Montana Mine

by Vanessa Vale

  "Carl Dobbs, what did you do to Daphne?" The question was shouted from across the lobby of the jail. Folks who were sitting in plastic chairs bolted to the floor, most likely waiting for their turn to see an incarcerated loved one, swiveled their heads. I froze in place and took a deep breath. Great. The only person crazier than Aunt Velma was her best friend, Goldie West. When the two of them got together, it was like combining baking soda and vinegar in science class. A really big show with lots of fizz.

  Goldie West was a force of nature. A few years older than Aunt Velma, she owned and ran the only adult store in this part of Montana. She knew everyone within a hundred-mile radius and their secrets, too. She was like a doctor, a lawyer and a priest combined. Not only did she keep people's proclivities confidential, she ensured her customers a healthy sex life, kept the city's divorce rate down and knew which folks were going to hell.

  My friend Veronica, Violet's twin sister, had compared Goldie to the Tasmanian Devil. She spun in and wreaked havoc and left people stunned and confused in her wake. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, dangly earrings identical to Aunt Velma's hung from her ears to almost brush against her hot pink t-shirt with the word 'sassy' written in sparkly gemstones across her chest. And when she came across the lobby to join us, everything stopped. Heads turned, conversation ceased. Even the phone stopped ringing.

  Veronica had worked part-time at Goldilocks ever since she became legal, so I'd been in and out of the store for years. But I'd slipped under the woman's radar for the most part because I'd spent my high school years at boarding school in Vermont, then on to Minnesota for college and then fell right into my freelance writing which kept me away from Bozeman for long stretches of time. I loved Aunt Velma, but she was...exhausting.

  "Really, Carl," Goldie tsked and shook her head. "Just look at her."

  I must have looked pretty darn bad if Goldie pointed it out.

  Carl looked like a little kid who'd been scolded. "I haven't done anything, Goldie, and you know it. JT McCade caught the girl going ninety and pulled her over."

  "I heard he stun gunned her until she peed her pants." Goldie's eyebrow went up as she looked me over.

  So did everyone else in the waiting room. Word spread in Bozeman faster than a wildfire during a drought. I rolled my eyes.

  She held out a pair of pants. "Here. I brought you a pair of jeggings." She tossed them to me and I caught them without thinking. I held them up.

  "They're jeans, but they're leggings. See? I'm wearing a pair, too."

  Yes. Yes, she was wearing a pair of jeggings with a pair of her usual clogs. The combination prompted me to never wear the pair she'd just brought me.

  "Wow, thanks, Miss Goldie, but I didn't pee my pants," I said loud enough so everyone who was listening knew that fact.

  "Keep them then. It was one of those TV specials where you buy one pair and they send you the second pair for free. Good thing we wear the same size. Unlike your aunt over there who can share clothes with the MSU basketball team."

  "Hey!" Aunt Velma retorted crankily. She couldn't say much more because it was true. While she was close to six feet tall, I was average. Only five and a half feet barefooted, I was so-so on the weight department. I could stand to lose a few pounds, but a donut with my name on it would not be ignored. I had average brown hair of average length, average brown eyes. I was average.

  "Carl doesn't seem to mind that I'm big boned," Velma said.

  Everyone in the room looked to Carl. He was one of a few men who made Aunt Velma look petite. He'd been a bronc busting champion four years running and had been the quarterback of MSU's football team back in the day. He'd worked first as a beat cop, but I didn't know how a police cruiser had fit him. "No, ma'am, I sure don't," he replied with a sly grin.

  I wiped a hand over my eyes and looked away and directly into the face of Detective McHottie.

  "Oh shit," he mumbled. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked a little contrite. A little, which was not enough. I wanted him licking my boots, if I had them on, for making me miss my flight.

  "You!" I pointed at him. "You stun gunned me!"

  His dark eyebrows went up, and I could clearly see the scar that bisected the left one. "You punched me in the nose."

