Blackbird Lake Read online

  “Nice digs. Everything here looks like it belongs to you.” Brady paused to study the living room with its wide, comfortable-looking cream sofa and scattered bright-patterned pillows, then took in a deep rose armchair, bookshelves filled to the brim, and a cream-and-violet-patterned rug on the floor.

  The white bookcase overflowed with books, and there were some pretty colored perfume bottles on a distressed wooden dresser that had also been painted white. Very girly, he noted. That was funny coming from a girl who wouldn’t wear a dress or a skirt, or much of anything besides those sweats. He wondered suddenly if her bra and panties were as plain and ordinary as her clothes. Because beneath the facade she showed to the world, Madison was anything but dull, anything but ordinary.

  Not just because of the vivid beauty she’d possessed since childhood, but because of what shimmered beneath the surface. Everything that fueled the soul and twang of her songs, the layered melodies, the words that hurt and stung and uplifted, bursting like a wound, straight from her heart.

  The walls of her tiny apartment were blue, he noticed. The color of a lake. The color of calm.

  Her apartment was a studio, and a small one. But everything was tidy, except for a pair of jeans in a heap on the floor. Madison’s prettily made-up bed was in the corner. It had a pale blue coverlet and white-and-yellow-striped throw pillows spilled neatly across it, with a rustic wooden headboard that boasted the carved outline of flowers.

  Her guitar was propped against one blue wall, and there was an electric keyboard in a corner. A flute rested across the top of the dresser, too, alongside some textbooks with titles like Art and Creative Development for K–8 Children and Early Childhood Education: Introduction to Music and Movement.

  “I’ll get your money.” She had lifted her wallet from her purse and was rummaging through it. Pulling out a check, she thrust it at him. “Here. Thanks for—”

  “Forget it, Madison. I won’t take your money.”

  Snagging hold of her hand, he closed his fingers around it, just tightly enough to keep the check imprisoned.

  “But we had a deal!”

  “Truth?” A smile touched Brady’s lips. “I had my fingers crossed. I never cared about the money. I was only trying to help you out—get you down off that stage real quick, like you wanted. It’s no big deal. Just don’t tell anyone. It would damage my sterling reputation as a total jerk.”

  “Nobody thinks that,” she said quickly. “And you know I don’t. But I still don’t understand why you won’t take the money.”

  “Maybe I just wanted to help an old friend.”

  Madison searched his face. “So are you saying we’re friends again, Brady? Really?”

  “You want to be friends with me, Madison?”

  “I guess I wouldn’t mind.” A saucy little smile curved her lips. Then, suddenly, she yanked her hand free and punched him in the arm. “You jerk! It took you long enough.”

  Brady laughed, snagged her hand, crumpled up the check she’d written. “You know Margie Shane got married four years ago. She moved to Big Timber last year, with her husband and two kids.”

  “I heard about that. So when I was gone all those years—did you ever get the chance to kiss her? That’s all you used to talk about wanting to do.”

  “Sure, I did. When I was a stupid kid. And no, I never kissed Margie. She’s the one that got away.”

  “What a shame.” Madison slanted an amused glance up at him. “So I guess you’ll never know what it’s like to kiss the incredibly beautiful, irresistible—let’s see, what other things did you say about her? Gorgeous, hot—”

  “I think I’ll live without kissing her,” he drawled. And a grin lit his face as he took a step toward her. She took a step back, and he advanced one more. Then he yanked Madison close, up against his chest.

  “But I’m not at all sure I can live another minute without kissing you.”

  Her heart skidded in all different directions as she gazed up into those cool gray eyes and a moment later, she was kissing him.

  She had no idea whether she kissed him first, or the other way around.

  All she knew was that her arms had slid around his neck and Brady was holding her tightly, so tightly it felt as if he’d never let her go without a crowbar to pry them apart. Their bodies pressed together, fitting perfectly, and Madison had never felt such heat. Such a storm of need.

