Gnome, Alaska
by Jennifer Zane
Violet Miller is a teacher savoring her summer break until she's been called in as emergency reinforcements--of the dating kind. She volunteers to help an old flame by pretending to be his girlfriend. In Alaska. At a family reunion. Since the guy is a handsome, lumberjack-sized doctor she's never quite forgotten, faking a relationship won't be hard work--while wishing for more.
Mike Ostranski is a desperate man on vacation. His mother wants grandchildren and sees a crazy Alaskan woman as a candidate for daughter-in-law. Mike needs Violet by his side to deflect the lady's advances.
A week in Alaska as boyfriend and girlfriend should be easy for them. They grew up together, even had a brief fling. What could go wrong?
Everything.
Gnome, Alaska
by Jennifer Zane
© 2013 Jennifer Zane
CHAPTER ONE
Summer vacation. No two words hold more allure for kids; what they dream about all school year long. To me, they are equally potent, equally daydream-worthy in the dead of winter when those long summer days are months and months away. No, I'm not thirteen. In fact, I'm twenty-nine. I'm Violet Miller and I'm a school teacher. A first grade teacher, to be exact. So when that last school bell of the year rang last week and kids ran screaming out the doors of Irving Elementary eager to ride their bikes, swim, camp and all the other possibilities of the ten weeks of summer break, I was about ten minutes behind them.
Unfortunately, I won’t be manning a lemonade stand or zipping down the water slide at the Bogert Pool, the outdoor swim center downtown. Instead, I’ll spend my days working at Goldilocks, Bozeman's only “adult” toy store. I have to squeeze in my fly fishing, hiking and camping on my days off. At least until my sister, Veronica, gets back from her cross-country road trip.
“No, honey, you can't mix the flavored in with the glow-in-the-dark ones,” Goldie West told me as I restocked boxes of specialty condoms. Goldie had opened the store back in the sixties and had catered to every unusual, and some very kinky, whims ever since. Both she and the store were Bozeman icons. Infamous and quirky.
Goldie was like the Tasmanian devil, all fluffy hair, long nails and the ability to wreak havoc on anyone in her path. Today, her nails sported a cotton candy pink and her blond hair was teased up like a Southern pageant queen. She wore a T-shirt with a red-sequined heart in the center, black Capri pants and black clogs. Pushing seventy, she looked pretty darn good, although I wasn't sure if all that hair spray was good for her health.
She had a mind like a vault. Not only did she know everyone in town—their brothers, cousins, wives, dentists—she remembered everything about them since time began. Nothing slipped by her or her Rolodex for a brain. Because of this unique and often annoying ability, I try to keep as low a profile as I can around her. Goldie knows everything about Veronica, since she's been a faithful employee since college, but being her identical twin didn't mean I was fair game—or knew what I was doing.
“Whoops, sorry,” I replied, looking closer at the boxes and rearranging them into their appropriate shelf space. It was my first time in the condom section, as I was just filling in for Veronica on a short term basis. She was enjoying Florida and all its steamy summer weather with her boyfriend Jack Reid, packing up his belongings and driving back across the country. Since we lived in Montana, a few time zones away, they were going to be gone a few weeks.
“Did you try out some of the things I put in the box for you?” Goldie stood at the counter pulling red lace thongs from a brown shipping box. To the average person, a conversation about a box from a friend might revolve around hand-me-down clothes or even homemade cookies. To Goldie, it involved a sampling of Goldilocks' wares: nipple clamps, a vibrator, a sampling of lubes, scented lotions and other things I still couldn't exactly name. “I hope the Goldilocks Training Program has helped.”
With what? My personally-delivered orgasms or learning the ins-and-outs of a sex store? Nipple clamps weren't a solo thing and if I told her I'd taken the vibrator for a test drive she'd pull that little nugget of information out when I least expected it. She was fishing here and it wasn't for trout.
