Smolder (Firefighters of Montana Book 1) (5 page)

“I’m going over there to mend a professional relationship that got off on the wrong foot, nothing more,” she said as she stood up, not giving her friends the time to challenge her words. But when she turned around, he was gone. She swung forward just in time to see his sexy ass retreating out The Drop Zone’s front door.

T
he quiet of
the barn was soothing following the rowdy atmosphere of the bar. Sam stood outside Tabitha’s stall listening to the hushed sounds of the horses dozing on their feet, punctuated occasionally by a snort and the rustle of shavings when one of them shifted position. The night air smelled clean and brisk, portending another chilly morning ahead, but the barn was snug and warm, just as Sam knew it would be. He should have just gone back to the small A-frame cabin he’d rented and unpacked the last few boxes—one of which likely contained his pair of gloves. Instead, he’d steered his truck toward the Whispering Breeze Ranch. He told himself he was only doing so to check on the mare.

Of course, he knew he was lying. Hell, even Tabitha likely knew it. A burger and a cold beer had done nothing to ease the restlessness that Wayne Keenan’s daughter had ignited within Sam’s long dormant libido. Seeing her at The Drop Zone had only made the problem worse. The untouchable vibe she gave off kept most of the male population in the bar from approaching her, but for Sam, her demeanor was like a red flag to a charging bull.

And he didn’t like the feeling one bit.

Sam had come to Montana to shake off the torrent of emotions that had been dogging him these past months, not to stir up new ones. He was generally a pretty even-tempered guy—cool under fire. The ability to keep his emotions under wraps was something he’d been known for throughout his military career. Of course, with everything that had gone on in his life the past year, he wasn’t as cool as he’d like to be. Tonight, he’d gone to the barn figuring that reconnecting with the one thing his late wife loved most would quell whatever was brewing inside of him.

So far, it wasn’t working.

Tabitha nuzzled Sam’s outstretched hand, presumably looking for a treat. When she found none, she turned a shoulder to him and let her eyelids drift shut. Sam wondered if the mare missed Becky; whether she, too, blamed him for taking her away. That familiar squeezing was back in his chest.

“Well, you can just get in line to hate me with everybody else,” he admonished the horse.

“You’re not a’pposed to be in here,” a voice said behind him, startling Sam.

He turned to find the little boy—Tyson—who’d been in the barn this morning. The boy was standing on a set of stairs that presumably led to a living area above. He was wearing a pair of Star Wars stormtrooper pajamas and red cowboy boots. His blue eyes were large against his rosy cheeks and damp, wavy brown hair. The tough guy expression he was trying to work his mouth into lost a lot of potency when Sam glanced down at the ragged stuffed animal Tyson had clutched against his chest.

“And I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be in bed,” Sam said.

Tyson’s chin jutted up as he stomped down the two remaining steps. The sound of his boots hitting the stone floor made a few of the horses stir. “I’m not some baby who goes to bed early. I have chores. I’m doing the night check.” He marched along the aisle, going from stall door to stall door, testing every latch to see if it was secure, all the while softly calling out a goodnight to the individual horses inside. Sam had to admire the boy’s pluck as he mimicked a drill he’d probably seen his grandfather or one of his parents perform many times before.

The boy stopped abruptly at a stall across from Tabitha’s and began fumbling with the lock. “What’s wrong, Tator Tot?” he asked as he tried and failed to get the stall door open. He pulled harder before turning to Sam with a desperate look on his face. “Can you help me, mister?”

Suddenly Sam was furious at Laurel and her husband for neglecting their son, leaving him unsupervised in a barn where anything could happen. He thought of the child Becky took with her to the grave and his anger grew. Sam reached for the latch just as Tyson had worked it open.

“You’re not going in there,” he told the boy. It was one thing to let Tyson play like he was an adult, but to whatever animal was inside that stall, he’d be a defenseless child.

Tyson’s lip began to quiver. “But I gotta make sure Tator Tot is okay.”

