Montana Rescue (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 2) (8 page)

The commercial ended again, and she hit “Mute.” She brought her cell phone up and scrolled through the contacts until she found the number Nick had entered the first day she’d given him a lift.

Nick.

He hadn’t even bothered with his last name. She tapped the screen to bring up the number, thinking about why he’d given it to her. He’d offered to be someone she could talk to.

Of course, he’d been attracted to her, too. She’d known that. But she didn’t think that had been the full impetus for the phone number. He’d genuinely come across as if he’d be an impartial ear if she ever needed one. And hadn’t she already shared things with him? She’d talked about Thomas at his house the other day. A conversation that had felt right.

But did she want to share more? To try to get past this wall she was stuck behind?

Or did she just want more sex?

Her heart rate picked up at the thought of letting someone in, either physically or mentally. She liked to claim that she could handle everything on her own. That help was the last thing she needed. But eighteen months had passed, and until Friday night she’d been in the exact same spot she’d been since the accident. And even in her messed-up state, she could admit that
that
was not a good place to linger.

She studied the phone number for a minute longer before clearing the screen and setting her cell down. Then she opened the drawer of the end table. There was one picture of Thomas she hadn’t packed away, and she kept it there. She hadn’t looked at it since tucking it inside, but she took it out now, still in its black matte frame. Thomas stood beside her in the picture, his arm around her shoulders, both of them beaming with pride. Their helicopter sat immediately behind them. They’d just returned from their first search and rescue mission. They hadn’t located the missing hikers themselves, but they’d played a part in the couple’s lives being saved. And that had been the key. They’d been following their dreams. Together. They’d been unstoppable.

She glanced out the back door to where the aircraft sat waiting in the distance, its red-and-white colors a sharp contrast against the green of the emerging foliage. The sun glinted off the windshield, as if it were winking at her. Or maybe it was asking why she’d changed. She still took it up most days. That wouldn’t alter; she loved to fly too much. No one would take that away from her.

But she
hadn’t
participated in an SAR mission since losing Thomas. And the blame for that one was on him.

For the two days since returning from Great Falls, Nick had gotten up early to get in a ninety-minute workout at the local gym, had showered, eaten breakfast, and had taken care of whatever needed to be seen to on the farm that day. He’d then driven into town for a late lunch. Afterward, he’d returned home and either walked the empty halls of the house or found himself sitting on the boat dock “contemplating.” And what he’d ended up contemplating, every single time, had been Harper.

He hadn’t heard from her since he’d left her room Friday night.

He wasn’t worried that something might be wrong with her, because honestly, she was the most self-sufficient woman he’d ever met. She could handle herself just fine. But he
was
still concerned, seeing as she’d run in the opposite direction any time she’d caught sight of him Saturday.

What did she think? That he’d rush over and demand a do-over?

Or was her avoidance more in line with what he kept telling himself? That she hadn’t needed sex. That his sleeping with her had possibly hurt more than helped.

That she regretted the act.

Up until the moment, he’d been wondering if she’d been with anyone since losing her husband. Then she’d come out of her bathroom, and he’d convinced himself that she had. That sleeping with others wasn’t an odd occurrence for her. However, her behavior afterward—her closing herself off and kicking him out—had told a different story. Yet, she’d slept with him.

Why?

And why did he keep replaying those few seconds before she’d taken him into her mouth, and asking himself if he’d really seen a flash of anger at that point?

He dragged a hand over his face and shut down the accounting files he was once again sorting through. He should have stopped it. Should have walked out. And he shouldn’t have let her get away with ignoring him the next day.

It ripped him apart to think that she’d been sitting around all weekend regretting being with him.

With an irritated grunt, he pulled out his cell and found her number. He’d gotten it when she’d flown him back to get his truck. He pressed “Send” before he changed his mind, and after four rings, Harper’s voice came on the line. It was a business greeting. With mounting frustration, he tossed the phone onto the desk and stood to pace the room. When the phone began to chirp two minutes later, he raced back to get it.