  She’d had two short-term boyfriends before, and she’d lost her virginity with a third one when she was nineteen, but she’d never felt anything rock her the way Brady’s kisses did. He kissed her and kissed her, with a deep hunger that seemed unquenchable. It was as if he was searching somewhere inside her for the very center of her soul. His kiss tasted like moonlight and danger and fire. His tongue explored her mouth as if it was hidden treasure, summoning something deep inside her as he waged a sweet teasing battle that left her utterly defenseless. He smelled of saddle leather and spice.

  Brady…

  She was actually, finally, kissing Brady….

  The room seemed to spin in slow circles as his big hands stroked her breasts and his mouth burned against hers. She was shaking at the intensity as her lips parted and his tongue went on a search-and-engage mission with hers. Her heart raced as Brady’s tongue swept inside, as the taste of him filled her. Her body ached for him in places Madison had never ached before and Brady’s stroking hands knew exactly how to fuel the fire jetting through her.

  “Maddy,” he groaned against her lips. She felt his need, his entire body pressing against her. How many times had she sprawled beside him doing homework, wishing this would happen? She’d only been twelve then and it had never happened, but now it was….

  Clinging to him, she traced his lips with her tongue as he eased her backward, back, back, toward her bed. Fire seemed to sear their lips together as they sank down on the comforter and he pulled her onto his lap.

  “You’ve been driving me crazy since the moment you followed me into Benson’s Drugstore,” he grated as he drew back for a second, his eyes glinting into hers.

  “Good,” she gasped. “I’m…glad.” Because you’ve been driving me crazy since the moment I met you, she thought, but she managed to stop herself from saying the words.

  She then lost all power to think or to speak as Brady’s cool hands skimmed down her hips, hitched up her T-shirt, found the tiny thong she wore, and, as he kissed her, slipped a finger inside the pale peach silk. “Oh, God, you’ve been driving me crazy ever since you built that treehouse and…Brady…I don’t know why I’m even speaking to you, you were so mean to me….” Another long kiss that made her dizzy. But not dizzy enough to stop telling him everything pent up inside her. “And all because I told Margie—”

  “Shhh, baby. I know. I’m sorry about that.” He drew back, a remorseful smile on his face as he stared into her eyes, his body tensed and hard with need. “I was a stupid dumb kid back then,” he muttered in between kisses. He began to slide that thong down her thighs….

  And then her cell phone rang.

  Madison jumped. Brady froze, then let out a groan.

  “It’s…probably my grandfather,” she gasped, still in his lap, staring at him, caught between longing and obligation. She pulled slowly away, then hopped off Brady’s lap, her cheeks burning. “He said he’d call me…after the auction….”

  “You mean, you’re going to talk to him? Now?” Brady looked like a kid who’d just had his new Christmas gift snatched away.

  “He’ll keep calling if I don’t. He worries about me. He’s a sheriff—he imagines all kinds of terrible things if I don’t answer my phone!”

  Brady realized the ringing of the phone was coming from the pocket of her jeans. The ones she’d tossed onto the floor before she changed into the tee, which had fallen again now past her hips. He leaned down, snatched up the jeans, yanked out the phone, handed it to her.

  “Gramps, hi,” she exclaimed brightly.

  He sighed, watching her flushed fac
e, listening half in amusement and half in frustration as he sat there on the edge of Madison’s bed, frowning as she struggled to talk naturally to her grandfather.

  The man who’d arrested him for punching out the lights of his deputy.

  The man who’d raise holy hell if he knew that his only granddaughter had been about to get naked with a no-good kid from a family of losers. Brady’s father had driven drunk and killed both his wife and himself. Brady’s brother had wasted his own life chasing a dream and finding only injury and frustration and ultimately death beneath the bruising heels of an enraged bull.

  And Brady had been locked up, at least for a while, in her grandfather’s very own jail.

  “No, everything went fine with the delivery,” she was saying a little breathlessly. “They were late getting there, but Grams’s piano is in place and it looks awesome. Grams will be thrilled. Oh…yes, the auction. It wasn’t too bad. No…not at all. Who…won the date with me?”

