Montana Blues [Sins of Silver Creek 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Marie Jermy

  Jez looked over at the morning regulars. Malcolm Smith. Will Denham. Robert Cannell. Dave Thacker. Phil Harrison at that point walked in and joined his friends. She chuckled. “You’ve almost described what they do, or did, for a living.” She pointed to each man in turn. “Malcolm Smith owns the gas station in town along with his son, so I suppose you could say he tinkers with engines. Will Denham, his business is the outfitters and clothing store, so figuratively speaking a tailor. Robert Cannell’s ex-army. He served in the first Gulf War. He was retired on medical grounds when a bomb exploded and shrapnel almost shredded his right arm. He wasn’t amused by the Army’s decision to retire him, said he still had his left arm to shoot with. I’ve seen his scars. They’re not pretty.”

  “He can also waffle,” Nick deadpanned. “I don’t think he’s paused for breath.”

  She grinned before a puzzled expression crossed her features. “Dave Thacker’s the odd one out. As I’ve told you, he owns the B and B. So where does spy come from?”

  “He spies on his rival. Phil Harrison, isn’t it?”

  Jez burst out laughing. Thacker did indeed spy on Harrison. Nick must have sensed that the men were staring at him because he turned in his seat. He gave them a brief acknowledging nod before turning his back on them. Their drinks arrived—a regular coffee for her, hot chocolate for Nick. He also received a beaming smile from Charlotte. Jez resisted rolling her eyes. Hell, Nick was just a man. A man you’re interested in and would happily fuck over the table. She chided herself, picked up her cup, and promptly burnt her tongue on the hot brew. If only she didn’t have PCOS.

  Nick took a slurp of his hot chocolate. “Earlier, and with respects to Connors and that he’s injured his back, what did you mean by ‘whose bed’?”

  She smiled and explained. “Matt told me this. You see when Mrs. Anderson—Jess—first came to Silver Creek from LA, she, Ross, who later became her husband, and Chief Connors worked together. He’s a former officer and worked his way up the ranks. Apparently, he had an eye for the ladies even back then. He’s since divorced his fourth wife. Jess nicknamed him ‘the cruiser.’ Did you know Jess is from LA?”

  He nodded. “And from the same station.”

  “Wow, what a coincidence.”

  “Hmm. So the chief likes his ladies.” He cocked a dark brow, and Jez didn’t know whether he was mocking or not. “What does Sanders like?”

  “Um, not too sure. George never really talks about himself. However, I do know he’s divorced and that he likes to draw. Once, I overheard him and Harrison discussing a picture of a ship that Harrison wanted him to do on commission.”

  “Commission? Sanders must be good.”

  “I think he is.” She pointed to the large blackboard with the calligraphy. “George did the writing. What do you like?” Jez could have bitten her tongue off for asking that, though she was interested.

  “Chocolate.”

  Nick’s answer surprised her a little. She hadn’t known a man who liked chocolate. And yes, he was drinking hot chocolate yet that didn’t necessarily mean he ate the candy variety. “A man who likes chocolate?”

  He took another slurp from his mug and wiped a brown smudge from his upper lip before answering. “I love the stuff. Milk, white, dark, plain, I’m not fussed. That chocolate cake,” he said, nodding in the counter display’s direction, “looks real tasty.”

  He’d hardly finished his sentence when Charlotte floated over. “Can I tempt you?”

  “You may. But I’ll have to take it to go. Nobody’s manning the station.”

  He cast a critical eye in Jez’s direction. She smiled sweetly at him and fished the cell from her pocket. “There’s a note on the door and this is the station’s cell. Anybody who wants us knows how to contact us.”

  “Is that standard practice?”

  “Yes. We all do it.”

  “Well, in that case…I’ll be eating in.”

  “Put everything on the station’s tab, Charlotte,” Jez said, before quickly explaining to Nick they take it in turns to pay the tab at the end of each month and that it was the chief’s turn. He didn’t reply, just sported a calculating frown. She wondered whether he was thinking that it was three weeks before the month ended and since Connors, who’d said he’d return in two weeks, that it would indeed be the chief and not Nick paying the tab. She frowned. She hoped Nick wasn’t tight-fisted. She didn’t like people who refused to pay their share. But then he redeemed himself.

