Montana Ice: A Small Town Romance - Book 2 Page 13

  I could tell she was telling the truth. It made sense with how my kitchen was burned to a crisp. The only expression I'd ever seen on her face was anger with a big dollop of angst. She now looked contrite and very, very sorry. “I guess it wasn't old wiring after all,” I commented dryly.

  Lorraine stood up, clumped over to me. She placed a hand on my sleeve, looked me dead in the eye. “Even though Ronald was trying to do a sweet thing by surprising me, his trickery led to all this.”

  She didn't mention her own insanity, however.

  “I'll make him pay every penny of the damages to your house. And, I'm...I'm sorry for all that I did to you,” she said, sincerely.

  Wow. I was stunned. She'd actually set fire to my kitchen! “You...you...I mean I can't believe you—”

  “I'm sure Ronald will be happy to settle up with Veronica,” Goldie said, talking over me. She looked at me from behind Lorraine's back. I read it as, This poor woman's been through enough.

  My house had been set aflame, I'd been stalked, had my house broken into. Violet's actually, but the intention was to mess with me. My van stolen. And Lorraine's been through enough?

  I took a deep breath, found my inner chi or whatever it was when I had to deal with Goldie's usual crazy talk. “Lorraine, I think you've been put through more than anyone else with this whole mess,” I said sweetly, trying to lighten the mood. “Look at you.” She definitely wouldn't get a Stalker Of The Year award.

  “Yeah, what happened to you?” Violet asked.

  Lorraine turned the evil eye on Violet.

  “Do you really want to ask that right now?” Goldie asked.

  Violet tipped her chin down, pinched her lips tight. “No, ma'am.”

  “If you weren't too old, I swear you'd get a spanking for all the headaches you've caused. And I don't mean because of this Ronald character,” Goldie said, her voice scolding.

  “Give Mike Ostranski a call. He'll take care of it,” I mumbled. The thought of Dr. O smacking Violet on the ass with a paddle warmed my heart and made me chuckle. The only thing that would make me feel better was if I could do it myself.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Jack and I stood in front of security at the airport. The overhead voice talked about leaving bags unattended as we stared at each other. Even though it was warm inside the terminal, I didn't take off my hat or mittens. I wasn't staying long enough to get comfortable. Jack's bag had been checked and there was nothing left to do but say goodbye.

  “I guess this is it,” I said, at a loss in that weird way when someone had to leave. It was as if you'd run out of normal things to say in that in-between time before a departure.

  “Look, Miller,” Jack started, rubbing his hand over his head. Realizing he still wore his gray cap, he pulled it off, grasped it in his hand. His hair stood up in spots with static. “I—”

  I put my hand over his mouth. I knew how he felt, knew what he had to tackle back in Florida. I wanted him to stay, if just to shelter him from the bad stuff he had to face.

  “Just go. Do the right thing,” I said softly, afraid my voice might break with the emotion welling up.

  I couldn't miss the sadness I saw in Jack's eyes, the wariness to clean up his mess. He just nodded, gave me a quick kiss and turned away, handing his boarding pass to the agent.

  Once cleared, he turned back and waved, gave a weak smile.

  I waved back, gave an equally weak smile, and left.

  * * *

  “Guess what?” Goldie asked when I rolled back into the store thirty minutes later. “Lorraine's agreed to write a romance novel with me! I'm so excited. She's such an interesting woman and full of unusual stories.”

  She finished ringing up a customer and handed over the bag.

  I raised my eyebrows, a little in acknowledgement, a little in surprise. The combination of Goldie and Lorraine was going to be like Mo and Curly from the Three Stooges writing romance. That was fine as long as they didn’t expect me to be Larry.

  “That's great,” I said, my voice flat. I hadn't cried yet, but the lump the size of a baseball in my throat wasn't receding. My eyes burned from the effort to keep the tears at bay. I pulled off my hat and gloves, unzipped my coat.

  “Miss him?” Goldie asked. She had on her reading glasses, the little rhinestones sparkling from the display lights by the counter. Her hair was in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, a big blingy style hair tie stood out about two inches. It, of course, matched the angora sweater.

