Montana Promises Read online

  “Was?” Brooke reached out and patted Megan’s hand. “I’m sorry. Did she live in San Francisco, too?”

  That’s where Megan was from. “About thirty minutes away.”

  “What did you do when—”

  The front door opened, interrupting the conversation, and Brooke stepped to the side of the counter to be out of the way. After Megan greeted the two teens who’d entered and told them to let her know if they needed anything, she took a quick peek at her phone. It had buzzed with a text.

  A smile curved her lips as she read the message. Nate had finally replied.

  Stay away from loafer guy. He’s no good for you.

  She’d texted Nate earlier, thanking him again for the rescue the night before and saying she owed him one, and when he’d replied that there was no return payment needed, she’d pointed out she at least owed him dinner since Mark was supposed to pay last night. Nate hadn’t replied in over an hour, though, so she’d assumed he wasn’t going to.

  She went to work tapping out a response. You don’t have to tell me twice. Loafer guy is permanently off the list. Her thumbs hovered over the screen for two seconds before she quickly added, I did find someone new I’m thinking about adding, though. He came into the store this morning.

  She had not found anyone new to add to the list. And she wasn’t sure why she’d said so.

  But her grin widened at his reply.

  Who is it?

  Why do you want to know?

  So I can tell you if he’s good enough for you or not.

  She nibbled on her lip as she contemplated what to say next, then she realized that Brooke had put her own phone down and was staring at her.

  “What?” Megan said.

  “Why are you smiling like that?” Brooke leaned toward her, trying to see the face of her phone. “Who are you texting with?”

  “Nobody.” Megan turned her hand away and offered the flippant reply before she could stop herself, and Brooke’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Is it him?”

  “Is it who?”

  The teens left the store, giving a wave goodbye on their way out, and Brooke rounded on Megan. She jabbed a finger at her. “That’s Nate, isn’t it? I knew there was more to last night than you let on.”

  “There was not more to last night.” She’d told Brooke everything. “He’s just a friend.”

  “Yeah. A friend who makes you smile like he’s the man currently sitting at the top of your list.”

  “What?” Megan shook her head. “No. He does not.” But she had been smiling. A lot. “He’s just . . .”

  Her phone buzzed again, and she looked down.

  You know you want my advice. I mean . . . you thought Mark Gray was potential. You *need* help with this.

  She bit down on her grin.

  “He’s just what, Meg?” Brooke’s voice came out softer that time, and the sincerity in it had Megan’s heart pounding. Brooke was a good friend. They’d met after the first of the year, not long after Megan had offered to stay in Birch Bay to help with the store. And they’d only grown closer since.

  She looked up from her cell, guilt winning out in the play for most prominent emotion, and she gave her friend a tiny shrug. “He’s hot, okay.” Lord, was he hot. “I’ll admit that. He’s hot. And he’s funny. And he’s . . . kind.”

  And she’d had far too enjoyable a time with him the night before . . . which she’d thought about all morning.

  Brooke’s expression didn’t alter. “He’s also the brother of your ex.”

  “Yes. He’s that, too.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  She knew her friend’s concern was only because she didn’t want to see Megan get hurt. But really, thinking the man was hot and doing anything about it were two totally different things. “There’s not anything going on with us, Brooke. I swear to you. Last night truly was just two friends having dinner.” She held the phone up in the air. “And he’s asking about my list now, okay? That’s all. He’s offering to tell me if anyone I might add is good enough.”

  “Like he did last night?”

  Megan had told Brooke about Nate marking through a couple of the names the night before. “Right.”

  “And you think that’s just because he wants to be your friend?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to be anything else.”

  But was she? He had come to her rescue last night. And he was sort of—kind of—text flirting with her right now.

  Or did she just want him to want to be something more?

  And was she just going to drive herself mad if she didn’t stop thinking about him like this?

  Brooke wrapped her hand around Megan’s, which still clasped her phone, and lowered both to the countertop. “And I’m pretty sure that you might be sliding close to the edge,” she suggested. “So, I’m just saying be careful, Meg. Know what you’re doing . . . before you do something you might regret.”

  Megan stared back at her friend, and she couldn’t help but wonder. Would she regret it?

  She didn’t have to think long for an answer. Most likely.

  Because Nate didn’t fit anywhere within her new plan. He wouldn’t be staying in Birch Bay once he got things cleaned up at the orchard, and unless all other options failed her, she had no intentions of leaving.

  “He’s just my friend, Brooke. As are all of the Wildes.” She loosened her fingers, letting go of her phone, and slid her hand out from underneath Brooke’s. “A friend who means no more to me than his brother, who is also my ex.”

  * * *

  Megan sat in her car, the engine turned off, and stared out through the windshield. A tractor with attached wood chipper sat quiet and unmoving in the back field of the Wilde orchard, several piles of downed trees dotting the space around them, but she didn’t see Nate anywhere in the vicinity. His truck sat in the driveway, though, so chances were good that he was here.

  She glanced over at the deck and up to the back door. Was he in the house?

