Montana Christmas Magic Read online

  When she spoke, her voice was gently quiet.

  “For the next few months, why don’t we pretend?”

  Chapter 14

  Logan tried to concentrate on Julie’s chatter as they drove back to his ranch, but questions popped like prairie dogs from their holes.

  What did she mean by pretend?

  Could he get beyond Deborah?

  What was he doing with Julie? He was bound to break her heart at the end.

  Why the hell was he such a cad? An old-fashioned word that seemed too apt to describe him at the moment.

  What if he stayed in Montana?

  A sleek blue pickup with Nevada plates was parked by the house, a horse trailer hitched to the back.

  “What the hell does she want?” he growled.

  The dog followed suit.

  “I can’t growl,” Julie said, removing some of the tension of the moment.

  Logan barely had the car stopped when he threw open the driver’s side door and walked to the pickup. It was empty. Where was that ... woman?

  Julie opened the passenger door, and Hobo jumped out. He sniffed the truck tires, then raced to the barn, just as the mare whinnied her unhappiness.

  Shit.

  He took off to the structure as well.

  “Ah, there you are.” Mattie appeared as unruffled as if she’d stepped out of an air-conditioned salon. “I’ve come for my horse.”

  “That isn’t your horse, and we both know it.”

  “I think you should get out of my way while I take my property.” She waved her beringed fingers in dismissal.

  His blood pressure went up enough that he could feel the vein in his neck throbbing. “Get off my property.”

  He felt, rather than saw, Julie come into the barn and step behind him.

  “You really are going to have to change your attitude.” She took a step toward him and pointed a finger at his chest. “I have connections in Vegas. Good ones. Discreet ones.” She glanced at Wild Rose. “They’ll make sure I get what I want.”

  He was speechless for a moment. It was like standing in the middle of a bad mob movie.

  “You do know Montana is a concealed carry state, don’t you?” Julie stepped even with him, next to Hobo.

  “So what? You trying to tell me you’re packing?”

  Still more evidence of a bad movie—although this time they seemed to be going Western. And Westerns could go bad quickly.

  Did Julie really have a gun? He looked at her face.

  Dead serious.

  He needed to get back to the city where people either didn’t talk about handguns or used them on you without a lot of preamble.

  Mattie dropped her hand.

  Julie pulled her purse in front of her.

  “I believe Logan asked you to leave,” she said.

  Mattie stared at the purse, then examined Julie’s face for the truth.

  He never wanted to get into a poker game with her.

  “Okay,” Mattie said. “For now.” She brushed past Julie, managing to give her a quick shove with her shoulder as she left the barn.

  “Hey!” Logan shouted and turned to go after her.

  “Wait!” Julie grabbed his arm. “That’s just what she wants. Let her go.”

  Seething, he did as she asked.

  They waited until the sound of an engine, followed by the spit of gravel, reached the barn.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, he walked to the mare. “It’s okay, baby. No one’s going to take you.” He glanced at Julie. “Hmm. Since you’re my Montana girlfriend, if only pretend, I guess you have a new horse.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She gave him a play punch in the arm.

  “I’m very serious.” And he was. It may not be exactly what Willy wanted, but it might help her mend a broken heart.

  “We already talked about this. I live in an apartment, remember?”

  “You could board it.”

  “With what?” She was starting to get upset.

  Damn it. It wasn’t what he’d intended.

  “Relax. If you don’t want the horse, you don’t have to have her.”

  “But I do want her! I love her.” She threw her arms around the mare’s neck and bawled into her mane.

  Great. He really knew how to make a woman happy.

  “Shh, shh, we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, you can ride her whenever you want.”

  The sobs increased. Muffled words came from the neck of the horse.

  “Fall more ... love ... lose her ... in the end ... you.”

  No idea what she said. But he had a feeling he didn’t really want to know.

  What to do?

  He stepped closer and put his arms around her and tugged at her waist. “Don’t worry. You’re perfect. Someone will find you and love you for the rest of your life, here in Montana.”

  She turned her tear-stained face to him. “But it won’t be you.”

  “Oh, Julie ...”

  His heart ached for her. She was so vulnerable and a wonderful woman ... God, why was he hurting her? He wanted nothing more than to kiss her tears away, the pain he saw in her eyes. He wanted to make the rest of her life happy, give her everything she wanted.

  The only problem was that he couldn’t.

  Damn it.

  Maybe he could simply heal this moment.

  He pulled her closer and began to kiss her face, following the trace of each streak of moisture, absorbing the salty substance into his mouth. He kissed the soft skin under her eyes, then her lids as she shut them.

  Unable to look at him anymore?

  No matter. He was as incapable of stopping his ministrations as a doctor suturing a gaping wound in wartime.

  He continued kissing her face ... her nose, her forehead, down to her chin, which he followed to its center before moving up to her sweet lips, which tasted, like the rest of her face, of salty grief. His touch was gentle at first, asking nothing.

