Montana Ice

by Vanessa Vale

  “I'm sure the plumber won't mind,” I replied, a little breathless. I wasn't sure how to tell him I was the plumber. He'd find out soon enough. Besides, I was savoring the lingering effects of the kiss. “I want to hear those things you dreamed about...and the stuff you learned.”

  Jack smiled and waggled his eyebrows at me. Knowing he was right, I put the van back in gear and drove off.

  “I'm going to kill Violet when she gets home,” I said a few minutes later, meaning it.

  “I'll help.”

  11

  “What do you mean you're the plumber?” Jack asked when we pulled up in front of Owen Reid's house.

  We made it as far as the hood of the van before kissing again, bodies pressed together. I didn't want to stop. I wanted to sink myself into the craving I had for Jack. The way he was breathing, I figured Jack was thinking the same thing. It might've been below zero, but we weren't alone on the public street so we kept it mostly PG-13. Unfortunately. Sadly, it was pretty easy to do since our clothing was at least two inches thick.

  “Your uncle hired me and my dad to replace all the pipes in the kitchen.”

  “Where's your dad?”

  “He's retired. I'm buying the business off of him. In fact, once you pay me, I'll be able to give him his last installment. Then the business is all mine.” The very thought had me doing a mental happy dance.

  Jack eyed me suspiciously. “You're the one keeping me from living here? Is this your way of getting me into your bed?”

  I snorted. “As of ten minutes ago, I wanted you in a different state. The city has the water turned off until they approve the inspection. Even if I finished the piping today, you still won't have service. Besides, without the electric, there's no heat and the pipes would freeze, burst and I'd have to start all over again.”

  A car honked at us and I turned to see who it was. I recognized the old station wagon as belonging to one of Mr. Reid's neighbors. I waved at the retreating car and noticed the same woman from the bank. She stood on the sidewalk across the street, about halfway down the block. Same pink jacket, same blonde hair. I could see the white bandage on her hand from here.

  “Jack.” I cocked my head toward the woman. “See her? She was the one I pointed out to you in front of Goldilocks yesterday.”

  Jack turned his head, studied the woman. “You're right. Do you know her?”

  I shook my head. “I've seen her a couple of times around town. It seems like she's watching me.”

  Jack shrugged his shoulders. “She looks harmless.”

  Since Jack didn't seem to be too concerned, I wasn't either. Besides, if she kept standing around outside in this weather, she'd be hypothermic and not much of a stalker.

  “Can we talk about the plumbing inside? I'm not used to this weather like you are.”

  “It's not much warmer in there.” Without heat, the only difference from outside was the lack of wind.

  Jack unlocked the front door and we stood in his uncle's living room. His cell rang.

  “Reid.” He listened. “You're shitting me.”

  That didn't sound good.

  “Tomorrow?” He ripped his hat off his head, turned and looked at me. His hair was unruly and tugged up in places from the cap. “I can't be there tomorrow.”

  Didn't seem to be a good conversation. Jack had said he needed to get back to Miami, that he had problems with work. I fiddled with one of the carved bears in a collection Mr. Reid had on top of the vintage TV console to try to give Jack some privacy.

  “Not Massachusetts.” A pause. “No, not Missouri. Yes, an M state. Jesus, I'm in Montana.” Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. “Yes, it's cold. Yes, there's snow. Do you want the full weather report? Fine. The day after. It'll be late. I'll call you when I get in.” He shut off the phone and shoved it in his coat pocket.

  Jack took a deep breath, looked at me. “Where were we?”

  There was no doubt he was distracted.

  “Maryland?” I joked, and then realized he wasn't in the mood. “Bad call?”

  His mouth flattened into a thin line. “I've had better. Plumbing?”

  Obviously, he didn't want to talk about it.

  “Um...I'll have my portion of the work done tomorrow morning. Get the electrician lined up to start after that and we'll stay out of each other's way. You should be up and running over here by tomorrow night.”

  “What do you want me to do? I can't just stand here and watch you, although the idea has some appeal.” His gaze raked over my body.