  I put my handbag behind the counter, turned to her. A woman was browsing in the lingerie section, but seemed self-sufficient. “I...I'm not sure. It's not like I really had him in the first place. He was only here, what, four days?” It was hard to play down what I felt for Jack.

  Goldie pursed her lips. “You've loved him since you were sixteen.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, afraid to answer that question out loud. “I'm in a funk. His being here changed me and now I don't know what to do with myself. That's why I'm here. I'm afraid if I go home, I'll smell him on my pillow and I'll break down.”

  I swallowed around the huge lump. Tears threatened even worse.

  “You can always go stay with Violet.”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed weakly. “I'd rather shoot myself in the foot.”

  “You can stay with me and Paul tonight.” Goldie rubbed my shoulder with her manicured hand.

  Nice gesture, but in the morning I'd smell like my Great-Aunt Betty's rose perfume from staying in Goldie's floral scented guest room. I truly believed they used the same garden scented laundry soap.

  “Nah, I'll be fine.” I gave her a small smile which took tons of effort to make. “Why don't I close up for you? Head home to Paul and tell him 'Hi', for me.”

  Goldie shook her head from side to side considering. “Well, sure. But listen, while you're here, I've put the latest installment of my story by the register. Read through it for me? I want it to be error free before I share it with Lorraine tomorrow.”

  For once, I was thrilled to read Goldie's word porn. If there was anything that could distract me from Jack's departure and the void he left, it was really bad romance writing. And I figured she asked me to do it as a distraction, the only way she could comfort me right now. I had a feeling she knew a hug would only make me fall apart.

  “Sure. I'd love to,” I told her.

  Goldie grabbed her coat, bundled up and headed out with a backward wave.

  The shipwreck left them, clothes shredded, sprawled across a tropical beach. Her turgid body was coated with sand and salt, one bosom exposed to the midday sun. I knew I had to have her then and there. The sand on my hands would only enhance her pleasure as it coarsely rubbed her nether lips and the dew naturally found there.

  I shook my head. Unbelievable. What woman would want sandy hands rubbing her nether lips? I put down the papers and helped a customer. It was going to be a long night. A long rest of my life.

  20

  Two weeks later, I'd had yet to confront Violet, delaying the inevitable. I couldn't leave her high school meddling in the past where it belonged until we'd had it out. But I felt it was something that should be done with Jack, or at least offer him the opportunity to confront her as well. I wasn't able to figure out how to accomplish that since I hadn't heard a peep from the man.

  I could've called. Asked after him, the progress on his case. But I didn't. He needed to focus on the Jack in Florida, not the Jack in Montana. I fell in love with Montana Jack and I felt I didn't have a place in Florida Jack's life. I wasn't sure if I really wanted one.

  Besides, I believed in the days he was with me, he’d been slowly realizing he wasn't really, deep down, Florida Jack. I think he recognized his old self when he was here in Bozeman and truly wanted to be the guy he once was.

  Uncle Owen had sent me a check for my work. He must've talked to Jack and got the invoice and happily paid me in full. I heard through the construction grapevine the counters were going in this week. A
little behind, but his remodel was almost done. I'd given my dad the last installment on buying him out, the business now mine. He was officially retired and would now fill his days torturing my mother.

  It felt good, no, so much better than that, to have a job I loved and knew was all mine. I thought of Jack and how he'd been stripped of his profession through, admittedly, some fault of his own. But being forced to be the fall guy must've ripped at his gut. It ripped at mine for him.

  I couldn't imagine something like that happening to me. My good name was my work, and my work was my good name. They went hand-in-hand, especially in a small town like Bozeman. Any town, for that matter. Having that taken away left Jack with...what? Nothing.

  As I was placing a wax seal for a toilet in a new home construction, my cell beeped that I had a text. I read the display.

  Jack.

  My heart rate accelerated, my body temperature went up just seeing his number. Excited, I read the text: Tell Goldie I get it.

