Sweet Home Montana Page 17

  Chapter 19

  I wake with a smile, a familiar warmth flooding through every single fiber of my being, accompanied by that painful yet satisfying ache between my legs, reminding me exactly what I spent most of last night doing. Opening my eyes, I see the room is shrouded in that early morning darkness, nothing but the tiniest sliver of light illuminates the dust particles fluttering aimlessly through the air as a single ray of the dawning sun manages to break its way through a crack in the shutters.

  I roll over, reaching for Colt, but the bed is empty, and the place in which he’d lain all night with his arms wrapped protectively around me is now cold. Sitting up, I clutch the bedsheet to my naked body, hazy eyes narrowed as I search the bedroom to find it empty, nothing but the long-forgotten hint of his scent lingering in the air around me.

  Through the dim light, I locate my discarded underwear on the floor. Colt’s sweater is lying on the back of the armchair in the corner. I pull it on, covering myself, the hem falling to my mid-thigh, and I tuck my bare feet into the moccasins he’d kicked off and left by the door last night, before I walk out into the silence of the corridor, continuing out to the living area.

  Silence.

  The dwindling fire in the living room crackles and hisses with one lone flame flickering with everything it has, doing its best to warm through the bones of the cabin. But Colt isn’t here. I wrap my arms around myself, staring at the fireplace, hoping like hell he hasn’t woken up with second thoughts or a dreaded case of the morning-after regrets. Last night meant more to me than anything that has ever mattered to me before. I can only hope it meant just as much to him.

  Braving the early morning cold, I walk out through the front door, shivering immediately from the blast of icy air as it hits me square in the face. Turning, I follow the verandah, stopping short when I find him there, his back to me as he stands at the railing, looking out over the sun trying desperately to break through the clouds as it rises over the mountains in the east. And I can’t help breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of him, smiling to myself like the cat that got the canary. He’s stunning. And the thing about Colt is he doesn’t even realize the effect he has on me.

  “I thought you’d left?”

  Colt turns, sunlit from the back, illuminating his outline with a golden aura and my breath is stolen from me. With a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, he looks me up and down, his eyes widening momentarily as they linger at my exposed thighs.

  “Jesus,” he murmurs under his breath, slowly licking his bottom lip, and an involuntary shiver runs through me at that involuntary action.

  Your body changes a lot in the ten years between twenty and thirty. Cellulite dimples begins to appear in places you never even imagined. Stretch marks line your skin from the constant and never-ending battle of gaining and losing weight. Things just don’t sit quite as high as they once did. Normally, with any other man, I might be self-conscious. But with the way Colt is watching me, looking at me like I’m the only woman in the whole damn world, I’ve never felt more beguiling.

  “You’re gonna freeze your ass off,” he says in a low, gravelly voice that sparks that fire deep inside me.

  I smile, rolling my eyes at him when he flashes me that smart-ass smirk, and I tug only slightly at the hem of his sweater I’m wearing as I cross the verandah, closing the distance between us. He holds one arm out and I gladly nestle into his side, looking up at him as he glances out over the breaking dawn. And in that moment, I am wholeheartedly captivated by the way the dull light of the sun illuminates his face, reflecting in his eyes, shadowing the scruff lining his jaw and top lip. His is a beauty like no other. I could get used to this. I hate that I missed ten years of waking up to him looking like this.

  I reach out for his hand, taking hold of the mug, and I pull it close, helping myself to a sip of his coffee, humming as it warms me through.

  “You good?” he asks, a chuckle shuddering through him.

  “Yep.” I nod, smiling up at him with an innocent battering of my lashes.

  He places the mug onto the timber railing, bringing both hands to my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I meet his eyes, finding a sincerity within them as they smile down at me. And, before I can prepare myself, he takes my breath away once again with a gentle yet urgent kiss, his tongue tentatively trailing the seam of my lips before invading my mouth, causing me to hold on tight, wrapping my arms around him for leverage. After a moment almost too quick, he pulls away, just enough for his lips to place a soft, lingering kiss to the very tip of my nose before he rests his forehead against mine, his gaze penetrating as his eyes implore mine.

