Guilty as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 1)

by Rosalind James

  Paige didn’t glance at the front of the store. She preferred not to think about the display she’d just put on for Sinful’s sparse evening foot traffic. She’d won, that was the important thing.

  “Right,” Jace said, sounding a little hoarse. “I’m gobsmacked.”

  She buttoned her dress up, one slow fastening at a time, and he watched. “I’m hoping that’s a good thing.”

  “Stunned,” he said. “Surprised. And pretty bloody disappointed, too.” She laughed, and after a moment, a grin split his bearded face. “Yeah,” he said. “You could put it that way. Want to tell me why you’re carrying a concealed weapon?”

  “Because,” she said, going for her pink tote behind the counter and feeling less off-balance than she had all day, “I’m getting pressure to sell my land. You aren’t the only one who’s had threatening messages. And Brett Hunter wants to buy it.”

  “Oh. Well, bugger me.”

  “Possibly,” she said. “I think that’s dirty, though.”

  “Definitely.” He waited while she turned off the lights, then followed her out the door and waited while she locked up. “Did he know you were armed?”

  “No,” she said. “Nobody but you.”

  “I like the way that sounds. But tell me about these threats. And about Hunter.” He pressed the button to unlock his pickup, which was exactly the sort of uncompromising black workhorse she’d have expected him to drive, but instead of hopping in on the driver’s side, he went ahead of her and opened her door.

  “This is very chivalrous of you,” she said, remembering at the last minute to tuck the folds of her skirt inside.

  “I know,” he said. “Unusual.” And slammed the door.

  By the time he came around the truck and climbed in on his side, unfortunately, she was getting a few regrets. “So you know,” she said, “I’m not flirting.”

  “No,” he said gravely, pulling out of the spot, swinging a tight U-turn, and heading for the gym. The sun was low, with twilight just around the corner, and he flipped on his lights. “I see that. Merely displaying your weaponry.”

  “It worked. Got you at a disadvantage.”

  “Too right. Tell me about the threats. And about Hunter.”

  She sighed. “You’re hard to sidetrack.”

  He glanced across at her, then back at the road. Unfortunately, they were already at the gym. “I am,” he said, pulling into the lot and a parking space, turning off the engine, but making no attempt to get out of the truck. “So tell me.”

  She hesitated, still. Why had she showed him? Why had she told him?

  Because in another week, she’d be gone and Lily would be here alone. And somebody needed to know. Somebody she trusted. Just in case. “Not like you,” she finally said. “Not the overt threats. But L— I’ve been getting pressure to sell my place to Hunter for the new ski area he wants to build, since it’s the last big parcel before you get to the ski runs, and it’s good for cross-country skiing. And this morning, I got a text. It just said, ‘Leave,’ which isn’t much. But I couldn’t trace it, and it didn’t give me a good feeling. It was probably from a burner phone. Anonymous. The kind you buy at Walmart.”

  “I know what a burner phone is.” His jaw was set into those lines again. “Pressure? Does that mean you don’t want to sell?”

  “Yes. But some people don’t like to take no for an answer.”

  “I’m surprised, then, that you’d—what? Go out with Hunter? I’d have thought it’s the same thing as my stalker. Say no once, then keep saying it. If you engage, they win. They win once, they think they can win again. Massive and overpowering force, that’s what you want. No fair fights.”

  “Gee,” she said, “you must be fun to live with.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  How was she going to explain this when the real answer was, “I wanted to assess the threat to my sister?” With an “as much truth as possible” approach, she decided. “I needed to see whether that pressure—beyond the aboveboard part of it—was coming from Hunter or from somebody else.”

  “And you’re that confident you can tell?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her some more, and she met his gaze. “And what did you decide?” he asked.

  “That it probably wasn’t him. He’s offered me a parcel trade before, and today he offered a better one. He said that was his best offer. Take it or leave it. And I think it probably is. I asked every question I could think of—water, sewer, electric, gas, flooding—and told him I’d be checking, and he didn’t seem fazed. Of course, he could be having somebody else apply the pressure, while he keeps his hands conveniently clean.”

