Montana Cowboy (Big Sky Mavericks Book 2) (18 page)

His jaw dropped. "A man?"

She kicked him under the table—just as she had when they were kids. "Yes. He's homeless. Lives in a tent by the river on that empty lot Ed and I bought when you were buying the Flying Z. According to Bailey's mother, Louise, he's a photographer who sells his photographs to magazines, but if you saw him you'd be suspicious, too."

"Old and weather-beaten?"

"Young—younger than me, I think—and heart-throb handsome...even with a scruffy beard."

"Are you seeing him?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm trying to get him to move off my land. Squatters are a liability. I don't need for him to fall and get hurt or get attacked by a bear...or more likely roughed up by kids who think he's queer or weak or prey. So far, he's ignored my threats. But it's only been a couple of days. When you move home, you can do your hubba-hubba scary face, and he'll leave."

When you move home.
As if the decision had been made. "You think I should move home?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't play coy, Austen. You made up your mind three weeks ago. We all know this whatever-should-I-do Scarlett O'Hara impression is just for the cameras. Don't worry. The folks are expecting you. I told them the truth. You're a nicer person when you're home. When Dad mumbled something about a waste of your degree, I told him, 'He's bringing his brain with him when he moves, Dad. He can use it here just as well as in Helena.' They agreed. So did the kids. They voted. It was four to one in favor of you moving back."

"Four to one? I only have two nieces and two nephews."

"Bailey said the baby voted for you to come home. But Emilee voted no. She's afraid you'll monopolize Serena's time. Serena's teaching an after-school fiber arts class and Em loves it."

He laughed with a lightness he hadn't felt in weeks. She was right, of course. His twin always could read him inside and out. He stood and walked to the landline for the phone book. "Time to call a realtor and put this place on the market."

"Can you make me another pancake first? My appetite's come back with a vengeance."

He was happy about that, but he knew better than to coddle her. "Make it yourself. I have a ton of things to do before I move."

"O
... M... G...," Bailey said, dragging out each letter dramatically. "Your birth mother contacted you? The same day as Austen's big miracle? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Serena had studiously avoided everyone for the past ten days. She'd tried to keep too busy to think about Austen, about losing him, missing him. Only at night did the tears sneak past her defenses. Luckily, she had the distraction of her birth mother to keep her very occupied.

She'd called her parents the morning after reading the letter. Mom cried. "Tears of joy," she said over and over. Dad took a more pragmatic approach. "You know yourself better than anyone, Serena. There's no shame in being curious, and you know as well as I do the value of understanding your bloodline."

The true irony of her “hobby”, she thought not for the first time. Breeding livestock of any kind demanded meticulous records and defendable research on each animal in her herd. How crazy was it that she knew nothing about her own ancestry?

Peyton called a few days after her conversation with Macklin.

He'd been brisk and to the point. "My mother was a drug addict. The life expectancy of a using drug addict is very short. I'm lucky she lasted long enough for the ER doctors to get me out. Since the recidivism of cocaine users is so high, the chance of her ever being a meaningful part of my life was slim to nil. Therefore, I am fine with not having a living/breathing birth mother. Don't use me as an excuse for your cowardice." Then he hung up.

So Peyton.

"Talking to my family tipped the scales in favor of making contact," Serena told Bailey. "My dad frets. This is not a good thing. Last time he worried so long and hard about retiring and selling the herd, he fretted himself into a stroke. This time, Mom said flat out, 'Call her.' So, I did."

"You spoke to the birth mother you've never met? That is so cool." Bailey squealed as if Serena told her she was meeting a rock star. "Dish. What does she sound like?"

"Normal, I guess. A little breathless. She has C.O.P.D.,  emphysema, and asthma. Her doctor says her lungs are shot. She's signed a do not resuscitate order. She's got her estate all settled. A small nest egg—her words—is coming to me, but the rest is going to charities she's supported over the years. Meeting me was the last item on her bucket list."

"Wow." Tears filled Bailey's pretty hazel eyes. Pregnancy apparently made one very emotional. "I'm so happy for you, Serena. And you don't have to worry about a thing. Chloe and I are looking forward to ranch sitting. And Emilee said she'd like to come Friday night so we can try our hands at felting."

Serena couldn't believe how fortunate she was. She'd asked Bailey if she knew anyone who would look after the herd for a short time and Bailey immediately volunteered. "Don't tell Paul because I totally support his decision to sell you the place, but ever since I moved back to Marietta I've been a little homesick for the old ranch. Staying here for five days will be a sure cure, I'm certain," she'd said with a laugh.

The housesitting was a bonus since it meant Serena didn't have to take Beau. She'd miss him almost as much as she missed Austen, but she had no idea what to expect when she visited her birth mother so why make life more difficult than it already was?

"Are you driving or flying? Paul is a fabulous pilot."

Bailey recalled Austen telling her his whole family flew. "I prefer to drive. Gives me time to catch up on my reading." At Bailey's look, she added, "I listen to audio books. Helps pass the time and gets me out of my head."

Where she'd spent way, way too much time lately, second-guessing her every decision. Debating about whether or not to stay in Montana when it would seem her move had been prompted by a completely erroneous hypothesis. She ran away from a stalker who didn't exist—even if he'd felt very real to her imagination at the time.

"Feel free to take off as early as you like. I'll be out in the morning after I drop the kids at school. I'll feed and clean up poop. Paul said I could leave that for him, but I'm looking forward to hanging out with the animals and having some quiet time to work on my jewelry designs. Planning this wedding has become a full time job, and Christmas is right around the corner, you know."

