Chapter Twelve
W ith Savannah settled a thirty-minute drive from Marietta on the Campbell’s Cold Canyon Ranch for the next couple of weeks, Josie finally began to relax and enjoy the house and what was left of her summer. Happily, it was proving to be the best summer she could remember.
There was so much to do in Marietta and she and Bear enjoyed checking out all the restaurants and bars and weekend farmer’s markets. On the nights that Josie didn’t work at Ansley’s gallery, she and Bear would hang out, or go do something fun, whether it was a movie, or a meal, or to listen to music in Bozeman. They always went Dutch, because Josie valued her independence, and Bear was not responsible for her. He was her friend, and she was determined to be a good friend to him, which meant keeping a tight rein on her emotions, and her deepening feelings, as well as her attachment to him.
She loved working at the gallery. Josie was good at it, too, and sold more pieces than Ansley did, probably because she had no self-consciousness about discussing Ansley’s talent. Ansley was extraordinary, young, and would be a huge name one day. Her work was an investment and collectors would be wise to buy her pieces now, while they were relatively affordable.
Josie met a lot of tourists working at the gallery, but then there were the locals and serious art collectors who traveled to Marietta just to see Ansley’s work. Some shoppers wanted Josie’s opinion—which painting would look best in a particular room—while others wanted nothing from her, making it very clear that they were merely looking and didn’t need any assistance.
Bear would often pop in on Thursday nights, since it was the one night during the work week that the gallery stayed open until ten o’clock. He’d bring her an iced tea or a snack and would stay and visit if there was no one in the gallery. If she was busy, he’d leave the treat for her behind the elegant little counter and look around the gallery before leaving.
Tonight, he didn’t rush away despite the gallery having several different groups of people shopping. As she answered questions one couple had about Ansley’s work, Josie watched Bear from the corner of her eye. He was slowly rolling around the exhibit, spending most of his time in front of the Montana landscapes. She also loved the Montana mountains and valleys, as well as the paintings featuring the various rivers in all of Montana’s seasons.
She was glad Bear was lingering. She liked having him here. He always made her feel safe and protected. She also found comfort in his company, even if they weren’t speaking. Josie secretly hoped that Bear would stay longer. They’d both been busy this week and hadn’t spent as much time together as they had.
*
Bear had swung by the gallery tonight to say hello to Josie, and then he was going to leave and try to get some reading done at home. But once he entered the gallery, Bear had no desire to go. He felt restless tonight, a little bored, a little irritable and he suspected it had to do with not seeing much of Josie this week.
He missed her. He missed talking and making her laugh. He missed her lovely face and those eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled. Tonight, she wore a simple lilac summer dress. It was fitted but had classic lines, and with her long, dark hair and stunning eyes she took his breath away. There was a part of him that thought of her as his—his girl, his woman, his heart—but at the same time, it wasn’t realistic, and he did his best to tamp down the thoughts and all the frustrating emotions.
He admired her work ethic. Josie was always busy, always coming and going, always working on something. But this week, he’d really missed talking with her, hanging out with her, watching shows with her. He missed morning coffee with her. Missed sipping her weird golden ginger turmeric good-for-you drink that she made in the evening for them. He missed her telling him how important magnesium was and counting out three magnesium gummies for him to take before bed.
It was strange that he couldn’t remember actually missing anyone before—other than his family. He’d loved Savannah but never really missed her. They were both so busy, and always traveling, and they never had a lot to talk about. Their reunions were generally wordless, too, reconnecting through sex. Lots of sex.
The last time he’d had sex was a few days before his accident. Savannah had flown in to Tulsa for a night, a quick visit between concerts, and they did what they did best—hot, fierce lovemaking that left them both spent and content.
Savannah always physically satisfied him. He’d never considered hooking up with anyone once he was committed to Savannah, but after he was hurt, after sex was the one thing he couldn’t do with her, they didn’t know how to communicate. They didn’t seem to have anything to say to each other. The silences were brutal and full of frustration and resentment.
She resented him for getting hurt and changing.
He resented her for missing who he’d been. It was bad enough grieving for his loss of sensation and loss of control without her so deeply unhappy that he was now paralyzed .
Sometimes, she masked her horror, but other times she couldn’t, her unhappiness building up in her until she blew, venting all of her rage and misery. That was how he’d discovered she’d been pregnant when he was hurt. And that was how he’d discovered she’d gotten rid of the baby.