“Hello.” He held his breath.

“I saw that you called.” Harper’s voice came out timid. Which kicked him in the back of the knees.

“Do you regret it?” he blurted out. Then he closed his eyes in disgust. He sounded so needy. “I just mean, we didn’t do anything wrong. You know that, right? I know you—” He stopped the words, not wanting to presume he knew how she felt. “I’m pretty sure this was the first time for you,” he said instead. “
Since.
And I—”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted.

He waited. Her words had been too clipped.

When she didn’t say anything else, he pressed on. “I think we should talk.”

“We don’t need to talk. And no, I don’t regret it.”

“Good. Because you shouldn’t.” He wanted to point out that the way she’d run him from her room implied otherwise. And the way she’d avoided him the following day had only backed it up. But he kept the words to himself. He paced to the far wall, stopping in front of the framed college degrees earned by each of his siblings. His sister had hung those in here. The study had always been the one room holding less of his mother’s presence and more of the rest of them.

He eyed each document—six kids, five degrees—and at Harper’s continued silence, kept his mouth firmly closed, determined for her to be the next one to speak.

Only, instead of words, a soft sigh finally sounded in his ear. That was close enough.

“Let me take you out,” he suggested.

“I don’t want to go on a date, Nick.”

“I don’t mean a date. Just out. Just fun.” He waited two seconds before pushing ahead with the idea. “Come on. I’m stuck here on the farm by myself every day. Help a man out.” He smiled, hoping she could feel it. “I know you’re adventurous. How about bungee jumping?”

He hadn’t bungee jumped in years, and wasn’t sure there was even a place around that still did it.

“I don’t—”

“Ice climbing?” he interrupted. “There’s still enough ice on the higher peaks.” Now that he’d had the idea, he wouldn’t let it go. He wanted to spend time with her. “Name your poison. I know you want to. Bull riding? You really should prove to me that you can stay on for eight seconds, you know? I’m not saying you lied, but . . .”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Then prove it.” He smiled again.

“No.”

He didn’t let her rejection deter him. “Sky diving?”

Dead silence hit the space between them, and he felt immediately ill.

“Harper.” The heat of horror filled him. That’s how her husband had died. He thumped his head against the wall. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t thi—”

“BASE jumping.” All emotion disappeared from her voice. “I have a free day tomorrow.”

“BASE jumping?” Crap. He wasn’t actually sure
he
had the balls for that. He’d hang glided plenty of times, had even cliff dived. Once. But he’d yet to have the desire to jump off a tall structure with nothing but a wind suit to get him down.

“Unless you’re too scared,” she taunted. Her words landed hard. Not teasing like he was used to.

“I’m not too scared,” he began slowly. Would he have to BASE jump to make up for reminding her of the accident with Thomas? “Harper, really. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Lucky for you there’re no legal places to jump nearby,” she interrupted. “And I’m not in the mood to fly to Idaho and back tomorrow.” She chuckled, but the sound fell flat. “Therefore, your little-boy fear can rest safely and comfortably for the time being. But if we’re going to do something,” she continued, and finally the hard edge to her voice broke, “then I want to break a sweat. How about rock climbing?”

“Deal,” he agreed before she could change her mind.

“I have all the equipment we’ll need.”

“Even better. So tomorrow, then? You and me.”

She went silent once more, and he held his breath. Waiting. He knew his faux pas had hurt her. He would do anything to take it back.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed. “But it is
not
a date. It’s two friends hanging out.”

“Hey, wasn’t friendship all I requested to begin with?”

“Not a date,” she repeated.

“Agreed.” Friendship was a better plan, anyway. “Can I pick you up?”

“I’ll come to your house.”

She named a time and he agreed. “I’ll see you then.”

After they hung up, he once again paced the length of the room. It wasn’t a date—he was in complete agreement on that. But that didn’t keep him from reliving his body stretched out alongside hers. His body entering hers.

Good Lord, she’d been magnificent.

