Because I Can (Montgomery Manor)

by Tamara Morgan

  “Oh, hey, Georgia,” Danny said, not looking up from the screen as he and his not-Monty guest played video games.

  “Hey, Georgia,” not-Monty echoed.

  Not-Monty sounded an awful lot like the real thing. He looked familiar too, what with the various suit components covering his body. It looked as if his tie and jacket had been discarded and cast to the side, and he’d kicked off his shoes to reveal—oh, dear God, were those pinstriped socks?—underneath.

  No one but the real Monty would wear such adorably upscale socks. Until last night, she hadn’t even known pinstriped socks were a thing.

  “Please tell me there’s a perfectly logical explanation for this. Did I hit my head on the crossbeam on the way down? Did I drown in Mrs. Peabody’s flooded basement and wind up in hell?”

  “Just a second—we’re almost done.”

  It was a command Georgia knew well. She’d spent far too much time down here with Danny and his friends not to recognize that men in the throes of a blood battle saw nothing but the pixels in front of them. She settled herself in the computer chair and waited for her boys to come home from war.

  Fortunately for her sanity and mounting curiosity, it only took about five minutes before the rankings flashed on the screen and both men were able to start blinking again. Danny offered a quirk of a smile in greeting, but Monty got to his feet, looking flushed and ashamed of himself.

  As well he should.

  She might have spent the day working the worst of her aggression off, but traces of it remained. She struggled to hold on to those traces now, grasping at them like will-o’-the-wisps. She’d been used this morning. Monty had suspected his family would find them out at the hotel but had taken her anyway. Jenna had braided her hair against her will.

  Screw it. Unable to resist the quiet, hesitant way Monty kept staring down at her, she gave in. She could yell at him later. Right now, all she wanted was to recapture the feeling of complete and utter acceptance she felt in his arms.

  It wasn’t her fault. Grown men playing video games in dark, smelly basements were her weakness.

  “Oh, gross,” Danny said as she flew across the distance and raised her lips to Monty’s. Monty was still slightly dazed from the video game, which gave his kiss a sleepy, gentle quality she found potent. “Take your disgusting display of affection elsewhere. This is a blood and guts and guns only zone.”

  “You’re the one who stole my...” Hmm. She had no idea what to call him. That girlfriend from this morning was still suspect, but she could hardly pretend he was nothing more than a friend anymore—not that her family had believed her in the first place. She settled for “My Monty. If you can lure him underground with video games, then I can lure him back to the surface with promises of the flesh.”

  “Please don’t ever say promises of the flesh within my range of hearing again. I thought we talked about this.”

  Georgia sneered at her brother. That was what he got for dragging Adam and Charlie into her business in the first place.

  “Thanks for the company, Montgomery,” Danny said, ignoring her. “You weren’t as terrible at Halo as I thought you’d be.”

  Monty hadn’t lost his look of utter bewilderment. “You’re welcome?”

  “Take it and run,” Georgia advised as she led him toward the stairs. “It’s as close to a compliment as you’ll ever get from him. How long have you been here?”

  “I have no idea. What time is it?”

  Since the sun had gone down hours ago, Georgia had to resort to the old-fashioned rooster clock hanging above the stove. “Almost ten.”

  Monty blinked at her. “Are you serious?”

  “Did you have to go already? I’m sorry I was so late, but Mrs. Peabody’s washing machine pipe burst, and she had all her family heirlooms stored in her basement. She called me in tears. I would have let you know, but after the, ah, altercation in the lobby this morning, I figured it’d be a few days before you’d have time to see me.”

  Or a few weeks. Months. A lifetime, even. In fact—what was he doing here at all?

  “No, it’s fine. I didn’t realize I was down there for so long, that’s all.” He held open the door and ushered her through. “Video games are kind of addicting, aren’t they?”