  “It’s a good offer, then?”

  “Well, yes. It is. Lakefront. And he offered to move the house. That one surprised me.”

  “Probably because it’s cheaper than building you another one and tearing yours down.”

  Paige nearly winced at the thought of Lily’s reaction to seeing her pretty cottage demolished. “Probably.”

  “So how much of the problem is the decision between the two places,” he said, “and how much is the pressure? Not wanting to let the bastards win?”

  “Good question.”

  “What do you want to do? If there weren’t any pressure?”

  “I don’t know.” She didn’t know what Lily wanted. Or rather, she did. Lily loved her place. “I think I want to stay.”

  “Then you should stay. Hunter will get over it. It’s business, not his granny’s dying wish.”

  “You’re right. But we’re here for you, not me. Let’s go.”

  It was too confusing being two people. Especially when one of those people was focusing on the mission, and the other one wanted nothing more than to beckon a hard man back into a fitting room, then see what he’d do about it.

  She’d bet he’d do plenty.

  She’d surprised him, jumping out of the ute like that. Again. He followed her inside, which gave him more chance to notice the hitch in her gait. He wasn’t meant to notice it, apparently, or any other sign of weakness, either. Although, of course, her helping him was fine.

  She was, in short, the most confusing woman he’d ever met. And she just kept on doing it. Now, she paused just this side of the desk and said, “How long are you spending?”

  “Whatever you like. Hour?”

  “Hour’s good,” she said, then went through the turnstile, said hello to Charlotte, collected her towel, and headed off.

  Charlotte looked after her a moment, then turned to Jace, smiled, and said, “You’re getting pretty consistent here.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Brought a partner with me this time to help me with that.” He inclined his head toward Lily, who was already heading into the locker room. “Workout partner.” Which she wasn’t looking anything like, so he’d need to put in some effort to advertise her presence. Which had been the bloody point. No envelope-signal in the bed of the ute, a beautiful woman by his side, and if necessary, a “not interested in you” sign around his neck for his stalker.

  “She’s not here very often,” Charlotte said. “I don’t think she likes exercise all that much. Even though she always has the best outfits for it.”

  “You could be wrong,” he said.

  Her face crumpled, and he felt like he’d kicked a puppy. She muttered, “Enjoy your workout.”

  It didn’t look likely. Since he was doing it alone.

  He started with the rowing machine, as usual, and when Lily came out of the locker room dressed in a pair of purple flowered workout tights with an overlay of dark-purple lace around the waist, a matching exercise bra that featured more lace at the back, and too much body for his peace of mind, he didn’t look her over nearly as well as he might have. But he definitely noticed her walking over and climbing onto the machine beside him.

  He asked, “I’m irresistible, am I, despite your qualms?” He wanted to check her out better, now that she was this close. And this undressed. He
didn’t.

  She laughed out loud, sounding like she was surprised to be doing it, but didn’t answer, just adjusted the resistance considerably down and began to row. He saw the twist of her mouth that she couldn’t control and wanted to say something about it, but he’d learned his lesson. At last, she said, with some tightness in her voice that he knew was pain, “Dream on. It’s what I’d do normally. My warm-up. And I did agree to help you.”

  “Even if you’re scared.”

  “I am not scared. I thought we established that.”

  “Darling,” he said, “I don’t think you’re armed anymore.”

  She gave him a level look. “Just try me.”

  “I would,” he said, “but I’m not allowed. Bugger.”

  He earned another laugh for that, which made him grin, and she said, “Just row and look longingly at me, then, in case your stalker’s around.” She nodded at the little knot of women at the juice bar. “One of the group hanging out after yoga, maybe? About to walk casually by your truck? Creepy as hell, not knowing who she is. Odd, too. Stalkers usually announce themselves. They want you to know they’re there, and who they are. It’s what they get off on.”

  “It is, is it. I only know what I read online.”

