Montana Ice: A Small Town Romance - Book 2 Read online

  “Including me.” Looking back, the high school dating fiasco held bad memories for me, too. But I had loving, kind parents and a sister, whom I supposedly still loved. They'd all been there to help me through the heartache of Jack's supposed rejection. Jack hadn't.

  Sighing, Jack added, his voice low, “Yes, you were part of the bad memories.”

  I felt tears well up in my eyes, the road getting a little blurry. A lump formed in my throat and I worked to clear it before I could talk. “Oh, God. I feel so terrible about being one of the reasons you stayed away.”

  Jack shook his head, raised a hand to my cheek as I kept driving. His touch was light, soft, gentle. “Not anymore.”

  I smiled wanly. “Maybe I can be one of the reasons you stay.”

  There was a whole lot of hope in that statement. I focused on the road, imagining him back in town on a permanent basis. I felt Jack's hand brush the edge of my jacket, his fingers tickling against my bare skin beneath the loose edge of my sweater.

  The sensation was somehow erotic, having him find a small patch of skin beneath the layers and layers of clothes. His fingers were cool against my warm—and getting warmer by the moment—skin. “Jack, I'm trying to drive,” I said, smiling. I liked his teasing fingers.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I can't concentrate on driving when you...touch me that way,” I replied back, a little breathless by how just the tips of his fingers could turn me on.

  I darted a glance to Jack. He looked at me as if I were crazy, his hands up in front of him like a doctor before surgery. “I'm not touching you,” he replied, his voice calm, serious.

  “Then what...”

  I looked down, screamed bloody murder and slammed my foot on the brake. Jack whiplashed in his seat belt, pipes went flying.

  He hadn't been fondling my side. Jasper the snake had. With his beady eyes and little forked tongue tickling my hip.

  I screeched like a banshee and wanted to get out of the van more than a house on fire, but the snake was thickly coiled around the seat belt buckle and I wasn't touching it. “Get it off! Get it off! Holy shit, get the fucking seat belt off!”

  I was in full fight or flight mode, but I wasn't going to fight a snake, so I was trying for flight. It wasn't working. I flapped my arms in the air, screaming as Jack attempted to uncoil Jasper and undo my buckle.

  “Jesus, Miller, I'm going deaf over here,” Jack said, struggling to separate Jasper from me and my seat belt. “Hang on, he's moving up.”

  If I hadn't had a snake up my shirt I might have enjoyed the moment as Jack reached with one arm down into the wide neck of my sweater. Now, he definitely was fondling me, his palm warm against my breast, struggling to grab the wriggling snake.

  “Reid!”

  “Sorry, but he's all over the place!” Jack was breathing hard, wrestling inside my clothes for Jasper.

  His lower hand tugged down, Jasper pulled free, and after a few more seconds that felt like hours, I heard the click, felt the release of pressure on the seat belt. Jack's hands slipped out of my sweater, and I practically ripped the door handle off getting out of the van as if the very demons of hell were after me.

  I didn't care if a car was coming or not. I had snake spit and cooties on me and being run over wouldn't be as bad as that. I paced in front of the van, wiggling my arms, shrugging my shoulders and shivering—not from cold—from my near death reptile experience. Sure, I wasn't going to be bitten and die a slow venom-induced death, but with the way my heart was beating practically out of my chest, a heart attack would not be a surprise.

  15

  Jack joined me by the hood. “Are you all right?” he asked as he placed his hands on my upper arms.

  I wasn't finished having my little panic attack.

  “Miller, snap out of it.” He gave me a little shake. “It was just a snake.”

  I looked at him, “Just a snake? Just a snake?” My voice went up a whole octave. “You didn't have a reptile start to make out with you!” I shouted with all the venom I had.

  He yanked me into his arms, pressed me against his hard length, my cheek chilled by the nylon of his coat. “Shh,” he whispered in my ear, calmly stroking my back. “It's okay now. Shh.”

  As the adrenaline started to dissipate, I noticed how comforting it was to be wrapped in Jack's arms. How good it felt to have him make it all better.

