Montana Actually Page 15

  Shannon tried hard to lower her voice. “I’ve been worried sick.”

  Hunter shrugged his thin shoulders. “I’m back now. What’s for supper?”

  Fury at his cavalier attitude exploded inside her. “Supper?” She couldn’t keep the shrillness from her voice. “Supper? I haven’t cooked any supper. Do you have any idea how desperate I’ve been? I had no idea where you were. For all I knew you could have been hit by a car and lying in a ditch.”

  “None of that happened.”

  It was like talking to a brick wall, and tears pricked the backs of her eyes, threatening to spill over. How could he not see that what he’d done was wrong? She wanted to shake him and make him see how his behavior affected her, but she was worried she’d just end up a blubbering mess. Digging deep, she ground out, “I’m too angry to talk to you right now. Go to your room.”

  He glared at her before bending down to the dog. “Bye, Scout.” He scratched the canine behind the ears before looking up at the cowboy. “Bye, Beau.” Ignoring Shannon completely, he walked down the hallway and out of sight.

  Her heart, battered and bruised by the afternoon’s stress, wobbled in her chest. Where had her dear little boy gone? She heard the sound of someone clearing their throat and suddenly remembered that Beau McCade was still standing in her hall. He’d been a silent witness to her brooding and resentful son and her complete meltdown. She wanted to die on the spot.

  Somehow, she managed to pull herself together. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

  Beau’s fingers played around the brim of his hat and he gave her a curt nod. In that small movement, Shannon felt his criticism of her parenting circle her with condemnation. Throughout the afternoon she’d had the unspoken censure of the school principal and the sheriff—she was the single mom unable to control her increasingly disconnected kid. She surely didn’t need disapproval from a childless cowboy who, from the very first time she’d met him, had only ever spoken the bare minimum to her—just to be polite.

  Her fingers curled into her palms. “Where did you find him?”

  His nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. “Near . . . Pioneer Road.”

  Shock socked her in the chest. “But that’s miles away. How did he get all the way out there and why didn’t you call me as soon as you found him?”

  A slight frown creased his forehead. “I don’t . . . use phones.”

  His slow and deliberate words mocked her. “What are you? Amish?” Her voice rose again. “So I’m left scared out of my wits for an extra half hour because you don’t use phones?”

  His cheekbones suddenly seemed stark on his face as tension turned his entire body rigid. “He . . . was . . . safe.”

  She threw up her hands, not able to believe him. “Yeah, well, my crystal ball didn’t tell me that.”

  His gaze dropped away and he didn’t say anything—it was Hunter all over again and she saw red. “You think that by saying nothing, you don’t have an opinion, but you do.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “It’s in your stance, on your face and in your eyes, so why not say it? Come on, spit it out.”

  He raised trouble-filled chocolate brown eyes to her face and three beats of silence passed. “He’s . . .”

  Her jaw was so tight she could barely get the words out. “Just. Say. It.”

  “He . . . he’s not h-happy.”

  She barely heard him over the deafening thumping of blood in her ears. “You think I don’t know that? You think that I want him to run away, that his misery doesn’t eat at me and tear me apart? It’s fine for you to stand there all superior, thinking you know best, but you don’t know anything at all. I want you to leave. You need to leave, now.”

  A pained expression crossed his face, and his dog came and stood next to him, gazing up at him as if to check whether he was okay. “I . . . kn-kn-kn-” He dragged in a breath as his face turned red. “I . . . kn-kn-kn-” His hand slammed against the wall. “Fuck!”

  Shannon jumped at the fury behind the yelled expletive, fright making acid burn the back of her throat.

  Then she gagged. Oh God. What had she done? Beau McCade wasn’t the judgmental asshole of few words that she’d just accused him of being. The reason he spoke slowly and deliberately and used very few words was because he was working hard to conquer a stutter. And she’d just made him lose control.

