His Montana Sweetheart

“I don’t, but I appreciate the offer. And you don’t look like you’re dressed for dirt diving beneath a John Deere in any case.”

“I said I’d help tear off some bad porch planking for a friend,” his father explained, but the way he said it, as if helping a friend was slightly uncomfortable, surprised Jack. Mick McGuire might be a quiet guy, but he was always willing to help whoever needed an extra hand. Although he looked mighty nice to be leveraging old wood and rusty nails. “Figured with rain coming, today was as good as any.”

“Ripping up boards?” Jack cast his father’s clean shirt and jeans a doubtful look. “You got cleaned up to get dirty?”

His father shrugged, but the look on his face, as if he’d just been caught with a hand in the cookie jar, made Jack think hard and quick. His father wasn’t just going to help a friend.

He was going to help a woman friend.

That explained the cologne and the clean-shaven face.

“Call if you need me.” Mick gave a short wave and aimed for the truck.

“Right.” Reality made Jack straighten and watch his father leave. “See ya’.”

Mick strolled out of the barn, his gait easy, the roll of his shoulders a dead giveaway. He settled a couple of toolboxes into the bed of his signature red Double M pickup truck. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat with the window open, the radio cranking Easton Corbin sounding like a young George Strait. As the truck rounded the curved driveway, Jack saw his father’s head bob in time with the music...and heard him start to whistle along as the truck headed for the road.

His father. Cleaned up, whistling and headed out for the day.

The irony of how he planned to do the same thing the following morning wasn’t lost on Jack. He’d huffed about all the centennial nonsense. He’d done his best to ignore it until the rodeo rumbled into town last month and Julie Shaw cornered him.

But maybe Jasper Gulch needed something new to shake things up. A town mired in the past, arguing over moving forward, tussling about fixing a long-broken bridge. A place with little crime, beset with strange stuff lately. The time capsule disappearance. Problems at the rodeo. The shed there being set on fire. Troubling things in a town that boasted no crime other than errant dogs and cows now and again traipsing over flower beds they didn’t own.

On the plus side, Liv had come back, at least for a little while. Shop owners had spruced up their storefronts on Main Street and the access roads. Bright banners welcomed folks to town and the whole thing looked more inviting than normal.

The changing light reminded him of the storm front headed their way, but the nice thing about hauling fresh-rolled hay up to the barnyard was that he had plenty of time to think. And since seeing Livvie earlier in the week, he didn’t mind thinking nearly as much as he used to.

* * *

Blue jeans and a shirt. What could be difficult about that?

Everything.

And her hair. Ponytail? Down?

Ponytail, Liv decided as she bent over, smoothed the front with the brush and gathered her hair into a band.

She frowned in the mirror, added a lace cami, then refastened the jeweled snaps on the short-sleeved fitted shirt and nodded at the new image.

Cowgirl, with emphasis on “girl.” She grabbed her Stetson and had her boots on before Jack pulled up to the curb with the four-horse trailer attached. Jack strolled to the porch as she stepped outside, and the look on his face said he’d been looking forward to this morning, just like her. Which meant she’d be the one to put the brakes on. “Hey, cowboy.”

“Hey, yourself.” He gave the brim of his hat the slightest of tweaks and watched her smile. “You still remember how it’s done.”

“You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.”

“And who’d want to?” Jack’s expression said that was about the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. The look on his face made Liv revisit her years away. Her expression must have changed, because Jack leaned forward and ducked a little to see her face. “Didn’t mean to insult. And in the city, they wear what they want, but if the look suits, and in your case, I think you were born to ride and wear Western—”

His compliment made her smile because she did feel at home in these clothes. Natural. And maybe younger than she’d felt the last few years.

“Why not embrace it at least as long as you’re here?” He held the truck door open and Liv couldn’t remember the last time Billy had held the door open for her. If ever. She pushed the comparison aside as Jack climbed into the driver’s seat. He shoved the truck into gear and headed for Route 287. He made the turn onto the two-lane and pushed his hat back. “So here’s my plan.” He indicated her notebook and iPad. “We can talk baseball and history all you want. I invited Coach over tomorrow, so I was hoping you could come by the ranch for supper and we can pick Coach’s brain, too.”

“Except he didn’t live around here until twenty years ago and has no family here,” Liv pointed out. “I’d love to see him, but can’t we get together in town?”

“On a Sunday evening?” Jack’s look said she needed to remember where she was, and he was right. Jasper Gulch embraced limited business hours on Sunday, something she hadn’t seen much in the city. Out of respect for family time and the Lord’s Day, nothing was open in Jasper Gulch on Sunday evenings. “Besides, I owe Coach a dinner, and we might as well grill a few steaks and throw some potatoes in the fire, don’t you think? No biggie.”