  Her voice cracked on the word “date.”

  Brady watched with raised brows as her wide eyes locked on his.

  “Well, um…actually, Gramps, it’s Brady who won the date with me. No, he wasn’t the only one who bid on me, but…”

  He watched her eyes close for a moment. Watched her wince as she listened carefully. And something tightened in his stomach.

  “No, Gramps, it’s nothing like that. You’re wrong. Brady and I—we’re friends again now. And I’ll be perfectly all right. Brady bid on me out of kindness because he knew I didn’t want to…”

  Brady didn’t hear the rest. He was already at the door, yanking it open, bounding into the hall. He turned back and met her startled gaze for one instant before he pulled the door shut and took off down the hallway, his boots thumping on each step of the single flight of stairs.

  He’d be damned if he could listen to any more.

  Madison didn’t deserve grief from her grandfather because of him.

  He had to get this under control. Right now. Whatever this was. He’d never intended to kiss Madison or touch her or end up anywhere near her bed with her when he’d gone to her room.

  All he’d wanted was to make sure she was all right. That she hadn’t sensed anyone following her over the past few days. To make certain she wasn’t scared.

  But why should she be scared? She had Lonesome Way’s sheriff to protect her. Maybe he was out of town right now, but he’d be back. And Teddy Hodge wouldn’t need any help taking care of his granddaughter.

  Madison didn’t need him. Just the opposite. He’d only cause trouble for her. Hodge would give her an earful of grief about why associating with him was bad for her. And he’d mostly be right.

  Madison had already gone through a terrible breach with her mother. She didn’t need to have Brady come between her and her grandparents now. Teddy and Joanie Hodge were basically the only family she had left.

  His jaw hardening, he slipped out of her building and strode toward his Harley. Just because he’d messed up his own life didn’t mean he had a right to mess up hers. As he swung a leg over the bike, he tried not to think of how sweet she’d tasted when she kissed him, how her lips seemed to melt into his. Or of how soft and eager she’d felt in his arms. Or of what might have happened next, if the phone hadn’t interrupted them.

  Her thong might have been on the floor alongside her jeans in another second. Her T-shirt would have gone next….

  Brady grimaced and accelerated down Coyote Road, leaving the town behind in a blinding blast of dust.

  He’d spent a lot of time alone since his parents died and even more after he got the news that Cord was dead. But he knew he’d never felt quite as alone as he did now, roaring off on his bike, the first bitter frost of winter snapping through his leather jacket. It chilled him deep to the bone as he tore through the vast and starless night.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two weeks later, Carly stood beside the racks of colorful fabric in her shop, trying to focus as Professor Penelope Andrews, a member of Montana’s Circle of American Masters, spoke about unified quilt design for nontraditional quilters.

  Every available space in Carly’s Quilts was packed with folding chairs, women, handbags, and refreshments. All of the quilters in Bits and Pieces—and a few others from neighboring towns with their own quilting groups—were crowded in to listen to the seminar by one of the most popular speakers in the state.

  Penelope had donated her usual speaker’s fee to the animal shelter fund-raiser and Sophie had supplied the refreshments, which would be served after the talk, free of charge. The quilters would be offered a choice of sandwiches from A Bun in the Oven—roast beef or tuna with melted cheddar, plus creamy potato salad and cole slaw for each attendee, along with a big tray of caramel brownies. Carly was supplying the paper plates, napkins, coffee, and tea, along with pies—two of Annie’s specialties, which she’d baked early that morning. A luscious peach-raspberry pie and a lemon meringue.

  So far the event was going well. But as the professor reached the end of her talk and began taking questions from the audience, Carly noticed Wash Weston stride past the quilt shop window and she suddenly lost the thread of the talk as her mind began to wander.

  Her date with Wash had gone off without a hitch. Well, without too much of a hitch. Wash had been a perfect gentleman the entire time they were at dinner at the Lucky Punch Saloon. They’d talked about his farm, and how his son was studying agriculture in college, and how Wash hoped to turn things pretty much over to him by the time his son graduated. Wash looked forward to being able to kick back and see a bit more of the world.

