Montana Rogue (Big Sky Mavericks Book 7) Read online

  Caro—the mastermind with a magician’s touch.

  Amanda leaned over the railing to peer inside the window of the front parlor. Caro waved and smiled. She’d insisted on adding the last few ornaments they’d found in a box in the attic to the big Christmas tree.

  No one knew for sure if the feisty, independent woman they’d grown to love six months ago would come back to life once she returned to her beloved home. The light in her grandmother’s eyes that Amanda recognized as the retired teacher who knew her own mind and didn’t mind sharing it with others hadn’t been around much in the three days since the Learjet landed.

  The paperwork Mia was able to get through the courts only worked because Caro called June and the two talked for over an hour. In the end, June signed off as legal guardian in charge of Molly’s care and finances. Whether money changed hands, Amanda didn’t want to know. She’d washed her hands of her family for the time being. But, as Caro advised, “Never say never. They are your parents.”

  Instead of worrying about what was happening in New York, Amanda focused on her new family—Tucker, Caro, Molly, their many friends here in Marietta, and, interestingly, the ubiquitous Philip—Caro’s chauffeur and pilot.

  Caro joined her on the porch. She’d bundled up in a fabulous faux fur coat. “Any minute.”

  “Are you sure I shouldn’t have gone with them?”

  “Seeing a familiar face waiting for her here will be worth the wait. Trust me.” A tinkling sound from inside the house made Caro do a graceful about-face. No question where her son got his smooth moves.

  Amanda didn’t try to wipe the shit-ass grin off her face. She’d been smiling since their first night back together. Either her memory was skewed or distance had made the heart grow fonder because their lovemaking had been off-the-charts hot.

  Since they’d arrived in Montana, every time she turned around Tucker was there to kiss her, hug her, and tell her he loved her. And she’d been holding out on him. She hadn’t said the words she knew he was hungry to hear.

  Why? She wasn’t sure, exactly. She did love him with every atom of her body. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She planned to tell him at exactly the right moment. She just didn’t know when that would be.

  A horn honk caught her attention. The very large van pulled ahead on the street then backed up, the automatic beeping sound so loud she clapped her hands over her icy ears. The winter cold felt different in Montana, different, too, from the unpredictable spring weather she’d complained about when she first arrived here. She liked winter, in part, because of the magnificent blue sky that made her heart soar on the non-stormy days, like this one.

  She rushed down the ramp to open the side door once the van came to a stop. “Hi, Grandma, welcome back. Your house is ready for you.”

  Once the electric motor finished roaring to deposit Molly’s wheelchair on the ground, Molly blinked and looked around, as if just waking up. “Which one are you again?”

  Amanda’s heart sank a little. “Did you forget me, Grandma? I’m Amanda. June’s daughter.”

  “Oh.” Molly thought a moment. “You must be the right one.”

  Amanda looked at Tucker who grinned and nodded. “I’ll agree with that.”

  Amanda leaned over to look into her grandmother’s eyes. “But I thought you said I was a mistake.”

  “The first two...worthless as teats on a boar. But June kept trying till she got it right. You gotta give her that.”

  Amanda’s mouth dropped open.

  A loud mewling growl sounded. “I’ve got the cat,” Tucker cried. “Let me by before somebody loses a finger.”

  Philip raised the wheelchair platform then turned off the engine and dashed around to help Amanda push the chair up the wet ramp. Her new snow boots lost a bit of traction, but she stuck it out until they reached the deck. “How do you like the decorations, Molly? Tucker’s mom wanted the place to look festive when you got home.”

  Swags of cedar and holly added a homey touch above every window. A crew had arrived with a scissor lift to string lights on every eave, all the way to the peak. Two live trees had been delivered at the same time—a small one for the guesthouse, where Caro and Philip were staying—and a ten-foot beauty that occupied a place of honor directly across from the front parlor, which had become Molly’s room. Her familiar furnishings from the eldercare facility were already in place.