  It all feels so right. His eyes. His lips. His hands resting on my hips. His heart. His minty morning breath gently fanning against my skin. Nothing has ever felt so right. And I know, without doubt or reason, that I am exactly where I need to be. And the fact that it took me so damn long to find this kind of perfect, makes me sick to my stomach. So much time wasted, and for what? I swear, it takes all I have not to cry over the moments we’ve missed, what we lost over the years. I force myself to close my eyes, breathing steadily in through my nose in an attempt to hide the emotion as it overwhelms every part of my soul.

  “I have to get to work,” Colt says gruffly, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

  I roll my eyes, mocking. “The ranch life.”

  “Hey, I didn’t choose the ranch life.” He grins, his dimples popping. “The ranch life chose me.”

  “They always say a woman will wind up with a man just like her daddy …” I muse.

  But at that, the air between us shifts as Colt’s demeanor seems to change right before my eyes. His gaze drops down to my lips before reluctantly meeting my eyes once again. With a hard breath he takes a step back from me, looking out over the morning as he finishes what’s left of his coffee. And I’m left standing here wondering what the hell just happened in the point-four seconds since that kiss that literally left me breathless.

  “D-did I say something wrong?”

  He meets my eyes again, a small crease pulling between his brows. I can see his inner turmoil; it’s written all over his face. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he closes the distance between us once again, his hands returning to my waist, gripping me tight as he considers whatever it is he’s trying to tell me.

  “Do you … r-regret last night?” I search his face, hoping like hell that’s not what this sudden shift in moods is about.

  “What?” He balks, pulling back a little to regard me incredulously. “Of course not!”

  “Then what’s wrong?” I shake my head once, my eyes beseeching his own for even a hint of the truth.

  He looks down between us, to his Broncos sweatshirt that I’m wearing, raking his teeth painfully over his bottom lip once more, stalling again.

  “Colt,” I press, urging him to tell me whatever it is.

  “Are we really gonna do this?” he asks, his voice so hushed I almost miss his words with the morning breeze as it rustles through the birch trees surrounding the cabin. He chances a look at me, and I find nothing but angst in his tentative stare. “I want it. I do. More than anything … but …”

  But? My heart sinks. There’s something wrong. I can see it in his eyes. I can feel it within the desperation of his touch. I can almost hear it with every thrum of his pulse in the vein in his neck.

  “I need time.” He steadies me with an uncertain look.

  “Time?” My brows knit together as I watch him, hoping like hell he’s going to elaborate on that because I’ve never been more confused.

  “Quinn …” He stalls once again, this time clamping his bottom lip between his teeth so hard, I’m surprised it hasn’t reopened the split he received during his fight with Tripp.

  “What?” I ask, silently pleading for him to tell me whatever it is he’s not telling me.

  He shakes his head to himself, looking down again, taking a moment. “Ten years … It’s a long time. I just need some time to get my head a
round everything.” He’s conflicted. I can see it in his eyes. “I’m scared.” His jaw clenches as he looks down at me.

  My teeth grit together of their own accord, but I get it. I hurt him. Of course he’s going to be apprehensive, and I understand his hesitation. But I’m also not an idiot. I never have been. Something is wrong, and whatever it is, he’s keeping it from me. But I have no right to question him. I have to trust him. I have to believe that he will trust me again, enough to confide in me once he knows that I am wholeheartedly here for him.

  “Okay.” I nod. “I understand.”

  His shoulders sag as his tension dissipates. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes flitting between my own. “I lied to you,” he whispers.

  My heart stops dead in my chest. “You … y-you what?”

  “I lied.” He nods. “I missed you like hell. And I never stopped loving you.”

  I release the breath I’ve been holding, staring into his eyes, and I find an earnestness within them. He means it. He loves me.

  “I love you,” I say quietly. “More than anything.”

