Tempting as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 2)

by Rosalind James

  “So what does the book say?” Hermione asked. “What’s the answer?”

  Bailey turned the page. “Ha! We’re right! Probably crocodile, but it’s closer than the lion and tiger one. A crocodile can even lose a leg and not die, but the shark would die if it got bitten too much.”

  Hermione held up her hand, Bailey high-fived her, and they both laughed. Bailey had never high-fived with a girl before.

  “Do you want to learn how to play soccer?” Hermione asked. “We could go to the park. It’s more fun to practice with somebody.”

  The social workers might be there, but maybe they wouldn’t see. Maybe they’d expect Bailey to be wearing her jeans and her old T-shirts and playing football, like she’d used to do. It could be almost like she was in disguise now. “Yeah,” she said. “That would be cool.”

  She waited a long time before she went home. Practicing soccer was fun. You had to run fast, like in football, but you had to keep the ball going with your feet at the same time. You’d have to practice a lot to get good at it.

  Hermione finally said she had to go home to dinner, though, so Bailey knew it was probably time for her to go, too. Her grandma always wanted her to be home for dinner. Her mom hadn’t cared so much, not always, but her grandma had dinnertime, and she also woke Bailey up for school so she didn’t sleep too long and be late. That was better, too. It was embarrassing when you were late.

  She felt bad, like always, when she thought about her mom, especially bad things, because her mom was dead. Ray had killed her in his car, by accident, and now he was in jail. You were only supposed to think good things about dead people, so Bailey tried to remember those. Her mom had used to kiss her forehead and brush her hair back with her hand when Bailey was little. Before Ray had come to live with them, her mom had let Bailey sleep in her bed if she’d had a bad dream, and she’d always sung along with the radio when she was feeling happy. Sometimes she’d danced with Bailey, holding her by the hands, and said, “We’re going places, Bailey Blue. You and me.”

  Being with her mom had been a lot better than being in a foster home. That was the scariest, except for sometimes once Ray had been living with them, when he was drunk. With a foster home, though, you were surprised when the social worker came to your house to get you, and sometimes you came home from school and had to go to a whole different house, and you didn’t know if the other kids would be mean or not, or what the parents would be like.

  The first house had been the best, when she was little. At least she thought it was the first house. It was the first one she remembered, from when she was in kindergarten. The lady had been named Sam, like a boy name, the same as Bailey’s, and she’d had short hair and glasses and smiled a lot. The man had been named Joe. He was quieter than Sam, but he was nice, too. Bailey had thought she lived at their house now, but then, halfway through kindergarten, her mom had come home from jail, and she’d gone back. Her mom hadn’t talked or laughed as much after that, but she’d been the same every day, not sometimes awake and crashing around in the night, and other times asleep even though it was daytime.

  The next time the cops had come and the social worker had taken her, she hadn’t been as scared as the first time, because she’d thought she’d go back to Sam and Joe’s house again. But it had been a different house. There were five or six kids all the time at that one, not just her. Two of them always stayed the same, because they belonged to the family. They were boys, and they had their own room. There were two other bedrooms with bunk beds, one for girls and one for boys. Bailey had been there with one girl who was old, like a teenager, who climbed out of the window a lot at night, and then that girl had left and another girl had come who was about the same age as Bailey. She cried a lot, though, and wet the bed, which made the mom really mad. She said the girl had to sleep in the wet bed, but Bailey had let her sleep in her bed instead, like her mom had used to do. That hadn’t been a good house.

  When the social worker had picked her up from there, she’d thought she was going home, but it turned out to be a different family. At that one, they always had cookies. They were soft, chewy and with raisins, from the grocery store. That was almost as good as the one with Sam and Joe. After that house, she’d gone home with her mom for a while. That was first grade, though, when she was little.

