Surviving Love (Montana Wilds Book 1) (2 page)

“Sure,” she said, looking away.

“Again with the red face. I must need to tone down my exuberance, huh?” Sam smiled and put a warm hand on her shoulder. “Okay then, see ya!”

She took a lung-filling breath as he walked away. She dragged her pack into the room and surveyed her new sleeping quarters. A pair of twin beds, one on each side of the room, with two nightstands between them. A dresser hugged the wall at the end of each bed, and a tiny closet held additional blankets, pillows, and an ironing board. Off their room lay a bathroom with a shower, toilet, and sink. There wasn’t much, but it was all anybody would need.

Before Sara could pick a bed, a young woman in her mid-twenties bounded into the room with a giant smile and flashing eyes. “Hi! Oh my God, you must be Sara! I’m Christie. I’m your roommate. Yay!” She clapped excitedly and glanced around the room. “Right or left?”

“What?” Sara asked dumbly.

Christie turned her brilliant blue eyes on Sara. “Which side? Can I take the right? I always seem to veer that way.”

“Oh… yeah, sure.” Sara stepped backward so the animated young woman could step in front of her. Her blonde ponytail bobbed jovially as she glided to her bed.

“This is my second season, so I’m still fairly new,” Christie said as she heaved her suitcase onto the bed. “But I know most of the usual suspects, so I’m good to have around. I’m a waitress slash helper, like you, which really just means we do all the hard work while the cooks make bread. Don’t try to befriend them. They’ve been here forever and are as mean as alley cats. You here for the whole time?” Christie shot a glance back at Sara, awaiting the answer.

Sara started, realizing she’d been staring like a stalker. “I am, yes,” Sara managed as she pushed her duffel toward her dresser. “Here for the whole stretch, I mean.”

“Me too! What are you going back to?”

Despondency settled on Sara like ashes. The future gaped at her, bleak and desolate. “Not sure. I… sorta… well…” A mutinous tear leaked out of her eye. She scrubbed it away quickly.

“Oh, honey.” Christie crossed the room in a flash, gently coaxing Sara to sit on the bed. “A man, huh?”

Sara furrowed her brow as more tears sprang up, hating herself for breaking down. It always seemed that relationship pain was stored right near the surface—any tiny thing set it boiling over. “H-how did you know?”

Christie gave her a sympathetic smile. “I recognize guy-hurt. My first love dumped me when he left for college. But you know what? I was better off. He went wild and nearly got kicked out of school, while I was getting top grades. After the first year to feel sorry for myself, I put my head up and soldiered on! I don’t need someone like that, you know? How long ago did you break up?”

“About five months.”

She tsked. “And how long were you together?”

Sink or swim. Sara pulled out the ring and showed it to Christie. “Since I was sixteen. Fourteen years. He left me for a cute little intern who looked just like me. He’d been seeing her for a year behind my back.”

Christie rubbed Sara’s back. “This may be a stupid question, but… you didn’t know?”

Sara shook her head. “No clue. People say you always know when your man is cheating, but I had no idea. He gambled a lot, though, so…”

“Ah. Then he was cheating long before he met that girl. A gambling habit, or any addiction, can be just like a mistress. The addict lies about it, spends long hours away, sneaks—you’re better off. Or is it too soon?”

Christie’s searching expression roved Sara’s face. The younger woman nodded in sympathy with the resolve she must’ve found in Sara’s expression. “Definitely better off. And a good move, too, coming here. It’s
so
much fun. Plus, you get paid to basically hang out on a dude ranch! People spend good money to come to these places, and you’re getting paid to do it. Free food, rent—all you have to do is a little back-breaking, sweat-wrenching work, and then
voilà
, paradise!”

Sara barked out a watery laugh, mopping up her face. “I told myself no more crying.”

“Eh.” Christie bounded up, back to her unpacking. “Be easy on yourself. Cry when you feel like it, laugh when you want to, put your faith in God, and let Him take the lead. It was a long time. Heartbreak sucks rocks—don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

“What are you, a motivational speaker?”

Christie laughed, an uninhibited sound. “I was a guidance counselor, actually. I did summer camp work before I came here.”

With the briefest of a smile peeping through, Sara unzipped her duffel bag. She’d felt better in that moment than she had in the last three years. Maybe this change
was
a good one. Maybe Phil had done them both a favor.

