Chapter Five
Calhoun woke alone. Sun streamed through the window, and he stared in disbelief. Checked his watch. Nine. He hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours at a time in years. And couldn’t remember when he’d slept so late. And J wasn’t here so he’d slept through her not only getting out of bed but also leaving, which was weird because it was her room.
He jumped up, his body limber and relaxed even after the marathon sex. He prowled the room in growing disbelief. She’d made coffee in the Keurig and had taken a shower again.
Was she coming back?
Did she expect him to be gone?
Yeah. That had been the original agreement. He picked his phone off the nightstand just as a text flooped in. His heart and cock jumped, but that was stupid. He and J hadn’t shared numbers. They hadn’t shared names.
Ryder. Picture of Kai riding shotgun, morning breeze ruffling his fur.
Bucking Bulls back home. Leaving ranch. Meet in fifteen Java Café.
Calhoun’s knees gave out and he sat on the bed.
Kai looked happy. Healthy. He’d been smart to arrange for Ryder to pick up the pup after he’d been rehabilitated in Texas. Kai had had nearly four weeks living and traveling with Ryder. This hadn’t been the first picture or update Ryder had sent from the road.
Calhoun had craved every picture and update and now he was only fifteen minutes out. He jumped in the shower. He’d deliberately walked away from this type of luxury, but shame rushed forward because the double-headed shower, high water pressure and vast space—he didn’t have to duck to get under the showerhead—could become addictive. The tiled, deep-seated shower bench reminded him of how conducive the shower was to sex, and he fully perked up at the memory. He tried to ignore biology but failed and rubbed one out, picturing J’s hot midnight gaze sparkling when he drove her over the edge.
Her amazed surprise at each orgasm stuck with him. Made him feel like he’d done one thing right, when the rest of him felt so wrong.
He hadn’t even told her his name. Last night that had seemed sexy, like he was still on a covert op, but this morning as he was about to head out to meet Ry and Kai, he felt like a fraud. And a douche since the condom fiasco.
Well, he’d leave his number, but he still felt like a jerk. Even his brothers didn’t know about his family.
“I wish I didn’t know about my family,” he murmured, turning off the water even though he could have stood there another ten minutes.
He grabbed a fluffy towel, one more reminder of the luxury he’d turned his back on.
The price had been too high.
But he had money. His father had ruthlessly and furiously carved him out of the family trust, company and his will. But both his grandmothers had put money in trust for all their grandchildren, defying his father’s directives.
Not that he intended to use the money. He had no claim on it. He’d made his decision to live free. Now he just had to figure out what that looked like.
He dressed quickly, his eyes scanning the room one last time, as he inhaled the lingering scent of Jory and sex. Last night had been spectacular, until the end. Never before had a condom slipped off during sex, and he’d had some pretty raunchy hot sex over the years.
He’d dismissed Cross’s warning that destiny was going to march in and hand him his ass last night as he tried to complete Jace’s last wish, but now his brother’s teasing reared up, mocking.
No. He was in charge of his destiny. But for the first time in a long while, it hit him that he might intend to live free of family obligation, but he might not be able to.
When he’d entered the army, he’d had to make a will and have a beneficiary. He’d chosen several animal rescue organizations, and then later after he became Kai’s handler, he’d added the foundation in Last Stand, Texas, that took on the ‘impossible’ cases of injured and traumatized military dogs.
“Damn.”
He had to get a move on. He didn’t want to be late to meet Ryder and Kai. He was the last man who should play family man, but he’d never shirk responsibility to his kid and the kid’s mom. J had said she’d take Plan B. He wasn’t sure exactly what that did, but he didn’t want to assume anything, and face a furious teenager looking for closure or connection eighteen years later. No way was he going to ignorantly play the role of deadbeat catalyst for another Lael-Miller disaster generation.
He peeled off a piece of hotel stationery. Wrote his name—OC Miller. And his cell. But was that breaking the rules? Too bad.
In case you need to get in touch with me.
And he left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
He took the stairs, and left the hotel, crossing quickly to Main Street. He’d left his truck near Grey’s last night and figured he’d retrieve it after he met up with Ryder. The morning was crisp. Clear. Gorgeous, and he tilted his head back as he walked, breathing in the fresh mountain air that was scented with pine, grass, dirt, animal and snow.
Maybe Montana really was heaven. From what he’d garnered last night, Cross, Huck, Rohan and Ryder were all staying put. They had jobs. Women. Purpose.
Family.