  They passed through the new laundry room and the remodeled kitchen without comment, but when they came to the parlor, Molly let out a string of cuss words. So many, Caro clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

  “Molly, what’s wrong?”

  “Somebody stole my piano.” Big tears welled up in her eyes.

  Tucker disappeared and seconds later the swell of music reached them.

  Caro gave a little yip and she raced away, too.

  Molly’s hand shook as she pressed her linen hanky to her watery blue eyes. She tilted her head to listen as strains from a rich, vibrant stringed instrument joined in. Molly looked at Amanda, asking wordlessly to follow that sound.

  Amanda couldn’t name the song. Mozart, maybe. Whoever the composer, the two instruments—and the people playing them—were creating something beautiful, magical.

  When they reached the “music room,” Molly let out a long sigh. “Oh. This is lovely.” She took hold of Amanda’s hand and squeezed it firmly. “My piano never sounded better.”

  Amanda dropped to her knees beside her grandmother’s wheelchair, content beyond words, too happy to breathe deeply for fear of shattering the moment.

  When the song ended, Molly sat up a little straighter and clapped. She looked at Amanda and said, “Well, what are you waiting for, girl. Go tell that man you love him. It’s about time.”

  Amanda blinked. She started to ask, “How...” but instead she did exactly what her grandmother told her to do. She walked to the piano, leaned over and kissed the man who had helped her rescue Molly and save herself. She sat with her legs facing the other direction but their hearts touching. “I love you, Tucker Montgomery. I hope you’re ready for a lifetime of this.”

  He kissed her once then tilted his back and gave a loud, “Whoot! Best song ever. Thanks, Mom, for saving the piano...and everything else.”

  Caro bowed graciously then she stood. “Who’s ready for cocoa?”

  “Can I have mine with whiskey?” Molly asked. “Those cheapskates at the last place wouldn’t give me any whiskey.”

  Caro sympathized with the old woman as Philip pushed the wheelchair.

  Amanda and Tucker watched them leave, then he swung his legs around so they were sitting in the same direction. With one arm firmly around her back, he touched his head to hers and asked, “Did you mean it?”

  “Every word. I noticed you thanked your mother for saving the piano and neglected to say, ‘I love you, too, Amanda Jeannine Heller.’”

  He nibbled the curve of her jaw. “How ’bout we slip away to our fabulous, newly redecorated master suite—thank you, Mother—and I show you how much I love you.”

  “Will you dance for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you strip for me?”

  He jumped to his feet and pulled her to him. “Only for you, Amanda Jeannine Heller. Only you. Any time. Any place.” He paused, thinking a moment. “Yep. Any place.”

  She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not sharing your adorable tush with anybody else ever again. Let’s do this.”

  Epilogue

  Caro stood in the window of the guesthouse and watched the lights in the corner room of the second floor of the old Victorian wink out. Her son was happy, and she’d helped facilitate that. She’d never felt as content and accomplished in her life.

  Her grin nearly made her cheeks hurt. She could only think of one person to call and share the news but it was late.

  She pulled her phone from the pocket of her favorite cardigan, debating. Before she could make up her mind
, a face appeared on the screen. Ruby-Lee. She might have been surprised if she hadn’t been on the receiving end of her mother-in-law’s clairvoyance more than once in the past.

  “How are you, Cher? Is our boy settling into the life he was meant to live?”

  Caro put the phone on speaker because Ruby-Lee’s hearing was going and she refused to consider a hearing aid. “Yes, Ona. Our boy is happily consummating what I truly believe is a relationship as strong and blessed as the one I had with your beautiful son.”

  Ruby-Lee sighed. “He was that, wasn’t he? I miss that boy every day, but he still leaves me little tokens to remind me that he’s in my life—just in a place I can’t see him.”

  Caroline had resisted that sort of thinking for many years, but like Ona’s uncanny intuition, some things were easier to accept without question rather that constantly fretting over them. Once she accepted that her late husband was still a part of her life, the easier it was to admit that she wanted to be a part of their son’s life—even if she’d made mistakes that seemed insurmountable to overcome.