  “Yes, that’s okay. I’m happy to take turns. It’s only fair. In fact, if the chief isn’t back by the end of the month, then I’ll pay and take my turn straight after.”

  “That’ll put you in George’s good books.” She smiled. “His turn is after the chief.”

  “I’m not doing it to get into George’s good books.” He scowled. “I’m doing it because that’s what’s fair.”

  Jez wished she could be a fly on the wall when Nick met George Sanders. Fireworks were sure to fly.

  It took Nick three minutes to devour the large slab of chocolate cake that Charlotte served him with. During the whole time he moaned and muttered “mmm” several times, as though experiencing an intense orgasm. She wisely pushed her coffee away, fearing she’d choke when he casually flicked away the crumbs from the corners of his mouth with his thumb. Jez didn’t think she could get any wetter. She felt sure her pussy was so creamy her uniform pants were sticking to her inner thighs. She shifted in her chair slightly and had to bite down the urge to moan herself when the lace of her panties caught on her engorged clit.

  “Are you okay? You look a little flush.”

  She hadn’t noticed he was staring intently at her. She felt a blush crawl up her neck. Fortunately the station’s cell rang at that time so she didn’t have to answer and probably embarrass herself further. Honest to God, she tried to concentrate on her conversation, but with Nick staring at her and licking his lips of the last few crumbs of cake, it was damned difficult.

  “Important?” he asked when she absently returned the cell to her pocket, her mind steadfastly on Nick’s tongue licking the cream from her weeping pussy. Imagination was a wonderful thing.

  “Um, er, yeah.” She mentally shook herself and located her gray matter enough to fashion a serious answer. “Yes, that was Dr. Latimer reporting a break-in at the vets’ last night.” She got to her feet then wished she hadn’t when his gaze dropped way south. Oh, dear God, could he see damp patches on her uniform pants? Why couldn’t they be dark navy like his, not light brown. “Are you ready?” she croaked. She coughed to clear her throat. “Sir.”

  Nick nodded. He quickly guzzled the rest of his hot chocolate then rose to his feet and took their mugs to the counter, giving her time to open the door for him. She had plans to follow him and his hot butt, not the other way around. She might not be able to hide her damp patches, but her blushes she could put down to the chilly wind.

  He halted at the table where Thacker and the others were seated. “Mr. Harrison? Mr. Thacker?” His tone was hard and uncompromising. “Temporary chief Nick North.” He didn’t offer a hand. “Behave or you’ll find yourselves in the cells and charged with wasting police time. Are we clear? Good,” he settled, not giving them time to answer or argue. He made a mock salute with two fingers pressed to his forehead. “Have a nice day.”

  The expressions on the men’s faces were priceless. Jez smothered a giggle and followed Nick and his hot butt. Yep, life was definitely going to get a lot more interesting.

  Chapter 6

  Around the same time, Los Angeles

  Steve woke with a start. Somebody was in his room. Not only that—they were eating his goddamned grapes! He wouldn’t have minded if they were white grapes, but they were red, and he loved those more than Nick loved chocolate. He turned his head and glared at the perpetrator. Frank Walsh just grinned.

  Walsh always reminded Steve of some new-age hippie. That is, if he wore flowery shirts, bell-bottom jeans, and suede jackets with tassels,
which he didn’t. He did, however, wear his long flaxen hair in a neat ponytail. Recently, he’d taken to sporting a goatee, which Walsh said made him more hip. The jury was still out on that one in Steve’s opinion.

  As usual, Walsh was dressed in the civilian uniform of a light blue shirt and navy slacks. It was jokingly and often rumored at the station that Walsh had been born at his desk, and so with the clock on the wall stating almost eight in the morning, Steve wondered why Walsh was here and not at his desk working. He wasn’t playing nurse, that was for sure.

  “Enjoying those?” Steve said when Walsh popped another couple of grapes into his mouth.

  “Grouchy in the mornings, are we?”

  “Fuck off, Frank. Unless you’ve got airline tickets to Montana in your pocket for today.”

  “Actually…”

  Steve gasped when Walsh withdrew an envelope from his slacks pocket and handed it to him. He quickly tore it open and stared open-mouthed as two airline tickets fell onto the blanket. “Frank, I could kiss you!”

