Chapter 2
Gabe hadn’t thought a Montana winter would be that much different than a New Jersey one. After all, they were both northern-ish. And he’d survived desert nights and hellish landscapes all over the world. Not to mention BUD/S training.
November in Montana was proving to be tougher. Or, worse, he was getting old and weak. He snorted as he hefted a bale of hay onto the UTV that would get him through the hard-packed snow of the pastures.
He pulled his hat a little lower on his head, then slid into the driver’s seat. He was about to turn the ignition, but a female voice called out.
“Oh, there you are.”
Gabe frowned over at Monica’s approaching form. It was fairly early, though it was the last day of school before Thanksgiving break. Gabe imagined she’d been up getting Colin off to school.
She didn’t stop until she stood right next to the vehicle, looking something like a ball of fabric with arms and legs.
“Is there a human being under there?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. Maybe she made some other facial expression, but since he could only see her nose and a little bit of her eyes, it was hard to tell.
“It’s in the single digits. I put on every coat, scarf, and pair of gloves I own. Plus, I’m wearing three pairs of yoga pants under my jeans.”
“You do yoga?”
“No, I do yoga pants.” She pulled the pile of scarves off her mouth and smiled at him.
Oh, he did not trust this woman or this approach at all, especially when that smile lodged somewhere in his chest as if it had anything to do with him, when he knew better.
“I was hoping you could help me.”
Gabe looked her up and down. He might not know Monica on a personal level, but he’d been around her enough in the past few months to know that asking for help was not something she did often or at all. Which meant she had an ulterior motive.
“I’ve got cows to feed and frozen water to break up. Can it wait?”
“Let me just tell you what it is, then you can think on it.”
“It’s the kind of favor I’m going to have to think on?”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “I need some help getting a Christmas tree. I was hoping to do it on Thanksgiving, just so I could get it up and ready the day after. Colin and I always do, but there’s no place around here to go buy a tree. Becca says they just cut them down off the property.”
When it was clear she wasn’t going to say more, Gabe shrugged. “So?”
“So Jack and Rose will be at the Shaws’ on Thanksgiving. Becca and her mom will be busy cooking, and I’m sure Alex will be on hand to help with preparations. I thought you could give us a hand. You don’t have any Thanksgiving plans before Becca’s dinner, do you?”
“No.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“Is it?”
“Becca won’t want us all underfoot while she’s so generously making dinner. This way, we can go do something, and you’d be helping me and Colin. I know he’ll appreciate it.”
Underfoot. Yeah, he wasn’t too keen on being underfoot or feeling like he was thirteen and unwanted again. “I wasn’t planning on being underfoot. I may not even go to Becca’s dinner.”
Monica frowned, wisps of blond hair being tugged out of her hats by the hard, cold wind. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
“But…” Monica smiled indulgently. “Becca is hardly going to allow you not to go. You’ll be there if she has to drag you to the house herself.”
Which was true, but that didn’t make him any keener to pretend like he belonged at their Thanksgiving table. Monica might not either, but she at least had a kid to not belong with.
“Would it change your mind if I offered to pay you? Think of it as a little side job.”
Insulted, Gabe slid out of the driver’s seat and stood, glaring down at her. “I don’t need your money.”
“But I need your help,” she returned, so damn calmly. “What can I do to get it?”
“Why am I surrounded by stubborn, inherently practical women?” he grumbled. Because he didn’t know what to do with it. Becca, Monica, even Rose didn’t back down until they got what they wanted. Like their very own band of sisters, dedicated to the prospect of driving him insane.
“Surely there’s something I could offer you that would be a fair barter for your help.”
He glanced down at her, holding that spring-blue-sky gaze of hers until she blinked. He couldn’t tell if it was the cold or if there was an actual blush staining her cheeks, but he had a feeling his long, unrelenting stare made her feel something.
But she didn’t back down.
“Maybe it’s Montana that breeds this incessant stubbornness in people,” Gabe muttered, tired of people wanting things from him. Alex and Jack wanted him to get therapy. Becca wanted him to be excited about the wedding. Monica wanted a favor. Everyone wanted something from him and he wanted…
Well, he supposed that was the problem. He didn’t know what he wanted.
“I don’t think it’s Montana, since I was born in Texas and I’ve lived just about everywhere. I’m as much a Montanan as you are, though I don’t own a cowboy hat yet.”
“Better get on it. I hear they kick you out if you don’t.”
She chuckled. “You won’t distract me.”
“Of course not. Fine, I’ll help you.” How long could it take, after all, to chop down a tree? Which gave him an idea. “On one condition.”
“All right.”
“Colin gets to cut down the tree.”
Her jaw dropped in outrage for a moment before she smoothed her expression into something calm. “Colin is ten. He’s too young.”
“That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.”
“Of course he can. With the right instruction. I bet Alex was chopping down trees out here before he could walk.”
“I don’t care what Alex was doing,” she returned through clenched teeth.
