Sleepless in Montana (10 page)

From that one day, when Ben’s leg was mangled
and taken from him, the Kodiaks’ perfect life had been torn apart.
She’d seen old Aaron in him then, killing the love his family felt
for him, denying what they could all have.

He’d wanted to die, and she didn’t let him.
For that, he’d never forgiven her.

“I wonder how much time Dad has,” Carley
worried for the thousandth time.

Dinah turned to her daughter; she’d lie to
protect her daughter, yet it did not sit well upon her. “He doesn’t
want anyone to know, Carley. Please don’t mention it to anyone
outside the family. You know your father— he’ll be embarrassed to
show any signs of frailty.”

He’d been so white, fainting from pain and
loss of blood, his tall body crumpled beneath that tractor.
“No,
dammit, woman. Let me die a whole man, not some... thing.”

But she hadn’t listened, dragging him from
under the tractor and tying off the mangled leg with his
shirtsleeve and later, his belt— and he’d hated her.

Jemma gripped the steering wheel tighter. She
wasn’t going to let this family drift farther apart. God help her,
she had looked at the danger to Carley as a way to bring the
Kodiaks together— they’d never let anyone down, and Carley was the
most precious of the lot.

If this didn’t work to protect Carley—
Jemma tossed away that thought. If there was a family who knew how
to fight and survive, it was the Kodiaks— and Hogan, perhaps the
most unpredictable, dark warrior of the lot, tried to keep himself
outside emotion. But he felt it— it was there, stark love for every
one of them, even Ben.

“Dad’s pride is everything, of course,”
Carley murmured. “Yes, I can respect that. I won’t say
anything.”

Pride.
The Kodiak men were chock full
of it.

Jemma damned Hogan’s and Ben’s pride. She
hadn’t time to worry about her own, and theirs had cost too much
pain and wasted too much time. Time was something she did not have,
and the Kodiaks were going to be shoved back into a family, and
they were going to like it, even if it killed her— and Hogan.

“Shut up and watch for big bumps and fresh
cow piles— any cow pile. We’re all going to be with Ben, and that’s
what he wants,” Jemma said softly, with the ease of a friend who
could nudge and love.

She reached to tug Carley’s hand from her
mouth. “I’m the only one allowed to bite nails, and I’m not doing
it. I’m driving and nervous, and I’ve got a producer coming in
July.... I don’t remember these roads being so narrow,” she said,
as one tire slid off the dirt road.

“Stop muttering to yourself. This luxury boat
isn’t narrow,” Carley said. “And you’re not a good driver.”

“Hey, babe, I’ve driven taxis, limos, and
fishing trawlers. I’ll get the hang of it,” Jemma noted,
concentrating on her plan.

Carley inhaled sharply, and Jemma forced back
a smile. Carley had edges that could be pricked; she wasn’t always
sweet, and beneath her angelic appearance, she had that high-wide
Kodiak pride.

Jemma glanced at Carley— tense, sitting too
straight, her fine blond hair hacked into an unflattering Dutch-boy
cut, and her body layered with clothing. Overweight, reclusive, and
too quiet, Carley preferred dull colors and ate to fill an unending
ache inside her.

There was rage inside her, too, and Jemma
knew that hot slap of her own as she remembered how Carley had been
held down and—

“I hope he doesn’t come here,” Carley worried
again. “I don’t want anything to happen to my family, not because
of me.”

Dear God, please don’t let him hurt my
family. They’ve been through so much, and now Dad is dying,
Carley prayed. She fought the tremor that ran through her—

Her eyes locked in the direction of the
meandering stream where it had happened eighteen years ago.

She’d been terrified to come back after that,
terrified that her mother would discover the attack and forbid her
to return. But she’d loved Montana, despite the horror of that
night. Her heart belonged here, on Kodiak land. She felt the tug of
home with each hour she was away.

Carley balled her fists on her sweatpants.
She knew how to fight now; she’d had hours of self-defense classes—
urged into them by Jemma, who never stopped protecting her.

Carley glanced at Jemma. She had a quick
mind; she was strong, eager for a new experience, completely and
desperately driving herself to fill her bank account. But Carley
saw something in Jemma that was rare and true— selfless love. Jemma
had given Carley back a measure of her pride; Jemma had prodded and
insisted, but Carley’s deep fear of men remained. She welcomed the
time with her father and brothers; she could relax a bit, despite
her concern for Ben.