  “Kiss the lieutenant instead. Joe arranged them after speaking to your consultant last night. They both agreed that six months was a decent recovery time. Montanan air will do you good.”

  Six months? The exact duration of Nick’s transfer. Steve did a lively mental jig then bolted from the bed intending to get dressed, but Walsh grabbed his forearm.

  “Whoa, Stevie Boy. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “But the tickets—”

  “Are for next week.”

  Deflated, Steve slumped on the bed. True, he’d only woken from his coma yesterday and had been told he would face more tests and scans today, but he wanted out of the place. As far as he was concerned, he was fighting fit. The only thing wrong with him was that he missed Nick. It was like his right arm had been cut off. But that was easily remedied by calling the airline and changing the date on the tickets, no matter what the cost.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Walsh said.

  “Think about what?” Steve acted as innocent as a virgin.

  “Changing the date on the tickets. I’ve known Joe for a long time. A lot longer than you. He’s a good man. Why d’ya want to screw him over?”

  Steve felt a pang of guilt. Richards was a good man, and as a commanding officer, he was the best. “I miss Nick,” he found himself admitting.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  Something in the sarcastic tone made Steve wonder what else Walsh “hadn’t guessed.” “You know, don’t you?”

  “About you two? Yep. I’ve known for months.” Walsh reached for the grapes and lobbed three more into his mouth. “Some of the looks you and Nick shoot each other across your desks are hot enough to short-circuit my keyboard.” He mockingly fanned himself.

  Steve shook his head. “We only got it together yesterday.”

  “Nothing like a good ol’ life-or-death situation to get the love juices flowing, hey?”

  Exactly, Steve thought. He swung his legs back on the bed then reached for his cell on the bedside cabinet when it tinkled, signaling an incoming text. He smiled when he read the message. I love you too, he fired back to Nick.

  “Jeez, you two are a good thousand miles apart and yet I can feel the heat. It’s enough to turn these grapes into wine. And it’s a bit early in the morning for me.”

  “Then”—Steve snatched the bag of grapes away from Walsh’s grasp—“stop eating them!”

  There was a dramatic sigh from Walsh. “Spoilsport.” Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his feet at his ankles and pointed a finger. “You and Nick date women, too. I’ve seen you. Actually, thinking about it, you’ve both been with the same woman at the same time.”

  Steve smiled. “Which means?”

  Walsh thought for a moment then slapped his forehead. “That your relationships have been ménage.” He grinned before he turned serious. “The station’s not gonna be the same without you and Nick. I’m gonna miss you both.”

  “Don’t worry, Frank. We’ll be back.”

  “No, you won’t.” Walsh shot him a knowing look. “I can guarantee the moment you step foot in Silver Creek, it’s gonna snare you in its grip and never let go. No doubt it’s already happened to Nick, though he probably doesn’t realize it yet. Foxy couldn’t escape its magic either.”

  Steve’s brow furrowed into a frown trying to place the name. Then he remembered his hurried conversation with Nick the previous night when he’d called to say he’d arrived safely in Montana. Like others at Hollywood Station, he’d heard the stories about Detective Jess Fox, now Anderson. She was a legend and her arrest record was second to none. She was one woman with balls of steel, and Steve had always admired her. He couldn’t wait to meet her.

  He wondered if that was the reason why Richards had chosen Silver Creek for Nick’s transfer. He knew from Walsh that Jess and Richards were still close, having worked with each other many years ago. Richards was respected across the whole of the PD. Well-connected in his own right, Richards also possessed enough muscle to power a nuclear reactor, so he could certainly make a transfer to a small town in Montana happen.

  “If you and Nick decide to make your relationship official, you know a civil blessing or something? And, or whether you or Nick marry a woman, send me an invite. That’s one party I don’t wanna miss.”

  Steve looked up at Walsh, now standing by the open door. He went to shake his head, not that he wanted to answer in the negative, but Walsh was gone. Damn. Unlike Walsh, some people, he knew, had definite issues not only on the subject of sexual orientation but with ménage relationships, too. That was their opinions, though, and they were entitled to them. He sincerely hoped, whether they stayed after the six months or not, that the residents of Silver Creek didn’t bear grudges against two men getting it together, because spending the rest of his life with Nick sounded a great idea. He also hoped the residents would be just as open as Walsh with ménage relationships.