  “What did Rey leave you this time, Ona?”

  “A bright crisp one dollar bill. Directly underfoot when I got out of my car at the beauty parlor today. I knew today would be the day.”

  Caro smiled. A movement outside the window caught her eye.

  Philip was unplugging one of her decorated trees so he could plug in the engine heater on the fancy van she’d leased. Tucker and Amanda knew this arrangement for Molly was not going to last forever. According to her doctors, Molly’s health had deteriorated quite a bit in the past few months, but less from the quality of care than from years of poor nutrition, living with her late husband’s secondhand smoke and lack of exercise. Her bones were weak, her lungs fragile. But the kids would envelop her in the love and sense of family Molly had craved for as many weeks—months—as the dear woman was able to give them.

  “Do you know how long Molly has?” Caro asked, her gaze still on Philip. He’d become indispensable over the past two years. She couldn’t imagine accomplishing any of this without his help.

  “No one knows that sort of thing, dear. That’s why it’s so important to live each day as if it were your last.”

  Caro smiled. They’d had this conversation before. Ruby-Lee wanted her to fall in love again, remarry, and open her heart and life to new possibilities. “You’ve carried your torch for Reynard longer than he’d have wished—and we both know the size of his ego. Love again, Cher. It’s not too late.”

  For the first time, Caro heard the words and they made sense. Was witnessing Tucker and Amanda admit their feelings for each other the catalyst that made her look at Philip differently these past few days? He was one of the most accomplished men she knew. Former military. A pilot. A businessman. He played the part of her chauffeur for Tucker’s sake, but he’d also been her lover for nearly four months. She’d been adamant about keeping their relationship a secret until her carefully crafted plan fell into place.

  “What’s stopping you, Cher?”

  “I’m old.”

  “Then what does that make me? Ancient?”

  “The man I have feelings for is younger than I am.”

  “What a good idea! I wish my Twig had been a little boy instead of a full-grown man when he swept into my life. But life unfolds with mysteries we won’t understand until we get to the other side. Don’t let society trip you up, darlin’ girl. Grab hold of all the love you can muster and never let go.”

  The door opened and her beautiful man stepped in, stomping the snow from his boots. His smile warmed her to her very core. She couldn’t help but smile back.

  “I have to go, Ona. Thank you for everything. I love you very much.”

  “I love you, too, dearest. Tell my grandson to call me in the morning. He’s been a bit neglectful. Falling in love will do that to a person.”

  As Caro reached to end the call, she heard Ruby-Lee add, “You take good care of her, Mr. Pilot Man. She’s very special.”

  Philip, who’d already shed his coat and boots, pulled Caroline into his arms. “Oh, I plan to, Ms. Montgomery. For as long as she’ll let me.”

  “I do believe our girl is ready. She just needed to let go of that heavy load of guilt she’s been carrying.”

  Philip tilted his head as if considering Ona’s parting words. He took the phone from Caro’s hand and turned it upside down on a little table she’d taken from the big house. He kissed her tenderly then looked into her eyes. “Is she right?”

  She didn’t answer. Nothing was as simple as Ruby-Lee liked to imagine, but her former mother-in-law was right about one thing. The terrible weight of the knowledge she’d chosen to leave her child behind when she returned to her old life seemed considerably lighter. She and Tucker might never have an easy relationship, but they’d established a connection, and that, in itself, felt like a miracle.

  Who’s to say I’m not entitled to a little happiness of my own? she thought.

  “I’m tired. I want to make love with you and sleep until noon.”

  His left brow cocked in that gorgeous way that made her think he’d have made a fabulous American Male dancer. “What if your son barges into your room in the morning?”

  “He’s thirty-two, not five. But either way, tomorrow, I’d like to re-introduce you to Tucker.”

  “As Philip Prescott, the man who adores you versus, Philip, your pilot-slash-chauffeur?”