It was a biggie, and he knew it. She read him like an open book on a sunlit afternoon, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to have supper at the ranch, and she’d made a promise to herself on the way back to Jasper Gulch nearly two weeks before. No more pretense. Face life, get a grip and be honest with herself. So she squared her shoulders and nodded as she began making notes. “It does sound good, and with Mom and Dad away I’m not prone to cooking for one, so you’ve saved me from starvation.”

“Good.”

She ignored the quick grin he cast her way as she waited for her screen to refresh. “And that way I can check on how our new friends are doing. If we find any today, that is. How’s Dillinger?” Dillinger had been her horse of choice at the Double M through the years they dated. Jack would mount Roy-O, the large bay, and she’d saddle Dillinger, the strong-willed buckskin that reminded her of Denny in The Man from Snowy River. A good horse, brave and true.

Jack sucked in a breath. His hesitation said more than words.

“He’s gone?”

“Back in February. Winters are hard on old animals.”

“Like Tank.” She breathed deep and stared out the window, the rise of mountains curving this way and that, rugged land stretching in every direction. “I forgot that being away for so many years really changes things. People gone. Animals gone. Except for the beginnings of the new museum, the town has stayed the same on the surface.” She bit back a sigh from somewhere deep inside as reality bit deep. “But the real things? The important ones, like losing people and things you love? I’m realizing how much I’ve missed by being gone.”

“Time goes on.” Jack paused at a fork in the road, bore right and then added, “And just the idea of that museum caused a ruckus with folks.”

“Why?” She turned to face him and had to steel herself not to get lost in his profile. Seeing him...hearing him...simple proximity to him brought back all kinds of memories. She’d held hard to the last memories, her broken heart, weeks of tears, years of living in the same Midwestern city while avoiding him at all costs, but now? Here in Jasper Gulch? The good memories were starting to edge out the bad ones, and she couldn’t let that happen.

“Jackson Shaw likes things the way they are. Always has, always will. His son Adam and the other kids are more easygoing, and Cord’s actually been fighting his father on the whole bridge issue—”

“Cord wants the bridge fixed?” Livvie sat back, surprised. “Good for him. Just because Jackson is the mayor doesn’t make him the law.”

Jack shot her a look that said “get real” and Liv sighed. “Okay, I get it. But just because it is that way doesn’t mean it should be. Three cheers for Cord standing up on his own. And I heard Julie’s raising sheep on a farm section, so clearly Jackson’s kids are trying to find their own paths.”

“Nadine’s influence on top of Jackson’s stubbornness.”

“Mothers can be a formidable force, even the gentle ones.” Liv laughed, thinking of her mother’s strength and wisdom. “Good for Nadine.”

A sign for Three Forks came into view as Jack rounded a curve. He eased up on the gas. “I was thinking we could get ribs at Willow Creek for dinner.”

The place with melt-in-your-mouth ribs that she and Jack had loved when they spent college breaks in Jasper Gulch? A place they enjoyed thoroughly until the breakup that rivaled the big bang with hometown repercussions? Um, no. Not about to happen. “A sandwich is fine. We don’t need to go to any trouble or try to be fancy.”

“I’ve never heard ribs called fancy.” Jack’s voice stayed easy, but Liv knew he was calling her out.

“Let’s keep it simple, Jack. You. Me. The horses. And a sandwich.”

“You’re warning me off.”

Yes and no. “I’m protecting both of us from repeating the mistakes of the past,” she explained. She kept her voice even, but it was crazy difficult to manage with Jack sitting inches away. But she did it because self-protection was a hard lesson learned. “You’ve got your life. I’ve got mine. For the moment our paths have intersected while we both work on a mutually beneficial project. Let’s keep it at that.”

He sent her a look that stammered her heart, and delivered a cockeyed smile, to boot. “A sandwich it is, then. Although if we happen to be downwind of Willow Creek’s smoker and you change your mind, I got us midafternoon reservations, and they weren’t easy to come by, either.”

“But the horses...?”

“Bo Gravinger’s on hand. He said he’ll mind things for us to get a bite. But a sandwich is fine, too, Liv. It’s not the food near as much as the nice company. That’s a pleasure right there.”

Her off-rhythm heart swelled at his words. The tone of voice, the tilt of his chin, the easy smile that worked his jaw just so.

Her resolve went south in a hurry because she’d like nothing better than to spend long hours relaxing with Jack, eyeing horses, sharing food on a bright summer’s day. He pointed to the left as he eased the truck and trailer into a parking area off to the right. “Nice crowd and good potential. Let’s go find us some horses, little lady.”

