The Monkey Jungle (The Bennt, Montana Series)

by Taylor Ryan

  “Heather,” Mary Kathryn quipped. “I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger, just like you taught me.”

  Her words caused her sister to squawk. “I did no such thing!”

  Mary Kathryn pushed her chair back, telling Garth as she rose, “Closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger. The noise was deafening, Heather. And the recoil knocked me across the room on my butt. I’m lucky I didn’t get killed when I hit the wall. It would have been your fault.”

  “Don’t blame me because you have bad aim and refuse to look at what you’re shooting.” Heather turned an inquisitive gaze on Garth, who was enjoying their banter. “She’s boring. Sooo, what do you do?”

  “Retired USAF,” he eyed her warily. “Right now, I’m a bum.”

  “And what, exactly, did you do in for our USAF, Mr. Morley?”

  “If I told you, ma’am,” he said levelly, his eyes twinkling, “you would have to disappear. Please, call me Garth.”

  “Disappear?! You guys always say that!” Heather rolled her eyes, belying the twitch trying to become a smile. “I taught Mary Kathryn to shoot, but I don’t close my eyes. Wilson taught me. You try anything with me, Jug Head, I’ll take you out—to dinner or a movie, or something. We just can’t tell Wilson. He has an extra gun now.” She smirked at Mary Kathryn who scowled at the loss.

  “It’s Jar Head. Not Jug Head,” Garth corrected. “And Jar Heads are Marines, not Air Force personnel. It’s the Air Force’s job to protect the Marines.” He chuckled at his own jest. “I wouldn’t dream of claiming such a lofty title as a Jar Head—I’m Air Force. Calling me Jar Head could cause a military branch squabble and we would have to spank those Jar Heads to show them who their Daddy is.”

  “We’re close enough to an Air Force base to have friends among the personnel.” Heather nodded as she laughed. “Everybody around here knows about the rivalry between Air Force and the Marines.” She sighed with exaggerated patience, “That’s why I said, Jug Head.” She rolled her eyes again in long suffering exasperation. “Mary Kathryn, the Air Force, they never get jokes about themselves.” Heather noted Garth’s prickly indignation at her jab against the Air Force and quickly changed the subject when Mary Kathryn frowned at her. “So you were a spy, Garth? Isn’t that what you meant by having to kill me?”

  “Kill you? I never said that.” Garth’s protest went unheeded.

  Heather ignored him and began a rambling discourse about the gadgets James Bond used and then started questioning him about the latest advancements in spy ware, mentioning a ball point pen that wrote its own letters. She ended with, “Of course, the computer chip needs one of those voice recognition programs. And the robot to hold it is astronomically expensive. Just think, in a few years robots will be replacing Bond Girls. Are you gay?”

  “Heather, go home.” Mary Kathryn didn’t turn from loading the dishwasher. “Mr. Morley’s sexual preferences are none of our business.” Mary Kathryn smiled at Garth with no shame whatsoever for having already asked the same question. “Garth, that ridiculous story was only to distract you into answering before you could catch up with her.”

  “He’s almost related.” Heather smiled cheekily at Garth. “He didn’t mind.” She didn’t budge from her chair. “Tom needs a boyfriend.”

  Garth was amused. “This Tom guy is on his own. Unless it’s Tomasina, and she’s real to her core, I don’t care how lonely you think Tom is, he’s not my type.”

  Heather eyed him silently for a moment, then asked, “Are you positive? Really sure? Absolutely set on this course you taken?” When he nodded calmly, taking a drink of coffee, Heather exhaled a more exaggerated version of Mary Kathryn’s sigh. “Then why are you single at your age?” she tried a different tact. “Fess up, Alison’s father. You’re what, mid-forties? No ring. I know if I took a picture of you home, Wilson would cheer thinking I’d finally found someone else to love. He’d frame it for me.”

  “Heather!” Mary Kathryn glowered. “Leave the poor man alone. Go fix your husband something to eat. I can hear him bellowing from across the street.”

