Nancy’s Reviews > Montana Maverick > Status Update

Frowny frankness here

After completing her scrub, she stood directly under the dinner-plate size rain showerhead and closed her eyes. Bliss.

When Meg reached out to hug her, Mia shrank back. “Germaphobe. No hugging.” “Sorry. You don’t want what I have. I feel like someone ran over me with a tank.” “Or a helicopter?” Meg couldn’t help but smile. She loved her sister’s quick mind. But Mia also saw too much and couldn’t keep her opinions to herself. Ever.

Mia gave a long sigh. “Now, that sounds like the Meg I know. Brilliant, reductive reasoning with a healthy dose of know-it-all. But, for the record, that’s total bullshit. Love makes its own rules. Did I have any intention of falling for a younger man used to traveling the world at the drop of a hat? Me? The most grounded, rule-oriented person you know?”

Meg finished her business then washed her hands. Mia handed her a pristine white towel. She didn’t let go until Meg looked at her. “You love him, don’t you?” Meg’s heart started pounding and she felt a little light-headed. “Yes. But we both know a couple of days in a snowbound cabin after a traumatic experience isn’t the best basis for a relationship.”

Really? We have 2 have this discussion in the bathroom?!
She looked around as she relieved herself. The bathroom was huge and very beautiful. The walls behind the sink were white and gray subway tile. Mia sat perched on a gorgeous marble countertop. Against the outside wall was a two-person steam shower, if she wasn’t mistaken.

They’d only lived in San Diego for a few years, but JJ had hated every minute. He’d missed the ranch. He’d missed the wide-open spaces and the peace of not being surrounded by millions of people. He’d liked but never trusted his mother’s boyfriend, David. Or, rather, D’Vede,

two used vs. too

Hank watched Meg leave the room with the same sort of fatalistic sense of finality he’d had when he put Laurel, JJ and Annie on a plane for California six months after Jacob’s funeral. At the time, he’d told himself he’d see them again. There was talk of sending the kids to Montana every summer, the way Laurel grew up—one foot in California, one in Montana. But that didn’t happen.

The phrase I-love-you danced dangerously close to her lips. But Meg didn’t use love words haphazardly. She was a scientist. She required proof that any connection between them was real, mutually meaningful, and right for them both. Right?