Montana Fire_A Small Town Romance

by Vanessa Vale

  “Semen.”

  A side of Ty’s mouth ticked up. “Something like that. Listen, I have to work the next few days. I’ve got my shift, a fill in, then another shift. Think you can stay out of trouble?”

  “Funny,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I wished he was sitting next to me again, his mouth back on my skin. “I think I can do that. Besides, it’s Wednesday. What can happen on a Wednesday?”

  Ty didn’t answer, possibly afraid to say.

  Zach and Bobby wheeled their bikes out of the garage. They had their helmets on, ready to go. At the sidewalk, they carefully climbed on, Bobby on his red bike with training wheels, Zach on his garage sale mountain bike. I looked closer at the front of Bobby’s bike. On the handlebars, two of his stuffed animals rode shotgun. Since he didn’t have a basket I had to wonder how he’d rigged it.

  “Is that the…um—” Ty stuttered, pointing to Bobby’s bike. He started laughing.

  There, attached to the handlebars of a four-year-old’s bike holding Puppy Dog and Buddy the Bear nice and snug were the pair of black mesh pouchless briefs. They’d somehow wrapped the leg holes through the handlebars, several times so they were secure. With the pouchless part in front, Bobby squeezed in his two stuffed animals.

  “Holy crap. I forgot all about the men’s um…underwear. The boys must have found it on the counter when I”—I did a slingshot motion with my hands—“launched them over by the fridge.”

  The boys gave a quick wave and pedaled down the sidewalk past the Colonel’s house. Ty tilted his head and grinned. “Those boys are pretty damn inventive.”

  I dropped my head into my hands in mortification.

  * * *

  “Why the hell would someone blow up the Moore’s house?” Goldie wanted to know. She’d waited all day for answers. Tonight, she wore a pair of black capri pants, black platform sandals and a white V-neck cotton shirt with gold sequins in a diamond pattern across the front. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but fluffed or teased up in the front. Between the heels and the hair, she was almost my height.

  “We think it’s because of the vial of semen we found,” I said casually, as if I was talking about getting eggs at the store.

  Goldie tilted her head down to look at me over her reading glasses. They attached at the sides to a rhinestone covered chain about her neck. She didn’t say anything, just turned back to ringing up her sale on the cash register. I knew that look. It was half WTF, and half don’t sass. She wasn’t done with me.

  Ha! I had something she didn’t know about. I smirked. I couldn’t help myself.

  “Excuse me.” A couple in their twenties grabbed my attention. The woman wore a sundress that showed a tattoo on her upper arm of a geisha blended artfully into a raging sea that curled around her elbow. Her hair was jet black and she had a silver ring in her nose. The guy wore jeans that hung down past his butt so I could see blue plaid boxers almost in their entirety. I had no idea how he could walk, but at least if the woman wanted sex right away he didn’t have to pull his pants down to get to his package.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked, ready to serve.

  “We’d like to try anal and we’re not sure what would be best.”

  Was there something about the butt that everyone was in on but me? “Sure.” I walked over to the appropriate section and started handing them the things they might need. “Lube. Get the big bottle. There’s regular and the numbing kind. There are plugs and beads and vibrators to choose from here on display.”

  “I want something big. Something totally rad,” the guy said. He took down a plug that looked like a grenade. “Like this.” As a salesperson, I wasn’t going to ruin their fun by sharing my thoughts on a grenade up the ass.

  I looked at his girlfriend to see if she bought into his idea. She nodded her head. “Yeah. Big.”

  “If you’ve never done it before, you might consider starting small so you don’t hurt yourself. Work your way up.” I wanted to make sure she knew what she was in for.

  Her eyebrows went up in surprise. “It’s not for me! He wants to try anal. Since it’s going in his ass, he can pick it out.”

  Worked for me. “Sure. You guys decide and come up to the counter when you’re ready.”

  A few minutes later I rang them up. They ended up going with the grenade model after all and took my advice on the economy-sized bottle of lube. Goldie joined us and tossed a few condoms into the bag. “Just in case,” she said. “Oh, wait.” She reached behind the counter to Ty’s box I’d brought back to the store. “Here. Try these beads, too. You might like them. Free of charge.”