  “Wilson doesn’t yell, ever, except about you, Mary Kathryn.” Heather tattled on her sister cheerfully. “And he’s fixing his own breakfast. Keep an eye on her,” Heather told Garth as she rose. “She blushes when she lies. Lying and blushing. We call it her Stinky Pinky—she never gets away with anything.”

  Garth glanced at his hostess, whose sharp-eyed gaze pierced her sister.

  “Fine, I’m going.” Heather threw her hands in the air, winking at Garth. “If I were Mary Kathryn, and you were in my kitchen, I’d be feeding you breakfast in bed. See you later, Mary Kathryn.” With that, she sailed through the back door. She froze just as she was about to close it. When she turned back, her expression was confounded. “What’s going on here?” she yelled into the room, causing Mary Kathryn to flinch guiltily. “I smell your pumpkin cream waffle!” Heather turned accusingly to the bemused Garth. “This is your fault! You distracted me. All handsome and dry! Who the blazes are you to get a pumpkin waffle? You’re not that good looking!” She glared at her sister. “You promised, Mary Kathryn! Promised to call me when you made waffles again. How could you? How could you forget me, your own sister?” The door slammed a moment later.

  “She’s going to cause trouble,” Mary Kathryn exclaimed as Garth took his plate to the sink, not sure if he should give in to the urge to laugh.

  “What was all that about?” He peered at her to find her staring wide-eyed at the door.

  “She’s going to try some matching making. Get even.”

  “What about your friend, Maria? I thought I was already set-up?” Garth reminded her. “This is a first for me, match makers fighting over which of their friends gets me.”

  “Maria?” Mary Kathryn started then explained, “My friend Maria has been married to Carlos since she was fourteen. You can’t have her. A strange expression crossed her face, “That’s not why she would want you—Maria aside, Heather is brutal. You’ve tasted my waffle and she’s not happy about it. She’ll think you want me because of my waffle—that you’ll want to take me away. She’s worried she may never get another one.” Mary Kathryn grinned. “I won’t give her the recipe—she needs me.”

  “It’s just a waffle. What’s the big deal?” Garth asked politely.

  “I beg your pardon?” Mary Kathryn gasped, appearing genuinely indignant. Her hand slapped her chest. “That was not just any waffle and you know it! I saw your orgasm while you were eating it. Why, I practically had to mop you off the floor.” She tossed her dishtowel at his shoulder. “Anybody can make waffles. But nobody beats my pumpkin cream waffle. Tell Henry you had one, you’ll see how it is around here. He thinks they’re his. He didn’t know there was anything but waffles until I told him the waffle maker broke when he was four. Those waffles have caused more problems for me than is conceivable. Heather is the same way. She thinks they’re hers. They’re addicted because...well, they’re heavenly.”

  “It was good,” Garth conceded cautiously, thoroughly amused.

  “Merely good?!” She sucked in a scandalized breath. “Mr. Morley, the next time you wear those green boxer briefs of yours, you might recall I offered Santa cookies and milk for you—put a bullet in my living room floor for you. And then cooked you up the best waffling apology you’ve ever had.”

  As he laughed she drew herself up with overly-dramatic dignity. “Snicker all you want, I’m off to pout in my room because you’ve hurt my feelings; and because I’ve made an utter ass out of myself twice in less then ten hours and had a great time doing it. And,” she said with a thoughtful frown. “I’ll be getting flack for shooting at you because by now its all over town that I missed... Which means I need to make some phone calls.” Her lips curved up. “Please, don’t go outside. Mrs. Peabody down the street will cat call and whistle at you. Then she’ll come over towing a box of wine in her little red wagon, want to talk about last nights shooting. And show you the interesting things she’s ha
d done to her body.”

  Mary Kathryn turned for the door. “Have a nice day sightseeing with our respective children. It’s about time somebody beside me suffered them.”

  Garth watched her sail from the room with something akin to dismay. He was still staring at the empty doorway when she reappeared. “And another thing, Mr. Morley—”

  Garth knew he had an idiot grin on his face. “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “You didn’t sleep with her,” she stated confidently.

  He was flummoxed for a second, then realized she was referring to the lady who had snubbed him before he’d shaved. “How do you know that?” he challenged, his tone mild as he studied her framed in the doorway, her long thick hair a halo, her eyes bright.