  Colt fixes his eyes on mine, his hands gripping even tighter to my waist as he pulls me flush against him, pressing a chaste yet meaningful kiss to the top of my head. I bury my face into his chest, breathing him in and becoming lost with everything Colt. And I know in that instant, no matter what, we’ll be okay.

  Chapter 20

  I can barely wipe the smile from my face as I pull up to the main house, still smelling Colt’s intoxicating scent on me, still feeling his lips and fingertips grazing over my skin. Last night is a memory I hope will stay with me forever, and I sigh contentedly, but I quickly force myself to stop thinking about Colt and what we did together, reminding myself of where I am and my current morning-after state. I scan the grounds outside, for what, I don’t even know. But, with my nested hair pulled into a knot on top of my head, dressed in last night’s clothes, the last thing I want is to be caught sneaking home like some wayward teenager. I’m almost thirty, for God’s sake.

  I jump down from the Land Rover, casting a furtive glance out over the ranch, in the direction of the stables as I hurry across the front yard. The last thing I want is to be caught by either of my brothers. I may be almost thirty, but that’s just a situation I don’t want to deal with while smelling of Colt and sex. Taking the front steps I keep my head down as I cross the porch to the front door.

  “Where have you been all night?”

  “Holy shit!” I stifle a scream, stumbling over my own two feet before coming to a skidding halt.

  I turn on my heel, looking at the back of the chair my father used to sit in every morning, and for a moment, I can’t be sure it isn’t his ghost, having stayed up all night in the cold, waiting for me. He used to sit there at the crack of dawn with a mug of coffee perched on his knee, silently assessing the morning sky in an attempt to try and predict the weather. He didn’t trust the news. He always said weather forecasters were the only people whose job actually allowed them to fail ninety-five percent of the time without consequence. So, it was here, looking out over the fields and the valleys, that he would plan his day dependent on the color of the sky, the density of the clouds and whatever direction the wind was blowing.

  But when I notice a familiar head of sandy blond hair sticking up over the back of the chair, I realize it isn’t the ghost of my overprotective father, and my heart drops into the pit of my stomach.

  “Jesus, Tripp,” I manage through a gasp, clutching a hand to my heaving chest. “You scared me half to death.”

  The old chair creaks as Tripp pushes up to stand, and he turns slowly, his eyes finding mine, his face blank and emotionless as he looks down at me. Coffee mug in one hand, he runs his other hand through his hair, his gaze raking over my form. Then, with one brow quirked, he repeats himself. This time, his question almost threatening. “Where have you been?”

  Sure, I could play dumb. Pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. What do you mean where have I been? But I don’t want to insult him. And I can tell by the steely look in his eyes that he’s not up for games. So, I say nothing. It’s none of his business where I was, or who I was with. I simply lift my chin a little higher, meeting his gaze with one just as unwavering, folding my arms over my chest in a sudden show of defiance. And for a moment we just stand there, staring into one another’s eyes, and it’s almost like the game we would play as kids. Whoever blinks, whoever smiles, whoever looks away first, loses. I will not lose.

  He opens his mouth to say something, but then it’s as if he decides against it, pressing his lips together in a firm line, his eyes remaining on me with what looks to be a million conflicting thoughts racing through his mind at once.

  I watch as he lifts his hand, raking his fingers through his hair, glancing away a moment. A deep crease pulls between his brows as he seems to consider himself. When his gaze meets mine once again, I feel my resolve shrink beneath the weight of his stare. But then, when he finally says something, I’m rendered shocked.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I blink once, twice, my own brows pulling together in confusion.

  Tripp heaves an almighty sigh, walking over to the railing. He places his empty coffee mug onto the balustrade, resting beside it, his big calloused hands wringing together in front of him. I’ve never seen him like this. Tripp has never been one for apologies. He’s never taken the high road, or been the bigger man. He holds grudges and fights hard. But right now, he’s actually contrite.

