Allison Leigh - Montana Passions

“On Buttercup.” He grinned.

“That’s right.” She glanced toward the door to the back porch, thinking she should get out there and check on the old mare. Soon.

But it was so…comfortable. Sitting here with Justin, talking about the things that had made them who they were. “So you don’t blame your mother for leaving you alone in that cabin?”

He shook his head. “It’s tough for a woman on her own, with a kid. She’d been left high and dry, pregnant with me by the no-good bastard who used her and then walked away from her when she told him she was having his baby. She was…a good mother and she took damn good care of me. But there was no getting around that she had to make a living and that meant when the storm blew in, I was at the cabin, and she wasn’t. It’s the kind of thing that can happen to anyone.”

“It’s the kind of thing that could scar a child for life, that’s what it is.”

He pressed a fist to his chest right over the row of reindeer prancing across the front of his sweater. “That’s me. Deeply damaged.”

She tipped her head to the side, considering. “Well. I guess it’s good that you can joke about it.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “It happened. I survived. And I’ve done just fine for myself, though I never had a father, never had much formal education and started, literally, from scratch.”

“In…development?” She laughed. “What does that mean, exactly, to be a ‘developer.’”

“Well, a developer ‘develops.’”

“Sheesh. It’s all clear to me now.”

He grinned. “Property, in my case. We start with several viable acres and we develop a project to build tract homes. Or say I got hold of just the right business-district lot. I’d start putting the people and financing together to build an office complex. A developer is someone who gets the money and the people and the plans—and most important, the right property—and puts it all together.”

He hadn’t told her anything she couldn’t have figured out herself, but she was discovering she enjoyed listening to him talk. She liked the way he looked at her. As if he never wanted to look away.

She said, “Like Caleb’s ski resort? He’s got the property and you’ll work with him to ‘develop’ it.”

“That’s right. But don’t misunderstand. It’s his project, his baby. He’ll be in charge, though I’ll be involved every step of the way.”

She looked down at her folded hands. She was just about to tell him how much the project meant to Caleb. Caleb was getting older and Katie knew that sometimes he worried he was losing his edge—but no.

Katie kept her mouth shut. Yes, she was finding she liked Justin. A lot. However, the last thing Caleb would want was for her to go blabbing his secret doubts to a business associate.

She glanced up and found Justin studying her again, his dark head tipped to the side. “Question.”

“Ask.”

“Yesterday. Didn’t you mention that you went to college in Colorado?”

“That’s right. CU.”

“I’ll bet you had straight A’s in high school.”

She gave him a pert little nod. “You would win that bet.”

“High scores on the SAT?”

“Very.”

“Then why not Bryn Mawr, like your mother, and Adele Douglas? You’d have been a legacy, right—pretty much guaranteed to get in—even if your grades and test scores hadn’t been outstanding?”

“I liked CU. They have a fine curriculum. Plus, it was closer to home.”

“Home being here, in Thunder Canyon.”

“That’s right—and you? Where did you go to college?”

“I told you. No real formal education. I went to real estate school and then got my broker’s license a couple of years later.”

“You started in real estate because of your mother’s connections?”

He chuckled at that, though there wasn’t a lot of humor in the sound. “My mother had no connections. She’d been out of the real estate business for years when I started. It didn’t work out for her. Like a lot of things…”

She might have asked, What things? But he wore a closed-in, private kind of look at that moment and she didn’t want to pry. She coaxed, “So you started in real estate…”

He blinked and the brooding shadows left his eyes. “Yeah. By the time I was twenty-five, I’d branched into property development.”

“A self-made man.”

“Smile when you say that.”

She was smiling. But to make sure he noticed, she smiled even wider. And then her conscience reminded her that she had Buttercup to think of. She stood.

He put on a hurt look. “Just like that. You’re leaving. Was it something I said?”

“What you said was fascinating. Honestly. And I’ll be back soon.”

“The question is, where do you think you’re going?” He tipped his head toward the window and the still-falling snow outside. “I hate to break it to you, but I doubt you could get beyond the front porch.”

“I want to check on Buttercup.”

He rose. “I’ll come with you.”

She started to argue—that it was cold out there and she could take care of the job herself and he didn’t really need to go. But then again, it wasn’t as if he had a full schedule or anything.

He ushered her out to the back porch, where they put on their antique outerwear. Then they pushed open the door to the breezeway.

The snow had piled four feet or so on either side, sloping to the icy ground, leaving a path maybe a foot wide. “After you,” Justin said. “Watch your step. It looks pretty slick.”

In the shed, Buttercup snorted in greeting and came right to Katie. She stroked the old mare’s forehead and blew in her nostrils. “How’re you doing, sweetie? Kind of lonely out here?” The horse whickered in response. “And I’ll bet you wish I had some oats. Sorry. That hay’ll have to do you for a while.” She patted Buttercup’s smooth golden neck and pulled out one of the brushes she’d brought from inside. It was hardly a grooming brush, but nothing else was available.

She brushed the old mare’s knotted mane and spoke to her in low whispers for a while. Then she and Justin broke open another bale of hay.

“Watch out,” he warned when they were spreading it around a little. “It’s damned amazing how much manure one horse can produce in a sixteen-hour period.”

“It is at that.”

“Just don’t step backward without looking behind you first.”

She found a shovel in the corner and took it to him. “Get to work.”

“Shoveling horse manure?”

“That’s right.”

“But where am I going to put it?” The gleam in his eyes said he already had a pretty good idea.

“Just shovel it up, carry it out those open main doors there and toss it as far as you can into the snow.”

“That snow’s piling up pretty high out there. This could be dangerous.”

“So pay attention when you throw it. Wouldn’t want it to come flying right back at you.”

He pretended to grumble, but he started right in. She looked around and found another shovel. With both of them scooping and tossing, they had the mess cleared away in no time at all.

As they went to put the shovels up, Justin remarked that if the snow got much higher, swamping out the shed was going to be a real challenge.

“We’ll manage,” she told him. “Somehow…” She set her shovel against the wall and turned so fast, she almost ran into him.

“Watch it.” He laughed down low in his throat, the sound emerging on a cloud of mist.

She laughed, too.

And then, all at once, she wasn’t laughing and neither was he. They were just looking at each other—staring, really. And the cold air seemed to shimmer between them.