  Huh? I was hoping more for an 'I love you' or something similar. My heart plummeted out of my throat in disappointment. I had no idea what the text meant, but I was about to find out.

  “Goldie, Jack just sent me a text,” I said, once she picked up at the store.

  “Oh?” she asked, sounding nonchalant.

  “Yes,” I said testily into my cell. “He wanted me to tell you, 'I get it'. Those were his words. Know what that means?”

  Goldie chuckled. “Hang on. Yes, the ribbed condoms are for her pleasure. Yes, you still use a condom if she's on the pill. Listen, Veronica? I've got to go. This man needs some sex ed.”

  She clicked off. One thing Goldie was known for was responsible sex. She touted condoms for everyone unless in a committed relationship, and even then unless they wanted a chance at having a baby. Obviously, Condom Guy needed some enlightening. I remembered a similar conversation when I was nineteen. I didn't envy him.

  What did Jack mean? He gets what? Until I cornered Goldie at the store when I worked next, it would just remain a mystery. Grumpily, I went back to work on the toilet. Patience was not one of my strong suits.

  * * *

  I stopped at home to eat lunch between jobs. I had the contract for plumbing in three new construction homes in a high-end subdivision and had to stop at the plumbing supply store afterward for another fitting I'd bought in the wrong size.

  I looked out the back window, saw the piles and piles of snow that weren't going anywhere until April. The thermometer suction cupped to the window read thirteen. I thought about Miami and how it must be warm, warm enough to wear shorts and tank tops, bathing suits even. The sand must be hot under bare feet, the smell of sunscreen in the air. I sighed, knowing the only sunscreen I'd be wearing any time soon was on my face the next time I went skiing.

  I had the sandwich fixings out on the counter and was squirting spicy mustard onto some wheat bread when there was a knock on the door followed by a 'Hello!'

  Crap. Violet. This was not when I wanted to have our little confrontation about Jack, high school, and her ridiculous penchant for falling into very messy situations. I had work to get back to and I was cranky enough without her adding to it. I took a deep breath, put down the mustard and walked into my tiny living room, girding myself for my sister.

  I didn't expect her to have company. There, standing next to Violet, was Jack. A large black carry-on bag was slung over one shoulder.

  My worst fears were realized in that moment. That sickening, stomach plummeting feeling you get on a bad roller coaster squeezed my stomach. Jack had picked Violet after all. No wait, maybe he doesn't know Violet is really Violet. It was like high school all over again.

  “Reid,” I said. He wore the coat he'd bought when he'd been in town last, the same gray cap. He looked good. Even tanner than last time. I barely glanced at my sister. I knew what she looked like. I saw her every time I looked in the mirror.

  “Miller,” he replied. He was staring at me, too. I didn't know what he could see, but I tried my hardest to keep everything I felt for him, including the heart wrenching rejection, out of my gaze.

  “Look what I picked up at the airport.” After about ten seconds of everyone frozen in place, the only thing moving was Violet's gaze darting between us, she piped up, “Well, this is interesting.”

  I broke the spell. “You're back.”

  Jack nodded. “This morning. Uncle Owen said he'd get me but sent her”—he angled his thumb at Violet—“instead.”

  Uncle Owen must be back in town, but I didn't really care at the moment. I couldn't stand it any longer. “You know that's...”

  I pointed at my sister. Right then and there, I wanted some scissors so I could cut off Violet's hair. Make it short and completely different than mine so it would be blatantly obvious who was who. Not that we tried to look alike, but wearing it long seemed to be the best look for both of us. We had different styles when it came to clothes, but someone like Jack who hadn't been around in ten years wouldn't know that. Nor the fact that he was a guy and they generally never noticed something like that anyway.

  “Violet,” Jack replied clearly, no waffling or second guessing.

  I pursed my lips. “You can tell the difference between us...now?”