Determination steeling her resolve, she decided that, yes, he had. Sara would make this summer memorable. She would carve out her new life how she wanted to.

Starting with something as simple as smiling more often.

“
C
’mon
, hurry!” Christie was bobbing in the doorway like a fishing lure in water, an excited smile on her face.

“It’s just orientation, right?” Sara asked, brushing out her wet hair.

“Yeah, but the cowboys will be there! We get to see who’s got what so we know what we’re volunteering for.”

“What do you mean, who’s got what?” Sara tossed her brush on her bed before following Christie out the door.

“Each ranch hand or cowboy heads up different tasks. There are a couple really hot guys—I want to get on one of their teams this year. Last year I had to work for that stodgy Jake. Nice guy—I’ve heard—but you basically work the whole time in silence. Plus, he works you really hard. I mean…
really
hard.” She made a gesture like she was wiping sweat off her forehead.

“So you want a cute guy you can stare at while you do not a lot?” Sara asked with a grin.

“Exactly, and if you know what’s good for you, you will, too. Carrying trays with blisters is not fun!”

Christie had a point there.

They stepped out the back of the house and crossed a patch of garden, the blooming flowers as beautiful as they were fragrant. Ducking through a cluster of large trees, they emerged into a circular clearing with a large fire pit surrounded by chairs.

“This must be the place Sam was talking about,” Sara mumbled to herself.

“Oooh, you met Sam? He’s cute, isn’t he? I think he’s single, too. He had a girlfriend last year, but they were on the rocks. She didn’t like him leaving for three months. I think she gave him an ultimatum—if he came this year she’d break it off. Well… he’s here.”

“It’d be hard to miss a loved one every year.”

Christie shrugged with one shoulder as they neared a large, newly painted red barn. Murmurs floated out of the opened doors. “True. Not saying I blame her, but him being available isn’t a bad thing. Speak of the devil.”

They crossed the threshold and stepped toward a crowd of people, shifting and chatting as they waited for the meeting to begin. Leather and metal climbed the walls and littered shelves; equipment for horses and other livestock. Feed bags were stacked in the corners and hay was piled in a loft high up in the back.

“Hey, Sam, good to see you again.” Christie gave him a jubilant hug. “So… you came back, huh?”

“Hey, Chris. And yes,” Sam said in a dry voice. “Single again. I know you were going to hint until I finally admitted it.”

“Aw!” Christie made a pouty face. “Sorry to hear that. Sara’s newly single, too. It was a bad year for relationships. I wouldn’t know—I haven’t been in one in a while.”

Sam’s gaze turned to Sara for a moment. His smile held touches of intimacy. She felt her face heat and immediately pointed it toward the ground.

“Sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice full of sympathy.

Sara shrugged uncomfortably as Christie said, “Oh, here come the triangle boys! Yee haw.”

A cluster of stern-looking men entered the barn with even strides. Lean and chiseled, their bodies spoke of tough living in a wild environment. Shoulders bunched and muscles flexed as they moved, all incredibly in shape and very well defined.

“What do you mean by ‘triangle boys’?” Sara asked in a low voice so they couldn’t hear. The pack stepped to the side, looking around with hard, confident eyes.

“All their upper bodies look like upside-down triangles. You know, the broad shoulders and thin hips. Triangles.” Christie traced a triangle in the air with her fingers over one of the men’s robust upper bodies.

“Okay, great, let’s start,” an older man in a white cowboy hat said as he climbed on a bale of hay between the empty horse stalls. “Hello, everyone, I’m Dan, the owner of this ranch. For those of you who don’t know, this ranch has been in the family since 1916, when it was homesteaded as a land grant. Cattle and hay were raised until the 1930s. About then we stepped back and took it all in. Because of our location—so close to the wilderness with the abundance of wildlife—we decided to outfit for hunting. In the sixties, we took the next step, and built the dude ranch.

“We now entertain hunters, fisherman, survival enthusiasts, vacationers, and all others who want to visit an active ranch. We provide excellent service with safe and hands-on demonstrations. That’s why you are all here. We work together, all of us, to make sure our guests leave happy. A happy guest is a great marketer, not to mention an investment. We have quite a few families that visit every year. We try hard to keep them. Any questions?”

The gathered crowd shuffled and looked around at each other, but no one spoke.

