fourteen or forty, she thought. The loss of a parent still hurt the same.

  “Porter…”


  He balled the curtain in his fist, and then let it go slowly, deliberately. It fell back into place, cutting the room off from the light outside the window.

  “Yeah.” He didn’t turn around.

  “You can talk to me,” she said. She stepped up behind him but didn’t touch him like she wanted to. She knew he would have to be the one to invite her into his thoughts tonight. Into his heart.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For you coming all the way here. I thought it would be more of a satisfying trip. I sure as hell thought I might be in a better place with all of this.”

  She stared at the back of his head. She longed to reach up and run her fingertips down the nape of his neck. To trace his wide, muscular shoulders over his denim shirt. To turn him around and take his handsome face in her hands.

  But she didn’t. Yes, he needed to be the one to reach for her, for a lot of reasons. But she also knew that she couldn’t reach for him because of her own fear. What if she let herself fall the rest of the way, and he didn’t feel the same? What if he left her before she could leave him? All questions that were mired in old heartache and bitterness. She just couldn’t stop thinking about her mother, and how she’d been absolutely broken after her dad left. Justine didn’t want that to happen to her. As many feelings as she had for Porter, she was also fighting them every step of the way. Out of pure self-preservation.

  As if reading her mind, he finally turned around. His face was bathed in shadow, the scruff on his jaw making him look dark and moody. His gaze found hers and pinned her in place.

  “Why are you here?” he asked quietly.

  Her heart was beating so hard, she could feel it thumping in her ears. Pounding out a rhythm that was like the ticking of a clock. Why was she here? It was an honest question, and one that she shouldn’t have trouble answering, yet she did. Why was it so hard to tell someone how you felt about them? Why was it so hard to learn how to trust again? She needed to get to that place. She needed to find herself in all of this. To find her strength.

  Licking her lips, she looked down at her hands. They were shaking. Her mother had never found her own strength.

  When she looked up at Porter again, her stomach was curled into a tight little ball.

  “Why did I come here…” she said.

  He nodded, watching her, then reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. So tenderly, so sweetly. She’d found herself wondering over the years if men were even capable of such things. Or if they just faked it to get what they wanted. She wondered if the sweetness they offered would always be conditional or would have an expiration date. There certainly was for her poor mother.

  But something about Porter Cole had opened her eyes to another kind of possibility. Another kind of man altogether. One who didn’t inflict pain, at least not on purpose. And one who might not leave. At least not right away.

  The realization made her take a step closer.

  “I came here because I’m falling in love with you, Porter,” she said, her voice catching. “That’s why.”

  He stared down at her. In the hallway, someone walked by, jingling their keys. It was a stark reminder that the world beyond the two of them was still spinning, still functioning in its ordinary ways. Despite how Porter would respond to what she’d just said, the sun would still come up tomorrow in the east and go down in the west.

  “You love me…” he said, letting his voice trail off.

  She nodded. She didn’t trust herself to say anything more. Besides, she didn’t really need to say anything more. Loving him just about summed it up.

  He swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, then put his hands in his pockets. “I guess this is the part where I remind you that neither one of us is looking for a relationship right now. And that you’re leaving in a few months anyway.”

  “You could remind me of that,” she said, forcing her chin up. “But I already know.”

  “And that we both have some fairly significant hang-ups.”

  “That’s true.”

  “And you’re still falling in love with me.”

  “Basically.”

  The expression on his face was unreadable. She was shaking so hard now, she was sure he’d be able to see from where he stood. Telling him how she felt had taken a certain amount of faith that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to conjure up again. But no matter what happened, she was glad she’d said it. She had to learn how to take a chance, how to love again, or she’d end up locked behind her own stupid walls forever.

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin, and then sighed, turning away from her. He stared out the window, and she was struck again by how handsome he was. How dark and brooding he could be.

  “Well, I could say the same, Justine. I could tell you that I was falling in love with you, too. But it also wouldn’t be fair to either one of us.”