  “Because it irritated you she was so shallow. She didn’t give the nice man, scruffy faced Garth Morley a chance, but was all over your hunky clean shaven Irish Spring carcass like a fly on shit. Please tell Henry and Alison they are cooking dinner while you’re our guest.” She disappeared before he could respond, leaving him standing at the sink with her damp kitchen towel dangling in his fingers resisting the urge to follow her. His retirement had just become more interesting.

  She was inane, brassy, and entirely, utterly kissable.

  Chapter Three

  MARY KATHRYN SPENT MOST of the day in the small cubbyhole office off her kitchen, a large pantry she’d had remodeled, which was why even the fit of her chair was tight.

  Balancing her checkbook and other mundane tasks kept her mind from Garth Morley. She groaned with frustration as she transferred funds among her accounts on the Internet. That darned man was wrecking havoc on her concentration.

  Heather had it in a nutshell. He could be a model for a shower commercial. The man was more than merely handsome. Simply thinking of him gave Mary Kathryn the urge to go watch TV, to wait and see if one of those commercials would be aired.

  A towel around his waist, a steamy room. Mary Kathryn shivered as delicious images of Garth Morley in his green boxer briefs flitted across her mind, clouding up her usually practical thinking until she was in a hazy fog, unaware she was daydreaming.

  Garth Morley was too good looking for his own good. But he seemed nice. Of course, she barely knew the man. And she’d heard stories from Alison. And of course, he knew exactly how he affected women. He had a weary cynicism about him that made her wary. But even for that, he’d taken Heather’s hazing with a grain of salt, indulging her sister, which made Mary Kathryn’s attraction to him worse. The military had obviously pounded some sense into his gorgeous head. That wildly handsome face attached to that gorgeous body—sleeping on her couch... He’d make a fabulous bust. Use his head for a bookend and never get anything else done keeping it dusted.

  She was obsessing. Mary Kathryn gnashed her teeth, used using her wireless mouse to complete an on-line order, then clicked her favorites and opened another website to begin yet another purchase. Obsessing never did anybody any good—

  She tried hard to shop, to spend money to make herself feel better. It helped, but the image of Garth Morley in his boxer briefs kept popping into her mind. So she spent more money. If absence made the heart grow fonder, then abstinence faced with opportunity made shopping easy—

  She shopped until her eyes crossed, making a wildly spontaneous purchase from an Alaskan Fishery. It would cheer her to see people eating the results of her rising infatuation with Garth Morley. Imagining him with a Christmas bow taped on his bare chest, she increased the order, wondering how much weight her brother-in-law could gain chewing up her rampant libido.

  Mary Kathryn shut her computer down and reached for the telephone, hesitated briefly then set it back on the charger and returned to her computer. She typed in Garth’s name and waited, read, wrote an e-mail, hit send, then leaned back in her chair to wait for a response. She had a week to find out everything she could about him. Plenty of time before their date, not a date.

  Fishing! Fishing would distract her while she waited for the response to her email. Alison and Henry were showing Garth the sights today. She couldn’t possibly run into them at her favorite fishing hole. She wondered if they knew Garth had been stationed at the Air Force base only twenty miles away at the beginning of his career. With his background in the military he probably knew the area better than they did. It was a small world; she sighed again. Wanting him was good for her health. One should eat fish two or three times a week.

  * * * * *

  “I didn’t see you around today. What did you do all day, Mom?” Henry asked suspiciously as he set the table for dinner. Alison was at the stove stirring pasta sauce, Garth offering spice suggestions over Alison’s shoulder as Mary Kathryn expertly opened a bottle of red wine at the counter across from the stove.

  Not liking his tone, Mary Kathryn didn’t look up from her task. “Shopped and thought about Mr. Morley wearing his green boxer briefs all morning. I tried to draw a picture of him from memory. I can’t draw.” She heaved a sigh as if she were exhausted. “I tried fishing, but nothing was biting.”

  Three pairs of eyes whipped toward her, she was oblivious of two horrified expressions and one startled but amused gaze settling on her back.