I tried some of my yoga deep breathing to keep from mangling the condom box in my grasp. Goldilocks’ Training consisted of watching ten pre-selected XXX videos, sampling a variety of sex toys, thus the take-home box, as well as taking a field trip to the nearest BDSM club, which was halfway to Butte. All had to be completed within the first month of employment. “Um, yeah,” I replied, hoping to sound non-committal. Since I was only subbing for only a few weeks, I was hoping I didn't have to fulfill all of the requirements. I didn't know anyone I could call who would want to venture to a club devoted to varying kinky lifestyles. I had no doubt Goldie would volunteer, but that was a girls' night out I never wanted to consider.
“It's like working at the kitchen supply store in the mall. If you're going to sell the product, you've got to test it out first. My employees need to be the experts in the field because people are counting on us.” She had neat little piles going of variously sized lingerie on the counter.
Goldie talked as if we were testing fire trucks or life jackets, and a person's safety and well-being were held in the balance. In fact, I'd spent the past three evenings watching Big Boobs III, Junk In The Trunk and Rump Pumping. It was still up in the air whether all that porn was going to give me the expertise I needed to work at Goldie's, or a backup career as an adult film star.
Sadly, watching those movies was the closest thing I'd had to sex in a long time. My sex life was practically nonexistent. Unless you counted the vibrator test run from Goldie's box. There was more in that package than I could handle. At least alone. She'd provided everything for my sexual pleasure and then some. Everything except a man.
“Right. Kitchen supplies.” I finished the glow-in-the-dark and moved on to piña colada flavored. “Although I'm not sure if this is the same thing as cooking.”
Goldie waggled her eyebrows, her poufy hair going up an inch. “But it can get just as hot.”
I couldn't help but roll my eyes.
“Like your story.” She pointed her finger at me again, changing the subject. “Hoo wee, that last chapter made me menopausal all over again. Talk about hot flashes.” She used a red lace thong to fan herself.
“Good,” I told her, shelving with more oomph than necessary. “You've been driving me bonkers for two months to finish that book. And I wasn't even working here!”
Secretly, I was pleased. To have Goldie, Queen of Steamy Scenes, like it and get all hot-and-bothered over something I wrote made me feel good. First grade gold star for me. I'd spent many a late night working on the story, crafting it, putting my heart and soul into it, but I wouldn't share that. My secret, to be an erotic romance novelist, had been mine for...well, forever. And it was going to stay that way—a secret.
“It took you long enough.” She set the scrap of lace down on the glass counter. “And it's not stupid. It's H-O-T, hot.”
“It's word porn,” I told her, sharing my personal phrase for my illicit writing. Goldie made Veronica start one, but let her off the hook when she'd fallen in love with Jack Reid. As Veronica had a real, live, sexy guy of her own, she didn't need to have a fictional one found in a romance novel.
Seeing my single status as her next mission in life, Goldie had pounced. And wrangled, cajoled, harassed me until I wrote a steamy, erotic romance. I'd faked most of the grown-up whining, not wanting to let Goldie know I longed for an excuse to write my word porn. Writing a sexy book under the excuse that Goldie made me do it kept my secret from getting out. Everyone in town had been forced to do something Goldie made them do at some point in their life. Besides, I figured if I wrot
e the scorcher I'd longed to write, to write the words that I'd kept inside, even Goldie would be shocked and lay off. But no. It only made her eagerness to read it to the very end even worse. I'd finished writing over Memorial Day weekend, a perfect procrastination for my class's report cards.
“Word porn, that's good. It's sure something, all right,” Goldie said with a chuckle, and then moved across the room to hang the lingerie. “Heard from your sister?”
“No, but that means everything's fine.”
Goldie nodded her head in agreement. We both seemed to be of the same mind that 'No news is good news.'
“She's not still mad at you, is she?”
“No. Unconditional love has made her mushy.”
It might have made Veronica mushy, but it made me feel a teensy bit guilty. Ever since the incident last the winter with Veronica and the stalker, I'd felt inclined to fill in for her as needed so she could spend time with her Jack. It hadn't been my fault the principal's wife was a little crazy and went bonkers when he'd tried to surprise her by having ski lessons. I was the innocent ski instructor in the whole house-burning fiasco.
