Surviving Love (Montana Wilds Book 1) (5 page)

Still, she was free. She’d get over this. She’d realize that the little girl Mike had once known was still in there, tough and ready for anything, dragging Mike around by the collar to experience anything and everything she could. She’d always been a fire starter, and once this sadness evaporated, she’d see that her ex-dickhead had done her a favor.

Mike trudged toward the parking lot with his hands stuck deeply in his pockets. He spied Jake’s truck, the gruff man just opening the driver’s door.

“Can I hitch a ride back?” Mike asked. It wasn’t often guests went back to their cars after their initial check-in, so the ranch didn’t waste the energy to light the way. But this was the wilderness in Montana—using a flashlight was expected.

Jake yanked his head toward the truck. The man spoke in body language the way normal people used words.

As Mike climbed in, his thoughts turned back to Sara. Parts of her were exactly the same. It was like, by leaving, they’d thrown a cover over that part of their life to keep the dust off, knowing that someday their other half would show up and they could pick up where they left off.

He’d just opened his eyes, and the ground was rushing up at him a mile a minute.

“She wants to be friends.” Mike’s voice sounded too loud, even competing with the roar of the truck. “She’s had a rough time of it—I get that. But we fit together.”

Mike intertwined his fingers in demonstration. Realizing he looked like a clown, he dropped his hands back to his lap. He stared out the window at the darkness. “We’ve both changed, but in the same direction. Our life experiences are different, but they add to the flavor. But she’s tucked me into the
friend zone
. It’s suicide.”

Mike blew out a frustrated breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He had his life on the line, and he was in the friend zone. Why not just stroll to the front line in the buff and throw a little wave at the enemy?

“She seems sad. Depressed,” Jake commented.

Mike almost laughed. The two of them hardly exchanged three words unless it was about business, preferring the silence, yet here they were, having a dialogue about a girl. There had been stranger things, but not recently.

Not to lose the opportunity for help, Mike explained, “She was with one guy for over ten years. Only guy she’s ever been with. He cheated on her for a year, that she knows of, and then finally dumped her for the other girl. The other girl was younger, apparently.”

Jake made a noise like a soft whistle.

“Yeah, women hate being dumped for younger girls,” Mike said. “They don’t realize the guy is just insecure. Especially in this case. Those kind of guys need immaturity in their woman so they seem more like men—less like immature deadbeats.”

Jake put his hand on his knee. “Long time.”

Mike agreed. It was a long time. A lo-ong time. She’d only known one man intimately. She’d missed out on flirting, forgotten the rush of the first kiss, and the wonder of making love for the first time.

This was also her first mistake. She had no other terrible life lessons to put this in perspective. She now saw her whole adult life as one giant mistake.

His heart twisted for her.

“She’s gonna jump back on too quick. Then run for the hills. Friend is best,” Jake said in his customary rumble.

Mike stared at the crotchety ranch hand. It seemed that when the guy used words, Mike got confused. “Not following.”

“She’s gonna try ’n fix it with someone.”

The light bulb clicked on. “Rebound. She’s going to rebound.”

That made sense. She wasn’t the type of woman to hide. Never had been. She’d gather up her courage, look for someone decent—the opposite of what she’d had—and force intimacy. She would then realize she’d screwed up, taken the wrong path, and finally make herself heal rather than patch it up.

“She doesn’t have a record of jumping out of bad situations, though. She sticks it out.” Mike scrubbed his fingers through his hair again.

“Women learn eventually. Just have to hang around.”

Hang around as a friend…

Then what? How did he cross the friend barrier?

“You always had a knack for training wild horses,” Jake continued.

Mike stared at Jake in utter loss. “Are you trying to baffle me, or is it a natural gift?”

Jake grunted.

Apparently Mike was dense, was he? That right?

As they parked, Jake turned off the ignition and sat for a minute, reflecting. Mike waited patiently.

When Jake finally spoke, his voice drawled softly, as if imparting some long-forgotten rhetoric.

