The Brazen: Calamity Montana - Book 3

by Nash, Willa

  I chuckled, retrieving two bowls from the cupboard. “You didn’t like it?”

  “At twenty-one? No. But I do now.” She swirled the deep red liquid in her glass. “I haven’t had a drink in a while.”

  Oh, shit. She wasn’t on some sort of rehab or recovery plan, was she?

  “I can see what you’re thinking.” She laughed and the sound echoed in the room, suddenly making it brighter. “I’ve just been saving money and wine is expensive.”

  “Except for Boone’s Farm.”

  She smiled. “I’m afraid Gabriel’s good taste in wine was contagious.”

  “Yes, it was.” Grandpa wasn’t the only one in our family who had an impressive wine collection. “My mom’s collection dwarfs his. She’ll travel all over the world for wine.”

  “What about you?”

  “Mom buys my wine too.” I poured us each a bowl of soup and set them on the island. Then I plated our bread, finding some garlic butter in the fridge before joining her. “She says I’m hard to shop for, though I think she just likes buying wine. She’ll gift me bottles that she finds on her vacations.”

  “Gabriel talked about her a lot. He talked about you too. So much so that I felt like I already knew you when we met.”

  “He, um . . . spoke of you as well.” Except it wasn’t until years later that I’d realized she was closer to my age than his. I’d always suspected he had a thing for her, the way he talked with such adoration. I’d wondered if he’d actually bring her to Colorado one day and introduce her to the family.

  That would have shocked the hell out of everyone. Mom had been under the impression Kerrigan was older too.

  “This is probably a rude question, but how old are you?” I asked.

  “Thirty.” Over four decades his junior. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.”

  She nodded, not pressing for a better explanation, and the rest of our meal was in silence other than the clinking of spoons to bowls. By the time they were empty, so were our wine glasses.

  “Would you like more soup?” I asked.

  “No, thank you. It was delicious.”

  I stood to clear the island, but she beat me to it, swiping up my bowl. Then she moved around the kitchen, putting dishes in the dishwasher and stowing leftovers like she’d been here countless times.

  “Did you come up here often?” I asked.

  “No. My first time was when we scattered Gabriel’s ashes,” she answered, wiping down the countertops.

  “Huh.” Well, that was a pleasant surprise for a change. At least now I could go back to the living room and not think about Grandpa and her on the couch. “You move around the kitchen like you’ve been here a lot.”

  “It’s the layout.” She gestured to the cabinets. “It’s not all that different than how I would organize. When you were opening and closing the cupboards, I paid attention.”

  “Ah. I just . . . I wasn’t sure if you and Grandpa had come here for a weekend away or something.” I found the bottle of wine and refilled our glasses.

  “A weekend away?” Her forehead furrowed as she took a sip.

  “Couples often take weekend vacations together, don’t they?”

  Wine sprayed from her mouth into my face.

  “A couple?” Her jaw dropped as wine dripped down my nose. “You think I was in a romantic relationship with Gabriel?”

  “Weren’t you?” I swiped the hand towel from the counter and dried my face.

  “Oh my God.” Kerrigan blinked, set down her wine and began pacing the kitchen, her hands to her cheeks. “Oh my God. This whole time you thought I’d been sleeping with Gabriel. Oh my God!”

  I blinked. “You weren’t?”

  “No! Eww.” She scrunched up her nose. “He was like my grandfather.”

  “He often dated younger women.”

  “Not this one!” She pointed to her chest.

  Well . . . fuck. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure.”

  She hadn’t been his girlfriend or mistress or fuck buddy. She hadn’t slept with him for his money. She hadn’t slept with him period.

  Oh my God.

  The relief that coursed through my body nearly sent me to my knees. “Wow. I, uh . . .”

  “Yeah. Wow.” Kerrigan shook her head. Her pacing stopped and her shoulders fell. “You really don’t think much of me, do you?”

  “On the contrary, Ms. Hale. I think about you far too much.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Before I could say something more that would only get me in trouble, I grabbed my glass and the bottle of wine and carried them both to the living room.

  Kitchens were dangerous places.

  I sat on the couch again, wondering if she’d avoid me for the rest of the night. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. But a few moments later, she slipped into the room, once more taking her chair while I stayed at the far corner of the couch.

  “Did you get ahold of your family?” I asked.

  “No. There’s no service. I think the cell towers must have been disrupted by the storm.”

  “The Wi-Fi password is Barlowe with a three instead of an e at the end. You’re welcome to use it for your call. Or send an email. From experience, you excel at both.”

  She smiled and pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. When she was done, the silence returned, awkward and as heavy as the snow flying outside.

  I busied myself by keeping the fire going, but mostly, I drank and let the wine soak into my blood. It wasn’t doing anything to temper my headache and the soup hadn’t chased away my chills, but maybe if I got drunk, the pain would go away.

  Kerrigan relaxed deeper and deeper into her chair as the time passed and her glass drained. She was intoxicating in her beauty. Her long hair looked thick and soft, her body trim yet curved in the wonderful places where a woman was supple. The sweet, honeysuckle scent of her skin drifted through the room.