  “I have to say, Miller, next time you want me to cop a feel, let's keep the snake out of it.”

  I pulled back and swatted him on the arm, chuckling. His attempt at lightening the mood worked.

  As we stood there in the freezing cold, Jack making good work of soothing my frazzled nerves, the Oldsmobile drove by. We saw the brake lights, and then watched as the car fishtailed on the packed snow and slid into a ditch. Clearly, Lorraine wasn't skilled at driving in wintery conditions. The car was well off the road, but not far enough for me to panic for the woman’s safety, but the car would be stuck without some people to help push it out. Knowing it was most likely rear-wheel drive, a tow truck would be required.

  Loosening his hold, Jack pointed at the car, exhaust coming out in a white cloud. “She knows you.” He stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. Snowflakes stuck to his dark cap. “She's sure of it. She's been following you around for how long?”

  I thought for a moment, quirked my mouth. “Um...three days maybe?”

  “She's persistent, I'll give her that,” he replied, dryly.

  We watched through the falling snow as Lorraine pushed open the driver door, stuck a leg out to stand up. Since the car was angled toward the passenger side into the drainage ditch, the door swung shut, right on her leg. Jack and I both winced.

  It was like watching a slapstick comedy routine. After several attempts in her non-winter boots, she got the door to stay open by kicking at it, was ultimately able to climb out and carefully limped over to us. I tucked my scarf around my neck better, keeping the snowflakes out, trying not to imagine what I looked like to Jack freaking out over a loose snake. Thankfully, there wasn't any video footage.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, looking at her leg. No blood showed, but it must hurt terribly.

  “If you hadn't slept with my husband, I wouldn't be here right now, freezing my ass off.”

  Violet. Had to have been Violet.

  “I think you're looking for her sister,” Jack said, pointing to me. He lifted his shoulders against the snow.

  Lorraine shook her head vehemently, thick flakes getting lost in her bleach blonde hair. “Nope. I'm looking for you. I saw you driving together. I recognize you.”

  “I'm an identical twin.”

  Lorraine snorted. “Yeah, right. And I'm Cindy Crawford. I've heard that before. Good one.” She looked to Jack. “So Romeo, is what she says true?”

  Jack shrugged his already raised shoulders. “Trust me, she's a twin. I couldn't keep them straight either.” He turned to me, gave me the eye. “See, I'm not the only one who can't tell you apart.”

  I gave him a withering look, although it had no effect on him.

  “Let's go get this twin of yours and I'll be on my way,” Lorraine said, rubbing her hands together.

  Crap. “She's at a teacher's conference in Salt Lake.”

  “Sure, she is. Until she gets back from this so-called trip, I'll be on you like a fly on shit.”

  I cringed at the lovely metaphor. She and Goldie should get together.

  Jack threw an arm around my shoulder and leaned in close so only I could hear. His breath was warm on my ear. I smelled his skin, manly and spicy and dark. Goose bumps rose and it wasn't from the cold. “Remember the saying, 'Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?' We might just want to go along with her here. I think she's one step away from losing it.”

  We both looked at her. Bandaged hand, shot out coat, gimpy leg. The woman was not having a good day. And as far as she was concerned, I'd slept with her husband. Jack was right. It wasn't a good idea to mess with a
woman scorned.

  “Lorraine, do you need help getting your car out of the ditch?” I asked in my sweetest voice. If we were doing the whole metaphor thing, then I wanted to be the honey, not the vinegar.

  “Hell, no. Let that piece of shit rot, for all I care. I'll take your van.” She stalked past us toward the van.

  “What? No way! It has all my tools, my entire business in it,” I said, outraged.

  “Tough,” Lorraine said, running faster than I figured considering her injuries. I made a dash for her, slipped on some ice, but Jack was there to grab my arm and keep me from falling on my ass. Unfortunately, that small window allowed Lorraine to hop in the driver's seat and smack a hand down on the lock.

  I was winded, full of adrenaline from my near slip. I pounded on the window with my palms, but the sound was muffled with my mittens. “Lorraine!”

