by Lark Avery
Mister Regret
Mister Mountain Men, Book 3
Lark Avery
Copyright © 2019 by Lark Avery
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
He was my husband’s best friend. But Tristan didn’t know the dark secrets about the man I married. And I was too ashamed to tell him. I’d let the good man walk away and married the bad one.
Chalk it up to being young and fairly stupid. I’ve learned my lesson.
Things are different now. I’m widowed with a young son. He and I don’t have to live in fear anymore. I’ve come back to Snow Ridge for Tristan. Well, that and the property my husband left me in this mountain community.
However, Tristan isn’t even remotely delighted to see me. He’s not sweeping me into his arms let alone stripping down to reveal that chiseled body that I crave. He seems annoyed that I’m back and planning to stay.
Well f*ck. This isn’t going how I planned.
Is it too late for Tristan forgive me for making such a stupid mistake? And even if he does, will the Trapper intent on destroying Snow Ridge take away our chance for a happily ever after?
Author’s Note: Hooray for Tristan and Liv’s HEA to wrap up the Mister Mountain Men series.! Tristan Barlow is out to get the girl, make her his and deliver some long overdue justice to the residents of Snow Ridge, Montana. And he might have to rip Liv’s panties off to do it.
Contents
1. Tristan
2. Liv
3. Tristan
4. Liv
5. Tristan
6. Tristan
7. Epilogue #1
8. Epilogue #2: Liv
About the Author
Also by Lark Avery
1
Tristan
“A professor has no business in a beauty parlor.” I unloaded another crate of bikini wax. It was only mid-morning, and I’d already stacked two other crates. That was a lot of wax. This woman arrived in Snow Ridge with enough product to wax a Wookie. Then again, coming off a Montanan winter, she was about right.
“Tristan Barlow, stop acting like an old man.” Liv Merrell, the woman who should’ve been my wife, shook her head at me. Her round face and brunette curls were sticky with our warmer than usual spring weather. Even sweaty, she was sexy. Her tee-shirt clung to her generous curves. Images of us fucking in the shower crowded my brain.
“It’s called a ‘salon,’ and judging from what I’ve seen of the population here, a unisex one is overdue.” Liv continued.
She’d inherited this hundred-year-old home that tourists would think was cute as hell with its craftsman style construction. In reality, it’d be hot in the summer and cold in the winter because of poor insulation. The ceilings were low beamed too. I ducked my head every time I entered a room now after getting a good-sized whack on my forehead, initially coming through the door.
And that wasn’t all. The water pressure was finicky. The window panes would swell up with the summer humidity, making it tough to get the windows open. The best Liv could do was plug fans in for the hot days. I knew what I was talking about, I liked carpentry and worked my way through law school using those skills. I’d even been helping out at a new Inn in town, trying to get it ready for the summer guests who would be here in a month.
“I love the dormers and built-ins.” Liv beamed with pride as she admired her new home. She didn’t view her new home the way I did. “Plus, the old wavy glass windows. I can’t believe Ted never told me about it. I just about fell over when I found the deed in his will. This coat of paint will freshen things up.”
“There’s barely enough room for you, let alone a business.” With effort, I popped open a nearby window. The warped wooden frame protested at being forced open. Liv was overly optimistic about the paint, but that was like her in general, always looking on the bright side.
I, on the other hand, preferred the ‘whatever the hell can possibly go wrong will’ view of life. I liked being right. My outlook pretty much assured that. I was a good match for law in that way. I was on sabbatical this year, so when my cousins asked me to help out in Snow Ridge, I was glad to get out of Missoula. Spring was my favorite time in the mountains anyway.
“There’s a loft upstairs. Over time I’ll make improvements. Maybe when you finish up construction at the inn, you can help out? Plus, Gary has an electrician friend.”
I’d know Gary all my life. He was a great guy, but I didn’t like him hanging around Liv.
“Did he say when the electrician was coming back?” I asked.
“Worried about me already? Don’t worry, there’s always room for a sleepover upstairs.” Liv winked. “Gary said he’s not expected to be back for a while.”
I exhaled. Liv acted like we were siblings. She was married to my former best friend, but that didn’t mean I was a monk. Still, it was good news the electrician wouldn’t be hanging around for a while yet.
Word would spread fast about the hot new widow in Snow Ridge. I didn’t relish the idea of playing whack a mole with horny bastards circling Liv. She might not think of me in that way, but I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her again.
I stacked more crates in the corner as directed. It was challenging to work in the same room as Liv. I wanted to fold her into my arms, burying my nose in her hair. From there, I’d strip her bare and kiss every bit of her supple skin before burying my hard cock deep inside her. I wanted to hear every little sound she made when she came. I wanted to feel her pussy muscles milking my cock. I wanted my cum filling her cunt.
None of my feelings were new. Liv always ignited my desire to claim her even back in college. I’d resisted years ago because when I met her she was dating my friend, though I could see he wasn’t right for her. I was waiting for them to break up when she became pregnant and they married. But life is full of so many unforeseen twists and turns.