  She really hadn’t been his lover. My attraction to her didn’t have a damn thing to do with one-upping my grandfather. As the mental images I’d dreamed up of them together vanished, a knot loosened in my gut. What. A. Relief.

  I’d made an unfair assumption, and though the blame for that was mostly mine, I was giving some to Grandpa too.

  He’d jaded me. And I’d taken it out on Kerrigan.

  Fuck, but I was an asshole.

  I caught myself staring at her, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

  There was a foundation to her beauty that came from her soul. She was honest. True. A sharp contrast to most of the women Grandpa had kept in his life. Especially the last.

  “I still can’t believe you thought I was intimate with Gabriel.” Kerrigan shuddered.

  “He liked younger women. They were a challenge for him. And they liked him in return. His billions too.”

  “I hope . . . oh, never mind.”

  “What?”

  She hesitated but when she looked up, her eyes were full of fear. “Do you think that was why he helped me? Why he’d take me to dinner and why he’d spend time with me? Because I was a challenge?”

  God, I wanted to tell her no. I wanted to ease the vulnerability in her voice.

  “I truly admired Gabriel,” she said. “He was so dear to my heart. But if he . . . I don’t want to think that of him.”

  “Then don’t. He only ever spoke about you with respect. I don’t think he viewed you in that way.”

  Her shoulders fell. “Good.”

  It wasn’t for Grandpa’s sake I lied.

  It was for Kerrigan’s.

  Yes, he’d always spoken about her with respect. He’d never explicitly told me that he’d been out to fuck her.

  Maybe his relationship with her had been innocent. Maybe he truly had taken her under his wing and cared for her the way he’d cared for me.

  Except I knew Gabriel Barlowe.

  His true talent was hiding the truth.

  “Would you like more win
e?” I asked.

  “No, thank you.”

  Leaving the glasses on the coffee table—I’d wash them in the morning—I stood and headed out of the living room. “I’ll show you to a room.”

  “Oh, I can just stay here.”

  “In the chair?” I gestured for her to follow. “Come on. There are plenty of bedrooms. You might as well claim one.”

  She unfolded from her seat and followed, once again maintaining her distance. We walked deeper into the house where I hadn’t turned on many lights, so I flipped them on as we went, casting the halls in a golden glow.

  “I’m sorry about this,” she said.

  “If you apologize one more time, I’m adding two percent to your interest rate.”

  She laughed. “Okay.”

  “How’s this?” I stopped at the first guest room.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  The heavy quilts, blankets and curtains were all in shades of earthy browns, burnt oranges and rusty reds to coordinate with the rest of the house. “The bathroom across the hallway is stocked with toiletries. Help yourself to whatever you’d like.”

  “Thank you.”

  I nodded and backed away, giving her plenty of space. “I’ll see if I can find you some sweats.”

  “Oh, I don’t need anything.”

  “Are you on a mission to turn down everything I offer tonight?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I guess so.”

  “Be right back.”

  I hurried down the hallway, past the theater room and two other guest suites to the bedroom I’d chosen for myself. My travel bag rested on the tufted leather bench in the middle of the room’s walk-in closet. I opened it and pulled out my extra pair of sweats and the hoodie.

  Maybe it was stupid to give her my own clothes, but the idea of her sleeping in only underwear—or naked—might make my already throbbing head explode. Not that her in my sweats was much better.

  When I returned to her room, I found her standing by the bed, her fingers skimming over the thick throw by the footboard.

  “Here.” I handed over the gray sweats.

  “Thank you.” She took them, her hands brushing mine.

  A current snaked up my skin. The need to take her was so consuming that I used every ounce of willpower I had to take a step back.

  My cold shower was waiting.

  Except two steps to the door, I spotted her purse resting against the wall. She must have grabbed it while I’d been getting her sweats. The purse reminded me of the check in my pocket.

  I dug it out and held it between us. “You scraped together every penny to write this check, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” she admitted.

  Of all the people I’d judged in my life, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been as wrong about a person as I had been Kerrigan. “Take it.”

  She gave me a sideways glance.

  “Please.” I chuckled. “We have our new terms. This is unnecessary.”

  “All right.” Her sigh of relief was louder than the storm outside.

  “Good night.”

  “Good night, Mr. Sullivan.”

  Christ. I really was an asshole. “Pierce.”

  “Pierce,” she repeated.

  I put the length of the house between us, and as I locked myself in my bedroom, I willed her face out of my head.

  It was no use. When I dreamt, it was of her.

  And my name on her lips.

  Chapter Eight

  Kerrigan

  I poked my head out of the bedroom door, listening for any sound from Pierce, but the house was quiet. The only noise came from the gusting wind beyond the house’s walls.

  It was still dark outside. Maybe another woman would have capitalized on this mountain lodge escape and slept in. Except my curse seemed to be the inability to sleep past six.