  A pause, then she asked, “Did you go to the cops like I said?”

  “Yeah. Talked to a bloke named Worthington. Know him?”

  Again the hesitation, then, “Not sure. What did he say?”

  “Basically, that I’m a lucky bastard. And a liar.”

  “A liar? Even after you showed him your evidence? Tell me he took a report, at least.”

  “Oh, he did that. For what it’s worth. Put it that he had trouble getting excited about it as a serious problem. I was half expecting him to say that he wished somebody would stalk him. It was on the tip of his tongue.”

  “Absolutely unprofessional.” She was rowing faster now. “What, men can’t be stalked? Of course they can. It’s a disgusting crime, whoever does it. Taking away somebody’s peace of mind. Taking away their freedom. It’s right up there with domestic abuse. In fact, it’s the same, because it’s the same guys. He’s saying he’ll control her one way or another. Or in your case, she’ll control him. Which is just as bad.” She sounded like she was going to dash straight out and tackle Sergeant Worthless. Literally.

  “No worries,” he said. “She’s not going to control me. And that wasn’t all of it. Sadly. I’m afraid it was my inadequate manhood as well. That I hadn’t hooked up with any possible suspects, although that was probably a lie, what with my readers sending me naked photos and all. Clearly an offer no red-blooded man would refuse. I was meant to be swiping right at the pub as well. I’m either a liar or a pussy who’s wasting his chances. He wasn’t sure which.”

  A long silence, then she stopped rowing, replaced the handle, picked up her water bottle and her towel, and said, “We’ve both done enough of this. At least I have. Fifty minutes.”

  Running away again.

  Do better, Paige told herself. Way too much information shared. Way too far off Lily. Time to shift gears. And not think about whether Jace had been wasting his chances or not.

  She was wearing flowery workout clothes. With lace. A thing she hadn’t known existed, to the point where she’d had to hold them up and stare at them to make sure they actually were workout clothes.

  She was Lily, dammit.

  Medicine ball. Focus.

  Which was why she was holding the heavy ball, squatting low, then twisting to her left and raising it high overhead, breathing her way through the discomfort, when somebody stopped beside her. Not a man devastated by her fabulous femininity in her flowery outfit. A slim brunette with a ponytail, a woman Paige had seen the day before. A trainer, probably, because she watched her do her final two reps before switching to her right side, the hard side. Before she could start, the woman asked, “Do you mind a little feedback?”

  Paige would have said, “No, thanks.” Lily wouldn’t. She stood up, still holding the ball, and said, “Sure.”

  “It’s not always a good idea to start out at your max,” the woman said. She was wearing a name tag. Kelli. “If you haven’t been doing a regular routine, I’d suggest not working the same muscle groups every day. And you’re pushing too hard. When it’s that much of a strain, I’d recommend a rest day between workouts, or at least a lower-intensity day.”

  “Thanks,” Paige said. “But I don’t know why you’d think I wasn’t doing a regular routine.”

  The woman smiled. Condescendingly. Which made Paige long to challenge her to a set of burpees. Or possibly just hit her, seeing as Paige would lose the contest. Stupid leg. Kelli said, “Maybe you’ve been doing something at home, but I haven’t seen you in here for a long time, and it looks to me like you’re overdoing it. A home workout really isn’t the same, and a medicine ball’s a better choice for later on. I can set you up with an introductory session if you like, and get you started on a program. If you ramp up gradually, you’ll be less likely to be injured.”

  Paige was still trying to come up with a Lily-like way of telling her where she could stick her introductory session when Kelli glanced over at Jace. Who happened to be doing a set of lightning-fast pushups. With one arm. And then switching.

  The light bulb went on. Paige was apparently not the only woman in Sinful who appreciated lean muscle and a hundred-watt stare. “I’ll be more careful,” she said, then decided to add, “Besides, what other excuse would I have to look at him?” and smiled. Lily-style. “He’s not really my type, but he sure is easy on the eyes, isn’t he?”

  The other woman’s face relaxed a fraction, and Paige thought, yep.