  The inside door stood open, but the glass of the screen door reflected in the sun, providing a shield against whatever or whomever might be inside. And the idea of getting out of her car suddenly had her nerves humming. She shouldn’t have come.

  It was Monday afternoon, and given she’d never replied to his last text on Saturday—the one where he’d suggested she needed his help culling her list—she hadn’t heard a thing from Nate since. Which wasn’t unusual. There was no reason she should hear from him. Only . . . she’d hoped to. As stupid as it may be, she’d picked up her phone several times throughout the weekend, her thumbs skimming over the keypad, wanting nothing more than to just say hi.

  How ridiculous was that?

  At the end of the shopping trip on Saturday, Brooke had reminded her yet again that pushing the envelope with Nate was not a good idea. Being friends was one thing, but flirting with the idea of more?

  Bad thing.

  And Megan knew she was right. The man was Jaden’s brother. He was a loner, in all aspects of the word, and he seemed to want to stay that way. Seeking him out . . . thinking about him in any way that was anything but friendly . . . would do nothing but sidetrack her ultimate goal.

  Yet, here she was.

  After thinking about him all weekend.

  She sighed at the absurdity of it all, then she grabbed the just-cooked chicken and broccoli casserole off the passenger seat and told herself he wouldn’t be in the house. He was most likely in the barn. Or maybe in another field that she couldn’t see from there. And when he wasn’t in the house, she’d simply sneak inside and leave the meal on the kitchen table. The food was repayment for him buying dinner the other night, and once her debt was paid, she could get back to focusing on her mission. Back to looking for a potential future husband.

  A message appeared on her phone screen before she managed to get out of the car, and it was as if the device had synced up with her brain and was listening to her every thought. It let
her know that she had two new matches waiting in her dating app. Two new possibilities that were the type of man she wanted.

  Two men who weren’t Nate Wilde.

  She lifted her head and stared out through the windshield again, this time skipping over the cherry trees and taking in the beauty of the lake. And she called herself a fool for coming out there. Two minutes in and out, she reminded herself. That’s all it would take.

  Then she’d check out her latest matches.

  Chapter Seven

  Nate shucked his jeans for an older pair then tugged on his work boots. So far it had been a busy, but productive Monday, but he still had hours of work ahead of him. He’d been to city hall, working on the needed permits for the cabins, along with ordering supplies, filling out an application for a loan, and making a couple of equipment purchases for additional attachments for the tractor.

  He’d also talked to several people over the weekend, and so far, he had five guys who would be heading his way tomorrow, with another six coming in early next week. Dani had spoken to the Wyndhams about renting their place for the summer—and they’d then spent the weekend excitedly packing for their upcoming trip to Texas—and Cord, Nick, and Jaden had gone out to the rehab facility and filled their dad in on the new plans. Their dad held a lot of pride in how well the orchard had done over the years, but to hear his brothers tell it, he was excited at the turn of events. And Nate truly hoped he was.

  At the same time, he also didn’t care if his dad liked the idea or not. The man had almost killed himself because of the damned cherry trees, so it was time for plan B.

  Grabbing a T-shirt off the back of a chair, he headed for the stairs, and when he was halfway down, a noise came from the direction of the living room. “Jay?” He rounded the bottom of the stairs, pulling his shirt down over his abs, and started down the hallway toward the back of the house. He’d thought Jaden had a meeting in town today and then planned to stay with Arsula again tonight. “I thought you—”

  But it wasn’t his brother who stood inside the back door.

  “Megan?” A spark of excitement flared inside him. “What are you doing here?”

  He hadn’t expected to see her today . . . and he shouldn’t be glad to have been wrong.

  “I brought you dinner for tonight.” She lifted the foil-covered dish she held in her hands. “It’s payback.”

  “Payback?” A chuckle rolled through him. “That sounds ominous.”

  The thrill of seeing her was ludicrous.

  “You planning to kill me or something?”

  “Something like that.” She made a face at his teasing and moved toward the connected kitchen. “How about a favor returned instead of payback, then? I told you I owed you one.”

  She had told him that—to which he’d suggested she didn’t. He didn’t want her buying him dinner.

  But a homemade dish?

  His stomach rumbled at the thought, and he remembered that he hadn’t stopped for lunch.

  “What’s in it?” He also realized he hadn’t moved from the hallway since he’d first seen her.

  “Chicken and broccoli casserole.” She reached the kitchen table, then she looked over at him with a not-so-patient tilt of her head—as if waiting for him to quit standing ten feet away like he was afraid to come near her.

  His feet started moving.

  “I assume you like chicken?” she asked.

  “I like anything someone else cooks for me.”

  “Good.”

  When he made it over to her, she held the dish out, but instead of taking it, he lifted a corner of the foil. The smells that assaulted him had his stomach growling once more. “I’m starving.” He eyed the chunks of chicken bathed in cheese and breadcrumbs. “Would it hurt your feelings if I made this lunch instead of dinner?”

  A smile finally found her lips. “You can make it anything you want, Nate. It’s all yours.”

  “Perfect.” Without letting himself think about his actions, he turned and pulled two forks from a drawer. “Then I want it to be my and your lunch.”