  Tiptoeing down the hall, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, I searched for Pierce in the living room but it was empty. So I went to the kitchen and poked around until I found coffee grounds and brewed a pot.

  “Oh, lord.” My first sip was pure bliss. This was better than any coffee I’d had in months.

  My phone rang in my pocket and I plucked it out before the sound could wake up my host. “Morning, Mom.”

  “Hi. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m okay.” I took my steaming mug to one of the enormous windows and looked out into a world of white. The snow covered everything and was coming down hard. “But it is still snowing like crazy up here.”

  “I don’t want you on the roads in these conditions.”

  I sighed. “The gym—”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Are you sure?” She didn’t even have a car to get around town because hers was currently buried outside.

  “I’m sure.”

  “We can always put up a sign and just close.” It wouldn’t be the best customer experience, but I was running out of options.

  “Pfft. That’s silly. I have nothing else to do today. Your dad is going to drop me off on his way to the dealership and your aunt will come down later to keep me company. Plus I have a book.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Sure. Say, I ran into Jacob last night.”

  I stifled a groan. “Good for you.”

  “He asked about you. Again.”

  “That’s, uh, nice.”

  Mom had been trying to set me up with Jacob for years. He was one of the only nonfamily members who worked at the dealership and had graduated with Zach. Maybe I’d consider a date with him, but he never actually asked me. He’d just ask Mom about me whenever she visited Dad at work.

  “If you went to work at the dealership, you two could have a little office romance.”

  I shook my head. “Thanks again for watching the gym.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Now don’t hang up, your dad wants to talk to you too.”

  “Okay.” I waited as they shuffled the phone around.

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Some storm.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about this.”

  “It’s no big deal. You just stay safe. There are plenty of us in town to help cover the gym. Zach is going to feed Clementine. I’d rather you not risk a drive home in this weather. It’s going to take the road crews some time to get everything plowed.”

  And the highway to a ritzy mountain resort area wasn’t going to be a priority over the interstates.

  “Are you safe?” Dad asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not loving the fact that you’re trapped in a house with a strange man.”

  “He’s not a strange man.”

  “Keep your pepper spray close.”

  I fought a laugh. “I don’t need my pepper spray.”

  “You might.”

  “Dad, he’s not going to attack me.”

  “Just . . . be guarded.”

  “Okay,” I drawled. “I love you.”

  “Love you too. Keep in touch so we know what’s going on. And when you get home, I want to talk to you about something.”

  Something either meant a job at the dealership or getting a car. He wasn’t happy that I’d been hoofing it around Calamity. But I didn’t want him to buy me a vehicle like I was sixteen again.

  Neither Mom nor Dad knew I’d put my house on the market. They were going to love that little surprise.

  “Bye, Dad.”

  He blew me a kiss and hung up.

  “Morning.” Pierce’s voice startled me, and I gasped, spinning from the window as he came into the kitchen. He held up his hands. “No need for the pepper spray.”

  I giggled. “My dad worries about his daughters.” Me in particular.

  “How did you sleep?” Pierce asked, going for the coffee pot.

  “Surprisingly well considering I was in a strange bed.”

  He filled a mug, then walked over, joining me at the window. A crease formed between his eyebrows as he took in the storm. “That doesn’t
look good.”

  “I’m sure in an hour or two it will clear, and I can get out of your hair.”

  “There’s no rush. I’d rather you stick around until the roads are safe.”

  That might take days, and as much as I didn’t like driving on snow-packed roads, it might be more dangerous to stay here alone with Pierce.

  He looked insanely handsome this morning. His hair was mussed and he was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants that hung loose on his narrow hips. The hoodie he’d pulled on was the same brand and style as the gray one he’d given me to wear last night.

  They’d smelled like him. Maybe that was why I’d slept so soundly.

  He raised his mug to his mouth, and it was impossible not to stare as he took a drink. That jaw. Those lips.

  Memory was a cruel companion to temptation.

  Would he taste the same as he had that night at the motel? Would the kiss be as powerful? Or had I exaggerated it in my drunken state?

  Maybe he wasn’t that good of a kisser. Maybe we had no chemistry. Or maybe . . .

  I wasn’t going to let myself dwell on that maybe. He was a business associate, nothing more. This pull between us was something we just had to fight until the snowstorm was over.

  A few hours. One day, tops.

  “Would you like breakfast?” he asked.

  “Only if you let me make it.”

  “Was watching me fumble around last night that painful?”

  “Not at all.” On the contrary, it had been oddly endearing to see him bested by a kitchen, to watch his composure break, just a bit. “But I might as well make myself useful.”

  I hurried to the fridge, putting twenty feet and the island between us. Then I busied myself with scrambling eggs and chopping vegetables for an omelet.

  Pierce took a seat at the island, finishing his coffee before pulling out his phone. “The road report is not looking good. It says emergency travel only.”

  “Ugh.” Next time I decided to stalk a man to his home, I’d check the forecast first. “Sorry.”

  “Didn’t we cover this last night?”