  Spit it out. Her words reverberated in her head so loud and hurtful that she wanted to sink through the floor and hide from them. From him. “Beau, I . . .” But before she could say more, he’d stormed past her, pushed open the door and disappeared outside.

  Chapter 12

  Beau strode to the outfit, his boots crunching loudly against the gravel, needing to put as much distance between him and Shannon as possible. This was the perfect example of why he avoided women. Not only had he lost all power over his mouth, he’d seen the shock, the revulsion and the accompanying sympathy in her eyes. He never wanted to see any of those emotions again. He didn’t want to see her again. He was as mad as hell with her.

  He reached the outfit.

  “Beau!” Shannon’s voice implored, followed by the slamming of a door.

  His hand gripped the car door handle as he heard the sound of running feet.

  “Wait. Please wait.” Her hand closed around his arm. “I’m so sorry. I should never have said what I said. I didn’t realize . . . I had no idea . . . shit. I mean, about the phone. I get it now. Why it’s hard for you to use the phone. Sorry.”

  Her eyes sought his, full of remorse and desperation that he please believe her. “I made it all about me and I shouldn’t have. You did a wonderful thing. You brought Hunter home and I was such a bitch and you have every right to hate me but I hope you won’t because what I said back there was all about me not you.” Her words rushed on. “It’s hard being a single mom anywhere, let alone in a small town where it’s virtually against the law not to be married, and I know the principal blames me for Hunter’s behavior. Hell, I blame me and . . .”

  She kept talking and talking, and despite the volume of words, her sincerity wrapped around him. Despite himself, he felt his anger ebbing away and he found himself watching her mouth, fascinated by the way her plump lips moved, how the creases that bracketed her lips deepened and smoothed as they easily formed words. Words he’d long stopped hearing because all he wanted to do was kiss that amazingly expressive mouth.

  “Shhh.” He gently pressed his forefinger to her lips.

  Her sky blue eyes darkened to royal blue as her mouth stalled midsentence, leaving her lips slightly parted. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Throwing years of caution into the Montana wind, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

  —

  AS Beau’s hot lips fused against Shannon’s and her surprise faded, all she could think was that he might not be able to speak very easily but he had no problem at all with kissing. His strong arms cradled her gently against him as if she might break if he held her too tightly, and his mouth roved over hers softly. Oh so softly that she thought she might die of bliss. There was no groping, no excessive saliva, no probing or forceful tongue. Just perfect pressure. She’d never been kissed quite like it, as if she were precious. Valuable. Not just as a woman who might put out.

  And then, all too soon, he pulled back, leaving only a hint of his masculine taste on her lips and a touch of wind and dust. The kiss was over. Dazed, she opened her mouth to speak, but for once in her life words failed her.

  He gave her a quiet smile, silently tipped his hat, swung into the truck and drove away.

  She stood rooted to the spot, mouth agape, watching him disappear in a cloud of dust.

  —

  SO?

  Katrina stared at the single-word text on her phone that had come through from Josh thirty hours after they’d had sex and fought down the shadows and voices of the past. Her body was sitting up and panting but her brain was recoiling. With Brent, texting had become the dominant way of c
ommunicating when they were apart, and the record of it existed to highlight her naïve stupidity. Josh, on the other hand, based on the codebook of one-night stands, shouldn’t even be texting her.

  With other men, the sex signaled the start of something. With Josh, the sex was both the beginning and the end all rolled up into one. Like he’d said, they were two adults giving in to the insane attraction, nothing more, and nothing less.

  When he’d asked her if she was going all weird on him, he hadn’t been too far from the mark. She’d been freaking out ever so slightly. Although she didn’t regret the sex one little bit, she’d only done it because she was leaving town. Except, in her lust-fogged mind, she hadn’t thought it through very well at all. She really should have waited until the eve of her departure to have sex, instead of a week out. Now she was facing unchartered territory and she had no clue what happened next. Part of her wanted to avoid Josh altogether, because pretending they hadn’t had mind-blowing sex and talking to him about the weather was definitely going to be difficult.

