Sweet Montana Christmas (16 page)

A little.

“Cup of coffee?” she asked after the movie finished.

He couldn't come up with any really good excuses as to why that would be a bad idea. Except the obvious. She wanted to “talk” to him.

“Okay. Starbucks?” he asked.

“It's really the only place nearby,” she said.

“You made a good choice of movies,” he said as they drove north on Reserve. Maybe that would get him out of the doghouse.

“Thanks. I like that director.”

“I'm not that much into films that I remember directors.”

“I started to pay attention a couple of years ago. I was tired of paying for movies I didn't like, and stars weren't always a guarantee. Producers and directors give me a better feel.”

They got stuck at the interminable light by the freeway, and he took the moment to look at her. She was staring at the overpass, her profile clear in the fading afternoon sun.

Funny, he'd never noticed how strong her jawline was. Probably because he had a hard time making it past her lips. It was a determined jaw. This was a woman who was going to make a success of anything she wanted.

Not as ditzy as he'd first imagined.

What would she be like in a real relationship? Could she soften enough to support him in his dreams and still go after her own?

It didn't matter. As soon as he got the recommendation he wanted, he'd be leaving the wilds of Montana for civilization.

He must have punched the gas a little harder than he'd intended when the light changed because he had to jam on the brakes when the rusted Chevy pickup in front of him changed gears.

“Whoa!” Sue Anne exclaimed. “Did I miss something?”

“Sorry, no. Wasn't paying attention. Forgot not everyone drives an automatic in Montana.”

“Uh-huh.”

Starbucks was busy as a lot of hikers returned to town, but he snagged an outside table in the sun.

After they settled with their coffees, he couldn't figure out what to say. Should he bring up Christmas? Or was that dangerous territory?

“I suppose you had old-fashioned family Christmases,” she said. “Grandparents, cousins, kids, the whole enchilada.”

“Kinda like that.”

“You probably even had snow.”

“Yes.” He took a sip of his coffee. Where was she going with this?

“Polar opposites. It's a good thing we decided to be just friends.” There was a bitter undertone to her voice he hadn't heard before.

“Now wait a minute. That seems unfair. Just because we had different kinds of Christmases doesn't make us incompatible. That makes as much sense as whether or not I like lima beans.” He grinned, hoping that made the topic a little less edgy.

“Right.” She drank more of her coffee as she stared off into the distance again.

There was something more on her mind.

He waited her out.

“No snow where we lived in Texas.” Her lower lip trembled for a few seconds before she appeared to get it under control. “And it was just me and my mother. Most years, my father showed up, but there were a few holidays he wasn't there. Too busy. Too dangerous to come home. Too something.”

Letting her gather her thoughts, he took another sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving her. His heart ached at the agony he saw written on her face.

“I always loved books and movies for presents. I'd carefully write out a list and leave it around for her to find. Every year, no matter what had happened the year before, I eagerly opened my presents. Nothing from my list. Ever.”

She swiped a finger against her eye.

“Makeup. Exercise stuff. Clothes. Tons and tons of clothes. Oh, God, I sound like such a spoiled brat.” She crossed her arms on the table and laid her head down so her eyes were covered.

Uh-oh. Meltdown.

He suppressed the urge to go to the bathroom, find a coffee cup that he didn't need to buy, or order the snack with the most sugar per ounce—anything to leave the scene. Instead, he took a deep breath and touched her arm.

“I'm sure you're not a brat. You were a kid.”

“I was sixteen the last time I wrote a list.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric.

“I remember my sister when she was sixteen. You're still off the hook.”

“You think so?” She lifted her face enough so he could see her eyes. They were shot with red.

“Tell you what, friend. In November, you write down a list of ten things you want for Christmas, and I guarantee they'll be under the tree in December.”

“Promise?” A little more of her face was visible.

“Promise.”

Her whole face was wreathed in a smile as big as a child's.

Oh, God, he was in such trouble.

• • •

Zach slid into the patrol car and headed for the far reaches of the airport. To the west, mountains framed the edge of the valley, most of the forests scarred from a long-ago forest fire.

Trees sure took a long time to come back.

In the southern distance, Lolo Peak gleamed in the sun, sentinel to the Bitterroot Valley and guardian of the pass that Lewis and Clark had used to get to Idaho. It was a raw land, in spite of the current civilization. Late settlement and intentional conservation had made it that way.

He looked away, disquieted by his unusual introspection. Was he growing too fond of Missoula?

Hardening his resolve, he paid attention to his surroundings, looking for anything unusual—a car that had been tampered with, a hole in the fence where a deer tried to get through.

Or something bigger.

Although they didn't frequent this end of town, bears habituated the upper reaches of the Rattlesnake area, and a herd of elk made a semi permanent home on Mount Jumbo, the mountain someone had decided looked like the circus elephant from the mid-1800s.

The resemblance was a mystery to him.

As the patrol car cruised the boundary, he relaxed into an ease he hadn't felt in a while. Things were going well. He hadn't screwed up any drills, tests, or direct orders, and since he'd begun bringing chocolate, his relationship with the team had improved. They weren't a bad group of guys. Even Pat, the man he sensed as his biggest rival for advancement, had gone out of his way to extend the hand of friendship. And damned if Zach hadn't begun to like the man.

Then there was Sue Anne. She was fun to be around. If only they could keep it as a friendship, everything would be fine. But after the meltdown at Starbucks, he was afraid they were going to become too close. Hell, they were already more emotionally connected than he wanted.

He should probably put some distance between them so she didn't get hurt when he left.

Of course, he'd gone and made that stupid promise. What had possessed him? He was going to be long gone by November.

He was turning around at the far reaches of the field when the radio squawked.

“Alert 4. Everyone return to base. It's an Alert 4. I repeat. Alert 4.”

