Montana Ice_A Small Town Romance_Book 2

by Vanessa Vale

  Goldie tilted her head from side to side in consideration. “Fine then, the queens of sex.”

  I tracked down the glow-in-the-dark condoms and opened a box. “We just talk the talk. We don't walk the walk.”

  Goldie looked down her nose at me. “Speak for yourself.”

  “Fine. I just talk the talk. I don't walk the walk. At least not lately,” I grumbled the last to myself.

  “Isn't that what writing a romance is anyway? Just the talk? It doesn't say anything about walking the walk.”

  True. She had a good point there. It was fiction. It wasn't a porn flick like those lining the shelves behind me. Books were make-believe—in comparison to the make-believe ‘real-sex’ in porn.

  “You're saying we should write a romance novel?” I wasn't sure if Goldie's idea was good or bad, or where she was going with it.

  The customer brought up a bag of penis shaped candles.

  “Birthday?” Goldie asked her as she rung it up.

  The woman, mid-twenties, nodded. “My friend just came out of the closet a month ago so his partner and I thought this would be a riot.”

  There had to be at least thirty candles in the plastic bag.

  “Don't burn the house down,” Goldie said.

  The woman laughed, thanked us and left.

  “I think it would be fun.”

  I'd found Arty's gift bag items and dropped some condoms inside to join the fingertip vibrator I'd demonstrated, peach scented body oil and a maid's costume, size small. “What, the gag candles?” I'd forgotten what we were talking about.

  “No, the romance novel.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Goldie went to rearrange the handcuff selection. “We should each write one! This would really warm up those cold winter nights.”

  I could think of better things to warm up my nights and it wasn't pen and paper. It was—

  Jack. Walking through the door.

  “Jack Reid! As I live and breathe,” Goldie exclaimed as she rounded the BDSM display to wrap him in a great big Goldie hug. Smothering and oddly comforting at the same time.

  He must've been by Violet's house as he looked freshly showered and shaved. I had to admit, the bit of scruff from the night before had been kind of hot. It seemed everything he did lit my fire. Just him breathing did it for me. He pulled the same gray cap from yesterday off his head, revealing his thick black hair. Hair that I'd dreamed about running my fingers through. To this day, I didn't know what it felt like. I guessed silky and soft and...wonderful. I could just ask Violet though to find out, I thought, still bitter.

  Today he had on the same black jacket, zipped up all the way to close tightly beneath his chin. He wore jeans. This pair was equally broken in, cupping his ass just right, and had a slight fray at the knee. Same shoes.

  Jack looked at me over Goldie's shoulder. Today his eyes, although equally blue, didn't have that hard edge from yesterday. They were softer now, more like the blue of a tropical sea instead of deep, frozen glaciers. Probably the headache was gone.

  “Miss Goldie, you look the same,” Jack said, once he'd been released from the hug.

  “A girl never denies a compliment.” Goldie preened and fluffed her poofy hair. “How have you been?” She eyed Jack as if he were under a microscope.

  Goldie loved to grill everyone about their lives. Jack didn't cringe or panic at her question. Yet. If he knew what I thought was coming, he'd run for the hills. I stayed behind the counter and pretended to organize the freebie condoms in the little basket next to the register.

  Jack tucked his cap into his coat, and then shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “I've been fine. Just fine.”

  Oh, this was going to be good. Jack hadn't been around Goldie for a long, long time. She was better at cross-examination than the best of attorneys—and Jack was one. He didn't stand a chance.

  “Your uncle told me you're a lawyer.”

  Jack nodded. “Yes, ma'am, I am. Divorce attorney in Miami.”

  “That explains the tan! Married?”

  “No.”

  “Divorced?”

  “No.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  Jack smiled, finally catching on. “Not at the moment, no.”

  Goldie looked Jack up and down. “Boyfriend?”

  Now Jack laughed. “No.”

  Turning to me, Goldie gave me a look, eyebrows raised, one I assumed meant attractive single guy in the room!

  She returned her focus back to Jack. “Didn't satisfy her? Is that why you're here? To get my advice?”