  Yeah, his nose did look a little swollen, but it did nothing to diminish his hotness, especially now that I could see his eyes. And I'd been wrong. His eyes weren't blue, they were dark, so dark they'd be considered black. With his dark hair, holy cow. His picture was next to tall, dark and handsome in the dictionary.

  Carl stepped between us, held his hands up, probably not wanting an incident in the lobby. "Everything balances out and we're going to forget this incident ever happened. Right, McCade?"

  He gave a small nod, but his jaw was clenched so tight I was surprised his teeth didn't shatter.

  "How can I forget?" I tossed my hands up. "I missed my flight to Thailand."

  "Thailand?" McCade rolled his eyes in that way men do when they want to piss a woman off. "You're still on that? Seriously? You're off the hook, so let it go. It's a good thing you don't talk much in those movies of yours." He cracked his knuckles.

  I narrowed my eyes at him and I swear my blood pressure went to stroke point. "Off the hook? You stun gunned me. I woke up in a jail cell."

  His gaze raked over me. My nipples tightened and the way his jaw clamped tight, he'd definitely noticed. "At least you didn't pee yourself. There's something to be said in that."

  I chose to let the peeing remark go. I figured I'd covered that one by now. "What's the deal with this movie stuff? You act as if I'm some movie star or something."

  He held up his hands in surrender. "If you want to keep it a secret, that's fine, but you might want to consider wearing a different shirt."

  I glanced down. Yeah, my nipples were showing through the old college t-shirt. I crossed my arms over my chest with a huff. "What the hell are you talking about?" I hissed.

  He leaned in and I could smell him. Soap, Montana sky and pheromones. As he got closer, I shifted back, but he was taller and I wasn't a gymnast, no matter how flexible he thought I was, so he was able to whisper in my ear. His warm breath tickled on my neck and that sent goose bumps skittering...everywhere. "Your secret's safe with me. If you don't want anyone to know where you go when you leave town, that's fine. But I know, and let me tell you, Silky Tangles is the center of my every fantasy, especially that thing she does when she's cuffed. I've got my handcuffs if you ever want to practice for the sequel."

  My brain was completely repulsed by the jackass, but my body didn't care. He was hot. He made my nipples tighten by just being in the same room. I wasn't going to consider what happened to my lady parts when he'd all but licked my ear.

  He pulled back a little and we just stared at each other, the corner of his mouth ticking up. His eyes were so dang dark, yet so clear. Smug.

  "JT McCade, as I live and breathe. You've sure grown up. He's the guy you punched?" Goldie asked, which had me practically jumping back, realizing how close he'd been. Her mouth hung open in awe. Aunt Velma wasn't immune either, but Carl was right there, so she hid it pretty well. It appeared any woman in the room was affected by the man's looks. If I didn't want to taser him, I'd want to climb him like a monkey.

  I whipped my head toward Goldie. "This is the guy who stun gunned me." I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. "How many times do I have to say it? Besides, he thinks I'm...um…well. Never mind." I didn't need to mention that he thought I was some kind of porn star who had a penchant for handcuffs. I just wanted to get out of here.

  He raised his hand to his mouth and mimicked zipping it shut and throwing away the key.

  "What are you, in first grade?" I wondered, shaking my head. He actually thought that I really hadn't been going to Thailand, but was leaving town in secret to star in porn flicks? I took a step toward him and clenched my fist, ready to slug the jerk, but, of course, Aunt Velma interceded.

  "Young m
an, you don't want to mess with a woman who is clearly in the throes of PMS."

  "Aunt Velma!" I screeched. I felt my cheeks heat from embarrassment along with anger. Every man in the room cringed and every woman nodded in solidarity.

  "So true," Goldie added.

  "I do not have PMS!" My adamant protest didn't matter; the visual had been made.

  McCade held up a hand and fixed his dark gaze on me. "Look, I don't care if you were possessed by demons from hell, which I guess is the same as PMS. All I know is that I'm now on vacation for a week. Have fun in Thailand." He tapped his brow in a little salute and walked out the door, Aunt Velma, Goldie and I all ogling his tight butt as he did so. If he was being such an ass, I might as well enjoy the view.