Crap.
The feds had to go call a drill right now.

He pounded the steering wheel and raced back as quickly as he could without acquiring an airport customer as a hood ornament.

The team was already on the go by the time he got back but behind where they should be. He drove to the plane that was the site of the alert, since he'd missed the engine crew, then grabbed his gear. Minutes later he was in place, aiding volunteer victims to places of safety.

It seemed like only a minute after he'd gotten there, but the bell rang indicating time was called. They might have squeaked through, but it was touch and go whether or not they'd hit the time they were required to meet to get certified.

With the team, he packed up the gear and headed back to the squad room. The men were quiet, and he knew they were doing what he was—reviewing every move they'd made to see where they could have picked up time to meet the exacting federal standards.

“Sorry,” he said to some of the men who drifted into the squad room. “I should have been there sooner.” His gut clenched.
Here we go again.
He'd just made inroads with the team and now, like the team in Denver, they'd be pissed at him for messing up the drill.

“What do you mean ‘sorry'?” Pat asked. “You were on patrol at the edge of the airport. There was nothing you could have done about it.”

“Yeah,” Jim chimed in. “We have to come up with a better way to cover situations like that. Not your fault at all, man.”

Really? He hadn't screwed everything up?

“Thanks, guys, but...”

“Aw, can it,” Jim said. “We're a team. All for one and one for all and all that rubbish.”

They really meant it.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but a warning glance from Pat made him shut it again.

Right before his shift ended, the captain called a meeting to review the drill.

“We passed,” the captain said. “But barely. We missed some of the critical things we needed to do because we were initially down one man.”

“Zach was on patrol at the far side,” Jim said.

The captain nodded.

“Things like that are going to happen,” Pat said. “How can we plan for it?”

“We could go up an extra man each shift,” another squad member said.

The captain shook his head. “The budget would never handle it.”

“How about we each have a backup?” Zach said. “You know, cross-train. Then stick up a patrol board in the squad room. If we get an alert, we can look at the patrol board and see who we need to cover until they get here.”

“That might work,” the chief said. “Good idea.”

“Thanks.” Zach's chest loosened a little more. He let his jaw relax, and his lips turn upward.

“One more thing. With the way the weather patterns are changing, I'm afraid we're in more danger of fires here than we used to be in the past. Not necessarily plane fires, but ordinary wildfires and lightning strikes. I got a grant to send two of you to Dallas this year for extra training. I'll be making my decision next month, so stay sharp, men. That's all.” The captain turned expertly on his heel, demonstrating the marine training everyone knew he had.

Dallas. That extra training would be just the thing Zach needed. How long would he be expected to stay here if he was lucky enough to meet the chief's criteria? Training like that would be perfect to get back into a large airport in an area like California—maybe even LAX.

“I can see you salivating, man,” Pat said, giving him a light punch in his upper arm. “I'm up for it, too, but as low men on the totem pole, do you think we have a shot?”

“I don't know.” Zach stood and stretched, the tension of the day making his backache. “But it's sure worth going after.”

He was going to make sure he was at the top of his game. That meant keeping Sue Anne just where she was—as simply a friend, no benefits included.

That should satisfy his mother.

“I declare Sweets Montana officially open.” Sue Anne cut the ribbon with fake scissors, while others tugged the pink satin apart for the ceremonial ribbon cutting. A camera light popped, and the small crowd clapped.

Jaiden, the redheaded boy who frequented the shop as often as his mother would let him, tugged on her jacket. “Are the free samples ready yet?”

“Jaiden!” A young woman with equally red hair, who had to be his mother, chastened him. “Let the poor woman alone. It's her day.” She held out her hand to Sue Anne. “I'm Melissa, Jaiden's mother. I hope he isn't too much of a bother for you.”

“Not at all.” Sue Anne laughed. “In fact, I'm thinking of giving him a job when school's out. He's quite the helpful young man.”

Jaiden stood a millimeter taller.

“That's good to know.” Melissa squeezed her son's shoulders.

Sue Anne smiled. It was nice to have kids at her opening. A pang seared inside her chest. Having someone beside her on her big day would have made her feel less alone. Zach had been scarce since their movie date. They'd had coffee a few times, but that had been it. Even then, he'd seemed distant, not the man she'd dumped on about Christmas.

Maybe he wasn't who she thought he was, and when he left, it would be good riddance.

She pushed the thought from her mind. This was her day to celebrate. She looked at the small crowd and smiled.

“Come on in, everyone. We have free samples of fudge, truffles, and chocolate shakes. And we'll take 10 percent off your purchase price today!”

She pushed aside the doors and latched them open to let the warm spring air enter the shop and make the tables on the porch seem more inviting. Soon the place was filled with the small crowd, including people she recognized from the neighborhood. Her soft opening had built solid relationships.

“What a lovely shop,” Melissa Anton, the president of the woman's group, said. “I'm so glad you let us know on Facebook. Several other women said they'd stop by, too.” She held up a small sample of fudge. “This smells divine. You're going to do quite well, I think.”

“Thanks!”

Several more people came up to compliment her. Then the air seemed to shift a bit as several strong-looking men came into the shop, Zach in the lead.

A thrill went through her entire body as she settled her gaze on him, followed by a crashing realization.

She wanted so much more than friendship.

His grin widened when he spotted her, and she made her way through the crowd.

“I brought a few of my buddies to see where the magic happened,” he said. “This is Pat, Jim, and Tony. The others would be here, but someone needs to keep the airport safe for people who misplace their cars.”

She groaned and then held out her hand. “I remember you, Pat. We've introduced lots of fudge with no nuts. Nice to meet the rest of you. We have tons of samples, so help yourself.”

“Will do, ma'am,” said the one Zach had called Tony. “And who is that young lady?” He pointed at Julie.