He stumbled a little. That damn slippery condom.
He didn’t believe in coincidence, but what else could it be? Cross had come to Montana for Jace to fulfill a vow and had ended up adopting a teen girl and marrying. Huck had come to walk Jace’s sister down the aisle and instead had become the groom to a pregnant bride, and he was in the process of adopting Willow’s infant. Then Rohan had peeled off at Christmas to deliver a letter for Jace and had met up instead with his high school sweetheart who had a son and now they were an instant family. He hadn’t heard Ryder’s story yet.
Then there was him, hooking up anonymously in a saloon and having his first ever condom mishap.
“Flippin’ classy,” he berated himself, ashamed.
But that had had nothing to do with Jace, he reassured himself. J had nothing to do with his vow to Jace.
“Big O!”
Calhoun shot to instant awareness. Ryder drove in the opposite direction, window down, Kai lunging toward the window, yipping, wiggling and squealing.
Calhoun’s joy was just as intense—internally, if not externally. He heard Ryder’s full-bodied laugh, and then Kai hurtled out of the open window, and Calhoun jogged across the street, already slapping his chest for Kai to jump. And then even with his lightning reflexes, he was too slow. He heard the rev of an engine, squeal of brakes, flash of black and blue in his periphery.
He reached for Kai and lifted and hurled him back toward Ryder, barely registering Ry’s look of shock and horror before he was hit hard from behind and also from the side. His vision grayed then blacked out. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t feel his body, and his last thoughts tumbled through his brain. Irony was a bigger bitch than even he’d imagined, and he’d failed Jace.
*
“My father’s offerstands,” Rohan Telford said as Jory stood outside on the mowed grass and stared at the rebuilt farmhouse that looked like it should be in a Montana tourist brochure, instead of the dilapidated eyesore that was too hot in the summer and freezing in the winter.
She’d met Rohan here at his texted request. She’d not wanted to visit her own home even though her mother and grandmother had asked her to clear out the last of their things they’d left behind—donate, keep or dump—but she had because she hadn’t wanted to return to her room secretly hoping O would still be there.
She was an adult. She knew the rules. Last night had been a one-off.
“You can stay here rent-free while you’re working at the hospital, and my brother or I will help you if you need anything hauled away. We packed up everything in the old barn, which we are going to turn into an equipment shed and office, once it’s emptied out.”
“But you fixed up the house,” she objected, stunned by the generous offer. “Your family must have plans for it.”
“My dad wanted the land. He wanted the access to summer pastures and also to keep the land from being developed. My buddies and I…” Rohan broke off. A shadow skittered across his face and then was gone like a passing cloud on this glorious morning that kept unfortunately reminding Jory how beautiful Marietta could be.
“My dad wants a caretaker up here as this part of the ranch is isolated and having someone living up here will discourage more wildlife incursions on the cattle in the summer,” Rohan said. “But if you end up taking the job at the hospital…”
“I won’t,” she said decisively and then winced at her rude interruption. “Sorry, Rohan. I just can’t see myself staying in Marietta. I didn’t even want to come here.”
“Why not?”
She shot him a look. Dang he was handsome—even more so now that he was a man, but nothing compared to O last night.
And you need to stop thinking about him now.
She wasn’t going to fall in love with a man who could break her by pulling a disappearing act.
“Growing up in Marietta was different for me,” she admitted. “My family…my dad, his dad before him and his dad before him had been…” how to describe them “…not model citizens,” she settled on. “Cattle rustlers, gamblers, fighters, schemers. Heck, one of my ancestors was supposedly dragged behind a horse to encourage him to leave town for good,” she added wondering if Rohan had heard that story. “Definitely not good ranchers or honest men and not a one of them stuck around.”
Her voice cracked.
Get a grip.
Her father had left them years ago, and Rohan didn’t need her to toss her family’s dirty laundry on his freshly mowed grass.
“I wanted a fresh start,” she said.
She’d chosen books over people.
“Coming back here—” she waved her hand toward the house “—feels like a step back.”
Rohan nodded. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. It was quiet. No traffic. Just the slight chill of the breeze tumbling down Copper Mountain.
“I’m the first to admit it can be tough coming home again,” Rohan said after a long while as she stared at the mountain, which she’d always felt was judging her, or poised to devour her as a snack.
Her curious gaze skewed toward his. “You? You were golden. Popular. You fit. You and your family were…are what Marietta is all about. Good people. Community service. Success.”