  "Well, he can pull me over and frisk me anytime he wants," Goldie said, fanning herself.

  "No kidding. I might want to get a hold of his service weapon," Aunt Velma added. "Sorry, Carl. I like your piece, too." She waggled her eyebrows.

  Okay, it was now officially a little creepy lusting after the same man as Aunt Velma. "Miss Goldie, that man is a complete—"

  "Now, now, it's all over," Carl cut in, obviously trying to smooth things over. "Go see if you can make another flight." He winked at Aunt Velma.

  I took a deep breath. "There aren't any more flights to get there in time. The Ubon Ratchathani Candle Festival is only for two days, and it'll be almost finished before I even land."

  "Did you say something about udon noodles because I sure am hungry," Aunt Velma replied, rubbing her stomach. "I had to rush out of the hospital to come to the station when Carl called, and I didn't get my soft serve in the cafeteria. I love a good swirl cone." Aunt Velma had retired ten years ago from her law practice, selling the firm to someone a few years ahead of me in high school. Since then, she'd puttered around town sticking her finger in all sorts of pies. Her latest, volunteering at the hospital.

  "I didn't say udon. I said Ubon."

  "Mmm, I could eat," Goldie added. "I love that new noodle place on Willson. Maybe they have some of those udon noodles you're talking about. It's just a block from the store. Let's go." Goldie hoisted her large handbag higher on her shoulder. The giraffe print was bold enough that she would be in danger of being shot by a hunter if she got out of town a few miles.

  No one understood. I was in a parallel universe full of people who were off in their own little worlds. In other words, everyone was crazy. Even the über hot detective. I glanced at Carl who just shrugged and said, "I could eat."

  I shrugged back, recognizing when it was just time to shut up and stuff my face. "Yeah, so could I," I replied grumpily.

  Chapter 3

  Carl dropped me and Aunt Velma off at the house, and had clearly stated he'd be stopping by later. He didn't need to add more onto that sentence for me to feel nauseated.

  "That was a great lunch. We don't eat those fancy oriental noodles very often."

  "Asian. They're Asian," I replied, dropping down on the couch in a food coma. I'd eaten enough pasta that I was thankful for the stretch factor of my yoga pants. It seemed being tased didn't impact my ability to eat. "Oriental is reserved these days for rugs."

  Aunt Velma thought about that for a moment, then nodded, her lips pursed. "Sure. Makes sense." She tossed her handbag onto the armchair by the door. Her purse was the size of Rhode Island and always had anything anyone needed, at any time. It was like a Mary Poppins bag. If she reached in far enough, she'd pull out a freestanding lamp. "I'm glad you remembered to text Mike about your car."

  Mike Ozstranski was Violet's boyfriend. They'd hit it off in high school but had rekindled their relationship earlier in the summer in Alaska. There was a story there, but they hadn't really come up for air from fooling around to share it. He was a podiatrist but was away at a conference the past week and I figured I was lucky to have caught her with her clothes on. I'd arranged with Mike to leave my car at the airport for him to pick up when he came back, which would be in a few hours. I was supposed to be in Chicago by now, so it would have been a good trade.

  "Yeah, he texted back saying he probably wouldn't have fit in the car anyway. Violet's going to get him."

  Mike looked way more like Aunt Velma than I did. He was huge. A big, big guy with red hair. His was a natural ginger, which was pretty darn hot, while Aunt Velma was a natural Revlon Hot As Sin since I was in seventh grade. Mike driving the Rabbit would have been like watching a clown ride in one of those little circus cars, but he was a good guy and had been willing to wedge himself in for me.

  The house phone rang. It was one of those old models that was attached to the wall with a long curly cord that let you only reach so far. No caller ID, no call waiting. It had been the same number for thirty years. Some things never changed. "Velma Dinkweiler speaking."