“Great. I advise everyone to read their welcome pamphlet for the various rules. If you have any questions, please see one of the senior staff—”

“Who are you calling old?” a graying woman with an equally white cowboy hat hollered with her hands on her hips. She stood next to Dan’s bale of hay, facing the crowd with a beaming smile.

Dan chuckled and bent down to put his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “This is May, my wife and co-owner. She gets prickly when you call her senior.”

The crowd laughed softly, playing along.

“As I was saying, talk to one of the
high-leveled
staff”—Dan paused for May to nod, hands still on hips—“and we’ll take care of you. Now, for the volunteers.”

It turned out there was actually a lot to volunteer for. In order to keep costs down, they offered horse riding or other lessons in exchange for the needed help. The problem was, every time something came up that didn’t interrupt Sara’s already assigned duties, it seemed like the whole place had their hands up. Ten minutes in and she hadn’t gotten picked for a single task.

“Okay, get ready to put up your hand!” Christie said halfway into the distribution of duties, excitement bubbling into her words. “They’re doing Mike’s stuff!”

“I’ve been putting my hand up the whole time. At this rate, I’ll have all sorts of downtime.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Christie grabbed Sara’s wrist while staring intently at Dan.

“Downtime—or worse, alone time—means I won’t be able to stop myself from brooding. No good can come of that.”

“Then we won’t let you have downtime. Okay, here we go…”

“Who’s Mike?” Sara asked in a whisper as the chatter died down in anticipation of Dan asking for volunteers on the next chore.

“Next up, we need someone to help Mike clean the horse stalls…” Before Dan could say how often the chore needed to happen, every female hand was waving in the air. The majority of men were raising their hands, too. Whoever this Mike was, he was in hot demand.

“Who’s Mike?” Sara asked again, staring in awe at the hopeful, and sometimes pleading, expressions of the women in the barn.

“Christie mucking stalls? This I gotta see!” Dan chortled.

“I don’t like poop,” Christie explained as Dan jotted her name down.

Sara crinkled her nose. Not many people did.

“Who wants to chop wood?” Dan read off his clipboard.

“Is this still Mi—” Sara’s voice cut off as another wave of hands rose in the air. Christie yanked up Sara’s hand by the wrist.

“But what days does it have to be done?” Sara asked, trying to check her schedule as Christie waved their hands above their heads.

“Who cares,” Christie whispered. “If one of us gets picked, we’ll make it work!”

“We’ll give wood chopping to Simon and Nash. The young always have so much energy.” Dan jotted down more names. “Okay, that’s it for Mike this season. He has a higher enrollment in his survival classes this year, on account of being nationally acclaimed. Let’s give him a round of applause!”

“Oh, the survival guy. Sam was talking about him.” Sara joined the clapping and cheering. A man standing to the side and slightly removed from the other triangle boys shifted uncomfortably.

“He’ll be spending more time on that this year. We had to bring in trailers to house everyone who wants to room and board. Great work! Okay, on to Jake. He’ll need help with fence repair one day a week in the afternoon. The schedule is flexible. I need three volunteers.”

Sara’s hand shot up; she was desperate to be first. She needn’t have bothered—her hand was the only one in the air.

“Oh, our newest staff member. Let’s give Sara a hand for the being the only person not afraid of a hard day’s work!” Dan laughed merrily. Almost as one unit, everyone in the barn turned to survey the red-faced, blustering woman in the back of the barn…

Sara tried to shrink back between Sam and Christie.

“Okay, two others. C’mon, you get free horse riding for the whole summer… Good man, Simon. And you, Paul? Think you can fit it in?”

Sara noticed Paul staring at her chest as he said, “Yeah, I’m in.”

“He’s so creepy!” Christie whispered with a sour face, staring at Paul. “He keeps hitting on girls and he stands way too close. I do not envy you, girl. Yuck.”

“Great,” Dan continued, looking over his list. “Next, conditioning the leather equipment, also under Jake’s watchful eye. This can be done at any time—”

Sara’s hand cut him off.

“My goodness, I have a feeling Sara didn’t hear the rumors.” Dan’s eyes twinkled as he looked at Sara. He seemed to expect some sort of reply.