  Yeah, having his eyes on me all day, wondering what he was thinking about, whether it was naughty or nice, would be difficult to handle. I handed him a card. “Call the inspector at this number and ask him to come out around four tomorrow. When he signs off on both the plumbing and electric, you’re good to go and the water can be turned on to the house.”

  He looked at me, surprised. Not that I blamed him. The kitchen was completely gutted down to the studs. Only sub-flooring beneath our feet, no electric or plumbing, no cabinets, nothing. “So, I can have this project back on track by the end of the week?”

  I nodded. “You've got to get back to Miami.”

  I knew he wasn't staying forever, but admitting it made it real. Liking him for only fifteen minutes wasn't enough. Hell, kissing him for only fifteen minutes wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

  “I have a life there.” He ran a hand over his face again. “As you heard, I've got a crisis of my own to resolve and that won't happen with me being here. My uncle tricked me into coming in the first place.”

  I wasn't super excited to hear the only reason Jack was back was because he'd been tricked. I hadn't factored into his return at all, and that stung a little bit. Knowing he was leaving hurt a whole lot more. Slightly ridiculous since all we had done was kiss. But having cleared the air changed everything. Jack hadn’t ditched me for my sister. He hadn’t slept with her.

  “Have you talked with Uncle Owen since you got here?” I wondered.

  Jack picked up a screwdriver, fiddled with it. “Voice mail twice, talked to him once. Says he's having a grand time in Arizona. Will be back in two weeks.”

  “Are you going to finish the project for him?”

  “I can't. I have to get back. But I'll stay until the heat's on and I can walk away knowing the house will be livable when he returns.”

  I recognized his predicament. Remodels took forever, and that didn't include setbacks. Jack couldn't stay, and I knew it. I was disappointed. So were my lady parts.

  “I'll call the inspector and get him here for you, okay?” Jack pulled out his cell again and got busy.

  I headed out to the truck for my supplies while pondering Jack's appearance in Bozeman, and soon enough, disappearance. Was it worth kissing him more if he was leaving? Could I just kiss and let him go? At the van, I looked for the mystery woman. She was gone. I shrugged my shoulders and grabbed my phone. Dialed Violet.

  “I'm going to strangle you when I see you. Guess who's back in town? You remember, the guy you slept with before graduation? Jack Reid.” I talked into my cell, although only to Violet's voice mail. Being at a school conference, she had meetings all day. The chances of yelling at her on the phone were pretty slim. After hearing this message, she'd screen her calls. She was a dead woman walking. It was only a matter of time.

  The rental car company had picked Jack up around lunchtime with a warm replacement and I hadn't seen him since. My dad came and went from the site, checking in and bringing me a thermos of hot coffee. He was completely retired, filling his time with tying flies for the fishing season six months away and driving my mother insane. In fact, she was the one who probably sent him with coffee in the first place. To get him out of her hair. Once I gave him the last payment on his part of the business, he'd be a carefree man. And I'd officially be a business owner. I couldn't wait. It got my hands working faster on the pipes under the kitchen sink.

  My cell rang while I was lying on my back, looking up
at the garbage disposal, by body halfway in the kitchen cabinet. I laid there and took the call.

  “Have you finished your story yet?”

  Goldie.

  “No. Haven't started.”

  I heard her huff. “Bring at least five pages when you come tomorrow night.”

  I put the wrench I was using down. “Why? What's the big rush?”

  “Because you're having sex with a man.”

  I stared blindly up at the disposal trying to process Goldie's words. I wasn't going to tell her Jack had been messing with her—and me, but then she'd wonder why I wasn't having sex with Jack. That would be a long, and painful, discussion. I decided to evade instead. “As opposed to having sex with...”

  “Don't sass me, young lady. That man's your muse. Go with it.”

  She hung up. I stared at the cell for a moment, and then shook my head in disbelief.

  Jack was my muse? I hadn't written a word. I hadn't had sex with him either. But I was thinking about a hundred hot things I wanted to do with him I hadn't considered before. There was the usual head-between-my-thighs scenario, but Jack bending me over the side of the bed and using the paddle on my ass—gently—came to mind. So did the cock ring and how I could tease him, with my mouth. Maybe he was my muse. And maybe I was kinky after all.