“Ben wants his family together. Just being
here is the best thing for him,” Dinah was saying. In an awed
tender tone, she straightened, leaning forward to better see the
old ranch house. Love nestled in her tone, not bitterness. “There’s
the ranch house.”

Her hand covered her mouth, her blue eyes
alight and eager. “Oh! There’s Ben and the boys.”

Jemma wanted to cry at the aching tenderness
in Dinah’s voice, cry for the Kodiak family and all they’d missed.
A perfect family torn apart by an everyday farming accident, they
were hers now, and she was determined to mend the rifts.

She’d lined up the players, and it would be a
war, but right now, Jemma wanted Dinah and Carley to have a
homecoming to remember.

*** ***

Chapter Four

Home
. Jemma felt the same thrill as
she had when she came with Carley that first summer.

The house was weathered, a stark two-story
white house with a big sprawling porch. Wooden rocking chairs
swayed as though just vacated.

At the sight of the picnic table in the
backyard, Jemma’s throat tightened, despite her determination to
remain in control. Sheets, hung on a sagging clothesline, flapped
in the clean Montana wind, just as on that first day she came.

There was so much heavenly space that
stretched to the horizons around the ranch, the mountains’ white
peaks brilliant in the distance.

When she’d first visited as an
eight-year-old, she’d thought that Hogan and Aaron were
Sasquatches. Hogan was just sixteen and too silent, a dark foil to
the other Kodiaks. A loner, he’d been tall, dark, and impervious to
her best smile. As a confident eight-year-old already playing
others to get her way, Jemma had hated him on sight.

Aaron was the playful brother she’d never
had.

Later, when “Snake” arrived, she’d had
another brother to torment.

But Hogan drove her nuts, maybe he still
did.

Hogan had been broody, dark-skinned with
beautiful glossy black hair, standing apart from the blond,
blue-eyed Kodiak family. He had that tall, rangy look, wrists too
long for his sleeves, a red bandanna tied around his forehead.

Already swaggering, he had that loose, free
stride of a long-legged hunter. To her, Hogan looked like a god—
arrogant, disdainful of girls, untamed, and perfect for
tormenting.

At eight, she’d told him that he was
beautiful, and that had sent him running. When she’d seen him
breaking horses, riding them until they were too weary to fight,
she’d been totally fascinated. Even as a child, she understood that
the best game was playing the most difficult— and winning. Hogan
qualified as a strong opponent and maybe that’s why he fascinated
her so much back then.

Fascination was an easier term than
admitting she’d had a childish crush on Hogan Kodiak.

Jemma tossed her hair back from her face— she
still knew how to put Hogan on edge. She had always delighted in
scoring hits on his cool, dark, remote shields. He was so easy to
read— once she had him in her grasp, she intended to make him
squirm.

That image slid away— Hogan was too tough,
too worldly now, but if there was truly an exciting fun-sport in
her life, it was getting to Hogan.

Jemma pushed away the lingering bitterness
about her parents. Her parents had been no more than careless
children themselves, not tending their brood of ten children, and
now they were all gone.

She’d survived, and sometimes hated herself
for doing so. She’d made a good life, built a comfortable
portfolio. Dynamic, on the go, ready for challenges, Jemma admitted
she had one weakness— the Kodiaks. They loved deeply, and she’d
loved them all— even Hogan and his shadows— at first sight.

They’d had everything, but it had been torn
apart by Ben’s accident.

“I remember the first time I came here. My
parents didn’t care where I was and so I came to stay the summer
with Carley,” Jemma said, floating into her memories. “Ben scooped
her up and held her tight. He looked like a tough cowboy, but with
his face against Carley’s throat, I saw just one tear. It glittered
on his lashes, then dropped onto my hand. It felt like love, and I
knew I’d love him forever then. And then he swung me up onto his
other hip, a tall gangling eight-year old, as if I were his
daughter, too.”

Amid the early mid-April alfalfa fields, the
house had stood for more than a hundred years. It had been
remodeled here and there, and in Jemma’s transient young life, it
had been heaven to know that a house and a family would always
remain in one place, that they could come home.