  Through the window I heard her cackling as she turned the engine over. It was obvious she had the upper hand and she looked thrilled.

  For some reason, I thought of Jasper, slithering around the floor of the van. My gaze shot to Jack's. “Where's Jasper?” I asked.

  “I was able to get him off your seat belt, but he slipped out of my hand and went beneath the seat where I couldn't reach him.”

  I stared at him dumbly. “You mean he's still loose?” I shivered at the idea.

  Jack only shrugged.

  I turned to shout to Lorraine through the window. “Um, you might not want to—”

  “To what?” Lorraine yelled, her eyes beady. “Don't mess with me.”

  I glanced to Jack, who shrugged again and said, “Short of breaking the window and strangling her, there isn't much we can do.”

  I held my hands up. Hopefully, she'd ditch the van somewhere I could find, and without damaging it—or any of my expensive tools. My entire livelihood was in there and I hadn't finished paying off my dad yet. I didn't need a crazy lady blowing my career now.

  We stood there and watched as Lorraine pulled away, leaving us behind, snow silently falling, forming a white blanket around us. If we weren't stranded on the side of the road, it might have been romantic. But it was just cold and damp. The van made it about five hundred feet before the brake lights came on, it fishtailed wildly, did a one-eighty in the middle of the street and came to a stop. Luckily, no other cars were coming.

  Jack looked at me, I looked at him, and we dashed toward the van. He made it there first. His legs were longer. He banged on the window yelling, “Lorraine, unlock the door!”

  She did, shakily, and Jack had the driver's door wrenched open, helping her out by the time I got there. I was out of breath and much warmer than a minute ago.

  Lorraine was mumbling something about being attacked by a gnome, her hand covering her nose. From my spot next to Jack, I could see blood trickling around her fingers.

  I thought about what I had in the truck, dashed to the back and opened a door, eyes darting around for Jasper. I reached in quickly and grabbed an old t-shirt I had saved to use for work and quickly shut the door.

  “Here, hold this to your nose.” I gave Lorraine the rag.

  She took it woozily and hissed when she pressed it against her face. “There was a fucking snake in there!” Her eyes were wild as she looked back at the van.

  “Take her to the side of the road. I'm going to move the van out of the street.” Jack climbed in and steered it carefully over to the berm.

  I waved to a driver who slowed to help, thanked him and told him we were fine. “How did you hit your nose?” Putting one arm around her bony shoulder, I guided Lorraine over next to the van and away from the street.

  “This snake climbed up onto the passenger seat and I freaked. I lost control on the ice,” she swallowed, clearly flustered from her ordeal. “The van swerved hard and this garden gnome came out of nowhere and clocked me in the face.”

  George. I tried not to smile at the perverted humor about the situation. The poor woman couldn't get a break.

  Jack rejoined us. “We'll take you to the ER to get you checked out. You might have a broken nose.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” she said, her voice all nasally. “Oh, no, not in that thing!” Lorraine pointed, wild eyed as I guided her toward my van. “What the hell's a snake doing in there?”

  “He's a first-grade class pet. I was taking him to someone's house to be watched,” I answered.

  “I found Jasper and put him back in the terrarium,” Jack said reassuringly. “He won't get out now. I put the tool box on top and wedged it all in the corner. Come on, pile in. It's freezing cold and the snow's going down my neck.”

  “I want to see the snake in the cage before I climb in,” Lorraine commented nervously.

  I did, too. No way I'd tell her that, but Jasper needed to be in his terrarium before I even considered getting back inside. No fucking way was I getting back in that van without the snake on full lockdown.

  Jack opened the back door, showed us Jasper happily back in his home. I decided to suck it up and we piled in and drove to the ER in silence, Lorraine and I sharing the passenger seat. George the Gnome in my lap, his sly grin still in place.

  I felt kind of bad for Lorraine. I could completely relate to the whole loose snake scare. Jack and I were lucky we hadn't been dive bombed by George like she had. And back to her original reason for stalking me. She had every right to be mad, to go crazy, if Violet really had slept with her husband. Didn't sound like something Violet would do, but there was the whole high school thing with Jack that made me consider it a possibility.