“She’s gonna get to a stage where she’s lost—don’t know which way to turn. Her herd is gone, her life as she knew it gone, ’n all she’s got is an ugly horse wrangler with a soft voice and subtle hand. You gotta know that exact point”—Jake’s hand snatched something invisible out of the air—“and turn her to your side. You’re a good horse wrangler, for a numb-nuts city boy. Women are no diff’rnt.”

As Mike digested that unexpected wisdom, Jake half-turned, gave Mike’s shoulder two manly pats, and climbed out of the cab.

All Mike could do was blink in the aftermath. That sermon sounded like it had come from personal experience. Mike knew Jake was a creature of great depth; he’d just never gotten proof.

Before he could follow Jake out of the truck, his phone vibrated.

Mike couldn’t help but smile with how quickly she’d made contact after they separated. She felt it. That pull. That yearning for the other, wanting to just hang out every minute of the day. He had no idea how he’d spent half his life without her. Even in that first glimpse of her again, all he had wanted to do was glue himself to her side. Just like before.

Feeling his stomach squirm with anticipation, he let himself into the barracks he shared with Jake and Greg, close to the ranch, and slipped into his room.

Mike settled into his bed.

He would fit just fine. Over and over again he’d fit. For long periods of time.

A smile worked up Mike’s face. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, and “come over” was the first. “I’ll come to you” was the second. “I love you” the third.

It would have to do. For now.

S
ara sat
on the floor at seven years old in the living room in cowboy boots, a new tweed hat, and a homemade cowgirl outfit that her mom had sewed. Mikey sat right next to her in a purchased cowboy costume, a huge bag of candy opened in front of him.

“Snickers, please.” Sara held out her hand as she pawed through her Halloween candy.

Mikey glanced at her hand. His eyebrows dipped low. “I like Snickers. I’ll trade for Kit Kat.”

“What?” Sara spied his candy, and then raised her outraged gaze to his chubby face. “We had a deal. I’d dress up like a goober if you traded me Snickers for my Starburst. You can’t go back on your word after the fact.”

“You’re the other half to my cowboy. That’s your job as a girl. And I didn’t spit-shake for it. The contract nult and voided. It isn’t binded.”

Black clouds came through, hovering over Sara’s expression. “Looking stupid has nothing to do with being a girl. And don’t you start talking like your dad again. You don’t even know what any of that means. Give me your Snickers. You promised!”

“No. You can have the Kit Kat or nothing.”

“You turd!” Sara wadded up her fist and punched him in the arm as hard as she could.

“Sara!” Denise yelled from the kitchen. “I saw that. Stop picking on him.”

“Let her,” Mikey’s dad said in a gruff, disapproving voice. “If my son can’t protect himself from a girl, he can’t call himself a man.”

“Oh, Jack, stop. He’s just a boy,” Pam said.

“He won’t give me the Snickers!” Sara yelled, leaning forward to grab what she wanted.

Mikey snatched his bag to his chest with one hand and shoved her shoulder with the other. Sara tumbled away from him, barely managing to pull her bag with her so he didn’t get grabby.

“Michael Frost, we do not hit women!” Jack roared.

“You just told him to protect himself, and now you yell at him that he shouldn’t hit girls? Which is it?” Pam drawled without humor.

“C’mere, Mike, we’re going home,” Jack said.

Face set in a smug mask, Mikey clutched his candy tight to his chest. “I win.”

“You’re going to get in trouble, and you think you win?” Sara asked smugly.

“At least you don’t get the Snickers. And you hate Starburst, so I’ll still get it.”

“I’ll throw it all away, you butthead. You’re not going to get it!”

Mikey rose to a standing position, his face a stubborn mask. “Just wait. I will. I win.”

“C’mon, Michael, I haven’t got all day.” Jack stood by the door impatiently.

As Mikey took a step across Sara’s seated body, Sara kicked up a foot and caught his boot. Balance still going forward, but his foot momentarily caught on Sara’s, gravity took over. He stumbled. Refusing to let go of his candy, he didn’t put his hands up as he fell. His face scraped against the shag carpet.

“Sara!” Denise yelled. “No TV for you.”