“We’ve had our struggles,” Rohan said. “And making a mistake always felt bigger than it actually was at the time,” he said soberly. “So, if you want to stay here instead of at the Graff for the few months you’re here, the house is yours. You can cull through your family’s things we stored in the barn and maybe slay a few ghosts while you’re here.”
She squared her shoulders. He made it sound easy, but maybe she was the one who was making it hard. She still felt like that eight-year-old girl left behind.
Living here alone also sounded lonely.
But her frugal self rose to the surface. She’d pay rent of course, but this could be ideal. Short term. Clear out whatever her mom and oma had left behind. Bury her ghosts and painful memories and finally move on. Last night had been the first step. Staying here could be the second.
“I’d need to pay something,” she said.
And Rohan smiled as if he knew he had her where his family wanted. Although why?
“Can you show me what you’ve done to the house because on the outside it looks totally different? Even the window to my room looks different.”
Her childhood bedroom hadn’t even really been a bedroom, more like an attic nook. “The house no longer looks like it’s about to crumble in on itself.”
“Sure.” Rohan bounded up the stairs to the wide, wraparound porch that no longer had any broken or cracked planks. He unlocked the door, and Jory looked at the key he’d placed in her hand earlier.
She climbed each stair with deliberation compared to Rohan’s imitation of a border collie coming home for supper after a long day herding on the range.
She stopped in the doorway.
“Whoa.” That was all she could say for a moment. “You’ve been busy.”
“Friend of mine is a contractor and has a crew. They’ve been out here shoring up the supports, refurbishing the floors, new windows, new kitchen—bit more of an open concept, and we punched out the upstairs area as well, added another bathroom and partial loft. The three bedrooms are still down here, and we added another bathroom as well.
“But why go through so much trouble if your dad doesn’t want the house or won’t accept rent for it?” She was mystified. She didn’t know much about construction, but it wasn’t cheap.
“My dad has some thoughts,” Rohan said slowly. “And so do I. We’ve had discussions.” His green gaze lasered back on her now. “Nothing firmed up, yet, so you staying here for your contract at the hospital actually buys us—me and my other Coyote Cowboys—some time that we need.”
The hair rose on the back of her neck. “Coyote Cowboys?” Rohan had been in the service for a few years. What if he and Big O knew each other. Instinctively she pressed her legs together and then nearly laughed at her ridiculousness.
That horse was long out of the barn.
“We’re in the process of drawing up a business plan, and this house and the outbuildings feature into it, but we need to make the numbers work.”
Jory nodded, slowly. She knew all about trying to balance the numbers.
“But would my being here during the day mess up your plans? I’m working night shift four nights a week for the next two months. I’d be sleeping during the day.”
Like a vampire.
“No,” Rohan said decisively. “Like I said, you’d be buying us time. My dad likes the idea of having someone up here to watch the property. If you stay here…”
“I could drive the access roads,” she said. “After shift and before I go in. My car’s four-wheel drive.”
Rohan smiled. “I’m working on a plan. I’d probably bring an ATV over, and a couple of horses.”
Jory’s heart leapt. She’d always wanted a horse, but they’d been too expensive growing up, and wildly impractical now as she traveled around and often stayed in long-stay hotel suites for business professionals.
“It’s been a hot minute since I rode,” she said, not able to shake off the image like she should. “And I don’t think I would scare anyone.” She waved her hand down her body. She knew how to shoot. Her daddy had taught her, but she hadn’t picked up a gun since he’d left. “And I couldn’t shoot anyone if you’re worried about cattle rustlers. And I’d have a hard time shooting a coyote or wolf unless it was attacking.”
“I like that about you,” Rohan said softly.
Was he making a joke?
He smiled, and Jory felt less defensive. Rohan had always been swoony in high school. So many girls had dreamed about dating him because not only had he been handsome, smart and athletic, he’d also been so kind—always helping others and standing up for the awkward kids who didn’t have poise or connections.
“Stay here if you want, Jory. I’ll have someone from the ranch making regular patrols. The cattle will be up here on the hills soon so you won’t be alone, but no one will come to the house, except perhaps to the equipment barn. They’ll be quiet. Keep to themselves. You should consider getting a dog.”
“I’d love one,” she answered quickly. “But I move too much.”
“Why?”
She didn’t know how to answer that, so she shrugged her shoulders and looked around the house that no longer felt familiar. And with the sun pouring through the double-paned windows and the fresh mountain breeze teasing through the open door, it hit her then, that she did want to stay at her own house. The well of longing that poured through her shocked her. She felt closer to her brother here, her father. It was like she could allow herself to remember them again.