  Jack dropped his bag on the floor, walked over to me. Took my fingers in his cold ones. He stood close enough where I felt his warm breath, spearminty fresh. “You're Veronica. Also known as Miller. Not because I don't know which sister you are, but because that's the nickname I've always called you. Ever since I first wanted you when I was seventeen.” He tilted my chin up with a finger, forced me to look into his blue eyes. “You look nothing like Violet.”

  I humphed at that one. “Yeah, right.” I knew the difference, the subtle nuances between Violet and myself. My parents could see them, not many others though.

  “Your right eye tilts up in this really attractive way your sister's doesn't.”

  “Hey!” Violet said. She stood there, inside the doorway. She hadn't moved.

  I ignored her. So did Jack. “Your face is just a slight bit rounder. You stand straighter. Your eyes light up when I see you. I can say, for sure, Violet's don't.”

  “Hey!” Violet said again.

  “Shut up, Violet,” I murmured, savoring Jack's words. His blue eyes pierced into me, held me in place. Not that I wanted to look anywhere but at him.

  “You have a tiny scar by your left ear”—he lifted his fingers to touch the spot—“that I love to kiss.” He leaned in and did just that. Stayed close and whispered so only I could hear, “On the inside of your right thigh, high up, you have this little mark I left on your skin. A hickey, I believe?”

  I blushed to the roots of my hair. Jack had given me a red mark where he'd sucked on the tender skin right at the juncture of my thigh and my...

  But it was gone now. I'd watched it fade over the past two weeks.

  I wrapped my hand around Jack's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Our tongues tangled instantly and I knew I'd found what I'd been missing my whole life. What I'd craved since he flew away.

  “Hey!” Violet shouted. It seemed to be the only thing that could come out of her mouth.

  We broke the kiss, turned our heads to look at her. “I forgive you. Now go away,” I told her.

  Jack wasn't quite done. “Violet, you were a vindictive bitch in high school, but I can't blame you anymore. I was one hot stud back then and I know you couldn't help yourself.”

  Violet's jaw dropped open. “Hey!” Yup, a broken record.

  “Like Miller said, go away.”

  In a huff, Violet zipped her jacket and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind her.

  “Now where were we?” Jack smiled, and then lowered his mouth to mine. Without breaking our lip-lock, Jack stripped off his jacket, grabbed me around the waist and led me over to the couch. He sat down and I climbed on his lap, my legs straddling his. I tangled my fingers in his hair, played with the long ends that seemed to curl this way
and that. Pulling back from the kiss, I took my time and just looked at him. His eyes were a little bloodshot, the stubble on his jaw a little longer than usual. He looked downright weary.

  “Long day?” I asked him.

  “Mmm,” Jack replied, his eyes falling closed as I caressed the nape of his neck. “I got the six a.m. flight out of Miami, then a layover in Denver.”

  I wanted to ask him right then and there if he was in town for the weekend or for the rest of his life. But I was afraid. Afraid of what the answer might be. I wasn't sure if I could handle his departure another time.

  “I didn't hear from you so I was worried. Want to tell me how things turned out?” His eyes were still closed. I wondered if he'd fallen asleep or was ignoring my question. “Did they turn out?”

  Jack sighed deeply, put a hand on my hip and squeezed. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at me. “It's all resolved.”

  I cocked my head. “Just like that?”

  Jack gave a tired laugh. “Not quite just like that. My lawyer and I dug up some evidence showing my law firm's previous knowledge of the shady moral handling of many different cases. I was able to use that as leverage to have the Ethics Panel drop their accusations against me.”

  I smiled, relieved. “That's so great!”

  I felt way more excited than Jack looked.

  “There was a price. An exchange. I walked away from law in Florida and the Ethics Board walked away from me.”

  Quirking an eyebrow, I stilled my hands in his hair.

  “Don't stop, I like that,” Jack murmured.

  My hands started up again, but did it on auto-pilot. “And?”

  “And I fixed that kid situation I told you about. Information that detailed the wife's previous infidelity mysteriously appeared in the husband's lawyer's mailbox. He had enough fodder to have a new custody hearing and the judge changed his ruling. The kid’s now with the dad, or will be soon enough.”