by Amy Andrews
Also, thanks to her research, Viv knew that Marietta was a tourist town, which included a lot of Bozeman residents who often visited on weekends—so Delish would get Bozeman customers. They’d just get them in Marietta. Customers she doubted they would have gotten in Bozeman itself.
Sure, she knew it might take a few weeks for the Marietta store to pick up steam, but Viv, who knew this space inside out and upside down, was confident she’d start to see some nice market share and, with Thanksgiving a month away and Christmas only a few weeks after that, it was perfect timing.
For sure, setting up in opposition to the Copper Mountain chocolate shop had caused a bit of a scandal already. Viv had seen the faces pressed to the papered-up windows all week and heard the rather loud conversations going on outside the shop. The tutting about the audacity of a big corporate trying to ruin a local business, the disparaging of cheap chocolate and the declarations of loyalty to Sage.
Which was all water off a duck’s back.
Viv knew a scandal could be bad for business but also very good. And she also knew that money talked. And that was why she was here—to make money for Delish.
Before moving on to the next town and doing it all over again.
Satisfied everything that could be done for Monday’s opening had been, Viv ducked into the staff bathroom and changed from the overalls and Skechers she’d donned earlier this morning back into her skirt, her liquid-gold Delish blouse and her latest black patent Louboutins.
Her uniform.
It wasn’t actually the Delish uniform—apart from the top, which was just one of the corporate range—but it was her uniform. She liked the image her clothes projected. Her job was important to her and it was important she looked the part. All business. Cool, calm, confident. Efficient. Managerial.
Viv glanced at herself in the mirror, tucking a stray strand of hair that had escaped her carefully coiffed chignon sitting low on her nape. She ran her palms over her hair, smoothing it more out of habit than necessity. Delish employees had to meet exacting standards and Viv believed that started at the top.
She may only be going to the cottage on Bramble Lane that Delish had rented for her for six months, but the second she stepped outside the door she was Delish and the way she looked and acted and carried herself while in the uniform was paramount. Delish wasn’t just about good quality chocolate, it was about sophistication.
There was nothing homespun about Delish.
Of course she could not go to the cottage. She could get in her car and be in Bozeman in just over half an hour. Be at that hotel in another five. Be sitting at the bar another five after that. Like she’d been tempted to do every night this week.
Just sit there, nursing a drink. In case…
But, like every other night, Viv banished the thought from her brain even as she smiled at the memory. She hadn’t planned on picking anyone up at the bar like she’d occasionally done during her yearlong sojourn around the country. But then she’d spotted him from across the bar and her libido had purred oh yessss.
And Reuben had not disappointed.
She liked that he hadn’t been sleazy or come on too strong. That it hadn’t been him trying to get her into bed. That he’d been surprised and even a little thrilled at being hit on. But when he’d taken charge… Viv shivered thinking about it now.
The way he’d given her what she’d wanted, how she’d wanted it and when she’d wanted it before he’d even thought about himself. And the way he’d gone down on her with a thoroughness that really should have earned him some kind of trophy.
Best tongue in show? Most outstanding oral performance? The Cunnilingus Cup?
Because he’d been right—she had moaned and thrashed and finally begged him to finish it when she could take no more of the way he was holding her so exquisitely on the edge.
And then there were the two times after that—slow and lazy but no less mind-blowing.
Viv sighed as she headed toward the door. It had been, without a doubt, the best sex she’d ever had. And she’d had some good sex. It had certainly made it a lot harder than usual to creep out early the next morning and move on to the next town.
Because that’s what Viv did. She moved on. To the next place, the next shop, the next challenge. After almost two decades of the stultifying suburban drudgery of her childhood, Viv was living her best life. She was moving on like all those people she’d seen exercising their right to freedom when they’d dropped their keys off each morning. Which was why she wouldn’t—no matter how tempted she was—go to Bozeman while she was in Marietta.
One-night stands were best left as one-night stands. The reason they glittered so bright in the memory was the thrill of the illicit. Of putting it all on the table for just one night. Of being someone else. Why ruin the memory of something good with the potential mediocrity bred from familiarity?
Viv generally didn’t pursue relationships with men—one night or otherwise—when she was stopping somewhere for six months. It complicated things. It was a distraction to the job she was trying to do and made leaving harder because suddenly there was a string to cut.
She’d learned that the hard way at her very first store when she’d dated a guy on what she’d thought had been a casual basis but who’d been devastated when she’d left even though she’d thought they were on the same page. He’d texted her so much in the first two months after she’d gone Viv had changed her number.
And she had been a lot warier since. Avoiding entanglements just made sense.
Putting Reuben firmly from her mind, Viv switched out the lights then pushed the door open, stepping out onto the pavement that bordered Main Street. The air was brisk at four in the afternoon on this first day of November and she made a mental note to bring a coat with her tomorrow. To her left the skyline was dominated by the towering peak of Copper Mountain, a fine dusting of snow on the summit glistening in the rays of the setting sun.