It might have been a onetime thing, but it was one time he’d never forget.

A car pulled up outside, interrupting his visual of Harper’s lean body striding across the room toward him, and when he glanced out the windows, he saw that it was his sister. He’d talked to Dani a couple of times since he’d been home, but she’d been heavily involved in a work project and hadn’t had the time to meet up.

After she exited her car, she went around to the other side and opened the back door, and a thrill rushed through Nick. She’d brought her stepdaughter with her. Haley was great. Nick had met the five-year-old last summer when she’d stayed here at the house, then he’d spent additional time with her over the holidays after her father and Dani had gotten together. And he’d totally fallen in love with the little girl.

He headed out to greet them. With a non-date with Harper lined up for tomorrow, and hopefully a fun afternoon with Dani and Haley today, his boredom was suddenly taking a backseat.

Chapter Eight

I
t was late the following afternoon, and Nick found himself sweating, starving, and feeling more than a little worse for wear, yet Harper—who was about sixty-five feet up from him and currently swinging by one hand out over a steep drop—looked as if they’d only just started their day. The woman was a machine.

Her left hand made contact with the rock she’d been reaching for, which was immediately followed by her foot arching through the air and landing right beside her fingers. She scaled the side of the canyon like a freaking monkey, and Nick had to admit that he was impressed—though he’d also been stripped of air more than once during the day. She was too risky. Of course, when he’d mentioned that
maybe
she could plant an anchor a bit closer than every twenty feet, or that she could, just once, take the more traveled route instead of scaling the steepest part of the canyon face, she’d scoffed.

But he was right. She was pushing limits for no good reason.

He wiped sweat from his brow as he pulled his gaze back from her leggings-clad legs, and he once again set himself into motion. He’d stopped to catch his breath on a barely there ledge, but with the two of them attached, he knew she’d soon be tossing out taunts if his inaction held her up.

After progressing another twenty-five feet, he had the sudden sensation of being watched, and he looked up. Though he couldn’t make out her features due to the brightness of the sky behind her, he
could
tell that she had her eyes on him.

“You tired yet?” she shouted down.

He’d gotten there two hours ago. “Not even close.”

She laughed and turned one hand loose, letting her body hang in midair, and Nick refocused on the rock in front of him. He began to climb again, reminding himself that she was safe. Relatively. She was harnessed in, and he’d seen the protection point she’d planted right beside her hip. If her hand slipped off the rock at that very moment, she wouldn’t go far. Pretty much the distance of the slack in the rope between them. And as the second climber, he’d seen to it that the slack remained short.

He gritted his teeth as he swung out himself, similarly to how she’d done earlier, then grunted as his body made contact with more of the rock than he’d intended. It had definitely been too long since he’d done this.

Again, a light trill of laughter rained down from above.

Hanging by his fingers and the toes of a pair of Nate’s climbing shoes Nick had found at the house, he once again looked up. Harper had stopped just above where she’d been the last time he’d seen her, putting the two of them closer together than he’d expected. He squinted into the light. “You think you’re tougher than me, do you?”

She gave him a sexy smirk. “I do think I’m pretty tough.”

And she definitely was.

He continued his climb, encouraged to up the speed when he realized she’d found a decent resting spot and was waiting on him. When he finally crested the ridge, he was out of breath and he couldn’t hide it, but there was no way he’d admit the level of pleading the muscles in his arms and shoulders were doing, begging for him to stop.

“You’re definitely tough,” he told her as he hoisted himself over the edge. She stood several feet back, one spandex-covered arm gripping the trunk of a small tree protruding from the rock above her head and her gear and dangling from her harness. She looked completely in her element. He dropped to the ground with an exhausted sigh and bumped his head against the rock behind him. “But I’m tougher,” he finished on a whisper.

And as he’d hoped, her laughter filled the air. Today had been good for her. She’d smiled and laughed a lot, and he’d not once seen anything more focused than a look of determination pass through her eyes.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that to me while you’re sitting at my feet.” Her statement was followed by the sound of a zipper, and Nick cracked open his now-closed eyes. A protein bar appeared in his face.