Adorable, handsome and available.

She’d vowed to steel her heart and emotions against all three. The reality of trying to do that while checking out beautiful mounts for the Double M rancher and his dad?

Virtually impossible.

* * *

“The two-year-old dark bay stallion.” Liv kept her voice low as they surveyed the groups of horses surrounding the near paddock. Jack eyed the solid young potential stud and agreed.

“I was thinking exactly the same.” The fact that they both selected the same young horse with breeding potential wasn’t lost on Jack. They’d always been on the same page, back in the day. But that was years ago, and a pile of mistakes since to work through. “Good temperament, great look, and stands solid.”

“Stunning look, actually,” Liv corrected him. “Not too proud, ready for direction, anxious to please. If those qualities pass down to offspring, you’ve got a gold-mine stallion right there. And the contrast of the black mane and tail sweeten the effect.”

“Anyone else strike you today?”

She slanted her gaze up to him with an expression that said yes, something else did strike her, but it was off-limits and out of reach. Then she settled her shoulders, climbed the rail and waved to the outer edge. “You’ve got matching bay fillies over there, a pretty pair and not a bit flighty. Wanna walk around and check them out?”

“It’s a four-horse trailer, so sure. Let’s go.” He reached out and grasped her waist to swing her down, but when her feet touched the dusty ground, the last thing he wanted to do was let go. In fact—

“This way, cowboy. And keep your mind on the horses.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned behind her, properly chastised but knowing she only half meant it. As they rounded the far end of the west-facing corral, the pair of fillies danced left, then settled as Liv moved closer, crooning. Another interested buyer shot them a look and gave up his spot near the fence, and when Jack asked the owner to bring the ladies by, he watched as Liv examined each one. “What’s the verdict?”

She faced him. “Sound. Fine. Pretty. Calm for their age.”

“Their lineage has breed-stock potential written all over it.”

“Is that a problem?”

Jack ran a hand across the nape of his neck, thoughtful. “Time is shorter without Mom. And the ranch hands are good guys, but it takes a special touch to work with broodmares.”

Liv had that touch, the crucial elemental mix of gentle but firm direction, the soft voice horses preferred. She’d helped his mother with the mares often as a teen. But she wasn’t staying, and how awkward would it be to offer her a job on the ranch? She’d laugh him out of the paddock.

“I can help while I’m here.”

Jack paused. Turned. When his eyes locked with hers, the solid ball that had been his heart for too many years began to soften, making it easy and hard to breathe all at once. “You wouldn’t mind?”

She looked off over his right shoulder, then drew her attention back his way. The filly nickered and nosed Liv, as if pushing her to say yes. The horse’s action made Liv smile and she looped an arm around the filly’s neck. “Do I get naming rights if I sign on?”

Naming rights and more, but Jack had worked with skittish animals all his life, and while Liv wasn’t an anxious foal, she had plenty of reason to doubt his good intentions, so he’d go slow and easy. “Yup.”

“Deal.”

“Sweet.” He bumped knuckles with her as the bullhorn called folks to the sale arena. “Let’s go in. Want coffee?”

“No. I’ll wait until we eat later. But thank you.”

“My pleasure.” And it was, he realized. As he followed her into the crowded ringside seats, he developed a hearty appreciation for her well-fitted jeans and sassy boots. Her tan Stetson, the same hat she’d worn years ago, still bore a tiny grease stain from a barbecue they’d attended together as college sophomores, a great night of planning for the future. A future he’d thrown away in a fit of anger. How stupid and childish that seemed now.

Yes, he loved baseball. The game, the sport, the teamwork. But he should have been more mature and accepting. Wasn’t that what Ethan had talked about last Monday? Accepting what is and making the best of your situation to help others?

He’d done nothing like that eight years ago. In truth, he’d done nothing like that since, either, other than helping his mother through her illness, but a thin surge of energy seemed to be building inside him, making him think he could do anything again.

“These seats okay?” Liv turned about halfway up the steps, and her look of amusement said she’d caught him out. “Business, Jack. Not monkey business.”

He laughed, settled into the seat next to her, leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “Just thinking how fun it will be to have you back on the ranch, helping with things. It’s been too long, Livvie. Way too long.”

* * *

Too long?

His words spiked her pulse and his gaze said he’d take things slow, but sitting there with him, sorting horseflesh for the future of the Double M, the familiar sounds and scents of the stockyard drew her in. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. And yet she would be somewhere else soon. Her position in Helena had folded and they’d given her a decent severance package, but she’d need a job and a place to live before too long.

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