As heads started turning toward her, she stammered out, “Oh, uh…” She cleared her throat. “I just want to learn all I can, and it seems like everyone else beat me to it for the other stuff…”

“Right you are. You have to start somewhere.” Dan jotted her name down. “And Jake knows all the ins and outs. He’s the best. Okay, next…”

“You are so going to regret that,” Christie commented as Sara scribbled her new duty down. “Why is Mike staring at you?”

Christie nudged Sara, making Sara’s “t” slice across the page. She sighed and glanced up, following Christie’s gaze. The man looking at her was a few years older, with beautiful eyes the color of spun honey. In a confident stance oozing rugged assurance, he had a chiseled face that seemed vaguely familiar, as if she’d seen him in passing but never met him. His broad shoulders stretched his shirt to the point of comedy, showing his defined chest and only letting up as it flowed over his trim stomach. Triangle was right—he was a stack of muscle.

Sara shrugged, looking down at her schedule. She’d only been in Montana half a day and had met less than a handful of people. She didn’t know him from any of the other triangle boys, and she had no desire to go chasing a pretty face. “I wonder if the leather work will get me horse-riding lessons. The fence thing means I get to ride the horses, but that’s no good unless someone shows me how first…”

“Okay, that’s it for volunteers,” Dan said, folding his paper and clipping it to his clipboard. “Cooking staff, head in. We’ll have dinner at the fire pit.”

“Shoot, I only got those two things.” Sara crinkled her schedule as she tucked it into her back pocket.

“Trust me, those two classes will seem like five!
Oh my
God
…” Christie’s fingers wrapped around Sara’s wrist. “Don’t freak out!”

Sara started and looked up quickly, expecting some sort of emergency. Instead, her gaze met a wide expanse of muscular shoulder. “Why? What’s happenin—”

“Hi, Mike,” Christie said, yanking on Sara’s wrist to make her step closer.

In confusion, Sara tilted her face upward and met that spun-honey gaze she’d seen a moment ago.

“How are you?” Christie asked.

The fingertips digging holes in Sara’s arm were starting to hurt.

Mike’s gaze flicked toward Christie. He nodded before his focus settled back on Sara a moment later. “Sara Michaels, right?”

“Um, yes?” she answered hesitantly.

He stared expectantly.

Her eyebrows rose slowly. Was she supposed to recognize him, somehow?

Taking his extended pause as a
yes,
she scanned his vaguely familiar face. High cheekbones and a narrow nose adorned his handsome appearance. The color of his eyes was even more spectacular up close, with bursts of browns, hazel, and flecks of green wrapped in lush black lashes. Completing the tableau was a strange sort of command in his bearing—dominance, almost—with a hint of arrogance that often came from a silver spoon and a lingering case of Huge-Bank-Account-Itis.

She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t think I know you…”

“I’m Mikey Frost,” he said. “Jack’s son. We grew up together…”

Her brow furrowed as she made sense of those names.

“Mikey Frost…” she whispered, calling up the face of the boy in the back of his parents’ car, waving as he drove away.

She looked at the man in front of her again, struggling to wipe away the haze of memory. With difficulty, she placed the handsome, chiseled face over that of the pudgy boy’s from her memories. Those same eyes looked at her.

A thrill ran through her. “No way,” she breathed. Emotions, long forgotten, bubbled up out of nowhere. Butterflies filled her stomach.

“No freaking way,” she said, louder. The world spun around her as joy blossomed.

“Oh my God! Oh my
God!
” she screamed. Like a teenager, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Holy heck, Mikey!”

She stepped back so she could see his face. “I haven’t seen you in… Jesus, how long has it been?”

His lips quirked as he scrutinized her. “A long time. Years and years.”

“Not since you moved to—where was it? New Jersey?”

“Connecticut.”

“
Right!
This is so nuts.
”
She slapped his arm, and then hugged him again.

“How are you?” he asked, his eyes delving into her.

She sighed into her smile, recalling the profound feeling of a friendship so deep it could be called family. Emotion moved within her as she processed this face out of her past.

“Wow! I just—it’s just so good to see you. We should have kept in touch.”

“We were fourteen—well,
I
was fourteen. You were, what, twelve when I left?”

“Eleven,” she said. “Still, I don’t know. You were like my brother. I missed you. I can’t
believe
you’re here! What a crazy coincidence.”

“Sara, we should go…” Christie was staring after two larger women moving off toward the house.