He’d forgiven her—more or less—but he hadn’t forgotten. Despite his life on the road, despite the rigors of his sport, he was a family man, and looked forward to the day he’d have a wife and children.
Now Bear wondered why he’d thought Savannah would make a great wife and mother, but at the time, he’d been fooled by her Southern girl charm, and her Carolina accent, and her long, golden hair, her big brown eyes, and her legs that were a mile long.
He fell for the package and didn’t look deeper. Fool that he was.
Thank God, Josie was nothing like Savannah. Josie was unlike anyone else.
Bear parked himself in front of the wall featuring the new smaller Ansley works. They were elegantly framed and all featured barns and farmhouses, fenced pastures and creeks, and even one was Paradise Valley’s historic one room schoolhouse.
Finally, the people Josie had been talking to left the gallery, wandering out right after the other couple, and she crossed the gallery to give Bear a hug.
“You don’t usually stay,” she said, straightening.
She smelled sweet and fresh, like lemon blossoms, or was it that lemon myrtle body wash from the box of scented bath products Susie had sent him as a housewarming gift? Bear wasn’t about to use lemon blossom anything on his body, so he’d given those bath products to her, and kept the eucalyptus ones for himself. “You smell good,” he said.
“It’s the stuff your sister sent you. I love it.”
“I’ll have her send some more.”
“No, don’t do that. I saw how expensive the shipping was to get that box here. It was forty-eight dollars.”
“Australian,” he said. He gestured to the wall with the seven framed paintings.
“I like these. When did Ansley complete them?”
“Just recently. She brought three in last weekend, and then four new ones a few days ago.”
“She doesn’t typically do a lot of buildings,” Bear said, seeing that two of the seven framed pieces already had red dots on the price, indicating they’d sold. Fortunately, the Paradise Valley school house, the one he was most interested in, was still available.
“Only if there was a barn or something on the horizon, but never anything quite this intimate. I like them,” Josie answered. “They’re a bit dreamy. Not quite impressionistic, but I feel like there is a timelessness to them, a sense of nostalgia.”
“As if you’ve been there, or you’d like to be there,” he said.
“Yes, exactly.” She smiled happily at him. “We are so much alike it’s scary.”
“Twins.”
She laughed out loud, her lovely eyes filled with light and warmth. “It’s so good to have you here. I’ve missed you.”
“You were busy this week.”
“I’ve picked up a client,” Josie said. “Cormac’s wife asked if she could hire me to refresh their cottage at Flathead Lake. We’re not going to start the work until summer ends, but we’ve begun looking at paint and fabric and some new furniture.”
“This is great. When did it happen?”
“We met Monday for coffee, and she hired me then. Tuesday, we went through the magazine clippings she’d saved, and then Wednesday I shared some of my ideas. She’s lovely, you know.” Ansley leaned toward him to whisper. “And she wants to commission Ansley to do an original of Flathead Lake and the Mission Mountains, which would be the centerpiece for the cottage living room.”
“Cormac doesn’t strike me as a cottage kind of guy,” Bear said.
“I think they use the word cottage loosely. Their place is two or three stories and has over sixty-five hundred square feet.”
“I get it now. But good for you, and good for Ansley. You two make quite the design team.”
“ And we do have Rye in our back pocket.” She flexed her lean but impressive bicep. “Calhoun and Campbell power.”
“You are so goofy,” he said.
“I know. But it’s good. It’s far better than taking oneself too seriously.”
“I agree.” Bear turned and faced the gallery wall. “If it’s still available, I want this schoolhouse.”
“Really? Why?”
He shrugged. “My dad grew up attending school in a one room schoolhouse, the Benton Lake School, a half hour north of Great Falls, and it makes me think of him. He went there from kindergarten until he was fourteen.”
“There’s not much north of Great Falls.”
“Farms. Ranches. My dad grew up in a farming family.”
“And your mom’s dad was a rancher.”
Bear nodded, bittersweet emotion filling him. He hadn’t felt much of anything positive for so long and now he was feeling good things again, feelings that weren’t dark and heavy, feelings that weren’t despair. The newness of these emotions staggered him. He’d doubted he’d ever again feel warmth and tenderness, joy and gratitude. Or love. But he felt love.
Love for his parents who had been truly good people.
Love for his sister, who had rushed to his side when he was hurt, and then stayed with him for months until he was stable.
Love for beautiful, passionate Josie Calhoun, whom he couldn’t have, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate her, and love her from afar.