  Jack just stared at Goldie for a minute, his cheeks flushed red. I could actually see him squirming in his shoes.

  “Um, no.”

  Goldie nodded. “Right, so did you satisfy her?”

  Jack held up his hand to stop her. “No, I mean, yes. Who?” He scratched his ear, clearly confused.

  “Your last girlfriend. That's why she left you,” Goldie countered.

  “I don't have problems satisfying a woman,” Jack replied confidently, his male ego blatantly intact.

  8

  Goldie glanced at me again. See, he's good at satisfying a woman!

  I felt the heat of Jack's words clear down to my hoohah. There was no doubt in my mind he knew how to please a woman. If I was right about the chemistry between us, he would probably please me into unconsciousness.

  “Then there's something wrong with you,” Goldie countered.

  Jack looked at me. His eyes were pleading. “Miller.”

  I loved the begging tone of his voice, but I hated it when he called me Miller. He knew my first name and needed to use it. I smiled sweetly.

  “Yes?” This was fun. I picked up my coffee and took a sip.

  “Oh, so you have problems satisfying Veronica? You two sure move fast. Why don't you pick out something off the shelves that might spice things up? On the house.”

  I choked on my coffee, spraying it across the counter. “Oh, shit,” I whispered.

  Jack took a step back from Goldie, maybe thinking he'd be out of firing range of her verbal missiles. “Miss Goldie...”

  I darted a glance at Jack. He didn't look happy. Worked for me. Time to twist the screw a little tighter. “He doesn’t have to pick anything out,” I told Goldie. “Jack's got a gift bag right here from the party last night.” I patted the top of one of the brown bags. “He told me he was into kink.” So there!

  If looks could kill, I'd be dead. Fortunately, Jack wasn't the type to commit murder in a sex store. I was safe, for the moment.

  Goldie swiveled back to Jack. “Really?” The conversation was turning a direction that had her perking up like an Irish setter tracking a rabbit.

  Jack paused for a moment, gave me a sinister look, and then stepped up to Goldie, leaning in close. She tilted her head up, eager for whatever he had to say. “Well, I told you I know how to satisfy a woman.” Jack winked at Goldie. “I'm not usually one to kiss and tell, but this isn't really kissing, so I guess it's okay.”

  Goldie nodded.

  “I know how much—firsthand, mind you—Veronica likes to use a paddle on a guy.”

  What? He was turning it all around. Changing some home invasion situation into a sexcapade. “Reid,” I said angrily.

  Goldie swiveled her head around to me like an owl, questioning the story I told her the day before about knocking him out. I glared at her, daring her to believe him over me.

  “So, I figure,” Jack continued, “if this makes her happy, I should get a bag of items that can satisfy the both of us. You know what I mean, don't you, Miss Goldie?”

  Goldie nodded again. It was like Jack had thrown pixie dust in her face. She was hanging on his every word. I knew what I wanted to throw in his face.

  “If the woman likes kink, I like kink. Right, Miller?”

  “Jesus,” I muttered. He was egging me on and I wasn't falling for it.

  Jack straightened back up, smiled. “Now, Miller, I didn't know you were religious,”
he said, all sweet and sly. “Or were you just thinking about our time together yesterday? If I remember correctly”—he scratched the back of his head where I'd whacked him—“I remember you were saying: Jack, Jack!” The last he said in soprano.

  Goldie's mouth dropped open. She quickly shut it with a click of her perfectly capped teeth. “Don't worry. I don't judge. If you and Veronica like it kinky, that's fine by me. I'll send a box of toys to the house. So, what brings you back to Bozeman?”

  Goldie's quick change in topic could give you whiplash. I was still processing Jack's libelous words and how I wished I had that paddle in my grip again.

  Jack winked at me before he said, “Um...my uncle told me he was sick, too sick to finish up his renovation project. From the way he sounded on the phone, I was worried. I had some time off from work so I decided to come back and check on him.”

  Goldie cackled, tapped one manicured finger in Jack's chest. “Coughed a bunch, sounded winded, weary?”

  Jack scratched his head, clearly embarrassed he'd been duped by an old geezer like his uncle.