  “I finally went down to the sheriff’s department and offered the auxiliary fund a fat donation if they would loan me their sketch artist to draw a picture of Mr. Morley,” Mary Kathryn said into the silence as she pulled the cork from the bottle. “They had to track an artist down but the drawing turned out pretty good from my description of him. The finer details took some time but when it was done even Sheriff McMillan was impressed.” She smiled at Henry. “I don’t think Sheriff McMillan was lying about it even though he held my fat check in his hand.”

  The plate in Henry’s hand clattered to the table. Alison glanced nervously at her father, who grinned and shook his head before turning his attention back to boiling pasta.

  “Uh, Mom, a sketch artist...did you really?” Henry approached his mother as she reached into the cupboard above her and grabbed wine glasses.

  “Of course I did, Henry.” Mary Kathryn didn’t bat an eye. Garth couldn’t tell if she were serious, but Henry looked as if he were going to faint. “Like I said,” she said breezily, “I can’t draw.”

  “Why?” Henry’s voice was a strangled odd choking noise. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “Because if I donate too much money too often, the sheriff might think Wilson is partial to me...Everybody knows I get into the odd scrap here and there. Wilson didn’t ticket me for discharging a firearm at that snake in the grocery store. I don’t want to get him into trouble. That would be rude.”

  “Mom,” Henry predictably clenched his teeth. “That’s not what I meant. I meant why the picture?” he said truculently, “and you can’t afford to keep giving money away.”

  “Well,” she barely glanced at her son, pouring a glass of wine, enjoying the domestic scene in her kitchen. “It would have been inappropriate to ask Mr. Morley to pose, don’t you think? After all, I barely know him and really, Henry, I can’t even draw a straight line.” She passed him a glass. “Give this to Garth, please. And take one to Alison.” She instructed across the kitchen, “Let it breathe for a few minutes.”

  “Garth would probably rather have a beer, I know I need one.” Henry could do nothing else but deliver the wine. He was still perturbed while they were eating dinner.

  “Mom,” he finally exploded, “you’re not eating. Did you eat earlier?”

  Mary Kathryn pushed spaghetti around on her plate. “I’m not feeling very good.” She shoved her plate back from the table and rose. “Please excuse me. You three finish up, I’m going to bed to watch television.”

  She left the room, leaving them watching her, each with a different reason. Henry concerned, worry causing a frown; Alison fretting because Henry was upset. Garth had realized at the beginning of the meal Mary Kathryn was distracted, but he could hardly go upstairs and seek her out. There was no excuse for him to be
there unless he utilized the shower. There was also the risk of getting shot if he surprised her. The thought amused him. She’d have to change the name of her Cherry pistol if she used it.

  “Check on her later, Henry,” Garth suggested. “Leave her plate ready for her to pop into the microwave.”

  Henry nodded, hesitated, then burst out, “You heard what she said, that she went down to the sheriffs department and commissioned a picture of you.” He peered at Garth hopelessly. “What the hell is going on with her?”

  “I’ve just met her, Henry. You know her better.” Garth remained as noncommittal as possible even though it appeared Henry was appealing for help. Had Mary Kathryn really done what she’d said, or had she been teasing her son? Either way, he’d like to know, and would like to see the sketch, see how deep an impression he’d really made. Her claws were in him deep. It would be nice to know the attraction was reciprocated. Garth’s smile to Henry was meant to reassure the younger man. “She seems fine to me.”

  “Don’t you mind what she did?” Henry seemed astonished.

  “What can I do about it?” Garth was genuinely taken aback. “In a way,” he grinned, “and don’t take this the wrong way, Henry, but I’m kind of flattered. It’s not every day somebody goes out of their way like that. In fact, this is a first for me, being sketched by a police professional.”

  “Dad!” Alison protested. “A sketch artist? It’s a little weird. Even you know that!”

  “I don’t know anything.” Garth grabbed his empty plate and made for the sink, surprised as the other two abandoned the table and headed for the living room. “Where are you two going?”

  “To watch TV,” Alison seemed unaware of the dishes and general mess she and Henry had made before he’d joined them in the kitchen.