Liv was now widowed and in Snow Ridge. And my urge to fuck the living daylights out of this woman was driving me crazy. I hadn’t seen her in four years, but time hadn’t diminished my craving for her.
She brushed by me. I inhaled her scent, feeling its imprint on my brain for the countless time. She still smelled like strawberries. Mine flashed inside my brain like a fireworks display.
“This is not an easy place to live, free house, or not.” This whole situation was torture. I didn’t think Snow Ridge was right for Liv. It was a fledgling community and more than a little rough around the edges. Not to mention, we still had the crazy Rika trying to keep the area to herself.
I’d hunted for her with Tristan, but her house was deserted now. We both knew she wasn’t gone for good. She was somewhere nearby waiting for the time to strike.
“Creditors took everything I had in Toledo. I’m lucky no one wanted this place. At the risk of winding up homeless, I’m not going anywhere. End of story. Or are you really going to argue with a woman holding a knife?” Liv waggled her tool before cutting the packing tape open on another crate.
“What if this mystery woman was in a town under siege by a crazy Russian arsonist?”
“Oh, that,” Liv paired her grimace with a shrug. “Every place has something bad like carjackings or soccer moms.”
My fists clenched. She was not taking a threat here seriously. I closed my eyes, silently counting to ten. This woman made me crazy. Ask anybody in Snow Ridge, they’d tell you how easy going I was. Usually.
“Rika
is not going to carjack you or hold you hostage at a soccer game. She will kill you and be on her way to her next victim.” I cracked my knuckles. Just the thought of the Russian anywhere near Liv made me pace. This damn place was so small after about four strides another stack of boxes walled off my track.
Unconcerned about my distress for her safety, Liv dug around in another box. My eyes strayed to her curves so nicely outline in jeans and a bedazzled black tee-shirt with the sparkles in all the right places. I loved having her near me even as I loathed the risk to her being in Snow Ridge. Still seeing her tee too tight made me want to lick the slope of her neck. Those few dark curls escaping her ponytail tantalized me.
I swallowed. I couldn’t stay here.
But neither could she.
Snow Ridge was having an early spring thaw. Temperatures were in the forties. For us, that was downright tropical. The mountains erupted in green, peeping out from melted snow patches. Birds and insects darted through the air.
Even though Liv had only been here for a week, she embraced the festive spring atmosphere. The back door was propped open, letting the sunshine in.
“I’m done living my life being afraid. Ted’s accident was over two years ago. I have to move on. It’s what he would have wanted.”
“Ted wouldn’t have wanted you to live here.”
“The deed to this building says otherwise.”
“He was going to open a fly fishing outfit here when he retired.”
“Instead, I’m opening a salon.” Liv dropped her voice even though it was only the two of us in the cramped two-story clapboard she now owned. “I’m secretly calling it ‘Get Nailed’ though officially I’m going with “Snow Ridge Salon.”
“Knowing this place, you’d have better luck with a saloon instead.”
She leaned over enough that I caught a glimpse of the gap in the top of her tee-shirt revealing creamy breasts nestled in red satin. “I have no idea how to run a bar. But making people feel good about how they look? I can do that.” She grabbed my hand, inspecting my fingers. “From the looks of it, you need a manicure. How about a mani-pedi? You can be my first customer. Come on, I’ll give you a freebie.”
At Liv’s touch, my cock went rigid. The thought of her soft hands or better yet those bow lips sucking me off made me dizzy.
“There’s no way in hell I’m getting a mani-pedi whatever the hell that is.” I pulled my hand from hers. Her touch still sent a pleasant pulse of energy through me. Not painful but more like awakening me. I would most surely not be using her salon services. I could only imagine what my cousins would say if they saw me now.
The good news: both Ash and Dane were away from Snow Ridge with their wives.
The bad news: I was now acting sheriff.
That left me to keep an eye on Liv.
But nothing was going to happen to Liv because she was leaving town. Removing her from Snow Ridge was proving more difficult than I thought. Every objection I raised slid off her.
“Gary said the Russian vanished.” Liv continued. “She’s probably relocated far away.”
See what I meant? Total optimist.
More likely, she was plotting to destroy Snow Ridge like she did fifteen years ago.
“I’m eager to get the first coat of paint on. Want to cut the trim in while I get the roller going?” She asked.
I grabbed her wrist, harder than I intended, she winced. Immediately I let go. “Don’t think I’m fooled a minute by your ‘nothing scares me’ routine. I know the real you. We both know that Snow Ridge is not where you belong.”
Her dark eyes widened. She was afraid, but she was too stubborn to admit it.
It was all I could do not to pull her into my arms. The feel of her skin against mine still burned my fingertips. My blood pounded in my ears, blocking out all the wild birdsong outside. Everyone in Snow Ridge was getting some.
Except me.
And Liv.
Her eyes snapped fire. She squared her shoulders. “This is where I belong now. The only way I’m going back to Toledo is in a body bag.”
That was precisely what I was afraid of.
