Montana Wild Read online

  Contents

  Get A Free Book!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Note From Vanessa

  About the Author

  Also by Vanessa Vale

  Montana Wild

  Copyright © 2018 by Vanessa Vale

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from both authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Cover design: Bridger Media

  Cover graphic: Fotolia: Jag_cz; Period Images

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  Montana Wild

  A Small Town Romance - Book 4

  Vanessa Vale

  Chapter 1

  Summer vacation. No two words held more allure for kids; what they dreamed about all school year long. To me, they were 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 final school bell of the year rang last week and kids ran screaming out the doors of Crestview Elementary eager to ride their bikes, swim, camp and all the other possibilities of the ten weeks of summer break, I was about five minutes behind them.

  Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be manning a lemonade stand or zipping down the water slide at the city pool. 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 eons ago 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 with the ability to wreak havoc on anyone in her path. Today, her nails sported a cotton candy pink and her blonde hair was teased up like a Southern pageant queen’s. She wore a T-shirt with a red-sequined heart in the center, black Capri pants and black clogs. For a woman in her early seventies, she looked pretty darn good, although I wasn't sure if all that hair spray was safe 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 tried to keep as low a profile as I could around her. Goldie knew everything about Veronica, because she's been a faithful employee since college, but being her identical twin didn't mean I was fair game. I didn’t want Goldie to know what I was up to, not that I was up to much of anything this summer.

  “Whoops, sorry,” I replied, looking closer at the packages 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 that box for you?” Goldie stood at the counter pulling red lace thongs from a brown shipping envelope. 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 Triple X-rated 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 various 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 prepare me for 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.”

  I had to shake my head as she began to wave a piece of lingerie in front of her face. Trust Goldie to consider a tiny black garter the perfect instrument to cool off her overheated imagination.

  “Good,” I told her, shelving with more oomph than necessary. “You drove me bonkers for two months to finish that stupid book. And I wasn't even working here!”

  Secretly, I was pleased. To have Goldie, Queen of Steamy Scenes, like what I�
��d written and get all hot-and-bothered over it 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 had 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 wrote the scorcher I'd longed to write, to write the words that I'd kept inside, even Goldie would be shocked and lay off pestering me. 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 winter with Veronica and the stalker, I'd felt inclined to fill in for her as needed so she could spend time with 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’d just been mad at Veronica, which was a frequent occurrence. We’d been eighteen and she'd taken my favorite blouse, the blouse I'd done extra babysitting to save up for, and spilled catsup all down the front and ruined it. Before I'd had a chance to even wear it.

  Silly, I know, but we’d been 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 who 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. “The moment MeMe Harding finishes designing your cover, 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 and went halfway down my back, except when it slid into my face. Flutters of fear and excitement warred at the very idea. I couldn’t imagine...a book of mine published! I could imagine the uproar it would cause—a very naughty book from a first grade teacher living in a small, conservative town. I still remembered the humor, at my expense, when I’d 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; in college with my then-boyfriend, 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 ABCs 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, morality police in her spare time. She was five feet tall in heels, gray hair like a helmet covered her head, and she 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 parents 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 by the window. 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 piled the videos on the counter and idly fiddled with them, pretending to alphabetize the stack.

  “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 from the elementary school library.”

  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, while at the same time I tried 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, turning on her heel and stomping out of the store.

  Goldie shrugged her shoulders. “Huh. I guess she'll be back later for her movie.”