The house was even fully furnished.
“Boone and I packed up what your mom left in closets in totes and put them in the barn—that’s refurbished too. We kept your rope swing and even added a little more fun.”
She stared at him, curious. She could almost feel her brother Josiah’s arms around her as they swung drunkenly in circles, looking up at the bats roosting in the barn’s eves.
“I’ll leave you to look around, tell my dad it’s a go. You got my number. Let me know if you need anything.”
Then Rohan, light on his feet, was gone. She waited until his truck started and crunched away down the long gravel drive. He was taking the shortcut off the small ranch—there was still a rough, barely there road that led down to Peavine and then to the highway. The few locals had used it at one time, but now no one lived up here or down on what had been the backside of the Quinn property.
She walked slowly through the house, admiring the changes. The house was still farmhouse style. Rustic. Spare lines. But she liked the building materials and the pine flooring shone, and the spots where it had been replaced blended in. Did she really want to revisit the past just to save some money?
Maybe she should simply pay someone to haul away the last of the Quinn junk and make a fresh start herself—like her mom and oma finally had.
It would be dark here. Lonely.
But she’d be working nights.
She walked up the narrow stairs to her childhood bedroom and stared in awe at the changes. She’d always loved her room, the smallness, the window that looked out on the lone oak tree where she could spy on squirrels and birds. She felt like she was in a tree house, part of nature, not stuck inside.
The room was bigger now—eaves pushed out and painted a soft green, but the ceiling still sloped, and the small window was now a bay style with a comfortable seating nook and a view that went for miles. Jory lifted the lid, marveled at the craftsmanship and closed it again. Storage, a place to sit, and a view with a morning and afternoon breeze. She cranked the window open and thought about a book she’d read in a humanities class—Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own.
This room looked like a room where she could imagine a future, write a poem.
Smiling at her unexpected imagination, she leaned out the window to see if the nesting box she’d made with her high school woodworking teacher, Mr. Lane, was still there. It was.
She smiled, and then pulled her head back in the window. Something brushed through her hair, and she flipped her hand at it thinking spider, but no, something metallic flashed in her vision.
Jory’s fingers caught at the chain. And her breath fractured, everything in her going still even as her heart galloped. She’d forgotten all about her necklace from her great-granddad. She untangled the chain with the small medallion from the bare curtain rod and sat down. With her thumb she traced the tarnished image on the Buffalo coin.
A strangled laugh along with a cry tore out of her.
So stupid. Pretentious and tragic.
Her great-grandfather had wanted to create a family crest for his disdained family so he’d taken antique Buffalo nickels and ruined whatever value they might have accrued, by adding a fractured piece of turquoise found by some relative, along with copper to represent the vein of copper another broken ancestor had found and lost during the short-lived copper boom in the mid eighteen-seventies. The Quinn family’s luck always drained through their fingers, and this medallion was another reminder.
The intention was to create a family heirloom—passed father to son. Her father had given his to Josiah on his tenth birthday, and her grandfather, out of prison for the longest time she could remember, had made another medallion for her, not caring that she was a girl. He’d added a Montana sapphire that family lore said he’d stolen, to the medallion, before gifting it to her the same Christmas when she’d been eight.
It had been their last Christmas together as a family.
She held the necklace up to the light streaming in through the window and watched it twist. She’d been proud to wear it when her grandfather had put it around her neck.
“A lucky nickel,” her granddad had said. “It will always give you something of value and remind you where you came from.”
The medallions hadn’t been lucky. Before half the year had passed, her grandfather had died in a holdup gone wrong in a gas station outside Billings, and her father—always wandering off to participate in some sketchy scheme that would finally make them all rich—had taken her brother and left for good. Her mom had withdrawn and Jory’s already precarious childhood was shoved that much further out onto the ledge.
Still, she’d risen to the challenge.
At age eleven, she’d accepted that her father and brother were never coming home, but just in case, she’d hung her precious medallion on the curtain rod to guide them home if they ever chose that path, and then she’d lived for herself, determined to leave the Quinn legacy of poverty, pain and abandonment behind her as soon as she left.
“And now I’m back.” She palmed the necklace, and then after hesitating a moment, she slipped the chain over her neck. When she’d been a child, the nickel had been more like a pendant. Now it sat a little higher, but she could still tuck it under her T-shirt as a reminder not only of where she’d come from, but how far she’d traveled.
Maybe coming home wasn’t the step backwards she’d imagined.