  If the social worker or the cops were at the trailer, she decided, riding faster because she could tell she was late, she’d stay away until they left, even though her grandma said she should be home for dinner. They couldn’t stay very long. They had lots of other things to do. And if they came when she was there, she could run out the back door really fast and hide. They always knocked on the door first, unless it was cops, and cops only came if you were going to jail. Her grandma didn’t take drugs or steal or get in fights or anything, so they wouldn’t put her in jail, probably. And even if they came in like cops, without knocking, at night, Bailey could escape fast if she kept her bedroom window open. She could sleep in her clothes, and she could put her bike under her window. She’d gotten away really fast today from Lily’s.

  They probably wouldn’t come, though. They might not have come to Lily’s for her at all. Maybe. Her grandma hadn’t done anything, and she was her guardian. They didn’t take you if you had a guardian, not unless your guardian was going to jail. So she’d still get to play with Hermione tomorrow afternoon. They were going to meet at the library, and then go to the park and practice soccer later on when it wasn’t so hot. Bailey still had Lily’s library card, so she could get Harry Potter. Hermione said Book One was the shortest, and Bailey was a really good reader, so if Hermione could read it, she probably could, too. She’d have Chuck tomorrow once Clay brought him to Lily’s shop, and she’d probably have to tie him up when they played soccer, but that was OK. He’d want to play, but he still wasn’t supposed to run.

  Nobody was at the trailer, and no extra cars. Just her grandma, like usual. She still had the blanket over her, and she was still coughing a lot, but she was awake and smoking a cigarette. Bailey made hot dogs for dinner and ate two, plus a lot of peas and tomatoes that she’d picked in Lily’s garden. She was hungry from all the soccer. Her grandma only ate part of one hot dog and then watched TV some more, and Bailey took a shower. Lily took a shower every night. She said she felt better when she was clean.

  She woke up in the night, because somebody was talking, she thought. Her grandma, but she was only coughing. More than usual. After a while, she stopped.

  Bailey lay in the dark and listened, but she couldn’t hear anything except a mosquito, which kept whining around her head. She thought she heard something else, though. Like her name. After a second, she got out of bed and turned on the light, and she thought she heard it again. So she went into the living room.

  Her grandma was still under the blanket. She coughed another time, really long, like she couldn’t get her breath, and Bailey asked, “Grandma?”

  Her grandma said, “Water,” and Bailey went to the sink and poured a glass, then brought it back. Her grandma opened her eyes, and they looked funny. Almost like Ray’s when he was drunk, like she was about to cry. She was shivering, too, even though it wasn’t cold. She said something, but Bailey couldn’t tell what it was, then coughed some more, and Bailey wondered what she should do. After a while, the coughing stopped, and her grandma said, “Call 911.”

  Bailey hesitated. 911 was the cops. Her grandma said, “Call and tell them I need the ambulance.”

  Bailey picked up the receiver and punched the buttons on the phone. Her grandma was still shivering, like she needed more blankets.

  “Nine-one-one,” the lady on the other end of the phone said. “What is your emergency?” Just like on a cop show.

  It made Bailey think of a show her grandma had watched last week, where a lady had called the police for help because somebody was hurt, even though the lady had broken into the house. She said, “Hello. Somebody here is very sick. She needs to get an ambulance to take her to the hos
pital.”

  “Can you give me the address?” the lady asked, and Bailey gave it to her. She knew it because of filling out the forms for the library and for school. “Seven thirty-six Hacienda Lane, Sinful, Montana, 59970.”

  “All right,” the lady said. “I’ve got it. What’s your name?”

  Bailey said, “Hermione Wu,” because it was the only name she could think of. She didn’t want to get Hermione in trouble, but she didn’t want to say her own name. If they came and got her grandma and knew she was here, they’d take her to a foster home. They never let kids stay by themselves, even if you knew how to fix your own food.

  “How old are you, Hermione?” the lady asked, and Bailey said, “Twenty-six.” That was how old her mom was. It was a grown-up age.

  “All right, Hermione,” the lady said. “Stay on the line with me. What is the person’s name, the one who’s sick?”

  “Her name is Ruby Johnson.” She had to get out of here before they came. “I know that because I’m her neighbor. I have to go, though. There’s a fire at my house.”