  Chapter 7

  The moment Nick stepped onto the sidewalk outside CC’s, he felt sure his teeth rattled in his gums. He shivered violently when another blast of raw wind blew up the street and seemingly wrapped its icy fingers around him. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he huddled down into his all-too-thin and too-short leather jacket. For once, he didn’t fancy the chocolate bar in his pocket. It was more than likely frozen and would crack his teeth if he ate it.

  “Cold?” Jez asked immediately noticing his impression of a vibrating dildo.

  “Fr–Fr–Freezing,” he corrected. “Is it always this cold in November?”

  “Yes.” Jez wrinkled her nose. “It’s going to snow soon. I can smell it in the air. Yes, the sun is shining, but I bet you wish you were back in California. Down on the beach maybe?”

  Nick sniffed. Jez smelled snow and he smelled…what? He took another sniff. Something basic, aromatic. Musk? Yes, musk and coconut, he concluded on a third inhale. Whether it was her shampoo or body wash, he didn’t mind. She smelled like an angel.

  He glanced around. Despite the sight of a couple of parked cars, the town appeared deserted. It was also very quiet, so quiet it was almost as deafening as the hustle and bustle of Hollywood that he was accustomed to. However, it wasn’t the stillness that struck him the most, but rather what was overhead. He turned his gaze upward. With its brilliant azure color stretching out into infinity, the sky had nothing, not even a cloud, to break up its vastness. The guidebook he had purchased at LAX hadn’t been wrong in its description of Montana. It certainly was “Big Sky Country.”

  Nick again shuddered and turned his attention back to Jez and her decidedly better-dressed figure. A wisp of golden hair had escaped her chignon and brushed across her face. Without thinking, he tucked it behind her ear. “Oh, I don’t know. You’re warm enough to melt my Popsicle.” The words were out before he knew it. Damn, he sounded like some soppy teenager. Perhaps the frigid air had frozen his brains. Still, she looked happy.

  “Mr. Denham sells therm
als in his store if you’re interested. All-weather, all-terrain boots, too,” she added, looking down at his black uniform boots that were okay pounding the streets of LA, but which would probably have him slipping over on his ass when it did snow.

  If it weren’t for the current climate, Nick would have never considered buying thermal underwear. They definitely weren’t a fashion choice for him, but at that given time, he couldn’t give a brass monkey. His nuts needed warming, as well as other parts of his body that Nick was sure were turning blue. “Since Denham is still in there, we’ll come back later, after seeing Dr. Latimer.”

  Jez nodded. “Okay. I’ll put the heater on in the SUV for now.”

  As they began to pace back up Main Street, Jez slightly behind Nick, he pointed to the black-and-white parked in the “Police Vehicles Only” bay outside the station. “That’s no SUV.”

  She laughed. “No, it isn’t. The station’s SUV, our winter vehicle is parked at the rear of the Slumberland Hotel. Mr. Harrison allows us to park there.”

  “Good of him.” They turned the corner into First Street where the Slumberland Hotel was situated. The pristine white wooden frontage and the cozy foyer that Nick could see through the glazed doors was just as welcoming as the entrance of the Silver Creek B & B on Main Street, which Thacker owned. Big competition for a small town, Nick surmised with an eye roll. “Tell me, by doing that does Harrison think he gets one more over on Thacker?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

  Nick shook his head. “And you say they’re the best of friends?”

  “And the worst of enemies.” She laughed. “I can’t wait to see what they do after your little warning.”

  In all honesty, neither could Nick.

  It didn’t take more than a few minutes for the SUV to warm up, by which time they were almost at the Greg Stephens Veterinary Practice located at the very end of Beaverhead Street. Jez explained that Greg Stephens had sold up about eighteen months previously and Drs. Rex and Ramona Latimer, a husband-and-wife team, now owned and ran the practice. Nick already knew from Jess and Ross that Ramona was their daughter. Their other daughter and Ramona’s twin sister, Samantha, and her husband, Dan Ferris, also lived in the town, on Second Street. Their sons and their spouses, however, lived away. Ross Junior in New York, and Matt in Yellowstone.