2
Liv
Tristan didn’t want me here. Fuck. Not a surprise but a disappointment. In our freshman year of college, I had a crush on him, but I was dating his best friend, who I went on to marry. Sounds like a fairy tale?
Worst decision I made in my life.
I’m the only one who’ll ever know the truth about Ted. Far from the grieving widow, I thank god he’s dead. I didn’t kill him. He did that all on his own with some barfly, his motorcycle, and a slick road.
The state police assured me he didn’t suffer.
Too bad.
Everything with Ted was exciting at first. He was a risk-taker. I was an Ohio girl loving the adventure of Montanan college life. But every once in a while after Ted had a bit too much to drink, he’d get rough. Afterward, he apologized and promised it’d never happen again. The first few times, I let it pass. The third time, I was afraid. Ted’s drinking became more frequent when we moved from Missoula to rural Ohio. I was trying to figure out how to escape the marriage when he died.
I wasn’t the only one free of Ted now. Our young son Leo was too.
Now years later, I was back in Montana. Tristan was still drop-dead sexy. He had a quietly fierce way that made me wet whenever I was around him. That story hadn’t changed. But Tristan was Ted’s best friend. He’d be horrified to know I was checking him out on a warm day. And really digging what I saw.
Not only was he raven-haired with dark eyes, but his chiseled pecs also bulged under his tee-shirt. I imagined stripping it off him and running my hands over all that hard-edged muscle.
Then again, wherever would he pin his sheriff badge?
I rolled paint, wising that everything in life was as easy to clean up as a fresh coat of paint. I’d chosen a light butter yellow. Every time I looked at it, hope-filled my heart. Things would be better here. They had to be. Nothing could be as bad as they were in Toledo.
The outside of the house needed work too. It was a clapboard place that had seen better days at the end of Main Street. It would be a great location when Main Street was open. Right now, the Snow Ridge Inn was the only thing that looked even remotely welcoming. It’d be a short time before tourists ventured this far north. I had big plans for my salon by that time.
Tristan cut in paint while I rolled the first coat all over the cozy interiors. Being a small place, we spent a good deal of time stepping around each other. I loved how he smelled like pine trees and the slightly metallic scent of snow.
“Why didn’t your cousins round this Russian up when they had the chance? She sounded no better than my great aunt in Florida. Aunt Myrtle wanted to leave her Christmas decorations up all year. Even in Florida, there’s a statute of limitations for plastic flamingoes wearing stocking caps. Maybe all you big burly men needed was some retired condo association owners to help you out?”
“It’s not a joke, Liv. And I doubt she left town.”
“You think she’s still planning revenge?” I paused my rolling to think about this. The far north was so vast. There was plenty of space to go around. “Isn’t that rather far fetched?”
Tristan growled. “I’m working on it.”
I added fresh paint to my roller. Tristan’s close proximity distracted me from letting the excess paint drip off the roller. As a result, my first pass released a fine splatter of paint that flecked this dark hair. I brushed at his head lightly with my fingertips. For a second, the image of him as an older man flashed before me. My heart ached that we would not grow old together.
“What?” Tristan pulled away from my touch.
“Don’t forget, salons are great for two things: increasing morale and gossip.” I might not have grown up in Snow Ridge, but I had my own power.
Tristan stared at me. That lower lip of his was a beauty. I could almost reach over and bite it.
His eyes widened. Th
e flecks of green in his dark brown eyes always made my heart beat a little faster. What would he do if I leaned in just so—
“How are you going to accomplish that?” He cleared his throat and stepped back. Turning away from me, he adjusted the front of his jeans.
Oh my. I caught sight of his bulge there, and my throat went dry. The hard ridge of his cock strained against his zipper. He was big as in huge. I pulled my gaze away with a jerk.
I was horny as hell after being in a committed relationship with my vibrator for the last several years. Having Tristan’s cock inside me sounded so good, I considered asking for a pity fuck.
The good news was that he wasn’t immune to me. He seemed upset when Ted and I moved to Ohio. Time does change things, though. Maybe he’d forgiven me for taking his best friend away.
Since Ted’s death, it’d been a long dry spell. I didn’t want to fuck just any guy; that was for sure. But Tristan was hardly just anyone. He was safe. And hot. Just the thought of Tristan’s cock made my throat dry. Since I was free of Ted, I lost count of how many nights I thought about Tristan as my ‘what if’? From his frown, that fantasy wasn’t mutual. Still, if he had that itch, I’d be happy to scratch it.
The backdoor banged.
“Careful wet paint!” I said. My four-year-old son, Leo, sprinted into the house, giggling. He ducked behind a stack of unopened crates. He placed one pudgy finger to his lips to warn me of his secrecy. Apparently, a serious game of ‘hide and seek’ was underway.
I winked at him, returning to painting. No sense in stopping before I finished this wall.
Out of the corner of my eyes, Tristan resumed his trim work without more than a mumbled ‘hi’ to Leo.
“Fe fi fo fum.” Gary stomped in the back door. The taxidermist’s impression was more Frankenstein than a giant. He checked all sorts of ridiculous hiding places for Leo to be hiding like my purse and the coffee pot.