  “He got you good, didn't he?”

  Jack clamped his lips together for a moment. “I guess he did. What did he do, run up and down the steps a few times before he dialed? That man's like that battery bunny. He just keeps going and going.”

  “Sounds like him!”

  “Arizona seems to be doing wonders for his health,” Jack replied sarcastically. He'd visibly relaxed since the sex portion of the conversation was over. “Although, I can't say the same for the remodel.”

  “Well, I'm sure come tomorrow when all the workers get back to the project”—Goldie gave me a sly look—“things will get moving again.”

  “Hopefully he doesn't have shoddy workers on the job. I need the project done. I have to be back in Miami as soon as possible.”

  Shoddy worker! Ha! Kink! Ha! I was going to kill the man. It was only a matter of when and how.

  “Oh?” Goldie asked.

  “Yeah, oh?” I copied.

  Jack got that cold glint back in his eye. A look that told me there was more going on in Miami than sunbathing and boating. “Let's just say I have things that need to be resolved at work.”

  “All right-y then. What can we help you with today?” Goldie always knew when to stop her grilling.

  “I'm just here to pick up the bags Mike arranged for his party.” Jack looked at me.

  “Right.” I moved the bags to the front counter area. “I thought Mike was picking them up.”

  “So did I,” Jack said, peeking in the different bags. “Shit,” he whispered when he got a look in one. Obviously, he didn't want to know the erotic details of his friends' lives. “Mike got called in for surgery.”

  “You’re going to walk to Violet's house carrying those bags of sex toys—in this weather?” Goldie pointed at Jack's attire. “In that coat?”

  “I'll be fine, Miss Goldie.”

  “Veronica will take you.”

  “What?” I all but shouted. “No way.” He'd practically told Goldie I was into S & M and he expected me to give him a ride!

  Goldie looked at me.

  “Veronica will take you,” she repeated, her words spoken in a no-nonsense tone. “Take him shopping and get him proper winter clothes first. We can't have the man freezing to death on us. At least not before he satisfies you.” She laughed at her own joke.

  I counted to ten. Not only would finishing Jack's uncle's job get me the money I needed to pay off my dad, but it meant Jack got on a plane back to Florida. The sooner I was done, the sooner he'd be out of the state, out of the time zone, out of my life. I had to be civil with the man until he was flying the friendly skies. “Here, take some of these, will you?” I thrust two of the bags at him. I might have to give him a ride, but I didn't have to like it.

  “What did you end up putting in Mike's bag? I can't imagine what else he would need for domestic discipline besides that paddle you left him.”

  “Domestic discipline? Mike? I think he was pulling your leg,” Goldie asked. “I've heard of it, but I've got to look that one up on the Internet.” Goldie went behind the counter and hunt-and-pecked into the laptop positioned next to the register. We referred to it frequently when someone was looking for a specialty item—or fetish. “Need to stay current,” she told Jack.

  “Give him a call, he can tell you all about it,” Jack told her.

  I doubted that was true, but it redirected Goldie away from thoughts of me and Jack. “While you do, we'll head out,” I told Goldie. I wanted to get this over with.

  “Have fun, you two! Oh, and Veronica, don't forget to do that writing we talked about.”

  Oh, brother.

  Once outside, Jack swore under his breath. “It's fucking freezing.”

  The little hairs in my nose froze in the cold. I looked across the street at the bank's sign with the flashing time and temperature. The display blinked five below. With the sun shining. It was fucking freezing, but I was fine with my hat, mittens, long, puffy coat and heavy scarf. I had little doubt Jack felt every bit of the frigid air.

  Standing beneath the bank sign was the same woman from earlier. Pink jacket, bandaged hand, cold stare. “Hey, see that woman over there?” I cocked my head in her direction.

  Jack turned and looked at her. “Yeah.”

  “I think she's following me.”

  Okay, it did sound stupid. I wasn't a drug dealer being followed by the DEA. I was a small-town plumber standing outside freezing my ass off. What person would be stupid enough to do surveillance, or stalk someone, in weather like this?

  “Get real, Miller.”

  “Miller?” I glared at him. “Miller? My name is Veronica. Use it.”

