Never Enough (Meet Me in Montana 1)

“Well, he wanted to learn, so I offered. Besides, you’ve been gone for a few weeks.”

Anger raced through my veins at the thought of Ty showing Blayze to do something he damn well knew I’d wanted to do. The fact that he was throwing my career in my face added to how pissed off I was. “I don’t see where that’s any of your damn business, Ty.”

“Not my business? The hell it isn’t. Mom and Dad are raising your son half the damn time. Hell, I’m raising your son right along with them. I’m the one taking him to Little League on the weekends. Picking him up for Mama when she’s got something she needs to take care of. And what are you doing? Riding a bull week after week. You seem to be more in love with the next eight seconds than you are with the next eight years of your son’s life.”

A flash of heat hit me hard. It was both anger and guilt mixing together to cause a rage inside of me. A rage I had worked hard at keeping buried deep within. Did he honestly think I didn’t want to be home with my son? That I didn’t lie in bed every night and wish it was me tucking him into his bed? That it was me coaching his Little League team?

“Seems to me that was your life a few years ago, and you had no problem with it then.”

“I didn’t have a kid, Brock,” he bit back.

I pushed my fingers through my brown hair, knowing he was right—and hating it as well.

“Listen, I get that you got married young. You guys had Blayze in some attempt to make your marriage work. Why you thought a kid would do it, I have no clue.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Ty.”

He laughed. “Yeah, whatever. I get it, Brock. You’re twenty-seven. You’re having a good time. I’m sure you’re sleeping with a different bunny each night.”

“I’m not,” I stated.

Silence filled the line. Then, “Fine. Every other night. But you have a kid back home who needs his father.”

I swallowed hard. “Then I’ll hire a nanny and bring him with me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You really want him on the road with you?”

“What else do you want me to do, Ty? I fly home almost every week when I can. So I’ve been gone an extra week here and there. That is my job. You know that. Stop making me feel guilty for doing something you once loved to do as well. I can’t help the way things turned out.”

“Screw you, Brock.”

The line went silent again.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said.

Ty sighed. “Dude, I’m sorry too. You’re doing a good job with Blayze, and I . . . hell, I don’t know.”

It was time for a subject change before we ended the call.

“So, tell me what’s new back at home.”

“Damn, dude. That interior designer who bought your place finally showed up, and she was not what I had been expecting.”

My interest was piqued. “Really? What’s she like?”

“Hot as hell. A body to die for. Curves like no one’s business. Her friend Kaylee is even hotter. I nearly fell over when the two of them got out of the car. You said it was some interior designer from Atlanta. You didn’t say she was a twenty-seven-year-old knockout who would make the cock of any guy within fifty yards stand at attention. I mean, the couple of times I talked to her on the phone, she sounded young, but I wasn’t expecting someone so pretty.”

I laughed. “I didn’t know anything other than she was an interior designer and would be working for Karen Johnson. I didn’t want to know. What does she look like?”

“Oh hell, dude, she’s just your type. Brown hair, sort of light in color, or she puts that crap in it that makes it look streaked with lighter-colored hair.”

“Highlights?” I asked.

“I’m not even going to comment or ask how in the hell you know that’s what it’s called. Anyway, brown hair and green eyes that I swear look like the grass on a spring morning. Her friend Kaylee is blonde, with blue eyes that I’m pretty sure were screaming Take me to bed, Ty.”

I laughed. My brother would never change.

“Neither of them is too skinny. You know, like half the women in town who eat nothing but carrots and celery, so they’re sticks. Let’s just say I’d be able to grab a nice handful of ass while either one rode me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nice, Ty. Mama would slap the shit out of you if she heard you talking about a woman that way.”

“Yeah, just like she’d slap the shit out of you if she knew you were shoving your dick down the throat of some girl you didn’t bother asking what her name was.”