  He had no right to do that.

  She took a step away from the horse and pulled him close to her, her mouth becoming eager, forgetting, for now, the pain to come. She ran her hands up and down his back, then stopped and kneaded the muscles, her fingers pressing his flesh, urging him on.

  Did she know what she was doing? Or was she following her instincts?

  If the latter, her instincts were damn good.

  So it was up to him to put the brakes on ... and soon. If this went on much longer, he was going to see if there was enough hay anywhere for a roll in the proverbial material.

  Somehow he’d backed her up to the stall gate next to Wild Rose. The mare backed toward the rear of the stall and nickered her disapproval. He barely heard her. His ears were full of the rush of blood and lust. God, he wanted this woman.

  Now.

  Forever.

  Pressed against the wood, she moaned. He wanted to grind his hips into her, to let her know how ready he was, but somehow he managed to stop before that step. She’d made her feelings clear. Somehow, some way, he was going to have to convince her to come to New York. Only then would he feel right about completely making love with her.

  It took all his strength, but he stepped back and released her.

  Her eyes were wide and her hair tousled, her lips puffy from his kiss and the end-of-day beard. She looked lost.

  It was exactly what he felt, as if the most important thing had been removed from his world.

  “You don’t want this, remember?” he managed to say.

  Her gaze lowered, and red suffused her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey!” He raised the bottom of her chin. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Neither do I. We wanted ... want each other. That’s perfectly normal, and all the churches in the world will never stop that feeling.”

  Good thing. Otherwise the human race would grind to a halt.

  He slipped his hand to her arm, wanting contact in a nonthreatening way.

  “But you’re leaving.”

  Shi
t. He was getting really tired of that phrase.

  “Come with me.”

  “I ...”

  “Don’t. Don’t say it. Think about it. You can do that, can’t you? You don’t even have to tell me what you’re thinking. Discuss it with Sue Anne, your father; find a shrink. But open your mind and consider it.” He placed his other hand on her arm. “You’ve got talent. I’ve seen it. You deserve a bigger venue—a chance.”

  “But what about my family? Montana? I need a foothold here.”

  If that’s what it took to have Julie in his life ...

  “Tell you what. You come with me to the city, and I’ll hold on to the ranch. I won’t sell it after the six months are up. Deal?”

  She looked at him steadily, her eyes luminescent depths of dark brown.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  That was probably the best he was going to get.

  • • •

  “How can I help you?” Douglas Crowley asked once Logan settled himself into the office chair.

  “I need a restraining order.”

  “For the woman who’s after your mare?”

  Small-town gossip sure was fast.

  “Yep.”

  “Guns at dawn?”

  “Hopefully not,” Logan said.

  “It’s going to cost you.”

  “Everything is.” His mother would not be pleased.

  But he was too old to be worried about that.

  He walked to Does. He needed a sounding board, and he knew the right person.

  “I get off my shift in a half hour,” Sarah told him when he asked if she had some time.

  “Great. How about the brewery across the street?”

  “Sure.”

  He sipped a local brew as he waited for Sarah. She’d looked better than she had in a while, as if she was recovering from Willy’s passing and ready to move on.

  He was happy for her.

  “What’ll you have?” he asked her after she arrived and settled into her chair.

  She asked for a raspberry wheat, and he signaled the waiter and ordered for her.

  “Good manners,” she said with a smile.

  “Drilled into me,” he said.

  “I bet. Willy told me about your mother. Sounds like she could be quite a tyrant.”

  “She has her moments,” he said with a grin. “But she means well.”

  “Most of us do.”

  They caught up on happenings since the Fourth, and he was happy to learn she was planning a trip to Billings to see her niece’s new baby.

  “I never had kids; that’s why my niece is so important to me. My husband died in Vietnam, and I never saw any reason to take up with any other man.”

  “Until Willy.”

  “Yeah.” She lifted her glass. “To one of the finest men I’ve ever known.”

  Logan clinked with her. “Amen.”

  “Did you ever find out anything about the horse?”

  “Funny you should ask. I came into town to get a restraining order.” He told her about the latest run-in.

  “Unbelievable what some people will do. I hope it doesn’t get too crazy.” She took a sip of her beer and smiled. “Ah, really good stuff. So what’s on your mind besides all this?”

  “Julie.”

  “I thought you might have trouble keeping her at arm’s length. She’s a nice girl—exactly the type Willie would want for you.”

  “I’m not sure he didn’t intend this specific one for me. I mean, why else would a man put chocolates in his coffin?”

  “Willy liked his sweets.” She laughed. “He figured it was the last chance he had to get some.”

  “Probably. Still, I think he had his eye on Julie.”

  “So. Was he right?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “You don’t sound very happy,” she said.

  This was the crux of the problem, and he didn’t quite know how to express it. The sounds of the brewery echoed around him—chatter, glasses clinking, the swish of a beer being pulled.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “She doesn’t want to move to New York, and you don’t want to stay in Montana.”