With a grunt of thanks, he took it.

She pulled out another and lowered to sit beside him, and as she leaned back, he heard a soft grunt of her own. And this time, it was him that chuckled.

“You hide it well, don’t you?”

“Hide what?” She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun.

“The fact that you’re probably as exhausted as I am. You’d rather pretend you could keep going without a break.”

“I could keep going without a break.”

He eyed her. “So this stop is all for me?”

She turned to him then, and her hazel gaze locked onto his. He had no clue what thoughts ran through her head. Finally, she looked away and broke off a chunk off her bar. “I could use something to eat,” she explained. “And this is a good spot.”

He didn’t laugh at her refusal to admit she’d been caught. Instead, he veered to a new topic. “Do you come to this canyon often?”

He’d never been on this climb himself, though he’d participated in his own share of the sport over the years, usually over in Bozeman.

“A few times,” she answered. “There’s a group of people we’ve—I’ve—been climbing with for years. Not just on this mountain, but all around. I hook up with them enough to stay in shape for it.”

At least she didn’t routinely go on her own. Though if Nick were to bet, he’d say that wasn’t unheard of, either. He’d gotten the sense, after watching her all morning, that if she could heighten the risk, she would do it. “When we start up again, do think you could behave a little better?” he asked now.

She looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Quit being such a daredevil. If you slip and fall between anchors, I won’t be able to protect you.”

Her gaze went cold. “I don’t recall requesting your protection.”

“You know what I mean. I’m too far away. Not to mention your falling will pull me off my feet. That’ll make it even harder for me to get to you.”

“I don’t need taking care of, Nick. I never asked—”

“I’m not saying—”

“Then stop talking.”

Her words were harsh, and they stung. So he tilted his head back to stare at the sky. Anger radiated off her, but he had plenty of his own to deal with, too. Granted, he probably shouldn’t have brought it up. It was her business if she wanted to kill herself or not. But hell, he was just trying to help. He’d been thinking of
her
.

The day had been going well, though, and he really didn’t want that to change. So he did what he’d grown up watching his father do, and what his oldest brother
still
did, and he buried his arguments.

“My apologies.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke—he felt like a sap. “I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t handle things on your own.”

She didn’t respond, and when she remained quiet for far too long, he finally peeked over at her. He really did hope he hadn’t ruined her mood. She’d been having such a good time. But she didn’t look angry now. Instead she was studying him with a critical eye. “You put up a good show of being the carefree rodeo star, wooing women and smiling for the cameras, but that’s not the real you, is it?”

“Of course it’s the real me.”

She shook her head. “You’re a worrier. Your heart is much softer than you let on.”

He frowned. His heart was not soft. But she had him on the worrying part. And though few recognized that fact about him, he appreciated that she’d looked close enough to notice. Since he didn’t want to be angry with her for the rest of the day, he pushed their previous spat from his mind and went with her change of subject. “I do worry,” he admitted. “Too much sometimes.”

“The other night, you kept asking . . .”

She quit talking, her gaze flicking away as embarrassment suddenly colored her cheeks.

But he knew exactly what she’d been about to say. He’d been worried about her Friday night. He had loved what they’d been doing, but at the same time he’d been cautious. Wanting to ensure it was what she’d
wanted
to be doing.

When she continued not looking at him, he let the subject drop, and they both spent the next several minutes in silence. He focused on the view. What lay before them was the beauty that was Montana. The Rockies required respect, and in return they provided surreal views and a calming effect on the soul. Mountain ranges as far as the eyes could see, snow-covered peaks touching the sky, emerging grass coming to life farther below. And hovering over all of it were soft clouds and the bluest blue he’d ever seen. He couldn’t live without this.

“I love Montana,” he stated. He rubbed his palms over his thighs, today’s calluses scratching against his nylon pants. “
This
is why I don’t want to join the PBR. I wouldn’t get to breathe in Montana any time I wanted.”