  The lady said, “What? Who is it that needs attention? Please give me your address.”

  Bailey hung up. Her grandma was coughing again, sounding like Chuck after he’d eaten grass, before he threw it up. She was still shaking, too, so Bailey ran and got her blanket off her bed and put it on top of her.

  She could hear a siren now, and waited a second, standing on one foot and then the other. Then she ran. She’d worn her clothes to bed like she’d planned, so she grabbed her backpack, then yanked her jacket from the hook in the closet. She could see the lights. Red lights, flashing across the front window. She heard a clunk like car doors were opening, and she stood on the bed, heaved up hard with her arms, and got halfway out of the window. Then she fell. She hit the ground hard, skinning her knee and her palm, and it hurt, but she didn’t wait, because she could hear noise from behind her. They were coming inside. She didn’t even put her backpack on, just held onto it and her jacket, grabbed her bike handlebars, and rode.

  It was harder in bare feet, and it was dark, and she couldn’t see. She couldn’t ride on the road, because that was where the ambulance was. She could see it now. She went behind the trailer next door instead, even though they had a mean dog and she could hear it barking. It was inside tonight, but she rode faster anyway, until she hit the curb and fell off her bike.

  Her knee really hurt now, and so did her elbow and her chin, because she’d hit them, but she got up, dragged her bike over the curb, and rode away.

  Lily woke up hurting, and she woke up comforted. Rafe’s arm was draped over her side, and it didn’t feel confining. It felt safe. And when she rolled over and he opened his black-lashed eyes, he smiled.

  He wasn’t just beautiful, and he wasn’t just strong. He was so sweet, he made her heart ache, and she couldn’t regret anything at all. Not sleeping with him. Not telling him the truth. Maybe she’d exposed him to scandal again, and maybe she hadn’t even done that, or not too badly. The scandal wouldn’t last this time. He hadn’t done anything that could even look wrong. He’d done everything right.

  What happens now? Part of her mind tried to ask, and she didn’t shut it down. She answered it. I don’t know. It could be hard. It probably will be, because I want to keep waking up with him, and I know I won’t be able to. But I don’t get to choose anymore.

  “You don’t have to get up,” he said, throwing the sheet off and standing up, showing off all that Beast body. Or maybe the sheriff one. His new leanness only made his muscles more defined, and she’d just say that morning was a good look on him. Black scruff, blue eyes, and…everything else. One hundred percent beautiful man.

  “I’ll get up,” she said, and forced herself to do it without a groan. “I’ll be less stiff once I start moving, and I’ll be happier once I start thinking about happy things.” She took another look at his morning body and said, “Although I’m thinking some happy thoughts right now, too. At least happy future thoughts.”

  He smiled again and headed into the bathroom, and a few minutes later, he and Chuck headed out to help her with the animals. Rafe didn’t wear his sunglasses, since there wasn’t any point, and Lily did. Her swollen, bruised eye was absolutely not beautiful, and she didn’t want Antonio to see it. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

  Chuck was fully himself again, though. Well, not fully, not with his missing parts, but he bounded out with an enthusiasm for the ages and peed joyfully on a tree like he’d already put the episode behind him and moved on.

  Unfortunately, the sounds around them weren’t just the soft, musical trill of a red-winged blackbird on a fence post, the drowsy morning cackle of chickens still in their coop, and the rustle of goats rising from the straw and preparing to get up to mischief. She heard doors opening on the road, too. There was no way she was turning around to look, but when Chuck turned his hairy butt toward the cameras, squatted, and gave them a close-up view of dog elimination? She laughed.

  “Look at it this way,” Rafe said, heading into the shed and out of sight of whoever was out there. “How early did they have to get up just to get a shot of you in your flowered overalls? How stiff must they be from sitting in their cars since dawn? Chuck and I will do the chickens.”

  “Maybe you should take off your shirt,” she suggested. “Make it worth their while.”

  He grinned, put an arm around her, and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “Nah. They have to pay to see that. Besides, cowboys wear shirts. I know, because Jo told me.”