  Based on what her girlfriends told her, she assumed that pretending it didn’t happen was what guys did after casual sex. They certainly didn’t text, let alone send such a cryptic message.

  So?

  What did he mean? So what? So, are you okay? So, are we good? So, are we having sex again?

  Yes, please.

  Shut-up.

  “Hey, Katrina.”

  She looked around, startled to find Ty standing next to her and leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, hi, Ty.”

  “What’s got you so distracted?”

  “Sorry?”

  He smiled. “You’ve been staring at your phone for as long as it took me to park outside the post office and walk here.”

  She gave a nervous laugh and shoved the device in her pocket. “Dillon sent me a silly YouTube clip. So,” she said, desperate to change the subject, “you turned out your cows yet?”

  “Heading out tomorrow, which is why I’m in town grabbing supplies.” He shifted his weight back and forth, his boots levering against the pavement. “You had so much fun on Saturday roping with me, I wondered if you wanted to ride out?”

  She hadn’t ridden out on the range in such a long time or spent a night under the stars, and the offer tempted her like candy. Then she thought about her to-do list before leaving for Ecuador. “Ty, I’d love to but can I let you know? I’ve got a few things I need to organize first.”

  “Sure.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No problem.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, appreciating how uncomplicated things were with him. He wasn’t the sort of guy to lie to her like Brent or send her cryptic texts like Josh.

  As Ty walked toward the grocery store, her phone rang. This time she recognized the number. Brent called her at random times, which was ironic, given he’d never called her when they were together. Her finger hovered between the accept and the decline buttons, leaning slightly toward the green. Part of her wanted to take the call and tell him he hadn’t broken her; in fact, she’d just had sex. Great sex.

  Most of her didn’t want to risk a conversation with him. Despite her fury at him and everything that had happened, he’d always been able to sweet-talk her, and although she was fairly certain she wouldn’t cave, she didn’t want to take the risk. Decision made, she punched the red button firmly, cutting the call, and the missed call text came in. She immediately deleted it.

  A moment later, her phone buzzed again. She held her breath, wondering if it was another puzzling text from Josh. Irrational disappointment slugged her when she saw it was from Beau asking her if she knew anyone with puppies for sale.

  —

  “MA’AM, you have vertigo,” Josh said to the hippy-looking tourist who’d come into the clinic complaining of dizzy spells.

  “No, I’m a Gemini.”

  Josh wanted to hit himself over the head with the chart. “Well, that may be, but the dizzy spells you’re having are called vertigo and they’re not at all connected with your horoscope.”

  A horrified expression crossed her face. “Everything’s connected to the horoscope.”

  He wrote up a drug order and wondered how many more eccentrics the warm Chinook wind was going to blow in today. “You have a viral infection that has inflamed your inner ear. It should resolve in seven to ten days, but meanwhile, I’m prescribing you something that will ease the nausea. If the symptoms persist, see your own doctor when you get home.”

  He walked her out and Millie met him in reception looking glum. “Floyd just told me that Katrina said no to the job, which means my transfer to the ER is on hold.” She sighed. “Again.” She looked at him with hope in her eyes. “Do you think if you asked her nicely, she’d reconsider?”

  He thought about yesterday morning—the last time he’d seen Katrina—when she’d been under him, her nails digging into his back as she was crying out his name. As much as he wanted a repeat performance, there was no way on earth he was asking her to stay in Bear Paw, just in case she misread the situation. Mind you, she hadn’t replied to his text he’d sent this morning, so perhaps he was misreading the situation. Still, by his reckoning, there was enough time for them to have sex at least once, hopefully twice, before she left town.

  “She’s set on going to Ecuador to feel useful.”

  “She could be useful here,” Millie whined, “so that I can take the ER job.”

  “Yeah, well, believe me, we don’t always get what we want, Millie. Who’s next?”