Sara threw Mikey an evil grin. “Worth it.”

S
ara stood
in front of her workstation, her tags all lined up on one side, her money jar on the other, just as an over-organized Christie had shown her. She had on her apron, her hair and makeup screamed professional, and the first guests were sitting down to their breakfasts in the large dining room.

“If a cluttered desk is the sign of a cluttered mind, what, then, is an empty desk a sign of?” Florence said in a dry, snarky tone as she lumbered toward the kitchen.

Christie laughed as she whisked by right behind, an armful of unopened ketchup bottles balanced in her arms.

“Don’t worry about the jackass twins, they’re just pissed the chef starts today.” Christie placed the bottles in the condiment station one by one.

“The chef? Why is he just starting now?”

“Two cooks are good enough for the staff, but Dan and May bring in a chef to spruce up the menu for the guests. He’s some big shot from the city. They pay him a boatload, but the guests
rave
about him.”

Two more people walked into the dining room, a large space fashioned after a traditional log cabin. Sara had never seen so much bare wood in her life. Beams stretched across the ceiling, a similar color as the wood slate lining the walls. A wooden floor with a high gloss supported rustic tables and chairs. It was all a little hokey for Sara’s taste, but if it was what the guests were after, who was she to say boo?

“All right, showtime!” Christie said, wiping her hands on her jeans.

They’d been told their uniform consisted of jeans and a T-shirt. All clothing items should be clean, ironed, and without holes or rips, but they should look casual in order to fit in with the décor.

Fine by Sara. Jeans were exactly her speed.

“Okay, dearie-dee. Go take some orders!” Christie said with a beaming smile, giving Sara a little push.

With nervous jitters, Sara lurched toward her first table with a wooden smile. She hadn’t waited tables since she was in her early twenties.
Very
early twenties. She didn’t think it would be beyond her, but customer service was an art she had to reacquire.

“Good morning,” she said at her first table. “I’m Sara. I’ll be helping you this morning.” Sara met the woman’s eyes, a willowy dame in her late forties, then noticed the man, a graying fella of about the same age.

“Hi there, honey.” The woman smiled up at her, her twang denoting the South. “This is our first trip up here, and I must say, that bed was sure comfortable!”

Sara smiled sweetly, in guest-pleasing mode. “I’m so glad! What did you have planned for today?”

“Oh, well.” The woman glanced at her husband. “I think we might take one of those hikes y’all got. Then we’re signed up to learn how to make a fire without, well, fire!”

“Oh? Sounds interesting.” It didn’t, but they didn’t have to know that. “What can I get for you? Would you like some coffee?”

“Well, now…” The woman pursed her lips, looking down her menu slowly.

“I’ll have some coffee, yes please.” The man folded his hands on the table and smiled up at Sara.

“No problem.” Sara turned her sparkling “I am here to serve you and have nothing better to do but wait” smile back on the woman. She didn’t want to repeat herself, but she had two other tables to get to and the decision to have coffee really shouldn’t take this long.

“Hmmm,” the woman said, analyzing the print.

“Just get a coffee, honey, so this young lady can get on her way,” the man said pleasantly.

“Well, I’m getting to it.” The woman waved her husband away testily.

“Or, if you prefer, I make a mean Mimosa or a Bloody Mary…” Sara smiled at the next table, trying to indicate they’d only have to wait just a smidge longer. When she turned back, the woman was looking at her with slightly widened eyes.

Sara had one second to feel a rush of fear, thinking she’d made a faux pas of some sort, before a wicked grin lit up the woman’s face. “Yes, dear, I think that is exactly what I need. Mimosa it is!”

“Great! I’ll be right back for your orders.”

She visited the next two tables in a relaxed sort of bustle. Smiling and cheery, she collected drink orders and floated back to the minibar near the kitchen.

“You got any orders yet or what?” Ethel shouted.

The executive chef, a graying man with a straight back, swung his gaze from a stack of clever orange peel twists and speared Ethel with a glare. She scowled right back, one spatula-clutching hand fisted on her hip.

