Beneath Montana Skies. Mia Ross
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Maybe we’ll come by and you two can get reacquainted.”
“If Clyde’s coming, you must be planning to stay,” Morgan said, hoping she sounded casual about the prospect. She’d assumed he was on vacation, and learning that he was planning to stick around awhile didn’t exactly thrill her.
“Not sure right now,” he hedged, rubbing Sadie’s cheek in a pitifully obvious attempt to avoid Morgan’s gaze.
Typical Ty, she thought bitterly. Look up commitmentphobe in the dictionary, you’d probably find his picture. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She didn’t want to care, but there was a teeny tiny part of her that still did. Stupid, but true.
A bit of compassion for him bubbled free of her control, and she heard herself saying, “Well, I’m sure you’ll get it all figured out.”
Glancing up from under his hat, he gave her the kind of sheepish look she’d never seen on him before. “Thanks.”
He’d stopped petting Sadie, and the spirited animal snorted her disapproval. Clearly out of patience, she gave another head toss before wheeling away from the fence and galloping off in the stunning burst of speed that had made her—and her fortunate rider—a champion many times over.
“Still gorgeous,” Ty murmured, his gaze tracking the mare as she seemed to float over the ground. Then he looked over at Morgan, and his mouth crinkled in the boyish half grin that had first buckled her knees as a teenager. “Both of you.”
It was a blatant attempt at getting on her good side, making her forget that he’d abandoned her after one of their infamous fights and had never looked back. Scowling at him for all she was worth, Morgan turned on her heel and stalked back to her car. That’s what she got for showing him some sympathy, she railed silently as the engine roared to life and she jammed the transmission into gear. The sound of gravel spitting out from under the tires perfectly matched her mood as she flew up the driveway toward the house.
If Ty Wilkins thought a few sad looks and canned compliments were going to undo what he’d done to her, that cowboy had another think coming. Once he left town, everything would go back to the way it was before he showed up. She just wished he hadn’t taken it into his head to make a detour to Mustang Ridge.
She could have happily lived the rest of her life never laying eyes on him again.
Still a spitfire.
The thought flew through Ty’s mind almost as fast as Morgan’s 4x4 was speeding away from him. During his long drive up from Texas, he’d spent a lot of his time picturing what it might be like when he encountered the fiery cowgirl again. Some of the scenarios had been downright frightening, to the point that he’d almost reconsidered the wisdom of his approach.
Then it had occurred to him that he owned nothing in this world except a few acres of land, some rodeo trophies and his truck.
Although the truck wouldn’t be his much longer, he reminded himself grimly. He’d be delivering it to its new owner tomorrow, and then he’d start hunting for something he could afford. After hitting rock bottom a few months ago, he’d come dangerously close to being forced to sell his horse. By sheer, stubborn will, he’d managed to hold on to the prized cutting horse, but it had been a near thing. He’d gotten some insane offers, but even for a down-and-out cowboy, some things were priceless.
He might have lost everything else—including his dignity—but he still had Clyde. It was one of the few victories he could claim recently. Actually, he amended as he eased himself into the cab to follow Morgan, it was the only victory. That was the unexpected advantage he’d discovered in losing pretty much everything you once considered important. Whatever you had left meant a lot more to you.
At the end of the driveway was the same sprawling farmhouse he recalled from his childhood. Driving toward it, he admired the menagerie of animals grazing in the two pastures that flanked the gravel lane. While they came across as gritty ranchers, in truth the Whittakers were all softhearted critter collectors who couldn’t seem to turn away anything that needed a home. Among the kaleidoscopic herd of about twenty horses, he spotted several goats, a cluster of sheep and something that looked suspiciously like a miniature camel.
The latter slowly raised its head, chewing its cud in a back and forth motion that gave its shaggy face a pensive appearance. When it levered its head back and brayed, it made Ty think of a tractor transmission grinding to a halt in the middle of a field. That he still remembered the death-knell sound from his days as a farmhand was actually amusing, and he couldn’t help chuckling. Some things stayed with you, he supposed, no matter how far away you’ve drifted from your roots.
Pulling into the circular turnaround near the house, he parked next to Morgan’s car and winced as he slid to the ground. The back that had once been his strongest asset wasn’t what it used to be, but bearing in mind what it had gone through, his doctors had told him that he was fortunate to be upright. Injuries like his weren’t just career enders—they often turned out to be fatal. For some reason, he’d been spared that horrific fate, and whatever the future held for him, he was determined to meet it standing on his own two feet.
Like him, the Whittaker farmhouse had seen better days. Built of sturdy Montana pine, the framework looked as solid as ever, but the clapboards and roof were in need of some TLC. When the dog sprawled out near the front door caught sight of Ty, she jumped to her feet and trotted down to greet him much the way Sadie had.
“Hey there, Skye,” he said, ignoring the protest in his back as he hunkered down to pet the speckled Aussie. “How’ve you been?”
She answered him with a short yip, turning her head to lick his palm in an obvious bid for more attention. When Morgan paused beside them, he looked up to find her staring down at him, arms folded in a gesture he couldn’t quite read. When she didn’t say anything, he figured it was up to him.
“It’s nice to see some friendly faces,” he commented, carefully unwinding to stand up. She didn’t respond, and he decided to try some humor. “Even if they are furry and standing on four feet.”
A hint of the wry grin he recalled teased the corner of her mouth, and when she removed her sunglasses, he saw a glimmer of appreciation in those incredible blue eyes. Her waterfall of blond hair was tamed back into a ponytail that fell down her back beneath her straw cowgirl hat, but a few of the curls he’d always admired had escaped to frame her tanned face in a cloud of gold.
On the day he met her in first grade, he’d believed Morgan Jo Whittaker was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. In all the years he’d been on the rodeo tour, he’d met dozens of women, but he’d never come across one who even came close to changing that opinion.
Morgan was one of a kind, he thought for the millionth time. Beautiful, smart as a whip, with a sassy personality that both frustrated and fascinated him. And he’d walked away from her. What an idiot.
Now she was looking up at him, wearing a curious expression that made him feel like a bug squirming on a slide under a microscope. Trying to appear calm, he endured the scrutiny in silence, hoping it wouldn’t last too much longer.
It didn’t. “What are you really doing here, Ty?”
“I told you in town. It was time for a visit.”
She took one step closer and stopped, those intelligent eyes boring into his with an intensity he’d rather not experience again. “You used to be a better liar.”
That was true enough, and he couldn’t keep back a chuckle. “Not enough reason to do it anymore, I guess. You want the truth?”
“It’d be a nice change of pace.”
Stepping onto the porch, he motioned her to one of the handmade rocking chairs. When they were both seated, Skye plopped down on a braided rug between them, and for a single insane moment, Ty got a picture of how their life might have been if he hadn’t messed everything up.
Behind them, a burly shadow appeared in the screen door, and