From her research on the town, Viv knew that soon Miracle Lake would freeze over and the pumpkins that abounded on everyone’s porches would gradually be swapped out for Christmas decorations. Thanksgiving would come and go followed by the famous Marietta Stroll. Cashed-up tourists who’d come for the nearby skiing at Bridger Bowl would have plenty of places to sink their money and Delish was well positioned to take advantage.
Viv turned toward the mountain and the long way back to her rented cottage on Bramble Lane. She could have cut through one of the cross streets but Main Street had a real frontier feel to it, which was so very different to all the cities she’d lived in the past decade, and she found it utterly fascinating. And, after unpacking boxes and packing shelves all day, her legs could do with a bit of a stretch.
Several cars drove by, some nosing into parks, others slowly traversing the main drag as if in no particular hurry. People came in and out of shops as she passed; the odd group of people laughed and chatted barely noticing her at all. Of those who did, some bade her good afternoon, others smiled and nodded while yet others glanced at her with a slight frown as if trying to place her. A couple of older women eyed her without frank suspicion. She supposed the Delish logo on her blouse didn’t help.
Viv smiled to herself. Just as well she wasn’t here to make friends!
A sheriff’s vehicle pulled into a parking space about a hundred feet ahead in front of the diner. The car door opened and the very last person she expected to see in Marietta climbed out of the vehicle.
Reuben. The man who had proven to her that guys could multitask.
He was a…cop?
The fit-him-like-a-glove uniform he wore seemed to indicate that he was indeed a law enforcement officer as he stepped up onto the pavement, cramming his Stetson on his head and pulling it low. As did his loaded utility belt complete with firearm on his hip. Not that she really registered the gun when the snug fit of his shirt just north of the belt showcased what she knew were very impressive abs.
In a Bozeman bar in faded blue jeans and a button
-down shirt, Reuben had looked casually virile. Lying stark naked on her hotel sheets after he’d made her come four times, he’d looked sexily rumpled. Striding toward her in his sheriff uniform, he was something else altogether.
Potently masculine. Like Thor, Captain America and John freaking Wayne all rolled into one.
If climaxing was possible from just watching a guy walk, Viv was almost there. The man really should come with some kind of warning label.
Beware—spontaneous orgasm hazard ahead.
Her feet slowed and she stopped and stared at him. Good Lord, even with six weeks and six feet—and closing—between them, he made the earth tilt beneath her shiny black Louboutins.
They were three feet apart when his gaze, which had been scanning the street opposite, came to rest on her. He too, came to a halt.
“Vivian?”
He shoved his hands on his hips for a moment like he couldn’t actually believe what he was seeing before dropping them again and taking two steps in her direction. There was a respectable space between them still but none of Viv’s thoughts were respectable.
“Well, well.” He grinned as his gaze roved over her face, lingering on her mouth. “My day just got a helluva lot better.”
There was no awkward moment as there had been the two other times Viv had come face-to-face with a one-night stand from her past. Just that easy kind of vibe they’d slipped into in Bozeman.
She smiled, his expression of pleasure causing a mad skip in her pulse. “Hey.”
“What are you doing in Marietta?”
“I’ve moved here. Temporarily,” she hastened to add because that was important when looking at a man who tempted her to ditch everything she’d just been thinking concerning one-night stands. “For six months.”
“Really?” Those greeny-gray eyes that had appeared in her dreams a little too often lit with keen interest. And then his gaze drifted south, taking in her blouse and the logo emblazoned over her left breast. “Ohhh…” His eyes lingered there so long, Viv’s nipple hardened beneath his scrutiny. The smile tugging at his lips told her he’d noticed. “You’re the new chocolate shop manager?”
That ohh spoke volumes. Obviously news of the shop had really spread. “I am.”
“Haven’t you put the fox in the henhouse?”
It was Viv’s turn to grin. “Apparently.” They smiled at each other for a beat. “What about you? Are you in Marietta on police business from Bozeman or are you just visiting?”
“No actually, I’ve just transferred from Bozeman Sheriff’s Department to Marietta for a few months to cover a staffing shortfall.”
Viv let that sink in. She and Reuben were living in the same town.
“God…” He shoved his hands on his hips again as he looked her up and down. Not in a pervy way, more in a disbelieving way but her body, it seemed, didn’t know the difference. Goose bumps prickled on her legs and arms and hardened both nipples now. “Am I allowed to say I missed you?”
“No.” Hell no. Because that would require some kind of response and she was only just realizing that she’d missed him, too, which didn’t bear thinking about now they were living in the same small town.
Clearly unperturbed by her rebuff he continued. “Am I allowed to suggest we grab a drink together?” He held up his hands in surrender. “No agenda. Just a friendly welcome. Give you the low down on Marietta.”
Viv opened her mouth to deny him but closed it again. Clearly there was chemistry between them that hadn’t diminished because they’d fucked each other into comas six weeks ago. So, laying some ground rules with him would be good because they’d probably be running into each other a bit now and Viv didn’t want Reuben to become a string she had to cut when she left town.
“You sure you can handle being seen with the enemy?”
He smiled slow and so damn sexy Viv’s knees quivered. They actually quivered. “I think I can risk it.”