Gabe was enjoying this. Monica was usually such an iron fortress of calm, but anytime he got on her about being too overprotective of Colin, she snapped. He liked being the one who made her snap.
She blew out a breath, drawing on that inner sense of calm she always seemed to be able to find. He wondered if it was a never-ending well.
Everything about her looked wrapped up and cozy. He’d certainly like to see what she looked like out of control and decidedly not cozy and—
What the hell was wrong with him? She was pretty enough, but he didn’t get mixed up with women with kids or dead husbands they’d loved. Most importantly, he didn’t get mixed up with shrinks. She’d have a field day if she ever found out about his childhood, and he wasn’t the least bit interested in reliving that.
“Those are my terms,” he said, wincing a little at how harsh his own voice sounded. She wasn’t to blame for his thoughts taking an idiotic detour. So he tried to soften it with a smile. “The kid’ll be fine.”
“The kid,” she scoffed. “My kid. My little boy.”
“Who’s going to spend the next few years at least hacking it through a few Montana winters. Give him the skills to do it. You’ll both be happier in the long run.”
“You sure have a lot of opinions on children and parenting,” Monica returned, cool but certainly not placid as she crossed her arms over her bundled chest.
His grin didn’t fade. If the kid was a way of poking at her, well, he wouldn’t mind poking now and again. Not because of that little tickle of awareness or the unwelcome pang of attraction, but because he wasn’t about to let her think she had the upper hand when it came to him.
“Why is that?” she continued, cocking her head with that kind of clinical study he thought they must teach in shrink schools.
“I didn’t have a dad either,” Gabe returned, because he knew giving her something would throw her off, surprise her—and it wasn’t the big something he’d never, ever tell her or anyone.
Some of that clinical detachment faded. “A boy doesn’t need a father. Plenty of kids don’t have fathers.”
He almost felt sorry for her, because he knew it was what she told herself. Much as Gabe recognized it as true, that a man could grow good and strong without a father, he could tell she didn’t believe it. Not yet. Someday she would, when Colin was off being the good man he’d inevitably be. But she wasn’t there yet.
Damn her for softening him toward her. “No, a kid doesn’t need a dad,” he said, looking her straight in the eye, hoping she’d see the truth in that. “But he does need the opportunity to spread his wings, usually far before the people around him are ready for it.” Hell, he knew it wasn’t his place, but he had a soft spot for the kid. And maybe even a little soft spot for how hard Monica tried to be a good mother. He’d been that little boy—not coddled or overprotected, but not given the freedom to make his own choices, learn his own skills. “Let him chop down a tree, Monica. I promise you, it’ll be good for both of you.”
She stared at him and, for one moment, all those masks she wore simply slid away. There was something like naked emotion and vulnerability on her face—so clear, Gabe had to look away.
“Be at our cabin at nine, then,” she said, her voice suspiciously scratchy. He didn’t look up until he heard her footsteps retreating.
Then he mentally kicked himself for opening his big, dumb mouth.
* * *
Monica didn’t like having a session when she was emotionally worked up. But she refused to let those emotions bleed into her patient’s time, especially when it was silly.
Why on earth would she let Gabe Cortez, some childless former Navy SEAL she barely knew, give her parenting advice?
If she needed advice, she asked her mother. She mostly didn’t need it though, because she knew a ton about child development. She’d read all the books and lived the parenting life for ten years.
But Gabe’s words shook her. She muttered a few curses just to get it out of her system. Then she stomped her foot on the snowy ground for good measure. She had ten minutes before she was supposed to meet with Alex for his weekly therapy session.
She needed a clear head. She was ready to suggest Alex move to once-a-month sessions instead of these weekly ones. He’d improved vastly, and much of it was due to the woman he was marrying and his willingness to communicate with her.
After all, as was the case with so many men she’d worked with, they had never learned how to verbalize fears and worries, especially after spending their early adulthood conditioned into not doing that. They had to learn or relearn the importance of laying down their burdens, even if it made them vulnerable.
She blew out a breath and closed her eyes. And didn’t she need to take some of her own advice?
“Fighting with Gabe again?”
Monica jumped at the sound of Becca’s voice. She hadn’t realized Becca had approached. “We don’t fight,” she said automatically.
Becca cocked her head. “Then what do you call it?”
“We don’t always see eye to eye.”
Becca laughed. “You rub each other the wrong way. Maybe because you want to rub each other the right way.”
Monica fisted her hands on her hips. “You did not just say that to me.”
“I did. And I one hundred percent stole it from Alex.” Becca grinned. “I’m too sweet and innocent to ever think of such a thing.”
Monica snorted. “Ha!” She eyed her friend, who wore maybe half as many layers as Monica did even though she was a tiny little thing. “Are you heading in?”
Becca nodded.
“Could you tell Alex I’ll be about fifteen minutes late?”
“Sure. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just need to make a phone call I’ll probably talk myself out of if I don’t make it now.”
