She looked almost teary-eyed as she faced him, her flushed face illuminating with a bright smile. “It’s beautiful, James. I love it.”
“Can I get you something to drink? I have beer, wine, water. I can make coffee.”
“I’d love a beer. It’s past five on the East Coast.”
“A woman after my own heart.”
Reece pulled two bottles of Wheatfish, a local lager, from the refrigerator and popped the caps using a Bottle Breacher from the kitchen drawer. He handed one to Katie and raised his own in a toast. “Uh…”
“To new beginnings,” she helped, tapping the neck of his bottle with her own before taking a long pull without breaking eye contact.
They walked through the French doors and out into the cabin’s backyard, which essentially ran uninterrupted to Canada. Katie kicked off her boots and walked barefoot on the carpet of soft grass as Reece led her toward the water. The temperature was a perfect 71 degrees and a cool breeze blew across the gin-clear lake, causing tiny waves to ripple softly against its bank. The lake’s opposite shore was framed by mountains covered in towering emerald pines.
High ground, an advantageous position, Reece found himself thinking.
“This place looks like a screen saver,” Katie remarked.
“It really does, doesn’t it?”
“I’m so happy to be here with you, James.”
She turned to face him, looking up at him with a devilish grin. “Now would be a good time to kiss the girl.”
Reece didn’t hesitate, leaning forward and taking her face in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him back toward her and kissing him deeply. They both lost themselves completely in the moment. Reece finally pulled back. “Welcome to Montana.”
CHAPTER 28
Kumba Ranch, Flathead Valley, Montana
KATIE SHOWERED WHILE REECE began to prepare dinner. He would introduce her to the Hastings family soon but tonight it was just the two of them. The guest cabin had come with a Traeger grill and Reece had become very proficient in its use as he cooked his nightly meals lakeside, enjoying the age-old ritual of smoking wild game. With the smoker going out back, he worked diligently in the kitchen.
He rubbed an elk tenderloin with a mixture of freshly chopped herbs and sliced the makings of a fresh salad, enjoying a glass of Tuck Beckstoffer’s finest pinot noir as he prepared their meal. A stack of logs crackled in the large open fireplace, bathing the room in a flickering golden light. He heard the door open and looked up as Katie emerged. She was barefoot and her hair was down. She looked right at home in jeans and a flannel.
“It feels so great to be out of D.C.”
“I’ll bet.” Reece smiled. “Wine?”
“Absolutely!”
Holding the glass by its stem, she swirled it twice. She held it up to the last light of the Montana evening and took a moment to enjoy its aroma before taking a sip.
“Is this a French burgundy?” she asked, puzzled.
“Actually, it’s a pinot noir from the Sonoma coast. It’s called Semper.”
“I’ve always wanted to try that! I love the name. It isn’t like any pinot I’ve had before. It’s tremendous.”
“The winemaker hunts with Raife on the property. He always comes equipped with a few cases of his favorites. I liberated tonight’s selections from Jonathan Hastings’s wine cellar.”
“I knew those SEAL skills would come in handy. And, what are you preparing to accompany such a splendid vitis vinifera?”
“The pinot goes with the chips and salsa.” Reece smiled. “For the main course of elk tenderloin, we’ll switch it up.”
“Elk? Is that what this is?” Katie asked, pointing to the mounted bull on the wall.
“It is. My dad shot that bull years ago.”
“Admittedly, I don’t know much about hunting, though I did love the venison your dad would drop off as I was growing up.”
“How’s your dad doing?” Reece asked.
“For someone his age, he couldn’t be better. He retired from his medical practice and plays a lot of golf. I think he’s driving my mother crazy.”
“Good for him.”
“Can I help?” Katie asked.
“Nope, I’ve got it handled. You just relax and enjoy your wine.”
“So, did you catch this thing?”
“Catch it?”
“Catch it, kill it, whatever you’re supposed to say.”
“Ha! Well, you can say kill or harvest. I typically like to use both, as harvest sounds too much like you are picking corn and kill doesn’t convey to people that you are actually eating the meat. I was a little busy last fall, so this comes from Raife’s freezer. The Hastings clan