  “Got it in one.”

  “Young people are stubborn.” Sarah shook her head.

  “My job’s in New York. So’s my family.”

  “I know about your family, remember? There was a reason Willy moved here all those years ago. Aren’t you some kind of tennis player? Why do you have to live in New York? Wouldn’t it make more sense to be in a place where they have a tennis court or there’s room to build one yourself?”

  “It snows eight to ten months a year here.”

  “Put a roof over it.”

  The woman was impossible, as stubborn as she claimed he was.

  “Actually, I’m going to be a coach.” He pointed to the cane he still used occasionally. “I’m not exactly in shape to chase balls around the court.”

  She sputtered over her beer.

  “Have you looked at yourself lately?”

  What was she talking about?

  “I shave every morning.”

  “I meant the rest of you.”

  “I try not to.”

  She looked around the room. “No mirror.”

  “It’s a brewery.” Really, she was being ridiculous.

  “Ah, Terry, come here,” she called out to a young woman who had just come through the door with a few of her friends. “Stand up,” she told him. “Without the cane.”

  He shook his head but did as she asked.

  “Now, Terry,” she said to the young woman. “What do you think of him? Does he look strong and fit?”

  “I’ll say. What are you doing later, cowboy? I could take you out and test your fitness level.” She looked at Sarah. “Would that work?”

  “It’s a good idea, but he’s not meant for you.”

  “Too bad. If you ever free up, give me a call. Sarah knows where to find me.” Terry joined her friends at the bar. From the burst of laughter, he assumed she told them what had transpired.

  “You are insane!” He flopped back in his chair. If only the floor would open beneath him so he could spare himself any more embarrassment.

  “Don’t worry about her. She’ll forget about you by tomorrow. The point is, you are more fit than you make yourself out to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could take up tennis professionally again if that’s what you actually want.”

  “Of course that’s what I’d want ... if I had a prayer of doing it.”

  “That’s the thing about people. They sell themselves short. Or worse, they set goals for things they realize they don’t want once they get there.”

  She wasn’t making any sense. He’d hoped for some solid advice on how to get Julie to come east, but Sarah was talking in circles. Maybe if asked her directly, he’d get a straight answer.

  “How do I get Julie to come back to the city with me?”

  “You don’t. Don’t look so glum, boy.” Sarah patted his hand then took another sip of her beer. “Do you love her?”

  His gaze darted to the woman. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, then how the hell can you ask a woman to move two thousand miles away from her family if you’re not sure you love her?”

  “I guess I can’t.”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what should I do?”

  “Right now, I can tell you’re Willy’s nephew.” She glared at him. “He had the same blind eye when it came to women. I don’t want to count the number of times I had to explain myself in significant detail.” Her smile returned. “But the man was invested in trying; I’ll give him that.” She studied the fog on the glass. “I sure do miss him.”

  “We all do.” Logan put his hand on hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  She pulled it away and brushed her eye.

  “I guess I better figure out if I love her.” Logan said.

  “That’d be a good start.”

  It would be easier if Julie
loved him, too, but he wasn’t going to say that to Sarah. He’d taken enough mother-lickings for the day.

  But she wasn’t done yet.

  “You might open your mind a little to other possibilities. It looks like you’ve settled in here. The kids in Phillipsburg could use someone to teach them things from the great big world beyond Montana—including tennis. I bet some of our kids would be good at that.”

  “But ...”

  “Before you start talking about no place to play, the town’s thinking about building a sports and recreation center so kids can do some of the sports the high school isn’t equipped to handle, and adults can use it. There’s even talk of putting in a swimming pool. A tennis court would be a nice addition, wouldn’t it?”

  “Where are they getting all this money?”

  “An anonymous donor has said he, or she, will match funds up to five hundred thousand dollars. And we have an awesome Rotary. Last year, they raised over twenty thousand dollars for the library.”

  “Pretty generous of the donor.”

  “People who grew up here or lived here for a long time ... they remember. If they make it big, they share. We’re a small town, but we care.” She pointed to the street. “P-burg was set to go down the drain like lots of old mining towns, but we came together. Buildings got painted, things got fixed up, and the tourists came.”

  It was a world he didn’t know much about. His family gave to charity, all right, but he was quite sure they received a healthy tax deduction for it.

  It wasn’t personal—like it was in this small, far from wealthy, town.

  What were his own values? He’d never really thought that much about it. First, he went along with his high school friends, then college, and then he followed what seemed to be expected on the tennis circuit. He ruffled no feathers, and no one criticized him.

  But was he really true to himself—whoever that was?

  Something to think about.

  “You’ll do okay,” Sarah said. “Just make sure you don’t take the easy road, but take time to figure out the right one.”

  It was as if she’d read his mind.

  He didn’t have the energy to respond.

  “Thanks for the beer, Logan.” She stood and slid her hands into the pockets of her black pants. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

  He hoped she was right.

  Chapter 15