Timing hadn't been on my side because Jack Reid, Veronica's high school crush, had come back to town. Sure, back in high school I'd told my sister Jack wanted to go out with me instead of her. Not that I'd wanted him; I'd had my eye on someone else entirely. I was just mad at Veronica, which was a frequent occurrence. We were eighteen and she'd taken my favorite blouse, the blouse I'd done extra babysitting to save up for, and she spilled catsup all down the front and ruined it. Before I'd had a chance to even wear it.
Silly, I know, but we were teenagers. And sisters. Identical ones, at that. We were petty, catty, and just stupid. Amazingly, over ten years later, Veronica had still held a grudge over that specific incident. So had Jack. In the end, long-lost love became full-time romance, but she and I were still dealing with the repercussions. Fragile feelings, bruised egos; thus my temporary role as Goldie's newest employee. The more tasks on Goldie's employee orientation I tackled however, I was closer to considering my emotional debt paid in full.
I had to admit, it was an interesting summer job. It beat tutoring kids who'd rather be anywhere but at their kitchen table learning to read. But if I wanted to go to grad school, I needed the extra cash. Filling in for Veronica was a great way to do that. Getting a Masters in Education wasn't cheap, but the long-term career gains made it worthwhile.
Unfortunately, working at Goldilocks had some pretty serious negatives. To start, Goldie was driving me crazy. A six-year-old nose picker would be bliss in comparison to Goldie's non-stop grilling. The only way to avoid her shenanigans would be if I got myself a man. I hadn't had much luck recently on the manhunt. In fact, I'd caught more wildlife than men, although if I'd gone after the guys that seemed remotely appealing with a hunting rifle and a tranquilizer dart, I probably would have had better odds. So it seemed like meddling was going to be a new constant in my life.
“Your story, it's word porn, all right.” Goldie shook her head so her gold dangly earrings tinkled. “You've got to publish that sucker, and fast.”
“Publish it? Who would read that stuff anyway?” I wondered aloud as I tucked my slippery, stick straight hair behind my ear. It was black, stick-straight, and went halfway down my back, except when it slid into my face. Flutters of fear and excitement warred at the very idea. Imagine...a book of mine published! Imagine the uproar it would cause - a very XXX book from a first grade teacher living in a small, conservative town. I still remembered the humor, at my expense, when I told my high school English teacher I'd wanted to be a romance writer. Looking back, he was a complete jerk for killing a teenager's self-confidence like that. Then humiliation once again; this time with my college boyfriend at the time, Todd. He'd been stunned by my lewd—his word—mind and quickly dumped me. I'd only written something now because of Goldie. Goldie was my excuse, the perfect cover for my nefarious word porn writing.
Goldie dipped her head and looked at me over the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She had a bedazzled chain attached to them that hung about her neck. “Young lady, are you forgetting where you are?”
I looked around the adult store filled with blow-up dolls, slutty lingerie, toys, videos, gag gifts. “Right. My view of the world is shifting from the ABC's to XXX.”
Another very grumpy downside to the job, coincidentally, walked through the door. I inwardly cringed and outwardly sighed. Olive Perlnutter, elementary school librarian, moral police in her spare time. She was five feet tall in heels, gray hair like a helmet on her head, and wore a sour expression as if she was sucking on a lemon.
Not my favorite person in the world and a perfect example of why I couldn't let my interest in writing erotic stories become public knowledge. If I could slink behind the display of bachelorette party items, I would, but she'd already seen me. It was a small store, so Goldie and I were hard to miss. I wore cargo shorts and a white T-shirt and tried to blend in a little more than my boss, although Goldie would be great to take hunting because no one could mistake her for the wildlife.
“Violet Miller,” Olive said. I swore I heard a tsk tsk sound follow. It may have been her support hose as she walked, but I was unsure. “Is this a place for one of our children's role models?”
I stared blankly at her as if she was insane—which she was—and said, “I'm Veronica.” My sister and I were always being mixed up, ever since...birth. It was time to use it to my advantage. I rarely pulled a switcheroo, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Olive gave me the once-over, obviously unconvinced.