Harper looked at him, surprise on her face. “I’d wondered why you’d never joined.”

“So you’ve thought about me over the years, then?” He wiggled his brows teasingly, his own embarrassment now climbing. He hadn’t meant to speak his thoughts out loud.

“Don’t let your head swell, big guy. A big-time champ from my hometown, a guy who used to
lust
after me with all the efforts a small boy could muster?” She gave him a smug smile. “Yeah, I’ve wondered about you. I’m sure everyone around here has.”

“I wasn’t
that
small,” he complained. But his teenage heart skipped at the idea of her thinking about him.

“We’re not getting into the size of your balls again, are we? Because I suspect that at that age . . .” She dipped her gaze to his crotch then, before seeming to struggle to bring it back up. Laughter remained in her eyes, but heat now sizzled there, as well. She didn’t finish her sentence.

“It was dark the other night.” His voice lowered, turning scratchy. “You might not have been able to see well enough to get a good look, but I’m no teenager these days.” He locked his gaze on hers. “Want a better look?”

Her breathing quickened . . . but then she glanced away. He groaned.

“Not a date,” he grumbled. “I know. And that was not an appropriate thing to say to a friend. I swear, I’m trying like hell not to flirt with you out here. It’s just that you’re so . . .”

Her eyes slid back to his, and he saw curiosity there. She wanted to hear what he had to say. Yet he struggled to put to words what it was about her that got him so fired up. She was fun, hot, needy—whether she wanted to admit her neediness or not—and he knew without a doubt that he could drown in her body for days and still want more.

The corners of her mouth finally softened. “No apology necessary. Really. I was the one to bring up your . . .” Her glance once again landed in his lap, and Nick went as hard as the rock they sat on. But hell, the woman had to quit looking at his junk.

They both ignored the addition of the third attendee begging to join their party on the ledge, and she pulled out her water bottle and passed it over to him—as if knowing he’d finished his a while back. It really chapped his ass that she was in better shape at this than he was.

“Thanks,” he muttered, but he only took a sip.

“You can have more.”

“I’ll survive without it.” They still had another pitch to climb, and though he’d probably regret not being more hydrated before they got to the top, he would
not
sit there and drink all of her water. He passed the bottle back and let his thoughts wander back to Harper. This might
not
be a date, but it had certainly felt like one since the minute he’d gotten out of bed that morning. Or since he’d put his head to his pillow the night before.

Of course, when she’d arrived and informed him that
she
would be the one driving today—because her jeep was already packed with the gear—that had stripped away some of his steam. He wasn’t used to a woman taking charge quite the way she did. But he also found that he didn’t hate it.

So he’d climbed in beside her, and he’d made sure to keep his thoughts platonic. Mostly. Yet the sexual tension had lurked under the surface all day. It wasn’t easy to have sex with someone and then act as if it had never happened.

He turned to her. “Want to talk about it?”

She grimaced. “Friday night?”

He nodded but said nothing. This was up to her. She’d slept with someone other than her husband, and that had to weigh heavy on her. If she didn’t want to talk about it, he’d let it drop.

When her lips parted as if to speak, he pressed his tightly shut. Her eyes flared for a second, before she shook her head and grim determination appeared on her face. “I am
not
going to feel guilty that we slept together,” she said.

“Good.”

“My husband is gone. It might not be the way things were supposed to be, but it’s today’s reality.” She swallowed and then licked her lips. “And I’m not going to apologize for kicking you out, either.”

“Even better.” He bit back a smile.

“And I had a really good time,” she finished with a whisper.

Relief hit him hard. “I did, too.”

After a few moments of the suddenly easier silence, he gave her a crooked smile. “In fact, I’d be willing to have a really good time again if you ever wanted to.”

She snorted. “I think once was enough. I got the chance to blow off some steam, you know?” She nodded with bolstered confidence. “So yeah. I’m good. Once was enough.”