  She laughed. He sounded as though he’d never even played Tetris as a kid. “Yes, they are. It might have been bad sex and poor relationship skills that kept me single all these years, but it’ll be video games that keep me that way for the rest of my life. By now, all the good men are either taken or married to their Xboxes.”

  He stopped, holding her in place in the middle of the basketball court. “But you’re not single anymore.”

  Their hands remained interlocked, but their bodies were separated by the half court line. “I’m not?”

  “Maybe you didn’t hear what I said to my dad this morning, but—”

  “I heard.”

  He didn’t move, not even a flutter of his lashes to indicate that he was composed of anything but stone. “You didn’t like it?”

  “I liked it.”

  He swept Georgia into his arms. “Good,” he said, and kissed her again. This kiss was neither sleepy nor distracted, and Georgia sagged into his chest, grateful to have so many of her questions answered in such a hot and pressing embrace. Was she wanted? Were they okay? Could they keep pursuing the ever-fleeting vision of a perfect orgasm?

  Yes. Yes. Oh, God, yes.

  All questions should be answered this way whenever possible—with needy tongues and strong arms, with hands moving downward until her ass was clasped and held in place.

  “Maybe we should take this to my apartment,” Georgia suggested when her legs became incapable of holding her weight any longer.

  A troubled look flashed through Monty’s eyes.

  “What? What is it?”

  “There are a few things we should talk about first.”

  She dropped her arms, and her knees locked. She knew this was too easy, too perfect. Easy and perfect things didn’t happen in real life. Not to her. “It’s your dad, isn’t it? He was furious.”

  “Do you want to go inside where we can talk privately?”

  “Is it that bad?”

  Monty rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m inclined to think it’s a good thing—but that depends on how you react.”

  She swallowed, bracing herself for the worst. She’d been fired. Her name would be blacklisted from every handyman service in Ransom Creek. Monty was bearing her secret love child and his father had cut him off without a penny.

  “Remember the day you said that if anything goes wrong with this thing of ours, you’d be the one to lose a valuable client?”

  Oh, hell. She sagged with a combination of relief and disappointment. Monty’s news came as no surprise—she’d spent most of her time at Mrs. Peabody’s doing mental calculations to figure out how long she could survive on her savings and the stale rice cakes in her mom’s cupboards that not even her brothers would touch. It wasn’t ideal to be banned from Montgomery Manor, but she was a big girl wearing big girl pants, and she’d known the risks of entangling herself with Monty.

  All that mattered was that he was here. Even though she knew it was wrong to keep holding on to this man when it was the last thing his family wanted for him, she was too selfish to care.

  Much.

  “It’s not a big deal,” she said, pushing her fears and doubts to the side. Between Monty and Homeward Bound, it was getting awfully crowded over there. “Please don’t feel bad on my account. I’ll rally. I always do.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” He took her hand. “You aren’t out a valuable client. I am.”

  Georgia shook her head, not sure she understood. As he had that first day at the Manor, Monty lifted a hand to her chin to
halt the relentless back-and-forth movement. And as he had that first day at the Manor, he stripped her of everything but the desire to maintain that contact through whatever means necessary.

  “You don’t have to leave the Manor. That was never an option, at least not as far as I was concerned.” He dropped his hand. “I tendered my resignation today. As of about five hours ago, I’m no longer employed by the Montgomery Foundation or any of its affiliated companies.”

  “What!?”

  “I finally did it, Georgia. I’m out. And I’m all yours.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  As it turned out, Georgia had no idea what to do with Monty now that he was in her possession.

  “Do I need to feed you?” she asked as she watched him bring in a suitcase and set it by the front door to her apartment. That was it—one suitcase. An entire lifetime packed up in a neat square the size of her pillow. Her softball trophies alone would take up more space than that. “Or water you? Are we going to have to take regular walks and play fetch together?”

  Monty laughed and tossed himself on her bed, his hands behind his head as he stretched out. He’d always been so carefully and quietly controlled before—she didn’t realize how much of that bed he took up once he let himself go. If he put his arms out, his fingers would probably extend over the edges.