  Two hours later, I wrapped up for the day. My fingers were cold and I was pretty much done. I had to wait for the inspector to do his inspecting and approving before the final touches. I locked the front door, drove to Violet's, and lingered under the hot shower until I thawed out.

  The light was blinking on my cell indicating a missed call. I listened to the message from Violet. “Hi! It's me. Jack Reid? Wow. You honestly didn't think I'd slept with him, did you? I was just mad that you got a stain on that hot pink blouse I'd just bought at the mall with Suzie Fisher.”

  My eyes bulged out of my head. Lying about sleeping with the boy you had a crush on was not on the same level as ruining a shirt. I felt my blood pressure skyrocket.

  “He must be sooo hot now. He always had a thing for you.” She sounded bitter. “Wouldn't give me the time of day. Strange. Do me a favor, will you? It's Chris Sprague's turn to watch the snake. Can you load Jasper up and drop him off for me? He lives at 1503 S. Blake. Anytime after nine tomorrow morning. Thanks!”

  The stupid snake. I was like Indiana Jones. I hated snakes. Violet's first grade class had a pet snake, but it was currently living in Violet's house. She didn't mind snakes at all. But since she was away, it needed tending by someone who would give it dead mice, take it out of the terrarium, and clean out the snake poop. It wasn't me. Not for a million dollars. Why it wasn’t actually at school was still not known to me. But Chris Sprague, a second-grade teacher at the same school, had offered to take it. Finally. He was Mr. Snake. Just walking past the terrarium in Violet's living room gave me the creeps.

  I deleted her message and tossed the phone onto the couch. I always knew she’d been spawned from the devil to torture my life. To keep me away from Jack Reid for ten years. Ten! The average person had a sibling who drove them insane. The devil had it in for me personally by cloning me instead.

  12

  “I think we need to reevaluate the whole pillow down the middle of the bed arrangement,” Jack said.

  We stood in Violet's kitchen eating take-out pizza. I choked on my bite of veggie deluxe. “The pillow berm?”

  Jack eyed me and, while chewing, said, “Mmm.” He swallowed, and then added, “We don't really need it anymore, do we? I don't hate your guts anymore.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don't hate your guts anymore either.”

  Jack raised his hands, palms up. “See? We can move on to make-up sex. I know you want it. You went on the offensive last night and took out the pillow blockade.”

  I took a sip of soda trying to cool my lusty thoughts about how his body had felt beneath mine when I woke up this morning. Pretty damned good. The only way it would have been better was if we’d been naked. “How much do you want to?”

  “Have make-up sex?” Jack had a hip against the counter. He wore dark corduroys and a long-sleeved T-shirt with a graphic of marlin fishing on it. “More than you can imagine.”

  I was imagining it pretty darned well.

  “With the pillows gone, is it sleeping in a bed with me or sleeping with me?”

  “The non-sleeping version of sleeping with you.”

  Heat flared low in my belly. “Why?”

  Jack quirked an eyebrow. “Why? Because you're hot, you're you, and I've lusted after you since I was seventeen.”

  Wow. That felt good to hear. And it only made me hotter.

  I shook my head. “No, I mean, why now? You'll be leaving in a day or two.”

  Jack nodded his head at the clarification. “True. But don't you want to live out all my horny teenage fantasies?” He took a bite of pizza and chewed, his gaze grazing over my entire body.

  I gulped. “You've had fantasies about me?”

  Shaking his head from side to side, he said, “I've had some where I strangle you for tricking me like that with your sister.” He held a hand up. “But since that problem's been resolved, the other fantasies where I rip your clothes off and do lots of naughty and illegal things to you move to the front of the line.”

  Naughty and illegal things! Yes! I nibbled on the edge of my slice.

  “Anything involving cock rings?” I asked, jokingly.

  Jack chuckled. “Only if it includes you and a bed.”

  I gulped. I couldn't help it.

  “It's like ten years of foreplay,” I commented, noticing the room was getting very warm.