  She smiled through milking Tinkerbelle, even though her face ached where it touched the goat’s side. And when Rafe came back with the basket of eggs, she let him milk Edelweiss and was glad for it. Glad to have him beside her for the walk back up to the house afterwards, too, helping her ignore the calls of, “Lily! Over here!”

  They couldn’t have breakfast on the porch, which was a shame, and she wondered, as they finished up, how long the cameras would stick around. Surely not longer than today, not unless Antonio showed up again. The paparazzi would abandon Montana for a more target-rich environment. Unless…Her hand stilled in the act of lifting her coffee mug to her lips, and Rafe looked at her and said, “What?”

  “I’m just wondering,” she said, “whether Antonio will come back. He hates to lose.”

  Rafe snorted. “Him? Nah. Pussy,” and she had to laugh.

  “Not everybody’s been bitten by a shark and a snake,” she said. “Not everybody’s Australian-manly.”

  “And you know what we call those other blokes.”

  “No. What?”

  “Unfortunate.” He grinned. “He’s not coming back, and what could anybody else do to you? Nothing. Not anymore. You’ve got a shop that’ll be in the news, that’s all.”

  She got off her stool and went into the living room, and Rafe followed her. “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, kneeling beside Chuck and checking his incisions. “I think we can take off his cone. He still shouldn’t be running today, if we can help it. Tell Bailey to keep him on his leash, would you?”

  She was unfastening the Velcro that held the cone to the collar. She was also wishing that Rafe wasn’t looking at her so closely.

  “What?” he said again.

  “Nothing.” When he kept looking at her, she said, “I’m a little unsettled, that’s all. I have this feeling like something else is going to happen. Crazy. What else could? I’ll be glad when the next couple days are over and we’re back to normal. You’re riding today, huh?” She wanted to ask him how much longer he’d be up here, but she didn’t. Take each day as it comes, she told herself. He’s here now.

  “Yeah,” he said. “No rest for the wicked. Who knows what Jo has planned. Jumps, probably, trying to turn me into a steeplechase jockey, since I’m not actually grabbing the saddle horn anymore. Never mind. Challenge is good. Ever onward.”

  “If you’re going running afterwards,” she said, “you shoul
d pick up some bear spray. I should’ve said that on Saturday. Especially if you don’t have Chuck with you. And make noise going around curves, all right? Grizzlies aren’t crocodiles, but if you surprise them, they can be scary. Black bears will run away. A grizzly might not, especially if she has cubs.”

  “No worries,” he said. “I have the spray.”

  “All right, then.” She wished she could rid herself of this niggling sense of unease. It was almost like when something was wrong with Paige, but it wasn’t that, she could tell. Too much change, that was all. She’d had her life down, had a routine, even if it could be a lonely one, and now she didn’t. She gave it up, finished unfastening Chuck’s cone, and said, “You’re free to fly, Chuck. Run with the wind. Except don’t.”

  Rafe laughed, and they dropped the subject. And at nine-thirty, he left with Chuck in the back of the car, his head hanging out the window, since they’d found he barked less that way, and Lily decided to use her unexpected day off the way she should have used her actual day off. Laundry, cleaning house, and making goat cheese and a batch of raspberry jam, none of which would require going outside. Routine was good, and so was staying busy at something constructive. Let the photographers stand around in the rising heat. If they waited long enough, they could get a shot of Rafe coming back.

  She was stirring sticky, bubbling magenta jam, brushing her hair back from her steaming face with one hand and thinking this would have been a better job for the evening, when her phone rang. She swore and let it ring. Once she had the jam in the sterilized jars, though, and had popped the tops on, she checked it.

  Rafe. She’d probably missed him, darn it. It was nearly one. He’d have had lunch, changed, and started on his run already. He ran, he’d told her, two hours a day on the steep mountain trails, which was something Paige would probably do, too, but that Lily couldn’t even imagine. She called him just in case.

  “Hey,” he said when he picked up. She was just about to ask about the lesson, but he spoke first. “Bailey never turned up.”