  I rolled my eyes at her formality.

  "Well, hello, Carl. What?" Aunt Velma flicked a glance at me, then turned her head away and covered the phone's mouthpiece. "No, I don’t have whipped cream, but I have ice cream… What? You’re bringing it. Why…oh…”

  She had no volume control so I heard every word. I think I vomited a little of my lunch in my mouth when she actually giggled.

  "Can I talk to him please?" I asked, holding my arm out.

  "Of course, but he's not bringing ice cream later. Just—"

  "Yes, just whipped cream and I really, really don't want any."

  One eyebrow went up at my snippy tone, then she handed me the phone, the long cord almost straight as it stretched out. "Hey, Carl, I forgot to ask you something."

  "What's up?" he asked.

  "Now that my brain's a little clearer, can you please tell me how that guy pulled me over when he was in his own car? You don't put radar guns in personal vehicles, do you?" There was silence on the other end of the line. "Carl?"

  "Well, Daph, no. No, they don't."

  "Then how—"

  "He just said you were going crazy fast—his words, not mine—and felt he had to pull you over. Figured once the cruiser got there, they could issue a warning."

  I jumped up from the couch, paced the space in the living room I could reach with the phone cord. "You're telling me he just pulled me over on a whim?"

  In my mind, I could see Carl scratching his chin, stalling. He'd been around enough to know when a few words could make a woman steaming mad.

  "He wasn't even working." He sighed, probably realizing I'd wheedle it out of him anyway. "He started his vacation last night."

  "He wasn't even working?" I repeated. Loudly.

  "Who wasn't working?" Aunt Velma asked.

  I looked at Aunt Velma, my eyes narrowed. She'd gotten a diet soda from the fridge. "Get me one of those. And guess what? That detective wasn't even on shift when he pulled me over."

  Aunt Velma's mouth fell open, then pinched into a thin line. "Well, I never." She shook her head back and forth, earrings swinging, as she went back into the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open, slam shut.

  "He had his gun and badge on his belt," I remembered. She handed me a soda and I braced the phone between my cheek and shoulder as I popped the top.

  "He was making a stop and didn't know what to expect," Carl said.

  "That's for sure," I mumbled.

  "When you went all crazy on him, he didn't want to shoot you, that's why he used the taser. Even though you punched him in the nose."

  I took a big swig of my soda to cool down and to keep my mouth shut for a few extra seconds.

  "I didn't go all...listen, Carl, never mind. It's over. I don't have to see that guy again so let's just forget about it."

  Another pause. "Really?"

  I wasn't so sure what would happen if I saw Officer McHottie again, but it wasn't Carl's problem. Besides, I had to listen to the guy have sex with my aunt—Carl, not McHottie—so I needed to save something in reserve for when I needed to really yell at him. Say, later tonight.

  "Really." I sighed.

  "Well, all right then." He s
ounded relieved. "I'm going to have a patrol car drop me off and get your Rabbit and I'll bring it by later. It's the least I can do, considering."

  Aunt Velma had bought the red Rabbit for me when I'd come home from boarding school the summer after I turned sixteen. It had been old and a clunker then, but I'd loved it right from the start. It had been my little piece of independence and it still was. Even though I wasn't in town often, Aunt Velma kept up with the maintenance and had it waiting for me.

  "Thanks, Carl."

  I glanced at Aunt Velma who was leaning against the doorway listening to the one-sided conversation. "Do you want to talk to him?'

  "Just tell him not to forget the whipped cream. Oh, and tell him I've got the cherries."

  That, I doubted. She hadn't had her cherry since 1971.

  "Did you hear that, Carl, because I'm not repeating it."

  "Gotcha." He hung up.

  I untangled myself from the cord and hung the phone back up.

  "What are you going to do now?" Aunt Velma asked, finished with her soda and now sifting through the mail. "Hey, I might have won a million dollars!" She held up the envelope with a sarcastic twist to her mouth, then tossed the lot into the recycling bin in the corner of the kitchen.