  Jack's gaze dropped to my mouth. “Absolutely.” His voice had become low and dark.

  I tossed my crust onto my plate. “God, Jack. No matter how much I want to”—I took a deep breath, the devil on my shoulder poking me with his little pointed staff as I said this—“you're leaving. I can't get all tangled up with you and then watch you go away again.”

  Jack stood there quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I can see that. Doesn't mean I'll stop trying.” He lifted an eyebrow and smiled wickedly. “And since you’re into kinky, I have to tell you, I am too.”

  I swatted his shoulder. His rock hard, well-muscled shoulder. Oh, crap. “I want you to try to control yourself.”

  “I may not have the willpower. Just looking at you makes me want to do the caveman routine. Toss you over my shoulder, carry you to bed and fuck you until you don’t know your own name.”

  “That's oddly flattering…and hot as hell.” On top of the heat, I felt my nipples tighten and my panties get a little damp.

  Jack smiled. “I try.”

  I put my plate in the dishwasher, put the soda can in the recycling container. I definitely wanted to have sex with Jack until I forgot my name. It would be hot and mind-blowing. I wanted him to jump my bones and have his kinky way with me. But I needed to play it cool. If he felt anything like I did—horny as hell—I wasn't sure if we'd be able to keep our hands off each other, his leaving or not. “Since we're not having sex, you can have the TV. I've got to work on something for Goldie.”

  He grinned. “What kind of work?”

  I took a deep breath, prepared to be picked on. “I've been forced by Goldie to write a romance novel. She says you're my muse.”

  “With just a kiss?”

  I pointed at him. “That's what I said.”

  Jack scratched his head. “I like this muse idea. Maybe I should give you some story ideas. How hot is this book going to be?” He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me into his warm body for a kiss. With tongue. Lots of it. Now my panties were really wet.

  “You're still leaving,” I said, my voice rough, my breath coming out in little pants against his lips.

  “Dammit.” He pushed me away, ran his hands over his mouth. “I'm trying to be chivalrous here, but you're too sexy to resist. I think I have to be your muse from a different room.” He walked away and I heard th
e TV come on. Basketball. Talk about a mood killer.

  I survived a restless night's sleep with my muse beside me. I'd rebuilt the pillow blockade. My stacking skills must have been better than Jack's as the wall stood the whole night. I woke up on my side, Jack woke on his. I debated if that was a good or bad thing. It had felt really, really good waking up sprawled across him. Having a foot of pillows between us wasn't the same at all.

  I'd stayed up late working on my ridiculous story and slept fitfully, dreaming about a romance hero ravishing a buxom beauty in the cabin of a steamship. The dream, the hot man in the bed with me, regardless of the pillow wall, and his plan to break down my sexual defenses, left me hot and bothered and tired. And longing for a spanking, a little nipple clamp action and a few man-induced orgasms.

  While I finished up the work at his uncle’s house, Jack spent the morning with the electrician or on the phone yelling at someone, most likely in Miami. He stormed off saying he was going to pick out light fixtures and counter material at the local hardware store before he lost his mind. Being out of his line of fire was fine by me.

  Based on his phone call, he would be flying out the next day. I tried to protect my heart from that moment. I'd enjoyed his company these past few days, glad we cleared the air about the whole Violet incident. But I would miss him. Okay, understatement of the year. I’d adjust. Hell, I’d been missing him for a decade and gotten along just fine.

  Pushing any feelings for Jack aside, I got busy. I had a successful morning with the inspector, receiving the certificate for the plumbing work. All I had left was to come back and attach all of the fixtures Jack purchased once the kitchen was complete. I wrote up my final invoice and left it tacked to the door where Jack would find it.

  Hoping to catch a quick nap before working at Goldilocks all night, I headed back to Violet's house. The sun was shining, painfully bright off the white snow. Parking the van out front, I was stopped by Old Mr. Chalmers. He wore a red and black plaid wool coat from the sixties, a black watch cap, his overalls and heavy black boots. He held his shotgun in his hands. That wasn't a good sign. I shut the van door behind me and smiled at Violet's neighbor.