Wedding.
For a brief moment in time, Serena had let herself hope...believe...she and Austen might wind up married, building a future together. But she hadn't talked to him in days. And when they did speak, their whole conversation seemed centered on the health and wellbeing of the alpacas. Yes, he tried to explain what his life was like—meetings, talks with partners, interviews with the press. But all of that sounded artificial to her—the stuff of television shows.

"I'm exploring my options," he called it.

"You're moving away from me," she called it. Although she never spoke the words out loud.

The only meaningful talk they'd had concerned Will Paulson, the man who hated Austen so much he devoted a blog to Austen's downfall.

"I met Will Paulson and his attorney this morning," he told her a few days ago. "We formally agreed to bury the hatchet and put this behind us. Will has publically apologized on his blog and in a letter to the editor, but he wanted to meet me in person to tell me he deeply regretted his actions."

"He doesn't blame you for her death any more. That's good."

"I told him to remember Jenny the way he loved her best and she'd always be that person to him. The rest of it could all be blamed on politics."

Which begged the question why would anybody willingly pick that life over this one, but she kept the thought to herself. If he didn't ask himself that question, they really had nothing left to talk about.

A
usten couldn't believe how much had changed at the ranch in under a month. The air held the first hint of autumn. The field grass had lost its color. The leaves on the creek trees had turned yellow.

But from the moment he stepped out of his brand new three-quarter ton four-wheel-drive pickup, which he'd bought when he turned in his leased sports car, he felt at peace. Freer than he had at any time in his life. The underlying tension that once kept his gut churning with one ear open for his phone and one eye on what everyone claimed was the big picture was gone.

He didn't have all the answers—hell, he probably hadn't even heard all the questions his family would have for him, but he knew he'd made the right decision when he woke up this morning at the ranch after a deep, restorative sleep to the sound of the tractor motor and dogs barking. Before he'd even opened his eyes, he'd reached across his king-size bed for Serena—a problem he planned to remedy ASAP.

Three hours later, after half a dozen phone calls and a lengthy talk with his foreman, Austen was finally on his way to the neighboring ranch, which, according to Paul, was in escrow to Serena James.

A gust of wind threatened to take his hat. He grabbed it in time but spooked his horse—a big bay named Gus. "Easy boy," Austen said, leaning forward to reassure the horse he was paying attention. He'd left his phone at home. He'd chosen to saddle a horse instead of hopping aboard one of the ATVs because of the symbolism. A horse had introduced him to Serena. A horse would take him home to her.

Home. He'd felt the word at a gut level more in the past couple of days than he ever had growing up. Marietta wasn't just the town where he spent his childhood it was the foundation of his life. It made up the elements of his bones. He couldn't wait to be a part of the small town world again. Hopefully, with Serena at his side.

He gave a little click and applied his boot heels to Gus's side. The bay's easy lope brought a smile to his lips. He'd never thought of himself as a cowboy, but he sure felt like one at the moment. And it felt good.

He was still smiling when he crested the hill for his first look at Serena's place.

A low, deep woof let him know Beau had spotted him. The big white dog galloped toward him. "It's okay, Gus. He's a friend. Easy boy."

Austen had his hands full keeping Gus from bolting. Beau, excited to see Austen, wouldn't quit barking until a shrill whistle pierced the air.

"Thank God," Austen muttered.

He nodded his thanks toward the fence, expecting to see Serena. Instead, he spotted Bailey standing on the bottom rung with Chloe perched on the fence, watching him.

Mia told him Bailey was housesitting while Serena went to Oregon—he presumed to visit her brother, but he hadn't known Chloe was with her.

"Hello, ladies. This is a surprise. No Serena, yet?"

"On her way. She texted me from Coeur d'Alene last night."

"Coeur d’Alene? She took the high road."

Bailey started to say something but Chloe interrupted. "Can I ride your horse, Uncle Austen? I just put Skipper away. I'm doing really good, aren't I, Bailey?"

Bailey nodded. "You're doing great, but I don't know this horse. Austen? What do you think? Can she handle him?"

Austen dismounted and handed his niece the reins. "He's super mellow unless there's a giant dog barking at his heels. And Serena says most horses hate alpaca so don't go past the edge of the barn, just in case."

She yanked on her helmet, tightening the chinstrap as she walked toward them. He approved of the way she introduced herself to Gus and took the time to inspect the saddle, re-adjusting the stirrups without asking for help. When ready, she looked at Austen. "Can you give me a knee?"

He did one better. Forming a stirrup with his hands, he boosted her up. "He's tall," she said, a big grin on her face. "He's like two of Skipper."

He watched her a few moments before walking to the fence to stand beside his future sister-in-law. "How's the house-sitting business?"

"Piece of cake, but the care and feeding of alpacas is a boatload of work compared to making jewelry." She laughed to show she wasn't complaining. "Thankfully, I had help. Chloe and Emilee both love the wee woolies, as Em calls them."

"Em, too? How's she doing?"

"Better. She's made a few friends. And dumped her nasty long-distance boyfriend, whom I think she only dated to piss off her mother and get some attention from her father. And Serena is teaching her how to work with alpaca fur. Hair. Fleece. Whatever it's called."

The lull in the conversation took on sudden tension. Bailey hopped down so she could face him. "Mia told me you're moving back here permanently. The jury's still out on whether or not that's a good thing, but you need to understand that Serena is not like the women your brother has told me about in Helena and Washington, DC. She has substance and gravitas. And I don't want you to hurt her."

The last came out with a fire he hadn't seen before. He admired it.

"You're a good friend to her. I'm glad. Serena deserves that. And before we get into whether or not I'm the right person for her, I want to apologize to you."

She put one hand on her small, barely noticeable baby bump. "Me? For what?"