  After they left the store, I turned to Goldie. “What is it with all this interest in butt stuff?”

  “Don’t think you can distract me. What vial of semen?”

  I enlightened her to all that had happened in the past few days, highlighting the garage sale, the gnomes, the discovery of the vial, the return trip to the garage sale house and the explosion. I left out my attraction to Ty and the kiss we’d shared. No sense in getting her all wound up about my sex life worse than she already was. Besides, even though she’d promised, I didn’t want any more boxes ending up on Ty’s doorstep.

  “Humph,” Goldie replied. That's all she said on the matter for over an hour. A group of twenty-something women came in seeking ideas and gifts for a bachelorette party. One of the offerings Goldilocks provided was an in-home sex toy party. It was like a Tupperware party but for sex toys. Some ladies were too embarrassed or skittish to come in the store so it often led to a bit of Sex Ed for grownups as well. Sometimes a long winter makes for dull, dark nights and Goldie’s parties could sure liven things up.

  I’d shared the toy party idea with Goldie to drum up new clients a few years before. She took to it like a duck to water and I’d been volunteered into this new branch of the business. It kept me occupied a few nights a month.

  I arranged with the ladies to show up at the bachelorette party next month and vowed to make it extra special. Another day on the job.

  “I think you need to be careful. Someone out there isn’t happy,” Goldie said when we closed up. She turned off the lights and we walked out to our cars together. At one in the morning, all was quiet. The air was cool, probably in the low fifties, and I had goose bumps on my arms. A big temperature drop from the pool earlier. It had been a full day and I was exhausted.

  “Nothing that’s happened has anything to do with me,” I replied. “I only found the vial. I didn’t try to sell it. Besides, there aren’t any more vials. It’s all over. I’m not getting any more gnomes.” I wasn’t going to tell her I’d already decided to go out to the Rocking Double D ranch and talk to the owner. Some shady things were going on and I wanted to warn whoever ran the place about Morty, tell them how I’d gotten involved and that I wanted to steer clear in the future. Maybe I could watch them fire the thieving Morty while I was there.

  Goldie pursed her lips, but didn’t say more. “What time do you want the boys in the morning?”

  I usually slept late and enjoyed some quiet time to myself when she and Paul had Zach and Bobby sleep over. Maybe I could make the morning more productive by heading out to the Rocking Double D instead of hitting the snooze bar on my alarm.

  “I might go for a run and get some errands done. Think you can keep them until after lunch?” Run! Ha! Maybe I’d run out to the ranch and do some investigating. In my car.

  * * *

  The next morning, after a peaceful and child-free night, I stood at the kitchen counter and sipped my coffee. I’d showered and dried my hair. The door to the covered patio was open, fresh air coming in. The cool night had turned into a soft, clear morning. Blue sky. The weather was perfect. It was supposed to be in the eighties today, although it was barely seventy so far. Usually I’d wear my typical shorts and T-shirt but since my plan was to visit a working ranch, I knew long pants and sturdy shoes were practically required. I wore jeans, a white tank top and my Frye boots. Hopefully, they woul
d keep the horse poop and whatever else was in the dirt out there from getting on me. Besides, it was the closest to cowgirl-wear I had.

  I did a search for the Rocking Double D ranch on my cell and was surprised to find it had an actual web site. It was said to be a premiere horse ranch, raising quarter horses, breeding and selling them. I knew nothing about horses other than identifying one when I saw it. They came in brown, black, white and some were spotted. No stripes, as that was apparently reserved for a zebra.

  I called Kelly and she answered on the first ring. Kids screamed in the background. “Hey,” I said.

  “Hang on a sec,” she replied. “Liam threw up on Hank’s toy truck an hour ago and he hasn’t recovered.” I didn’t know if she was talking about Liam or Hank. A door slammed, then quiet. “Okay, I went out front.”