“Drink orders. Is this a beer and wine bar only? There’s vodka and champagne, right?” Sara checked over the supplies.

“Limited bar, but enough to get by,” the chef said in a stodgy voice thick with command. He probably ran a large kitchen, orchestrating tickets with practice and ease. And now here he was, dealing with a couple of jerks in a small kitchen.

He must’ve been making a ton.

When Sara was finally back with her first couple orders, she heard, “Girl, you are slower than a slug moving through peanut butter!”

“Florence, just take the order,” Christie yelled back as she stepped up beside Sara, two tickets clutched in her hand. She gave Sara an exasperated eye roll, to which Sara smirked. Waitresses versus cooks. She could play this game.

Her butt vibrated.

With a flurry of butterflies, she couldn’t help the jubilant smile as she ducked behind the waitress station and whisked out her phone. She shouldn’t have brought it—it was unprofessional and distracting—but she missed Mikey. He was exactly the same, only better.

Glancing around the partition, she noticed one of her customers was about ready for another drink. She bent to her phone with flying fingers.

She paused a second, wondering if he’d text back right away. Just as she was about to stuff the phone back in her pocket, it vibrated again.

An image accompanied the text. She touched it, glancing back at that table, the woman now looking up for service. As Sara’s gaze turned back to the phone, her breath caught. The phone held a beautiful tableau of grassy, rolling hills dusted with limitless sky so clear and blue it looked like heaven reaching down to shake hands with the people on earth. Her chest grew warm and her hands tingled. She wanted to be sitting next to him taking in that beautiful scenery so bad it had just become a complex.

“What are you standing around there for?” Ethel said. “We got people to feed!”

Sighing, Sara spun around and snapped off a pic of the spatula-raising bane of her existence.

“This ain’t a danged photo shoot! Get to work,” Ethel badgered.

She attached the picture and stuffed the phone in her back pocket. She felt the buzz as she made her way out to the tables, but ignored it. Pausing was one thing, but checking the phone in front of guests was a no-no.

She did speed up, though. She glided across the floor on light feet, not having to feign a smile. At the very next opportunity, she stashed herself behind her station and dove in her pocket.

Sara smiled as her head bent over the phone, her thumbs already moving.

“This ain’t a damn train station, dolly, get moving!” Ethel roared.

Irritated, Sara jammed her phone back in her pocket. With a scowl for Ethel, she picked up the food in the window and scurried out to the floor.

“Who are you texting?” Christie asked when Sara hustled back in to get a drink order.

“Mikey. He’s hanging out in paradise while I’m here dealing with picky people and a jerk for a cook,” Sara whispered furiously.

“Oooh, what’s he saying?” Christie asked excitedly. “Did you get me a date yet?”

“Ew.” Sara grabbed two glasses and hurried out, another pocket buzz spurring her on. After dropping off drinks like she was on fire, she took another order with sparkling eyes and hurried back to her protective alcove.

Sara chuckled and shook her head. She bent back over the phone.

“What’s he saying?” Christie asked as she grabbed a ketchup bottle. “Seriously, this counts as flirting.”

“It does not. He’s a good friend with a sense of humor. I’m still funnier, though.”

Smiling like an idiot, she spared a moment to wrinkle her nose at Ethel before heading back out to her customers. It felt so good to have him back in her life. She had a powerhouse in her corner, and boy did she need it. Now more than ever.

“
H
ow did
your first day go?”

Sara breathed a sigh of relaxation as she settled in next to Sam at the staff picnic table, a plate of food steaming in front of her. “Good, but long. I guess normally the main meals are at set times for the most part, but today the hours have been whack since guests are arriving.”

“Yeah, it takes the first couple of days to get into the swing of things, but then things get more regular. When do you start your volunteering?”

“Tomorrow. I’m supposed to meet Jake in the early evening.”

Sam groaned. “Which task is it?”

“It’s the leather conditioning one.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to deal with Paul yet. He’s weird.”

“Who’s weird?” Christie sat down with a wet head and a tired sigh.