  She had to remind herself to breathe. Had to swallow the aching lump in her throat. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re leaving.” He turned to look down at her again. “Next summer you’ll be gone. And I don’t want you to have any guilt about that. You decided to move overseas for a reason. It’s a big deal for you. It’d be a big deal for anyone. But I have to be honest here, too…”

  She balled her hands into fists, trying to concentrate on the sting of her nails biting into her palms, over the throbbing in her heart. “Okay…”

  “I’m not up for this,” he said quietly. “I thought I was. I thought I was okay with being casual with you. But tonight…all of this. It’s reminded of me who I really am. I’ve been alone all this time for a reason.”

  She willed her chin not to tremble, but it did anyway.

  “Nothing good would come of it, Justine,” he said. “Only pain.”

  Nodding, she took a step back. She was surprised her legs were holding her up at all. What had she expected, anyway? That he’d end up proposing? She knew what she was getting herself into the second she’d kissed him. He’d never lied to her.

  “I thought I was prepared for my mom not showing up tonight,” he continued, his voice hoarse. “I mean, the woman has been a no-show my entire life. But I opened myself up for this…this disappointment, even though I knew better. I knew how it would feel if she pulled this shit. I’ve been telling myself that taking a chance on her would help me move on, and there’s some truth to that. But the entire truth, is that I wanted to take a chance on her. I wanted it to work out.”

  He blinked down at her, and for one horrible second, she didn’t think she could stand the look in his eyes. The pain there, the heartache. Not when she was fending off her own heartache. They really were a match made in hell.

  “Do you see what I’m saying?” he continued. “Am I making any sense?”

  She nodded again. Perfect sense. Painful, awful, perfect sense.

  “You leaving in a few months wouldn’t just disappoint me,” he said. “It would break my damn heart. I know that, it’s a fact. Just like I knew what might happen with my mom. The only difference is, you and I can stop this now, and save ourselves a lot of grief in the long run.”

  He was right. Of course he was. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was the most sensible thing. Would she be prepared to cancel her move to Europe for an affair that would only be a few months old when it was time to leave? This teaching job was something she’d dreamed of for years. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And before she could help it, she wondered if Porter Cole was also a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  She touched her temple at a sudden pounding there.

  He frowned. “Say something.”

  “I understand. I do. There needs to be a balance in life, right? Taking risks, with being realistic…. We’d be a big risk.”

  He pulled in a breath like he was about to answer. But didn’t. For a second, she wondered if he was telling her how he honestly felt. But then she pushed the question away where it couldn’t spark and sta
rt some kind of fire inside of her.

  No, better to follow his lead on this. It didn’t mean she’d never be brave with her heart again. It just meant that right now, at this precise moment in time, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

  “I wouldn’t ever want to be a mistake for you,” he said quietly. “You deserve more.”

  She didn’t know about deserving more, but she wanted more, that was for sure. But people didn’t always get what they wanted. That was life. Right now, that was her life.

  “You’d never be a mistake, Porter,” she said. “No matter what.”

  He pulled her into his arms. It felt different now. Like he was holding a part of himself back, which, she guessed he was. But he was warm and solid, and she lay her head against his chest, grateful for what he was offering.

  Without saying anything else, he kissed the top of her head. She closed her eyes, taking it in. Taking it all in, before they did the sensible thing and moved onto friendship where there wouldn’t be any more kisses on the lips.

  And even though they were doing this to avoid broken hearts, Justine’s broke just the same.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Porter leaned against the round pen, watching Cat brush the leggy black colt. Wookiee was turning out to be a precocious little thing, which matched Cat’s personality to a tee. He kept trying to grab Cat’s jacket in his teeth, a game he’d learned from his mama.

  Cat sidestepped expertly. This was good for both of them. Cat was learning how to handle baby animals, and Wookiee was learning how to be handled. Win, win.

  Grabbing the foal by his halter, Cat ran the brush down his back. “I think he likes it.”

  “I know he likes it. Keep doing what you’re doing. He’ll learn how to be a horse from Abby, but he’ll figure out his relationship with humans from us. It’s really important that he get a lot of positive interactions from the beginning.”

  It was a cold day—blustery, making the freckles stand out on Cat’s ruddy cheeks. He’d gained a little weight over the last few weeks, that was obvious. He and Justine had made a habit out of coming out to the ranch for dinners, and Daisy decided early on that Cat would be her pet project. She loved to cook, but even more than that, she loved watching people enjoy her cooking. Especially growing boys who might need a few extra calories here and there.