35. Cait #2
Fuck it, she thought, pulling out the pack of smokes and tearing off the band at the top.
Tapping one into her hand, she put it in her mouth as she searched her purse for a lighter, remembering with despair that she had thrown all of her lighters out right after buying the cigarettes.
Idiot! But, wait! “Please be there, please be there, please be there,” she chanted, pulling open the back door of her car.
Reaching under the seat, she slid her fingers around, only to be found wanting, except…
what was this? An envelope under her seat?
With tears pricking her eyelids, she clutched it to her chest, unable to bring herself to open it, already knowing what it held.
She couldn’t read it. Not again. Another shove put it back under the seat.
The unwanted letter had gone missing the day of the street dance, and she’d been relieved, taking it as a sign that what was in the past should remain there, so she never looked for it.
Now it was just trash in her car. Trash, which was how she felt after reading it.
Slumping down on the grass next to her car, probably in the same spot her brother had gotten his pants stained, she closed her eyes, afraid of the memories that surfaced whenever she allowed herself any peace. Holding her cigarette between two fingers, she whispered, “I’m so stupid.”
“Need a light?” The deepest voice she’d ever heard spoke behind her, but she didn’t bother to turn around.
When she didn’t respond, a large hand with hairy knuckles held out an old-fashioned lighter, gold, with some kind of monogram embellished on it.
The flame met the end of her cigarette after he flicked it, and she inhaled deeply, giving herself over to the nicotine, cursing her inability to stay clean.
“Those things’ll kill you, ya know,” he lectured as she exhaled.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” she caustically replied, her head dropping back to rest on her car, not caring that she would undoubtedly look a mess, with her own stains on the back of her dress from sitting on the ground, and hair either flattened by her car or hiding chunks of mud from the side panel.
After another puff, she said, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I am trying to quit. ”
“Yeah? Good for you. Me, I’ve never smoked,” he chuckled, the resonant sound shocking her.
“No? Then why are you carrying around such a fancy lighter?”
“Well, I think that’s a story for another day.” She kept her eyes shut, hoping her new friend would take the hint to leave, desperate for her solitude. Instead, he continued, “Not that it’s any of my business, but why are you sitting on the ground, over here by yourself?”
“You’re right—it’s none of your business, so why don’t you get the hell away from me?
You’ve done your good deed for the day.” Dragging again on her cigarette, annoyed that she could hear him breathing above her, she finally opened her eyes, shocked to see the man in the flannel from the wedding.
Lana’s brother. Montgomery. With his rugged, stocky build, he was the complete opposite of the men in her family.
Up close, his blue eyes were so dark his pupils almost disappeared in the sunlight, and hair she’d thought dark brown was actually black, like a raven’s wing.
His face lacked the lean grace her brother possessed, but the man was undeniably attractive.
Flannel, though? Who the hell wore flannel to a wedding?
For that matter, who the hell wore flannel in August, when temperatures routinely soared above eighty degrees.
With what she suspected were powerful arms bulging beneath his shirt, Montgomery gave off serious blue-collar labor vibes, even if he wasn’t a true lumberjack.
What the hell did she know, though? Black stubble lined his cheeks, making her wonder when he’d last shaved.
Not that she cared, of course, for he was definitely not her type—too raw, too unrefined.
“Caitriona!” Oh hell, not her mom, she thought, throwing her partially smoked cigarette under her sandal to hide the evidence.
One of her greatest fears was her mother discovering that she smoked…
that she used to smoke, she amended. Not anymore, despite the smoke tendrils drifting up from her foot testifying otherwise.
After starting in college, she’d kept her smoking a secret for years.
Rarely coming home had made it easy to hide her nasty habit from her mom.
Take the stereotypical Southern belle, but make her Midwestern; that was Nora Kinsale Livingston.
Old money (for South Dakota), genteel manners (no swearing, ever), and immaculately put together at all times (no frizzy hair for her), Cait often felt like a watered-down version of her perfect mother.
Hastily rising, Cait stumbled over a slick spot in the grass, and a pair of hands clutched her elbows, murmuring, “Easy, princess.” An involuntary shiver ran down her spine, and the warm breath on her neck made her skin prickle.
Jerking away, she huffed, “I’m fine. Thanks for nothing for the light. If my mom finds out I’ve been smoking, it’s on you,” she snarled. After all, she’d told him she was trying to quit. Why had he enabled her?
“Caitriona, please,” her mother called from just inside the park. “We need you and your brother for pictures!”
Scurrying back into the park, to her annoyance, Montgomery was at her elbow. She stopped dead in her tracks. “Were you following me?”
To her consternation, he laughed. “Following you? What are you talking about?”
Frustrated, she grumbled. “When you showed up at my car—did you follow me there?”
Lumberjack’s wide mouth twitched, as if holding back a smile. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but this is a public park. I saw you at the wedding, and-” he began.
She glared at him. “Wow, your observational skills are commendable, aren’t they? I mean, you’d have to be blind not to have seen me, since I was in front of everyone, leading the entire thing.”
“Little surly, aren’t you, on a day that should be filled with goodwill and cheer?”
Cait gaped. Who the hell was this guy? “I didn’t ask for your company, so if I’m not perky enough for you, why don’t you leave me the hell alone?”
He held his hands out in surrender. “Listen, you’re right about one thing.
I did see you leave the park. Someone said that you’re Liam’s sister, and since I’m looking for my sister, Lana, I thought you might know where he is.
Or where they are. I presume they’re together, and I didn’t know who else to ask.
Sorry, I should have introduced myself. Montgomery Miller. ”
Ignoring him as pieces of the puzzle fell into place, Cait cursed, “Shit.” Glancing around, she saw Sam had returned, but still no sign of Liam. Or Lana. “DAMNIT!” Could Sam have taken Lana over to her brother’s house?
Montgomery asked, “What? What is it?”
“I think I know where they are,” she told him, running to her car.
He yelled, “I’m coming with you!”
“What? No, absolutely not.” If she found what she was pretty sure she was going to find at Liam’s, she was afraid her brother would be in big trouble.
Even though Liam was taller than this burly mountain man, Montgomery looked like he wasn’t afraid of manual labor, something her brother avoided at all costs.
With his hand on the door of her hybrid, he said, “Your brother has some explaining to do about why he broke my sister’s heart.
I didn’t come with her all the way from New York to see her get hurt again.
My rental car is over there,” he pointed across the street, “so either I ride with you, or I follow you. Town this size, it shouldn’t be that hard to keep up. ”
With a grunt, she said, “Fine,” and watched with satisfaction as he folded his brawny frame into her compact car.
“I’m surprised to find someone driving a hybrid in this part of the country,” he remarked, his comment making her bristle.
“Like New Yorkers are the only ones who care about the earth?”
“Do you automatically take offense at everything everyone says, or is it just me?”
“Look, my brother’s house is only a few blocks away. We don’t need to bond just because our siblings are star-crossed lovers.”
“Star-crossed lovers?” He snorted. “If your brother does anything to hurt my baby sister-”
“Like Liam was the one playing games in their relationship? Please—she’s done nothing but lead him on for the past two years-”
“You don’t know anything about my sister-”
“And you don’t know anything about my brother, but I’ve watched him turn into a zombie over her.” She slammed on her brakes, grinning as he flew forward, despite the seat belt, hitting his head on the window. “We’re here.”
She flew out of the car, up the front steps, and threw open Liam’s front door. Montgomery followed, too close for comfort. “I’ll give him credit for his taste in music,” he said, as Garth Brooks wailed out of the speakers Liam had installed throughout the house.