  She pictured the look of love and joy on Tucker’s face when Amanda told him she loved him. “As you.”

  “Works for me,” he said, sweeping her off her feet so he could carry her to their room.

  She couldn’t bring herself to declare her feelings. Baby steps. Admitting you love someone is a big deal. But, at least, she was ready to admit she wanted to love again.

  The End

  The Big Sky Mavericks Series

  Collect every story in Debra Salonen’s Big Sky Mavericks series!

  Book 1: Montana Cowgirl

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  Book 2: Montana Cowboy

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  Book 3: Montana Darling

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  Book 4: Montana Maverick

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  Book 5: Montana Hero

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  Book 6: Montana Rogue

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  Book 7: Montana Miracle

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  Book 8: Montana Rebel

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  Montana Miracle

  Copyright © 2015 Debra Salonen

  Tuesday, Dec. 1

  Gage Monroe eased his foot off the gas pedal of his late father’s 1971 Chevy truck to avoid hitting the two workers attempting to raise a banner of some kind across the entrance to downtown Paradise, Montana. The old place hadn’t changed much over the forty-one years he’d called it home. Rustic charm, some might say. A good place to be from, in Gage’s opinion.

  He leaned forward to squint through the spider web break in the windshield of his dad’s old beater. Was somebody trying to give Marietta a run for its holiday money? What idiot thought that was a good idea? Nothing Paradise did could hold a candle to Marietta’s well-oiled Christmas festival machine. Gage had a few good memories from the times his mom and dad made the fifteen-mile drive to the “big city” to see Santa and all the pretty lights decorating the rooflines of the beautiful homes along Bramble Lane.

  Humble, unpretentious Paradise may have aspired to greatness when it took the name of the wide, picturesque valley stretching between the Gallatin Range to its right and the Absarokas to its left. Unfortunately, the train settled the town’s fate when it chose to locate in Marietta.

  Over the years, Paradise seemed to accept its role as Marietta’s mostly overlooked stepsister without complaint. Until some fool decided
to challenge Marietta’s claim to Christmas.

  Once the red, green and gold banner floated overhead, he read aloud, “Cornerstone Mission’s LIVING CRÈCHE 12/22-12/24.”

  Gage looked twice to be sure he read it right. “What the hell’s a crèche?”

  He had a vague idea it might be another name for a nativity scene, but he wasn’t sure why that rang a bell. His mom had been the religious one. Church service every Sunday. Choir on Thursday nights. He’d done the good son thing until she got too sick to go anymore. Then, he gave up pretending to be good.

  The church his family had attended was called Central Baptist at the time, although it went through so many preachers over the years, Gage had heard the place was now non-denominational.

  By leaning to the left he could make out the roof of the small bell tower, a plain, white cross straddling the peak. The one-story white church—more function over form—stood a block off Main with a two-bedroom rectory next door so the ministers didn’t have to walk too far in the snow and cold. Only problem: the rectory’s backyard was filled with headstones.

  Gage always wished he could have seen the look on the new minister’s first day when he realized his house hosted a cemetery.

  He eased the old truck into a parking place in front of the Post Office. The storefronts along the three-block commercial area hadn’t changed much since the town’s early days. Bracketed by a still-flourishing feed store on the far end and Slim’s “filling station,” as his father called it, on the corner closest to the highway, the town was a mere dot on most maps. Most would agree its main claim to fame was the flashing stop light above the intersection of the highway that led to a popular resort, which featured world-class trout fishing in the nearby Yellowstone River.

  In season.

  During the winter months, people tended to hunker down and wait for the snow and icy winds to let up. Except on Sunday. Then, blizzard or no blizzard, Gage’s mother made him and his father put on their Sunday best to attend church. He and Dad would sit in the same spot—third row back, far right—to watch, pray and listen for Mom’s clear, perfect soprano when the choir started to sing. The memory was almost enough to make him smile...until his gaze fell on the white envelope sitting on the bench seat beside him.