  “Bonnie McCade. She’s in exam two waiting for you. I’ve done her vitals and tested her pee. It’s all good.”

  “Thanks,” he said, washing his hands before entering the room. “Hello, Mrs. McCade.”

  “Call me Bonnie.” An older version of Katrina smiled at him. “Sorry to bother you, but my daughter insisted I come see you for a checkup.”

  He could picture Katrina, a mixture of gentle persuasion and rock-hard determination, suggesting her mom come to the clinic. “She can be insistent.”

  Bonnie laughed. “You’ve noticed?”

  He gave a wry smile. “I now own the first tool kit of my life as a result.” He scanned Bonnie’s brief medical history on the computer, which was comprised of three normal childbirths and one episode of pneumonia. Not a lot to go on. Turning back to face her he asked, “So what’s brought you in to see me today?”

  —

  IT was seven the following evening and the clinic was closed when Josh hovered the computer’s mouse over the file that contained Bonnie McCade’s test results. He sent up a hope that this time his gut feeling and his diagnostic skills were wrong.

  He clicked on the file and read the ultrasound report first, followed by the blood work. Shit.

  Pushing back his chair, he stood up and leaned against the windowsill, gazing out through the grove of pine trees, which struggled valiantly against the gale-force wind. Beyond them, he could see pasture grass laid flat and the jagged gray, rocky outcrops climbing the sides of a coulee. The landscape was as stark and unforgiving as Bonnie’s test results. Results he had to give her.

  Results that would change everything for the whole McCade family. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  He ran his hand through his hair. For his entire medical career he’d had to give bad news, but there’d always been the buffer of the patient being a total stranger. After spending a day with the McCade family on their ranch, none of them were faceless strangers. They were men and women, children, parents and partners. And then there was Katrina. After Monday morning, in one way, she was the antithesis of a stranger.

  As if she knew he was thinking of her, his phone beeped with a text from her.

  So long. Leaving for Billings in the morning for Ecuador stuff. It was fun. Katrina.

  He stared at the bald words, acid burning his gut as patient confidentiality ran smack bang into an emotional minefield. He couldn’t imagine Katrina would want to leave Bear Paw if she knew Bonn
ie’s diagnosis, but he didn’t know Bonnie well enough to know if she’d share the news with her daughter, especially if she thought it would prevent her from doing something she wanted.

  Leave it alone. Don’t get involved. It’s none of your business. His father’s voice droned in his head.

  He longed for the anonymity of a big city where this situation wouldn’t be a dilemma. Hell, he wouldn’t even be thinking twice about it, but now it had lodged in his brain, burying in like a tick and taking hold.

  Legally, he wasn’t allowed to say anything to Katrina, but for the first time in his career he found himself questioning the ethics. From the few things she’d told him about her family and after watching them in action, the McCades were very different from his own. They were close. They likely cared.

  He paced up and down the office, suddenly questioning principles of medicine he’d blindly accepted as sacrosanct. His job was to protect his patient, and every time he settled on that, Katrina’s face swam into his head. In Chicago, he’d have sought out a colleague, but here he was on his own. He respected Millie but could she be a true sounding board when she knew the family?

  You debriefed with Katrina after Sam’s surgery.

  The paradox hit him hard in the chest. The one person he felt comfortable talking with about work, he couldn’t consult. With the thoughts in his head going around and around in circles, he pulled on his running gear and headed out into the wind.

  —

  KATRINA had sent her parents out onto the porch rocker while she and Beau cleared up the kitchen after supper. Dillon and Megan had left earlier to go to a bonfire twenty miles away and catch up with old high school friends.

  “If you want another dog, why aren’t you using the same breeder you got Scout from?” she asked curiously.

  “I w-want a mutt.”

  Farm dogs were working dogs right up until they got old like Boy, and then they got to laze about in their retirement years and be a pampered pet. “But a mutt won’t know how to round up cows.”

  “It’s not . . . for me.”