  “Only if you also promise to pet me and bathe me,” he said. He was acting so much like a normal human male she almost wanted to check for signs of possession. But then he sat up, an anxious twist to his smile. “This is okay, right? I don’t have to stay here tonight—or ever, if you don’t want. There are a hundred hotels not owned by my father where I could easily put up.”

  “No, it’s great. It’s perfect.” And it was great. It was perfect.

  As far as she was concerned, this was the dream. Not only had she somehow managed to woo Monty into her bed, but he was so happy there he wanted to stay. Indefinitely. As her official boyfriend, with all the perks the title entailed.

  She reached to the inside of her forearm and pinched.

  Yep. Still hurt.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She moved to her closet to extract some kind of nightwear. Once again, this was a situation in which something strappy and slippery would come in handy—and once again, she was faced with rows of T-shirts emblazoned with various lewd slogans.

  “I’m not sure what there is to say, in all honesty. He got mad. I quit. He got madder.”

  Georgia gave up and grabbed the nearest T-shirt, which vowed Pants Are Overrated. With any luck, she wouldn’t be wearing it long anyway. That was the point of cohabitation, right? Nudity and endless sexcapades?

  “Did you quit because of me?”

  “Yes.”

  She stopped breathing.

  “No.”

  She started again.

  “Well, maybe.” He reached for her, and she was so deprived of oxygen, she had no choice but to fall to the bed in his arms. He took his time settling her into a comfortable position, a horizontal full-body hug. “You didn’t cause this, if that’s what you’re asking. The trouble between me and my father has been brewing for a lot longer than either of us was willing to admit. You were the tipping point, nothing more.”

  Was that supposed to make her feel better? “So you took me to that hotel knowing your dad would hear about it? To tip things?”

  “No. I took you because I was trying, in my ineffective way, to tell you how much you mean to me. I know we joked about being secret lovers, but I’m not ashamed of what we’re doing. I never have been. And I refuse to apologize for wanting to be with you.”

  He sounded so sure of himself—of her, and of them. Everywhere she turned, people seemed to accept Monty’s presence in her life without even a ripple of apprehension. Her mom handed over sex recordings and sage advice on marrying rich. Danny wrinkled his nose and told her to take their kissing elsewhere. Even Monty’s sister had acted all chummy.

  She kind of wanted to call up Mr. Montgomery just so she’d have someone on her side. My son has clearly lost his mind, taking up with an unattractive, undersexed handywoman like you, he’d say. I know, right? she’d reply. Then they could compare notes on the inherent wrongness of this whole situation and come up with a plan to save Monty from her evil clutches.

  “Maybe I wanted to keep it a secret,” she said. “Did you ever think about that?”

  His arms around her became a vise, though she couldn’t tell if he was insulted or afraid she might leave him. “Yes. I thought about it.”

  Well, that wasn’t the answer she was expecting. “And you figured it didn’t matter what I wanted?”

  “I figured I’d try to change your mind.” He rolled her underneath him, looking down with such tenderness she almost had to pinch her arm again. If things continued like this for much longer, she’d become one giant bruise. “I know I’m not an ideal boyfriend, Georgia. I’m too serious and set in my ways. I’ll probably bore your family and friends until they start hiding behind plants to avoid me. But I can change. I am changing. And now that I don’t have to spend nine-tenths of my day working, I can put you first, where you belong.”

  “That sounds...great,” she said, dazed—and not only because he was unbuttoning the top of her coveralls and laying a trail of kisses along her collarbone. “But don’t you think quitting your job was a bit drastic?”

  “I don’t like to think of it as quitting.” He continued pushing fabric down her arms. “I like to think of it as switching careers.”

  “Are you going to take up race car driving or writing the Great American Novel, like any man in the throes of a good midlife crisis?”