“Okay then.” She shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He gestured in the direction Viv had already been heading. “I’ll meet you at Grey’s Saloon in fifteen minutes. Just gotta get changed.”
*
Fifteen minutes later Viv was ensconced in a booth and Reuben was sliding in opposite after placing a glass of Cabernet—nothing nicer than a glass of red after a long day—down in front of her. The saloon, complete with swinging double doors and pockmarked floorboards, was apparently the oldest building in town. Half of the booths were taken and several customers occupied stools at the battered-looking bar. The low murmur of voices intermingling with the occasional clink of a glass formed a pleasant background hum.
He took his hat off and placed it on the table, ruffling his dirty-blond hair. She remembered plowing her fingers through it when he’d been busy between her legs. It was short around the back and sides and crinkly on top—just long enough to grab hold of. Viv suspected if it got any real length on it, it’d tend toward curly. The matching dirty-blond scruff on his face softened the hard angle of his jaw and the jut of his chin. It ringed his mouth, drawing her gaze to his lips.
She knew intimately how well he could use both scruff and mouth.
“Cheers,” he said, angling the neck on his bottle of Bud toward her.
Viv tapped her glass to the bottle. “Cheers.”
“So…” He lounged back against the red leather of the seat, his broad shoulders and chest seeming to take up half the space.
Solid shoulders she’d clung to. A chest that she’d licked from the hollow where his collarbones met to his nipples and lower, too. Tipping his head back he took a mouthful of his beer and Viv remembered that she’d also licked that whiskery throat.
He regarded her steadily. “Six months, huh?”
“Yep.” Viv dragged her gaze off the flex of his bicep and took a sip of her wine. “On to the next store after that. In Missouri.”
“Why six months?”
“It gives me long enough to set up the store, establish and train a manager and staff, iron out any kinks, get things running smoothly.”
“So you set up Delish franchises?”
“They’re not franchises but the company believes in giving grassroots support to all their new stores. Putting local people in place and nurturing them for a decent amount of time so they’re confident in their own abilities and have good connections with head office. That way if issues ever arise they’re comfortable with speaking up.”
Viv had always admired the we’re-all-in-this-together ethic of the company. It had been started by Harriet Walker three decades prior. She’d grown up in Harlem and opened her first store there before quickly expanding over the next decade. Harriet believed in lifting people up, in nurturing them, and her company had thrived. She was still the CEO thirty years later.
“And that’s what you do?”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
“It sounds…”
Viv braced herself for the usual response. Lonely. Disruptive. Unsettling. Hard. Disorienting. Flighty. Not many people understood her nomadic existence.
“Interesting. New people. New places. New challenges. Never a dull moment.”
She blinked as a rushing noise filled her head. So this was why she’d been attracted to Reuben. After less than twelve hours in her company—the majority of which they hadn’t spoken at all—he got her.
“Yes.” She smiled at him over the rim of her glass, a flood of what could either be gratitude or sexual attraction coursing through her system. “Exactly. It’s great to meet someone who understands that. Thank you, Officer Price.”
She’d noticed his nametag out on the street earlier. Viv supposed she should feel embarrassed that she’d let Reuben do her against her hotel wall within half an hour of meeting him without knowing his surname.
But screw that.
“Well now, that’s hardly fair, Vivian,” he murmured, still sprawled casually back against the cushion behind him. “You know my full name but I don’t know yours.”
>
She smiled. “It’s Dawson. And you can call me Viv.”
He shook his head. “I like Vivian.”
Shrugging Viv said, “Suit yourself.” She’d never been fond of her full name and had been called Viv her entire life by everyone except teachers on the first day of the school year who’d been very quickly corrected.
She wasn’t sure why she’d introduced herself as Vivian that night. Maybe it had been a way for her to slip into another skin for a while? Or maybe it had been a subliminal attempt at keeping some kind of barrier between them? Whatever the reason, she liked the way he said it with a kind of vibration on the v’s that gave it a husky quality.
She’d especially liked how he’d groaned it in the dark just before he’d come.
He leaned in then, sliding his elbows on the table. His big, broad shoulders and chest filled her vision before their eyes locked. “You ran out on me, Vivian Dawson,” he said softly.
Okay…so small talk was obviously done. “I didn’t run. I walked out. After a shower and packing my bag. I can’t help it if you slept the entire way through my departure.”
It was true she’d tried to be quiet but she hadn’t exactly made a ninja exit, either.
“Well…I was exhausted. From a weekend of busting up fights with wannabe rodeo idiots. And a night with an insatiable woman.”
Viv smiled, not ashamed of her appetites. She loved sex. She didn’t get a lot of it and Reuben had been very, very good at it.
She had been insatiable. But then so had he.
Raising her eyebrow, she said, “I didn’t notice you complaining at the time.”
“You won’t notice me complaining now, either.”
He lifted the bottle to his mouth and took another sip and Viv’s gaze drifted to his whiskery throat once again. The sudden urge to feel that prickle against her lips brought the whole purpose of her agreeing to this drink back in sharp focus. She wasn’t here to rehash that night in every glorious detail. “I had an early start,” she said forcing the conversation back on track.