  “He is,” the trainer said. “Too rough for you? Probably so. He looks hard to handle. Or like a hard handler.”

  “Exactly,” Paige said with a conspiratorial smile. “He’s my neighbor, actually. Lives down the road from me. He helped me with my goats this morning. You’re right, though. He’s a little much for me, honestly. Like you said.” One more step. “Like, you know.” She dropped her voice. “The kind of guy who’d be into bondage or something. Like he’d want to give you a good spanking first.”

  The woman laughed. Superiority established, relaxation commencing. “Some people might consider that a feature, not a bug.”

  Paige had stopped listening. She’d seen somebody else, the woman who’d given her a hard time the day before in the store. Did everybody hang out here? If she saw Hailey taking a spin class, she’d be sure of it. She said, “Hey. Do me a favor. That woman. For some reason, I can’t remember her name. Probably self-defense, because she hates me.”

  “Jennifer? Well, yeah, obviously, because of the spa she wants to add once they do the new resort.” The trainer lowered her voice. “She’s overextended already, though, just with the gym, I heard. I don’t know how much longer she can hang on. She thought she was good because of the resort expanding, you know. And she has issues. When I started, I thought she was great, but that was before I realized how abusive the atmosphere could get. It’s not how it seems, not when you really know what’s going on.”

  “Really? How long have you worked here?” Jennifer was the gym owner, then. The woman Lily had mentioned.

  “Six months.”

  “And it’s changed in that time? The gym? The… atmosphere?”

  “I thought it would be perfect. Small town, friendly, laid-back. But it’s been getting weird. And the women here… If you didn’t grow up in Sinful, forget it. Which you didn’t either, and they know it. She’s not the only one that hates you. They all want the expansion to happen. So they can buy land and sell it for vacation houses, for one thing. If it gets to be the new hot place.”

  “Who’s ‘all’?”

  The trainer nodded toward the juice bar, where the knot of women was breaking up. “The rich ones, of course. Any of them. They want to cash in on somebody else’s sure thing. That Brett Hunter—he’s got a track record for making money, and
everybody wants a piece. Half of them are in his pocket already, even if they just want to open an espresso bar or something. I’d watch out if I were you.”

  “Oh.” Lily had said this, but Paige hadn’t quite believed it. “Well, thanks.”

  “No problem.” The brunette glanced back toward Jace, her energy spiking.

  “I’ll just keep on, then,” Paige said, Tactful. Lily-style. “Thank you for the information. And the advice.” She smiled sweetly, then started doing her medicine-ball routine again. She needed to watch. And digest. And possibly see who else came up to her and volunteered information.

  Receptive. Open to confidences. Lily. She might as well work on her recovery while she was doing her detective work.

  She would so have gotten a medal for this. And not the “I Am Actually a Cop” one she’d been given by the guys in Vice. Made with a jar lid and a red-white-and-blue ribbon, and written in Sharpie. Classy stuff. “We thought about going for subtle,” Ron Hammond had said when the squad had converged on her for their award ceremony. “You know. Subtle like you’re not. But we decided you wouldn’t get it, so no point.”

  Who’s subtle now, boys? she wanted to say. Who’s wearing a flowery sports bra, huh? Who’s selling frilly underwear? And who’s solving the Mystery of the Vaguely Threatening Text? Me, that’s who.

  And if she could solve the Mystery of the Freaky Fan at the same time for Jace? She’d deserve more than a medal then. That’d be worth a trophy.

  Jace had finished his workout and was on the bike for his cooldown when Lily appeared again. She didn’t say anything at first, just hopped on next to him and began to pedal.

  “I found something out,” she finally said.

  He’d found something out, too. That watching her work out was distracting. “Let’s have it,” he said instead, taking a swig from his water bottle.

  “Kelli wants to have rough sex with you,” she said.

  He spat out some water.

  “I thought you’d like knowing that,” she said.

  He mopped at his face. “Cheers. She volunteered that, did she? Casually, during your consultation?”