“Where did your dad go to school when he turned fourteen?” Josie asked.
“My grandmother homeschooled him for a year, and then once he had his license, he drove himself to high school in Great Falls. He was, by all accounts, quite the athlete—a good quarterback and a great pitcher.”
“Did you play sports in school?”
“I did.”
“I imagine you were a good athlete, too.”
“I was,” he said modestly.
Josie laughed, and the sound of her laughing made him laugh.
“How did your parents meet?” she asked.
“Hiking. Mom loved being out of doors, and Dad was a brand-new park ranger and they met on a trail. He saw she was alone and mentioned that there had been an aggressive moose in the area and to be careful.”
“And they fell in love and lived happily ever after?”
“Not exactly. He fell for her, but she wasn’t interested in being anyone’s girlfriend. She liked her independence and my dad, although well-meaning, was always trying to help her.”
Josie grinned. “And she didn’t want or need his help.”
“Exactly.”
“How long did it take him to convince her he was the one?”
“Almost three years.”
“He was persistent.”
“Had to be. Mom had a stubborn streak, but once she fell for him, she fell hard and after all those years of courtship, they married quickly, after just a few weeks.”
“They were happy together?”
“Very. From the time they married, they spent very little time apart.”
She knew his parents were both gone, but she didn’t know when or how they’d died and wasn’t comfortable asking. “When is the last time you saw your sister?”
“Christmas, eighteen months ago.” Bear frowned. “I can’t believe it’s already been that long.”
“Go see her.”
“In Australia?”
“Why not? Buy a first class or business seat, stretch out, watch a couple movies, get some sleep and arrive rested.”
“You make it sound easy. It’s a long trip.”
“Yes, but this is your sister, and you miss her.” Josie glanced at the gold framed painting of the schoolhouse on the wall. “If you want it, I’ll ring you up, but I think Ansley is trying to keep the grouping through the weekend. She’ll have new pieces next week to replace the sold ones.”
“That’s fine. Just bring my painting home when Ansley gives the okay.”
*
Saturday, Josie didn’t have to be at the gallery until noon and was enjoying a slow morning at the house. Bear made them a late breakfast of scrambled eggs, country-fried potatoes, sausage, and toast. Josie wasn’t a big fan of sausage, so she let Bear have hers, but she’d enjoyed sitting in the booth sketching some ideas for the front of his house while keeping an eye on him while he cooked. It was obvious he knew how to make eggs, and his country-style potatoes were perfectly crispy with just the right amount of seasoning.
They ate at the kitchen table and after he’d finished clearing his plate, he asked her what she was working on.
“Just some sketches of your house, and what it could look like.” She looked at him. “You do know you have to do something to the exterior. Your house has no curb appeal. It’s rather embarrassing, and not fit for a Montana legend.”
“You can let go of the legend stuff now, Josie Calhoun. I’m not much of a legend.”
“Sure you are. Not only did you survive a grizzly attack, but you survived being thrown and stomped on by one of the rankest bulls in the history of the sport. I’m not into rodeos and bull riding but even I know that’s pretty impressive.”
“You really enjoy giving me grief.”
“I certainly enjoy playing with you—” She blushed furiously the moment the words left her mouth. “Because it’s fun teasing you.” She frowned. “Nothing is coming out right.”
Bear grinned, his expression devilish but thoughtfully didn’t add to her embarrassment. “What would you do to the exterior if you could?”
“First, I’d replace the windows. These vinyl windows are an eyesore. And then I’d give you a great looking front porch.” She turned the sketchbook around so he could see, and she showed him the drawing. “I’d add some proper columns for craftsman style. Some shingles here. Some siding there. With the windows, I’d add narrow planter boxes beneath for color and texture. What do you think?”
He studied it a moment before giving her a rueful look. “I think that’s a lot of money.”
“We could skip the planter boxes.”
“Somehow, I don’t think the window boxes are the expensive part,” Bear said dryly. “And don’t say I’ll ask Rye for a bid—”
“You’d want to use him.”
“Yes, but your brother isn’t cheap.”
“True, but he’s good, and you can trust him. But if you want some other bids, I can do that.”
“And offend Rye?”
She shrugged. “He knows it’s business. Rye is the first one who would understand, especially now that you’re friends. He’d never want you to feel awkward.”
“Perhaps, but I’d rather have you work with him than some other random dude. Not all men are reliable and honest.”