“Sam was saying Paul is weird.” Sara stuffed a forkful of potatoes into her mouth.

“Oh yeah, way weird. But I guess he’s great with horses, so…” Christie shrugged. “You did well today, Sara.”

Sara smiled. “Thanks. I forgot how exhausting waiting tables is, though. I’m not used to being on my feet all day.” She glanced around. “Where are all the triangle boys?”

“Most of the cowboys eat at the upper ranch house,” Christie said as she picked up her first BBQ-sauce-covered rib, eyeing the slathered sauce dubiously. “They deal with their tasks during the day, then have to take care of any other duties later on. They only come down here every so often.”

“Hmm. Well, I better—”

“You wanna go for a walk before bed?” Sam asked quickly.

Sara and Christie both looked up in surprise. A smirk worked its way up Christie’s face.

“Oh, well…” Sara cleared her throat. “Sounds great, but maybe another night? I’m exhausted from today. Not used to constant activity, you know?”

Sam laughed, easy and effortless. “Of course. I forgot you don’t have any stamina.”

Sara smiled in relief. “Working on it.”

“Wait for me. I’ll go back with you.” Christie finished off her rib and stuffed some potato in her mouth before bounding up.

As they made their way into the night, Christie said quietly, “That was awkward.”

“Little bit,” Sara agreed. “I’ve hinted pretty obviously that I’m all jacked up and not looking for a relationship…”

“He’s probably not thinking that far ahead. After the summer ends, everyone goes home. This is a place for flings.”

“Huh. Well, don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m not really into flings. Was kind of with one guy for an extended period of time. Then he dumped me, so my average isn’t looking too good.”

“Probably hopes you’ll rebound.”

Sara opened the back door for Christie, that familiar lead weight lodging in her chest at the thought of moving on. The thought of why she had to.

Panic gripped her. “I don’t want to rebound. I don’t want to feel anything. I wish I could just cut off the emotional side and go through life like a zombie.”

Christie wrapped her arm around Sara’s shoulders in a walking hug as they approached their room.

“Although I guess I’ve been doing that for the last few years,” Sara amended, the lump in her chest spreading through her body. “Kind of a waste.”

“Nah,” Christie said quietly as they walked into their room so as not to wake the nightmare twins next door. “Only when you don’t learn from your mistakes are they a waste.”

Sara nodded, tears springing. She shook her head and widened her eyes so no moisture leaked out. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Are you sure?” Christie asked, pausing with her shirt halfway off. “Do you want me to come?”

“No, I’m okay.” Sara grabbed a sweater and headed back toward the door. “I just need to clear my head.”

“Okay, well… text if you want company. And don’t go far. I don’t want you getting lost.”

Sara nodded, her heart lightened that the college student had turned into the responsible adult. When she stepped outside, though, the tiny amount of joy withered away. The darkness engulfed her, smothering. The pain welled up, the thought of being dumped for another woman frosting her heart and chewing away chunks at a time.

A tingling fizz started at her ribcage, but not the good kind when a new crush came around. She didn’t even remember what that felt like. No, this was the other kind. The sucking undertow that happened right before the wave of loss crashed down and pulled her under. A flashback pinched her heart.

“Phil… but… please. We can work it out. We can fix this.”

Phil’s head had tilted to the side, his ice-blue eyes looking down at her in comical pity. “Sara, you’re just not the same girl you used to be. I need to move on.”

“But we’re engaged, Phil. Doesn’t that mean anything? We have so much history…”

As Sara’s feet crunched along the path through the trees, pain filled her chest.

“Some things just weren’t meant to be,” he’d said as he turned toward the door. “Take care.”

The click of the door in the silent house sounded like a gunshot. As the emptiness settled in her heart and throughout the house, loneliness crept in. The stark, desolate landscape of her love life grew cold and secluded. Isolated. All she’d known of love had crunched her bones into a fine powder and dusted her away. Every time she went to sleep in an empty bed, it reminded her of her inadequacy. Of the fact that he’d walked out on her when her age was starting to show and chosen someone prettier. Someone younger. Someone better.