“What can I get for you, Olive?” Goldie, who cautiously watched us both, asked. She could always size up a situation and I hoped she'd figure this one out quickly. It was true, working in an adult store as a summer job might not be the best thing for an elementary school teacher, but it wasn't as if I were selling product to six-year-olds. Their parent’s maybe, but that was all. Goldie ruthlessly drew the line at selling any adult product to kids. She gave free condoms to some, but they had to survive Goldie's sex talk first. And I doubted after that lovely discussion, any kid would have sex until they were forty.
Olive stood there eyeing me, pocketbook clenched against her chest as if Goldie or I were going to yank it from her.
“Veronica,” Goldie said, thankfully reinforcing my sister-switch. “Why don't you get the movies from the drop box for me while I help Olive?”
Thrilled to be away from the crabby librarian, I dug out the videos that had been dropped off the previous night from the corner drop box. Olive had moved close to Goldie and they were having a little tête-á-tête. Goldie wasn't giving much away, but it was clear, even at twenty feet that Olive was in her element, either imparting the latest gossip or singeing someone's reputation.
“...and to influence children like that.”
I caught the tail end of their conversation. My face heated, knowing Olive's latest tirade was about me. Maybe this job wasn't such a good idea after all. It could easily impact the next school year. What if I did publish that book? Olive would have fodder to use against me.
Goldie lifted her head—she'd had to lean down to match the curmudgeon's petite stature—and pursed her lips, identical to Olive.
I placed the stack of videos on the counter and idly fiddled with them, pretending to alphabetize them.
“Olive Perlnutter,” Goldie scolded, “if this girl over here,” —she pointed at me— “really was Violet, her working in this store wouldn't impact her ability to teach children any more than you and Ralph watching girl-on-girl videos will impact the same children checking out books.”
I thought Olive would stroke out right there, her face got so red. I tried to hide a smirk of satisfaction as Goldie put the old bat in her place, at the same time trying to erase the image of Olive and her husband watching girl-on-girl action. I vomited a little in my mouth at the visual.
“Well,” Olive said, turnin
g on her heel and stomping out of the store.
Goldie shrugged her shoulders. “Hunh. I guess she'll be back later for her movie.”
***
The next evening, I was back working alongside Goldie and her daughter-in-law, Jane. It was Saturday night and the store was busy. I manned the cash register while Goldie gave her usual sex education talk to a seventeen-year-old who'd tried to slip past the fact that Goldie knew everyone - and everyone's kids. And grandkids. The poor boy had wanted to get a video to watch with his friends. Instead, he got a lecture on safe sex, how to please a woman and the realities of porn.
Jane, a few years older than I, had one dead husband, two cute boys and was engaged to a firefighter hottie. She was taller than me. She was blonder than me. Her boobs were bigger. Plus the extremely hot fiancé. You'd think I would hate her just on principle, but it was hard when she was so dang nice. We’d rung up back-to-back video rentals and some minor toy sales when a woman, mid-thirties, plonked an industrial-sized jug of Lube-U-Up on the counter.
“Hey, Rhonda, how are you?” Jane asked, staring at the mega container in front of her. It was a size you purchased at Costco or if you worked in the porn industry.
Jane had worked for Goldie even longer than Veronica—and was her daughter-in-law—so she was runner-up only to Goldie in knowing people. And she hadn't even grown up in Bozeman.
“Hi, Jane. Saw your boys at the pool yesterday with your fiancé. I have to admit Ty's one handsome man.”
Jane smiled dreamily, tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “I think so. That's a lot of lube you've got there.” Picking up the scanner, she ran it past the bar code on the side.
“Well, you know, Brad and I are trying to have kids.”
I stopped tidying up charge slips and looked at Rhonda. Petite, brunette, perky. I could tell there was a story here. A gallon of lube always came with a story.
Jane nodded. “Right. How's that going?”
“It's not happening as fast as I'd like. We've been trying for months without success.”
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