Under the pretense of smoothing her hair, she
wiped away a tear. From what she knew of the Kodiaks, they had
seemed perfect until Ben’s accident. A beautiful loving family with
a future ahead of them. Given time, Dinah would have won Hogan into
her keeping. Jemma caught the love she felt for this family and
held it tight— they were hers, the only family she’d known.

The Kodiak men, lined up and waiting,
presented a homecoming to remember. Dressed in jeans, their white
dress shirts blazing in the late-afternoon sun, standing with their
legs spread wide and their rangy bodies outlined, they took her
breath away.

Hogan.
Jemma fought for breath, then
scowled. She wasn’t wasting any time with a man who hated her, who
avoided her.

When Jemma stopped the van, she sat in the
shadows, watching the family she loved. Pale, fine hair tossed by a
cold Montana breeze in the dying sunlight, Dinah and Carley hurried
toward their loved ones. Aaron scooped Carley into his arms and
Mitch hugged Dinah.

Always a step back and holding to himself,
Hogan stood, crossing his arms. Aaron was stiff with Dinah, bending
to kiss her cheek and rigid when she wrapped her arms around him
and held him close.

Clearly uncertain, Ben’s gaze skimmed across
to the horses as if none of this scene affected him. Jemma knew
that he wanted to escape his fear, to ride out. But he locked his
boots and stayed, a big powerful man obviously riding emotions too
much for him, his big fists clenched at his side.

Jemma pushed open the door and circled the
van. She noted Hogan’s earring— an expensive-looking, dangling
black bead and silver affair— certain to snag Ben’s temper.

“Hi, babe,” she said to Hogan, just to start
him simmering.

“Flashy,” he said coolly, indicating the
golden metallic camper with a nod.

“Gold has always been my color. Goes with
green, the color of money,” she flipped back at him.

She stopped in midstep when she saw Dinah
stand in front of Ben. They just stood there, a man and a woman in
the April Montana sunlight, their eyes saying more than spoken
words. Then Dinah lifted her hand to touch the gray at Ben’s
temples and as if no one else existed.

Ben took her hand to his mouth, placing his
kiss within her palm.

They’d been apart for over thirty years and
yet they looked young— the gesture was so humbling that Jemma
looked away.

From Aaron’s and Mitch’s expressions, Ben and
Dinah’s intimacy had also affected them. Carley brushed away tears,
her bottom lip trembling. Jemma chanced a look up at Hogan’s
tanned, usually impassive face and caught a sharp fleeting emotion,
gone before it could be defined.

“They’re perfect, aren’t they? Standing
together like that?” he asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Jemma looked up at him
and found that fleeting glimpse of Hogan’s scars, his loneliness
and shadows.

Hogan shook his head. He was closing her off,
and she hated him with a fury. “You just went into your cave, Hogan
Kodiak. You know how I detest that.”

His smile was cold and tight. Hogan rarely
cared what people thought. “You’re not ruining this moment,” she
stated firmly. “Try and I’ll kill you.”

She turned to the Kodiak family— the family
she loved and wanted to be happy. Ben’s expression held her like
magic. His expression was soft, whimsical, as if he had everything
he wanted right then and there.

His glance at Jemma was grateful as he swung
Carley into a tight, fierce hug. Jemma waited just a heartbeat,
just time enough to give him a moment with his daughter, then she
launched herself upon him.

“Hey!” Ben exclaimed in delight. She stood
back and grinned at him a moment before she turned to Mitch and
Aaron, kissing them soundly.

Both reacted the same— that slight catch,
that momentary friction of an experienced man holding a woman in
his arms. And both had shot her a satisfying leer that was all
play.

Filled with success and high on love, Jemma
turned to Hogan and, with a devil-made-me-do-it attitude, flung her
arms around him, lowered one hand out of sight of the others, and
patted his hard butt.

“Gotcha,” she said, and stepped back before
he could push her away.

Then Hogan’s hand shot out, gripped her upper
arm and he tugged her close for a light kiss that lingered for just
a heartbeat, shocking her. She stepped back again, stunned. The
kiss wasn’t friendly, but firm— a challenge of a male to a woman
who taunted him.