Sam cursed under his breath. For the second time that day, he had scared the poor kid. He peered over into the stall and nearly laughed out loud when he saw what Tyson was so concerned over. A miniature chestnut pony—so plump it looked more like a giant stuffed animal than a horse—was staring back at them beneath an abundant fringe of hair. The pony had somehow gotten his foot stuck in a narrow bucket. The scraping of the metal against the stone floor as it had tried to free himself had likely frightened Tator Tot into remaining frozen rather than lift its leg out.

Without thinking about it, Sam was in the stall, Tyson at his heels. He gently lifted the pony’s hoof out of the bucket before carefully inspecting its leg for any cuts and bruises. “He looks okay,” Sam reassured Tyson. “He must have pulled it down to get the rest of his grain out.”

“Oh, Tots, you silly thing.” Tyson brushed the long brown forelock out of the pony’s eyes. Tator Tot nickered gratefully before giving the boy a nudge. “He thinks he can do everything the bigger horses can,” Tyson said.

Crouching on his haunches beside the boy and his pony, Sam nodded. “There seems to be a lot of that going on around here.” He gestured with his head toward Tator Tot. “Is he yours?”

Tyson wrapped his arms around the small pony’s neck. “My daddy got him for me. He’s my ’sponsibility.”

A familiar feeling niggled within Sam. He’d once given a horse to someone he loved as a consolation prize. “Your daddy helps you out with him, though, right?”

The boy shook his head. “My daddy lives in Utah. He’s training for the ’lympics. After he wins another gold medal, he’s gonna come home, though,” Tyson said proudly. “And then we’re gonna be a real family.”

“Tyson Campbell Johnson.” Laurel’s voice shot through the barn, followed by her hurried footsteps. “What have I told you about sneaking out of your grandparents’ house at night?”

The boy snatched up the toy he’d absently discarded in the shavings. “I had to get Oreo’s lovie. He can’t sleep without it.”

Sam slowly stretched to his full height and turned to see Laurel behind them. Her face was etched with panic, but her eyes were sparkling with that familiar agitation.

“Which explains why the dog is sound asleep on the bed and you’re not.” She crooked a finger at her son. “Grandma is beside herself with worry. You know she can’t chase after you—especially when Grandpa isn’t home. You’re abusing your sleep-away privileges. If you can’t behave at Grandma’s, how can I let you spend the night at Cameron’s this weekend?”

Tyson tucked his chin and slowly shuffled out of the stall. “Night, Tator Tot,” he murmured contritely.

Sam followed him out, securing the stall door behind them. The pony gave it a swift kick in solidarity with its master.

“March,” Laurel commanded her son as she pointed toward the house. “Brush your teeth for a good solid minute and then I’ll be up to tuck you in.”

Head low, Tyson crept out of the barn.

The crisp night settled around them and Laurel’s green eyes flickered with surprise when they landed on Sam, as though she’d just realized he was also in the barn. Her cheeks were flushed and her breasts were heaving enticingly beneath the teal puffy coat that hugged her body. The long legs that had been tantalizing his thoughts all day were clad in tight, brown jeans, ending in a pair of those furry Australian boots women liked so much.

She’s taken
, Sam reminded the parts of him that were firing up at the sexy way her teeth were chewing on her lip.

“Your son seems to really care for his pets,” he said in an effort to fill the awkward silence that stretched between them.

Laurel grimaced as she wrapped her arms around herself. “He and his menagerie can be quite a handful.”

And then we’re going to be a real family
, Tyson had said.

Sam had lost his ‘real family’. And they weren’t coming back. The insane jealousy he felt was squeezing painfully in his chest. He needed air and he needed to be away from this woman.

“I’m sure you’ll be glad when his father gets back after the Olympics and can help you out.” Sam wasn’t sure why he said what he did or why he was even still standing there talking to her, but the look of shock and vulnerability that settled on her face was like a sucker punch to his gut.