  “I just wanted you to know I’m going to go out to the Rocking Double D ranch this morning. I need to find Morty and get to the bottom of this whole vial thing. Meet the owner of the ranch, tell him what I think is going on. I wanted at least one person to know who wouldn’t yell at me.”

  “Be careful. Just because I don’t yell doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.”

  “At least your worry doesn’t come with shouting and a guilt trip.”

  Kelly laughed.

  On my phone, I pulled up a different link about the ranch, the one from the Chronicle which talked about the birth of triplet cows. “I see the article about the triplet cows,” I said with the phone on speaker. “You were right about all of it. It says the ranch belongs to Drake Dexter. Know him?”

  “Only as the owner of the ranch, nothing else. Sorry.”

  “This is a horse ranch, but there’s got to be a cow or two in order for the blessed triplet birth to have occurred. So what do you think? Was the semen in the vial from a bull or a horse?”

  I heard Kelly’s muffled voice and something about ice cream for breakfast. “Sorry. Um, if the ranch is famous for its quarter horses and offers studs for breeding, I’d have to assume it was from a horse.”

  “Would fancy horse semen bring in lots of money?”

  Kelly snorted. “Make sure you don’t say ‘fancy horse semen’ when you meet Drake Dexter. You might insult the man, and your intelligence.”

  “Good point. Would horse sperm bring in more money than bull semen?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I could ask Ty’s parents. They’re cattle ranchers so they’d be the experts.”

  “Speaking of Ty…why don’t you just ask him?”

  “Because if he knew I was going out to the ranch today he’d get angry. He doesn’t want me messing around with all of this.”

  “Aww, so romantic!”

  “Romantic? I don’t like being told what to do,” I grumbled.

  “He’s just being protective. It’s that alpha male testosterone that he’s got tons of. Be careful, he may drag you by your hair back to his cave.”

  The image of being manhandled and dragged anywhere by Ty made me hot all over. “I met him for the first time last week. He has no claim over me or what I do.”

  “Then it shouldn’t bother you to tell him you’re going to the ranch. Why keep it a secret?”

  Good question.

  * * *

  The address listed placed the ranch west of town, near Norris. It took me close to thirty minutes to take Norris Road all the way past the hot springs. I’d been stuck behind a pickup towing a trailer loaded down with a float boat, ATV and several coolers. Someone was going camping, hunting and fishing. I turned south toward Ennis and took a dirt road left, then right.

  The ranch, like many in the West, had a huge log archway at the start of the drive. Two D’s sitting on a curve like the bottom of a rocking chair was the symbol for the ranch and placed with honors front and center on the arch. I slowly followed the dirt drive back about a half mile to the main parking area. It was impossible to miss the horse buildings. The main one itself was an aircraft-hangar sized monstrosity. There had to be an indoor racing ring inside. That or a 747.

  Gray metal siding with forest green trim all around. A cupola with a weather vane graced the top. It was a no-nonsense building but obviously high-end. The minimal landscaping around it was tasteful and well-maintained, the building clean and only a faint scent of the horses lingered. No poop to be seen. The building had to have some kind of special horsy name but I didn’t know what it was.

  A large house sat on a ridge in the distance. A Montana mansion made of logs with big windows and expansive views. Land all around spanned to the mountains, the scenery beautiful. The house could be a cover home for Architectural Digest. If you liked the middle-of-nowhere mega mansion with stinky horses and cows roaming around. Some people loved it. Whatever floated your boat.

  Next to the main building stood the stable, this much I could tell. Almost a football field long, it was narrow with big doors that slid open on the short end. I could see inside a little way and make out a few stalls. A horse or two had their heads over the half-doors so I knew I was in the right place. I parked and went in search of Drake Dexter—and Morty Moore.

  It was darker in the stable than I expected and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight. It was warm inside, dusty and smelled of hay and horses. Several people worked forking hay, some hefting something else, most likely poop. Lots of it. A brown horse was being led outside by a bridle about its head. It seemed a precision operation. All employees appeared to wear matching green polo shirts with the Rocking Double D logo embroidered in white on the chest. The facility was clean, well-kept and obviously a money maker.