She laughed. “I’m tougher than I look, and if things ever got dicey, I have you and Rye on speed dial. Never mind Ansley’s brother Lachlan on the Campbell ranch.” Josie paused. “Speaking of Lachlan and the Campbell ranch, have you heard from Savannah at all?”
Bear shook his head. “No, but I gather she’s been doing well. Rye did mention that Lachlan returns sometime next week so that might mean Savannah is on the move again.”
“I hope not.” Josie gave Bear a quick glance. “I like her tucked away in Paradise Valley. I find her far less threatening there.”
“Why would you find her threatening? She can’t hold a candle to you, Josie.”
Josie couldn’t answer without giving herself away.
“You’re beautiful, Josie. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he added, his voice deep.
Lifting her head she looked up into his eyes, seeing an intensity in his expression that stole her breath. She’d never seen that look in his eyes, but it was hot and fierce and also surprisingly possessive. “Men don’t look at me.”
“I’m looking at you.”
“But it’s different. You don’t want me—”
“You can’t say that.”
Josie swallowed hard. “But I can. You’re not interested in me romantically—”
“Again, not true. If I was the old Bear, I would have pursued you hard.” A small muscle pulled in his square jaw. “You’re the whole package. Perfect.”
“But this new Bear isn’t attracted to me?” she whispered, torn between mortification and curiosity. She needed to know what he was saying, needed to know if there was a chance for them.
Dusky color touched his cheekbones. “I’m very attracted to you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, but I won’t pursue you. I can’t. I made that decision a long time ago.”
“Why?”
He leaned back in his chair, brows lowering, light gray gaze narrowed. “It wouldn’t be right.”
He’d detached. Just like that. She could feel distance between them, the energy gone. “Why not?”
“You’re very young.”
“You’re only ten years older.”
“Eleven. Which is significantly older. And then I’m this—” He tapped the rim of his chair. “I’m not who I was, and I can’t give you the life you deserve.”
Her heart ached at that. “But you’re wiser now than you were before.”
“Wiser, and far more realistic. My life is full of challenges, and it’s not a life for you. It’s not a life I’d wish on anyone.” His jaw eased and he gave his head a shake. “And that’s not me feeling sorry for myself, I promise. There was a time I did feel sorry for myself, but I don’t anymore. I’ve come to terms with what happened, and the fallout, and the past is the past. I’m trying my best to live in the now, and that means living with integrity and keeping it real.”
She knew what he was saying, but she wasn’t buying into his view. It certainly wasn’t hers. That wasn’t to say he was wrong—he was allowed to have his own opinions—but her opinion was that he was limiting himself, narrowing his options—and eliminating her as an option. It would be one thing if he wasn’t attracted to her, but since he was, and as she was most definitely drawn to him, it didn’t seem right that he could decide what was best for her.
“I like you,” she said, voice husky. “A lot. I have from the first day we met.”
“That’s good, since we’re roommates and friends.”
Her chin lifted, her gaze locking with his. “We could be more.”
“No, we can’t. We’re going to keep this platonic. We’re going to put friendship and respect first—”
“Even if I’m dying to kiss you?”
He looked away, features tightening, cheekbones prominent. “You’re not playing fair.”
She leaned forward, one hand sliding across the table. “Don’t you ever think about kissing me?”
Bear looked at her hard—nothing remotely tender in his eyes. No, he looked livid. Outraged. The seconds ticked by, each more painful than the last, before he turned and left the kitchen leaving her alone at the table with her sketchbook and their empty breakfast plates.
Josie blinked, and again, eyes burning, watering, throat aching. She sucked in her bottom lip and pressed it to her teeth. That had not gone well.
*
Don’t you ever think about kissing me?
In his office, Bear covered his face with a hand, muscles tight, heart thudding. How could she do that to him? How could she test his resolve? It wasn’t fair.
He thought about kissing her every single day, a dozen times a day or more.
He thought about pulling her onto his lap and wrapping her in his arms and holding her against him, savoring her softness and sweetness, pressing her breasts to his chest, letting his hands clasp her waist, and her beautifully rounded hips and butt. She was all curves, all warmth, all fire. Good God, he wanted her, desired her. But once he went there… once they went there… it was all over. He’d never be able to love her and let her go.
He’d never be able to look any other woman in the eyes or want to feel other lips against his. Perhaps there was another woman out there for him, perhaps there was someone who could settle for him, but he’d never ask it of Josie.
He’d never want less for her, only more.