“Is that what Tyson said?” She slumped against one of the pillars with a heavy sigh. “Dear Lord, he’s going to be crushed next weekend when his father tells him he’s getting married to someone else. I don’t think even Mickey Mouse can make up for that.”

As usual, Sam was having trouble following a woman’s train of thought. “Tyson’s father is marrying Mickey Mouse?”

She laughed, the lusty sound of it reverberating off the stone walls and settling in the vicinity of Sam’s groin.

“I think Minnie Mouse might have some objection to that arrangement. Tyson’s father is marrying a Victoria’s Secret model. One of the angels with wings.” She gestured wildly behind her back with her hands. “Nothing but the best for Straight Air Johnson.”

Recognition dawned on Sam. Bryce Johnson was a big time snowboarder who was famous for his Air Crippler in the halfpipe—not to mention his wholesome smile that dominated the cereal aisle in the grocery store. Everybody loved the gold medal guy. But he was obviously a father who put his career before his child. And Sam immediately hated him for it.

Glancing over at Laurel, he caught a brief glimpse beneath the protective shield she wore. Sam recognized the traces of pain and abandonment that bracketed her mouth—facial expressions that most people probably mistook for haughtiness. And suddenly, without reason, Sam hated Bryce Johnson even more for whatever pain he might have caused the woman in front of him.

“He’s an ass for hurting you both.” Sam tried unsuccessfully to keep his words from sounding like a growl.

Laurel leapt away from the pillar. “You, too?” She paced a few steps. “Oh, my gosh, you just got here and even you think I’m pining after Bryce Johnson.” She muttered something under her breath. “But then, why shouldn’t you think what you want, everybody else does.” She turned abruptly, her green eyes awash with indignation. “Let’s get something straight, Captain Cowboy; Bryce and I are just friends. Sure, we were a little more than that once, obviously, but nothing serious. He was a youthful mistake on my part.” She shrugged. “But one I don’t regret for a single minute because then I wouldn’t have Tyson.”

Her voice broke slightly at the mention of her son’s name, and the hint of her weakness did something to Sam’s insides.
She’s not taken
, his body was screaming.

“I’m happy for Bryce,” she continued with an enthusiasm that sounded as though she were trying to convince herself of her words. “And Tyson will be, too. He’s just got to get used to the idea, that’s all. Not that it matters to you or anyone else in this town. But let the record state, I’m
not
waiting around for Bryce to come carry me off on his stupid snowboard.”

Laurel shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, daring him to contradict her. Sam was having trouble concentrating on her words. Instead, he was fixated on the pulse beating wildly along the white column of her neck. He wanted to put his lips there just to see how her body would react.

Clearly, he was going insane.

“What about you?” She gestured toward Tabitha with her stubborn chin. “You must have had it bad for your wife to want to keep her horse around; to skulk around a barn at night just to check on the darn thing.”

It took him a minute to realize she was talking about Becky. Suddenly he was angry again. Angry at himself for totally forgetting why he’d come to the barn in the first place. And angry at the bewitching woman standing before him for making him forget Becky.
For making him crave a woman again.

*

“Oh, God. I’m
sorry.” Laurel pressed her palms against her face. “That didn’t come out the way I intended.” What was it about this man that made her say such things? She lowered her fingers and forced herself to meet his stare. His expression was inscrutable, but she forged on just as she always did.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I’m really a nice person. Everyone thinks so. Believe it or not, I was voted Miss Congeniality of my high school class. You can ask anyone in town. Or have my mom show you the yearbook.” Laurel’s babbling tapered off, but Sam continued to level a hard stare at her. She swallowed painfully and tried again. “What I meant to say was your wife must have been a lovely person. Lucky, too, for you to go to so much trouble,” she said softly before extending her hand to him. “Please, can we start over? If I’m going to be training her horse, I’d really like us to be friends.”

His gaze drifted down toward her outstretched hand for a long heartbeat. Laurel gasped when he suddenly wrapped his fingers around hers and jerked her body flush against his chest. Her head fell back and she watched as his mouth softened just before his lips descended toward hers.