Montana stood in the bathroom off her bedroom and checked her makeup. Dakota hovered behind her, worried about Montana’s hair.
She’d asked her sisters over to help her get ready so she wouldn’t be too much in her own head before her date with Simon. Wanting to be perfect for him was a whole lot more work than she’d thought, and she didn’t need the added stress of making herself crazy.
“You look amazing,” Dakota said. “Leave your makeup alone. Give your hair five more minutes, then I’ll take out the rollers and we’ll fluff.”
“And spray,” Nevada called. “Her hair is pretty long. Those curls are going to need help staying in.”
Montana studied her face. She’d done a decent job creating a smoky eye and had even applied her lipstick with an annoyingly tiny brush. Once her hair was done, she would put on the onyx and diamond earrings her grandmother had left her, and she’d be ready.
Her dress was simple—a sleeveless, black tank style with two-inch-wide straps. The whole thing was fitted and short, dipping just low enough in front to be intriguing. She’d smoothed on a lotion with a faint shimmer, giving her tanned legs a glow. Fancy, high-heeled black sandals waited by the front door, and Dakota had lent her a black satin clutch.
“I’ll give you this,” Nevada said, looking up from her magazine, “the curves are impressive.”
Montana laughed. “You have the same ones.”
“They look better on you.”
“Thanks. You should see what I have on underneath.”
“Shapewear?” Dakota asked.
“It’s practically bulletproof. I can’t breathe, but it makes a big difference.”
She walked barefoot into the bedroom. “Anybody talk to Mom in the past day or so?”
Her sisters exchanged a glance, then looked at her and shook their heads. She’d already told them what had happened when she’d brought up the subject of Max.
“We shouldn’t have let you do that yourself,” Dakota told her. “We should have spoken to her together. Strength in numbers, and all that. She couldn’t be mad at all of us.”
“I’m not so sure,” Montana told her. “She was pretty upset. The thing is, I don’t know why. We’re talking about something that happened over thirty-five years ago. No one cares about that.”
Nevada sat up. “She does. What we don’t know is why. Want us to all go talk to her?”
“No. I’m going to wait a little longer, then go see her myself. One of the things she told me was that she doesn’t want us talking about her and Max. So having us bring it up might make things worse.”
Dakota motioned for Montana to return to the bathroom. After the now-cool rollers were removed, Montana bent at the waist and finger-combed her hair. When it was fluffed sufficiently, Dakota sprayed.
Montana straightened, smoothed her hair in place, then covered her face with her hands for the second spraying.
“You look amazing,” Nevada said, sounding impressed. “Maybe I should grow my hair out.”
Montana fingered the long, curly hair that tumbled well past her shoulders. Going back to her natural blond color last year had been the right decision. “Thanks,” she said, hoping Simon would be blown away.
Dakota leaned against the counter. “You’re crazy about him, aren’t you?”
“I am. I should have been more careful, but I wasn’t and now every time we’re together, I wonder how much longer we’ll have before he leaves.”
“You’re sure he’s going?” Nevada asked.
“Yes. He’d already made plans to go to Peru. That’s next. He’s working on the assignment after that. It could be anywhere from Appalachia to Pakistan.”
“Have you talked to him about it?” Dakota asked.
“More than once.”
She wasn’t comfortable telling them that Simon believed that one of the prices of his gift was that he had to always be on the move. Especially since she didn’t think that came close to the heart of the matter. His wound went deeper. How could he trust—truly trust—after what he’d been through as a child? Distance was safe.
“I know he’s lonely and that he wants to belong. He just won’t let himself.”
“Given what happened to him when he was a kid, I’m not surprised,” Nevada said. “Rules help. They create boundaries. The last thing this guy wants is something out of his control. His mother got out of control and look what happened. Caring is messy and unpredictable. His way keeps him safe. Sure, he misses out on a lot, but even that discomfort doesn’t surprise him. He knows what to expect.”
Both Montana and Dakota turned to stare at her.
“What?” Nevada demanded.
“That was very insightful,” Dakota told her.
“I may not have a Ph.D. in psychology, but I’m not a complete idiot when it comes to relationships.”
“Apparently not,” Dakota said with a grin.
There was a knock on the door.
Montana’s stomach tightened. She walked to the front of the house, and pulled open the door.