  He laughed against her breast, where his mouth was snaking downward, licking and grazing its way to the lining of her—sadly, still grey-beige—bra. “Nope. My mission is simple. I’m not going to rest until you’ve had all the orgasms you can handle.”

  “Hmm. The pay is crappy.”

  His response was to take her nipple into his mouth and suckle deeply.

  “And the hours are long.”

  This time he used teeth, causing a jolt of surprised satisfaction to move through her.

  “And there’s no guarantee the product will ever work the way it’s supposed to.”

  He lifted his head enough to smile at her. “It sure will be fun testing it, though, don’t you think?”

  She moaned and gave herself over to his tongue, determined to enjoy it while it lasted. She gave this thing of theirs a week, tops. Monty didn’t belong to her. He belonged to the people who needed him most—and it was only a matter of time before they rallied up their pitchforks and came looking for him.

  * * *

  “Quick, Holly—you have to hide me.” Georgia burst through the kitchen doors and scanned for the best hiding place. The fridge was probably too full, and the heat emanating from the stove rendered that option less than ideal, but the pantry was fairly large. She might be able to squeeze on the bottom shelf. “You can’t let her find out I’m here.”

  Holly waved a wooden spoon at her in greeting. “What’s wrong? Who’s hunting you?”

  “Jenna.” Georgia spoke the other woman’s name in hushed tones, fearful of bringing a curse down upon her head. “I hear the click of her heels now. Do you think I’ll fit in the dumbwaiter?”

  Holly laughed—laughed—at her distress and continued stirring. “You’re more than welcome to try. Let me know if you want some cooking grease to ease your passage.”

  “This isn’t funny.” Georgia realized now her error in choosing the kitchen as her hiding spot. Although Jenna rarely made an appearance down here, this was one of the few rooms without a back entrance unless she wanted to trigger the fire alarm. She was trapped.

  “It’s kind of funny.”

  “I saw Mr. Montgomery earlier and li
terally ran the opposite direction. I almost fell down the stairs.”

  “Still funny.”

  “But what am I supposed to say to her?” Georgia wailed. “Sorry I enslaved your brother and toppled your family dynasty—here, let me fix that broken bit of plaster in your bedroom to make up for it?”

  “Have you enslaved him?” Jenna’s voice, a cloying pool of doom washing over her, arose from the doorway. “I’d love to know how you did it.”

  You could have warned me, she mouthed to Holly, but the other woman merely pressed her lips together in a suppressed smile. She was loving this. Every staff member at the Manor was loving this—in less than one week, Georgia had become the best joke this place had ever seen. She’d caught the gardening crew affixing empty paint cans to the back of her truck in some kind of mock bridal salute.

  “Don’t worry.” Jenna extended her hand. “I’m a peace-bearing messenger.”

  “I’d really rather not get in the middle of your family stuff.” Georgia eyed the long, elegant hand reaching out to her with trepidation. “If you want to talk to Monty, you’ll have to call him yourself.”

  “But I don’t want to talk to Monty,” she said, waggling her fingers in a beckoning gesture. “I want to talk about him. I always like my brothers better via proxy.”

  Holly snickered while Georgia contemplated murder.

  “Let me put it this way,” Jenna added. “If you don’t talk to me, then I’m under strict orders to gag you, bind you and haul you upstairs to meet with my father. Alex is on standby to help. You’re not leaving here without talking to one of us.”

  “I suggest you go with Jenna,” Holly said. “Mr. Montgomery hasn’t been in the best mood lately. He sent back the eggs this morning. Twice.”

  Georgia groaned. It was no more than she’d expected. Mr. Montgomery wanted to eat her spleen instead of more traditional breakfast foods. Jenna wanted to braid her hair to a bedpost so she could never escape again. She didn’t even want to think about what must be going on at the Montgomery Foundation right now. The thought of the upheaval caused by Monty’s defection tied her stomach up in knots.