  He told her how he’d always wanted a daughter, but instead he had three boys. He asked her about Emma. Hinted that it must be hard raising her alone. His wife had died when his youngest boy was twelve so he knew what that was like.

  He seemed lonely and was a perfect gentleman—until they returned to Blue Bell Drive and he walked her to her door, then leaned in to give her what she’d expected would be a chaste good-night kiss on the cheek.

  “I enjoyed our date, Carly. Wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime,” he said in a grave tone.

  “It was a very nice evening.” Carly smiled noncommittally. Wash wasn’t the most exciting man in the world but he was pleasant, and unfailingly polite, and it didn’t seem necessary to explain to him that she didn’t really date—or why.

  Maybe he wouldn’t call her again. If he did, she’d just say she was busy.

  Which was the truth. She was busy—with Emma.

  Though Jake was watching her daughter tonight, in a few days he was leaving for Salt Lake City to shoot that commercial.

  Besides, she and Wash had pretty much exhausted every avenue of conversation by the time he drove her home. Not to mention the fact that he was nearly twenty years older than she was.

  But the quiet, gentlemanly farmer had a surprise in store for her. After that quick, chaste cheek kiss, he suddenly grabbed her waist with both beefy hands and tried to plant his mouth on her lips.

  Carly thrust her fists against his chest and pushed him away before he could.

  “Good night, Wash.” Her tone was firm, but she forced out a brief smile to take the edge off.

  “Honey, you know there’s more where that came from,” he told her with a mixture of hopefulness and eagerness. She was so taken aback she froze for a moment, and then he reached for her again. Instinctively, she stepped back.

  “No, Wash,” she said quickly. “There isn’t.” And at that moment the door opened. Jake strolled onto the porch.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  Bronco squeezed out, too. The formerly down-on-his-luck mutt didn’t look nearly as emaciated these days, and his tail wagged happily as he ambled toward Carly.

  But aside from dropping one hand to his golden head for a little absentminded pat, she barely noticed. Her gaze was locked on Jake.

  “Evening, Wash.” The smile on his face was cool. A glint of steel hardened his eyes.


  “Jake Tanner?” Wash’s gaze had sharpened. “What are you—”

  “Babysitting Emma,” Jake interrupted him, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans.

  Wash appeared at first stunned, then puzzled, as his hands fell from Carly’s waist. “You two…uh, the two of you…Are you…”

  “Yep.” Jake nodded. “We are.”

  Carly felt herself flushing. We are what? she wondered in annoyance. She didn’t know what the hell Jake thought he was doing, but she had to admit he’d made his appearance at a propitious moment.

  Still, after Wash was gone she’d need to set him straight on a couple of things….

  “Thanks again for dinner, Wash. Good night.” She started toward the door, but not before catching a glimpse of the farmer’s crestfallen expression.

  “Yeah. Guess I’ll be seeing you around.” It was a disappointed mumble and on the words, Wash turned away and trod heavily down the steps.

  “I suppose I should thank you, but was that really necessary?” she demanded once she and Jake and Bronco were alone inside her cheerful hallway and the front door was firmly closed.

  And locked by Jake.

  “Thought I’d give you a hand. It was obvious you were having trouble getting rid of him. You’re too nice—at least to him. Wash didn’t seem to be getting the message that his one-shot deal was over and done.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of getting my own messages across by myself.” She led the way across the hall and into the living room. “Did Emma go right to sleep? Did you have any problems?”

  “Aside from throwing peas all over the floor for Bronco to eat while we were having supper and making me read her five stories about Bitsy Bunny before I could turn out the light, it was a snap. Oh, and she kept asking me to sing some song but I didn’t know it.”

  “‘Five Little Monkeys’?”

  “Yeah!” Jake raked a hand through his jet-black hair. “You’d better teach it to me. She kept waving her arms, trying to sing it, and getting very frustrated that I wouldn’t participate.”