  “Excuse me.” I stopped one of the workers who pushed a wheelbarrow with a pitchfork handle sticking out the end. “I’m looking for Morty Moore or Drake Dexter.”

  The man was shaped like a keg of beer with strong meaty arms from hauling poop all day. He wiped his brow with the back of a hand. “I haven’t seen Morty in about a week, ma’am, so I can’t help you there. Mr. Dexter should be over in the horse arena.”

  I’d been ma’am-ed. Holy crap, all of a sudden I was old enough to be ma’am-ed. It was all downhill from here. “The horse arena’s the big building?”

  “That's it. Go through the door on the west side. Can’t miss Mr. Dexter. Big cowboy hat and a mustache.”

  I thanked him and left the building. Sounded like I was searching for the Marlboro Man. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot, although in Montana, and on a ranch, there were probably a lot of Marlboro Men. But, as I followed the instructions and went through the west door, hello! There was Mr. Drake Dexter, Marlboro Man. Yup, he was the epitome of every woman’s romance novel fantasy cowboy. He must have made lots of money from the royalties off all those cigarette billboards.

  Tall, whoa, well over six feet. Solid, built as if he drank lots of fresh mountain water and ate lots of good meat growing up. Maybe some Wheaties, too. He wore Wrangler jeans, work boots, a long sleeved white western shirt with snap buttons. He had a honkin’ silver belt buckle probably won doing something ludicrously dangerous, most likely on the back of a live, ornery animal. The hat was huge. It was definitely a five gallon one. White and well worn.

  When the worker had said mustache, I instantly thought a caterpillar above the lip. This was a full-blown caterpillar above the lip plus handlebars down the sides to his jaw. The man could grow a mustache. His skin was tan, slightly weathered from being out in the elements. His hair was dark, although most was hidden beneath the super-sized hat. He was crazy handsome in that rugged, cowboy sort of way. The man you dreamed about riding his horse, scooping you up with one arm, placing you in front of him in the saddle and riding off into the sunset.

  This guy gave me an instant zing, although this was a fantasy zing. No way in hell was I compatible with a man who dealt with horses and cows all day. Drake Dexter turned and saw me. His eyes roamed over my body. Not casually, but boldly, as if he was admiring a new piece of horseflesh. Okay, a fantasy zing felt pr
etty darn good as I had a hot flash that burned in all the special places.

  “Mr. Dexter?” I asked when he came and stood close to me. A little too close. He put one arm on the rail that ran around the ring. I had to look up to meet eyes. It was like being sucked into a black hole. There was no oxygen.

  “Dex.” He smiled. Yikes, he was intense. His look, his stance, his entire being exuded power. Cockiness.

  I held out my hand. He took it in his large, dinner plate sized one, his grip strong and forceful. He held on a tad too long for my comfort level. “Jane West. I…um….” Now, standing here with his brown eyes on me, it was hard to put into words what I wanted to say. “I believe I have some sperm…semen that belongs to you.”

  Dex raised one eyebrow. “You believe? I guarantee you’d remember if you had some of my sperm.” His eyes roved over my body once more as if looking for where the sperm was.

  I blushed from the roots of my hair to my toes. I couldn’t see it, but I felt the flush everywhere. I wanted to sink into the floor and die. Had I actually said that? To a complete stranger? I believe I have some sperm that belongs to you. It couldn’t get worse than that. “Let me start over. I found a vial with semen in it and I think it came from your ranch.”

  Dex smiled. “That’s something different entirely. I don’t forget where I put my sperm.”

  Ewww, gross.

  7

  Dex’s smile changed to a leer. “I don’t put my sperm in a vial.” He didn’t say more, although obviously he was making a point by what he didn’t say. As if I didn’t know where he put his sperm. “Our stallions are some of the best and their sperm…semen is put in vials. We provide stud services to other ranches who want superior bloodlines in their quarter horses by bringing their mares here to be inseminated. We also ship semen to ranches around the world when it’s too far to travel.”

  “So it’s likely I ended up with a vial that was to be shipped out?”