“No problem. I’ll let him know.” Becca took the stairs of the porch and Monica frowned after her.
“I don’t want to rub Gabe any which way,” she said, trying to sound sure and maybe even a little superior. As though Becca was a silly girl reading into things. And maybe Alex was a bit of a silly girl too.
But Becca only smiled. “Sure you don’t.” Then she disappeared inside.
Monica scowled. Having the occasional physical fantasy because of Gabe’s outward appearance did not mean she wanted to actually act on it. Technically, Gabe was a potential client. That put him in an off-limits box.
And that was most certainly that.
But she couldn’t deny that his words this morning had affected her, and now she was going to act based on what he said.
Monica pulled her cell out of her coat pocket and walked over to her truck. She turned the ignition, willing the heater to warm quickly. While she shivered in the driver’s seat, she dialed her mother’s phone number.
“Hello?” Mom’s voice answered.
“Hi, Mom.”
“What’s wrong?” Mom demanded.
Monica chuckled. “Nothing bad. Just…I’ve been thinking, about what you and Daddy suggested.”
“Which thing?” Mom asked, with enough humor that Monica smiled.
“Colin coming to visit on his own.” Just saying the words aloud nearly ripped her chest open. But Gabe’s words kept repeating in her head, an endless loop, because she’d thought them herself. She’d talked herself out of them based on her own insecurity and fears.
“Oh, that suggestion. Well.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. You shut us down so hard and so fast I didn’t think there was any chance of you thinking about it further.”
“I…” Monica took a deep breath. She’d called Mom to do this thing but also to talk. To verbalize her fears. “Do you think I shelter him too much?”
“You moved him to the middle of Montana to start fifth grade in a school he’s never even heard of, all so you could follow your dream job. I don’t think he’s coddled, sweetheart. And I don’t blame you for doing it. You did the right thing for you, and that’ll be the right thing for him.”
“Daddy doesn’t think so.”
“You know your father. He can be a hard man when he’s made up his mind, but he can also change it. Eventually.”
Monica laughed in spite of her melancholy. Her father had not approved of Dex. Why can’t you marry an army man? What does the air force know? Sometimes, when she was mad at Dex for getting himself killed, those words haunted her.
“You’re a wonderful mother. A wonderful human being,” Mom said in that gentle, sure way that had gotten Monica through so many rough patches. “But you have both been in each other’s pockets pretty much since Colin was born, even when you lived here. Let the boy have some time to be the center of someone else’s attention. Let yourself have some time to think only of yourself.”
That sounded horrible. Why would she want to do that? But if Colin spent a week of winter break with Mom and Dad, Monica would be able to get some Christmas shopping done, some end-of-the-year cleaning, and she’d still work, of course. It would be sensible, and it’d be good for Colin.
So why did it hurt?
“Let us spoil him. Without you.”
“Ouch.”
“Oh, hush. You know I want to see you too, but don’t you remember how much you loved visiting your grandmother by yourself when you were little? What confidence it gave you?”
Those summers had been the highlight of her childhood. They’d moved so much when she’d been growing up that Grandma’s house had been home. It had given her a sense of freedom, a sense of self.
Grandma had been gone for twelve years now, and still the thought of her brought tears of grief to Monica’s eyes. Normally she’d swallow the next words down, but verbalizing them was healthier. Was healing. “I wish she’d met him. I miss her.”
“I know. Me too. Give me and your dad a chance to give Colin what Grandma gave you, huh?”
Monica wiped the tears from her cheeks with her bulky gloves. She looked out the windshield at Revival Ranch spreading out before her, the awe-inspiring mountains in the distance.
It had been a hard choice to move here, to uproot Colin from what he’d known in Denver. She’d done it fully for herself, and that selfishness had been necessary. She knew it had been necessary, but it didn’t negate all the guilt.
“I’ll ask him tonight.”
“Ask him or tell him?”
Monica scowled, since her mother couldn’t see her to scold her over it. “It’ll be a discussion. He should have a say.” She’d never had a say in things as a kid. Mom had run her house as strictly as Daddy had run his troops, and she’d demanded the same amount of respect. Monica had vowed to give her child more say, more autonomy.
Sometimes she failed, but this was going to be a discussion. “I have to get to work, but I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out details.”
“Why’d you call today then?”
Leave it to her mom to ask the hard questions. “Honestly? I was afraid I’d change my mind about it if I waited. But I do have to go. I love you, Mom.”
Monica hit End on her phone and allowed herself some silence to breathe in, to breathe out, to take strength from the mountains. Gave herself time to compartmentalize her emotions away so she could be someone else’s sounding board.
When she turned off the ignition and stepped out of the truck, breathing in the icy cold, she was ready to don her therapist hat. Therapist and Mom. Those were the two labels that encompassed her whole life. And okay, maybe Daughter too.
Let yourself have some time to think only of yourself. Monica shuddered at Mom’s words rattling around in her head. But she shoved them away and stepped toward her job.