  Lorraine climbed out at the hospital entrance, favoring her leg and staunching the nosebleed.

  “I know you don't believe me, but I really do have an identical twin.”

  She eyed me skeptically over the wadded-up t-shirt.

  “I can see why you're angry. I'd be mad, too. If you want to keep following me, I understand. I'll be heading out around nine tomorrow morning.”

  Lorraine barely cracked a smile. “I'm the fly, you're the shit, remember?”

  I nodded, then rolled the window back up as she headed through the sliding glass doors.

  “I'm the shit,” I repeated to Jack as we drove off.

  Jack shook his head. “I forgot how crazy it is around here. And how nice people are.” He looked directly at me, realized who he was referring to, and felt my cheeks blush.

  I bit my lip, wondering if he thought being nice was a good or bad thing. “Just because Lorraine's annoying doesn't mean I shouldn't be nice.”

  Jack considered that as he fiddled with one of the heat vents. “Most people who are stalked by others have them arrested. You give them your itinerary. Unbelievable. You always do the right thing, don't you?”

  * * *

  Jack drove to Chris Sprague's house, and we left Jasper with him. I'm sure the Houdini reptile was happy to be rid of us as much as we were to be rid of him. Okay, I was definitely so much happier to be rid of him. I was going to have nightmares of snakes slithering up my shirt for weeks.

  After, we drove to Jack's uncle's in silence. I was just relieved to see the tail end of Jasper. Jack, I wasn't quite sure what he was thinking. His face held no expression and that probably was a bad thing. He did a pretty good job of keeping his emotions in check. His cell rang on the way, he glanced at the screen and let it go to voicemail.

  “My lawyer,” he grumbled under his breath when I glanced over at him.

  I left him in front of Uncle Owen's house, standing by the side of the road, snow falling, shoulders hunched up against the cold, looking miserable and probably mentally preparing himself for the return call. I had no doubt things were worse than Jack was telling me. I wanted to help him, as Jack said, helping others was in my nature, but unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to help him with his Florida issues. I continued on to Goldilocks for work, knowing he had to solve this problem on his own.

  16

  “Marcus knew knots. As a sea captain, he wrapped her wrists in a way
he knew she couldn't escape. Arms forced above her head, she was his for the taking. He looked over her luscious body. She had melons for breasts, ripe, sweet and juicy. Lower, too. Beneath the velvet skirts, he knew she was pink and wet. Ripe and juicy there as well.”

  I read the next installment in Goldie's book. “There's a lot of ripe fruit in here,” I told her from my spot behind the counter at Goldilocks. It was dinner time, all was quiet in the store, no customers. Goldie ate from a Styrofoam to-go container. Chinese.

  Delivery wasn't a service the restaurant offered, but they made an exception to the rule for Goldie. Whatever Goldie wanted was brought within thirty minutes of ordering. Every time. It may have been because she was such a sweet person that the owner did this just for her, but I thought it had more to do with his proclivity for ladies’ lingerie and a very specific genre of porn flicks. Confidentiality was Goldie's stock in trade, but it was evident the man figured it probably couldn't hurt to grease the wheels with Moo Shoo Pork, just in case.

  “I want her to be desirable, to let the reader know how she's ripe and ready for him,” Goldie informed me about her unusual writing imagery.

  “She's ripe all right,” I commented dryly. I wasn't sure how to tell Goldie her writing sucked. So I didn't. “I like the wontons,” I told her instead, picking up a fried crab one from a container, dipping it in some spicy sauce. I didn't get the opportunity to pick on Goldie very often, but by getting Chinese food, she'd provided me with the fodder I needed.

  Goldie pursed her lips, looked at me over her fancy, spangled reading glasses as noodles dangled from her wooden chopsticks. “Very funny.”

  Beep. I reached in my bag behind the counter for my cell and read the new text. You're good to go. The house is all yours.

  “Yes!” I said, giving Goldie a quick hug. “My house is done. I can move back home.”

  “Finally,” Goldie added. “What about your story?”