  “I’ve been horrible since you’ve been home,” he continues, his gaze fixed on the wooden decking. But then he furtively meets my eyes with his own, offering the slightest hint of a wry smile. “Actually … for the last ten years.”

  I shake my head. I have so many questions. But all I can think to voice is one. “Why?”

  He glances out over the ranch, a faraway look in his eyes, and I watch as he considers his words a moment. “You know I met the girl I thought I was gonna marry?”

  My eyes bulge. “What? When?” I gawp at him.

  Don’t get me wrong; the notion of Tripp being in love isn’t completely absurd. Despite his often impossible mood swings, stubborn and gruff exterior, he’s an attractive man. He always has been. Both he and Colt were idolized by the girls in my grade at school. But Tripp was never really interested in any of that stuff. He always said women were complicated, more trouble than they were worth. At one point when we were growing up, I even questioned whether maybe he was interested in men. But it wasn’t that. He just wasn’t in a rush.

  He nods. “Her name was Meg. She was a college girl from Arizona, in town with her girlfriends for winter break, skiing up on Black Mountain. The January before you and Colt were supposed to be getting married.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask with a soft gasp. Granted, our relationship was strained while I was off at college, but we were still close back then.

  He looks down a moment, shaking his head. “I was scared of screwing everything up. So I didn’t wanna tell no one about it ’til I had a damn ring on her finger,” he mutters with a derisive chuckle void of any humor whatsoever.

  I feel a pinch in my heart from his words. But I remain silent, my brows knitting together in confusion as I try to make sense of his words, watching him, completely rapt in the way his eyes are sparkling like I’ve never seen them sparkle before.

  “We spent the whole week together. She ended up ditching her friends, and it was just me and her every minute of the day and night …” He sighs, staring out over the fields. “God, she was beautiful. Silky black hair. Ocean blue eyes. She had the laugh of an angel. It reminded me of Momma’s laugh.” The hint of a wistful smile plays on his lips.

  “What happened?” I ask, tentatively, knowing it obviously didn’t end well.

  Tripp hesitates, that smile disappearing, replaced by his brows knitting together in anger, and I can see the memory still hurts him. “We stayed in touch. I went down to visit
her a few times. But she didn’t want the long-distance thing. She wanted me to move there to be closer, until she finished school. But …” He scoffs to himself, shaking his head again. “Then … that summer happened.”

  I bow my head at the memory.

  “You left. Colt was a damn mess. A few months later he had the accident. There was no way I could leave this place. I wanted to. And, I would’ve, but … I just … I couldn’t do it. I knew Dad needed me. He never said as much, but I could tell.”

  My heart breaks for my brother. He’s the way he is because of what I did.

  “So, you just … broke up with her?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yeah. Hurt like a bitch, too.” He meets my eyes, laughing once under his breath. Although it’s a laugh void of humor. A laugh that actually sends a shiver down my spine. “Hell, I’d already bought a goddamn diamond ring. She was planning on coming up for the summer, and I was going to propose to her.”

  I feel sick to my stomach as I glance down at my hands resting on the balustrade, my mind fraught with so many conflicting thoughts and emotions. I didn’t know any of this. And now, I can’t help but feel a little responsible for my brother’s broken heart.

  “When I said what I said to you outside the hospital that day,” he continues, and I glance up from my hands. He steadies me with a serious look of remorse. “That came from a place of pain and resentment—deep, deep down. I didn’t mean none of it. I said it out of spite because … well, because I knew no matter what, you and Colt would eventually find one another again. But me? I lost what you and Colt were always destined to have. I was jealous, I was spiteful, I was hurt, I was sad, and I was pissed off.” He shakes his head. “But I didn’t mean it. And for that, I am so sorry, Quinny. I never should have said that shit to you.” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have done half the shit I’ve done to you. You don’t deserve my resentment. You never have. I’m just … I’m so damn angry with Dad, and I hate myself for it!” Sadness and pain cause his voice to break, but he just looks down a moment, closing his eyes tight and pinching the bridge of his nose.