  This made her laugh, and she finally set the dish on the table. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, in case you haven’t noticed. I’ve already had lunch.”

  “Not me. I somehow managed to forget to eat today.” He pulled out a seat for her. “And no problem if you aren’t hungry. You can just talk to me while I eat.”

  He gave her a big smile, and when she hesitated, he knew he should let her go. He enjoyed her company too much to suggest she hang around. But ever since the decision had been made for the changes to the farm, he’d found himself being a bit more relaxed about things. A bit more interested in having company instead of always being alone.

  He lifted a finger and pointed toward the back window to where the tractor could be seen. “Talk to me while I eat,” he repeated, “and I’ll let you help me with the wood chipper when I’m done.”

  The excitement that flashed in her eyes had the muscles low in his gut tightening. But other than that one flicker of emotion, she showed no other sign of joy. Instead, as if annoyed, the line of her lips went flat. “Tell me the truth first.” Even standing a foot shorter, she somehow managed to look down her nose at him. “You want my help, don’t you? Because I was so extremely helpful with the ramp last week?”

  Her words were a reference to their conversation from Friday night, and though he wanted to smile at the memory, he made sure his expression matched hers. “Your expert help, you mean?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “That’s the only kind I offer.”

  “Then, absolutely I do.”

  When she laughed, the unabashedly gleeful sound pinging off every pleasure zone in his body, a warning sign the size of Montana flashed inside his head. This woman was danger. And not the kind that would intentionally use a man for her own personal games . . . nor the kind to land him in jail after too many beers or an ill-timed joyride or two.

  No. Megan Manning was the type of danger that would leave him wanting. For all the things he could never have.

  If he had even half a brain cell, he’d heed the sign and send her cute little tush packing. Instead, he nodded to the chair. “Sit, oh expert helper of mine. And regale me with stories as I enjoy this grand feast.”

  She sat, but she also sent him a side-eye. “What’s different about you today?”

  “Nothing is different about me.” He took the chair at a ninety-degree angle from hers then ripped off the foil covering the dish. “Mmmm . . .”

  “Yeah . . . there is.” She said nothing else after that, and the mood in the room seemed to hesitate, just hanging in the air, waiting. The moment stretched out, along with her silence, until he finally pulled his gaze off the forkful of food he’d just scooped up.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You’re”—a wrinkle appeared between her brow—“happier?” She crinkled her nose as if the word smelled bad. “Is that it?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not an unhappy person, Manning. I’m often grumpy, yes. And I like to scowl.” He scowled at her as if to prove his point. “But I’m not unhappy.” Which wasn’t fully true, but it was close enough.

  “Okay. Then you’re chirpier.”

  At this, he paused again, this time with his fork halfway to his mouth. He offered another scowl. “Men are not chirpy. That’s a girl thing.” And the idea was almost enough to make him lose his appetite.

  “I don’t know . . . have you looked in the mirror lately? Because there’s definitely something ‘chirpy’ about you today.”

  This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d invited her to stay.

  “You’re smiling more, Wilde. You’re easygoing. Teasing me like you may not get another chance to do it anytime soon.” She leaned forward and narrowed laughing eyes at him. “I mean, you’re practically glowing.”

  He found himself leaning in, as well, and when he inhaled through his nose, he could smell the light scent of pears. “Maybe the glow is from the sun
.” He didn’t look away from her. “Did you think of that? I did spend a lot of last week working outdoors.”

  “Maybe,” she considered. “Or maybe something happened to lighten your mood. Something . . . good?” She pulled back, as if she knew she’d landed on the answer, and at the separation, it was as if he’d been cut loose from an invisible connection holding them together.

  He focused back on the food. He didn’t want to keep peering into eyes that saw too much.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” she continued talking as he closed his mouth around the first heavenly bite. “What happened, Nate? Who made you chirpy?”

  The fact that she kept using the word chirpy wasn’t lost on him. She was teasing him, too.

  And he liked it.

  But she wasn’t wrong. Well, he wasn’t chirpy. But he definitely felt happier than usual. Lighter. And he knew exactly what had done it for him.

  “It’s not a who.” He forked up another bite, then poked it into her mouth instead of his own. Her eyes rounded in surprise, but she didn’t protest. “It’s a what,” he said. “Have you talked to Jaden lately?”

  As she chewed, she shot him a disgusted look. “You have to let the Jaden thing go.”

  He mimicked her look. “I’m not talking about that. I just mean, have you talked to him? Or to Dani?” Even though she officially reported to Dani, he knew that the two of them were also good friends. He popped another bite into her mouth, watching her chew. “Has anyone told you about the new direction we’re taking for the farm?”

  As his words sunk in, her eyes went wide again. “New direction?” she said around the bite. She quickly swallowed. “What new direction? Do you mean you’re not going to sell?”

  “No. We’re not selling.”

  He didn’t know why he’d put it that way, because they very well might still sell the farm. But given the way her eyes had lit up, he didn’t correct himself.

  “What are you going to do then?” She turned in her chair so she faced him, and one side of the V-neck of her T-shirt gaped. “How can you take a cherry farm in a new direction?”