  He held up his hands, bags and all. “Whoa, easy.”

  “I won't whoa. You've been a total jerk since you got here.”

  “You haven't been all that welcoming yourself. There was the little head bashing incident,” he pointed to his noggin.

  “You're being a jerk because I defended myself?”

  “No. I'm being a jerk because I don't like being played.”

  What the hell was he talking about? “Played?”

  “Forget it, Veronica.”

  He fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out some keys. He clicked the button on the fob and a car beeped down the block. He walked toward the sound, most likely eager for a real car's heated seats and heater set to HIGH.

  “You said you walked.” Our breaths came out in white puffy clouds around us. Cold stung my cheeks. The streets were quiet except for a city sand truck that came by, diesel engines chugging, as it sanded the intersection.

  “No, Goldie said I walked.” The corner of his lip turned up.

  I couldn't help but smile, too. “Nice work. I'm impressed. Not too many can throw one over on her.”

  “Yeah, but now I'm stuck with you.”

  What a complete ass! Stuck with me? I shoved the gift bags I was carrying at his chest. He grabbed them with an oompf. His hands held the rest of the bags, so he juggled the load to keep it all from dropping onto the snowy ground.

  “No, you're not. I've got a date with George,” I countered. The ludicrous statement just popped into my head. Anger made me do crazy things.

  “Date?” Jack looked at me, eyebrows raised.

  “Yes, a date. Big guy, beard.” I tried not to laugh as I described Zach's ceramic gnome in the van. “See you later, Reid.” I turned my back on him and walked away, as safely as a snowy sidewalk would let me. Once I climbed into the van and turned the heat to full blast, I considered my options. I wasn't going back into work. Goldie would just yell at me about being rude to a man who liked to have kinky sex with me by abandoning him in the freezing cold. I could go to Jack's uncle's house and get some work done, but it would be dark soon and there was no electricity. I could go to Violet's, climb in bed and throw the blankets over my head. That idea appealed to me the most. But I couldn't do that right away. I had to kil
l some time first, just in case Jack appeared. I needed to spend at least two hours on my ‘date.’

  When I put the van into drive, I knew just where I had to go—the library, to check out some bodice ripping romance novels for inspiration for this supposed book Goldie expected me to write. It was a little sad I had no real-life inspiration to use. I did have Jack as my new roommate and that could, technically, allow for some interesting book writing fodder. But I wanted to kill the man. Still, I did want to kiss him. Even as a complete jerk who'd slept with my sister, told Goldie I was into kink, was going to make me pay his ER bill, and thought I was a shoddy worker, he was still hot enough to kiss. I'd kiss him, and then kill him. Maybe I needed to switch genres to True Crime.

  9

  After the library, I went home and happily changed into a pair of fleece jammie pants with a blue snowflake motif, an old MSU hoodie and a thick pair of wool socks. I pulled my hair back into a sloppy ponytail. I chucked my dirty clothes in the direction of the laundry hamper. Since Violet's washer and dryer were in the scary, dark basement, I wasn't in a rush for clean clothes.

  It got dark early, so I was happy to get comfortable—and warm. I nuked some leftovers my mom had given me the other day and ate them standing at the counter reading a plumbing supply catalog. After washing up, I climbed in bed, cranked the electric blanket to ten, fluffed my pillows and snuggled in with my research selection. Was it to be The Devilish Duke, Panties In A Twist, No Knickers Nick or Thigh High Noon?

  I’d just finished the fourth chapter of Thigh High Noon when all hell broke loose.

  Boom!

  I jumped a foot and my heart shot up into my throat at the loud noise, the library books scattering across the bed and thunking onto the floor. A car alarm went off.

  Boom! Boom!

  I shot out of bed and sprinted to the front door. Fumbling with keys and swearing came from the other side. I turned the deadbolt and yanked open the door, Jack practically falling into the living room.

  “Get down! Some fucker is shooting at me!”

  He slammed the door shut with his shoulder then pushed me down so he was sprawled on top of me. I was on my back, wedged between a cold, but very hard muscled man, and a cold and very hard floor.