The Brazen: Calamity Montana - Book 3

by Nash, Willa

“Nellie said you’d be in Calamity tomorrow and wanted to meet,” she said.

  For years, all my clients had referred to Nellie as Ms. Rivera. Apparently, Kerrigan and Nellie had become friends in less than a month.

  “Yes, I’d like a few minutes of your time.” Or an entire afternoon.

  “Say please.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Please.”

  “In that case, no.” God, she was loving this, wasn’t she? The smirk in her voice was as clear as the Colorado sky.

  “It’s regarding my grandfather’s last wishes.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “In that case, I’ll be at The Refinery by eight tomorrow morning. We can meet there.”

  I ended the call without a goodbye.

  The details of Kerrigan and Grandpa’s relationship were a mystery to me, though I had a vivid imagination. He’d always had a thing for strong, beautiful women, and she fit the mold.

  Though at first glance, she didn’t seem the type to screw an older man for money.

  The idea of them together made my head spin and stomach crawl. He’d feasted on her lips. He’d known that she was soft and sweet.

  I scrubbed a hand over my beard, wishing like hell I could forget my own kiss with that woman. But twenty-eight days later and there were times when I could still taste her on my tongue.

  Had Grandpa actually cared for her? Or had he just lusted for a younger, stunning body? That was another mystery I didn’t care to solve.

  I shoved away from my desk, forgoing the work waiting, and left the office for my private elevator. With a swipe of my key card and a short trip up to the next floor, the doors opened to my penthouse.

  Like my office, the exterior walls were mostly glass. The windows gave me the same view but even just one floor up, the city seemed quieter. Or maybe that was because here, in my home, I could breathe.

  I’d spent a lot of hours staring out of my windows, pondering everything that had happened in the past seven months. The past seven years. And there’d been plenty of moments as of late that Kerrigan Hale had consumed my thoughts while I’d stood at the glass.

  Why had I kissed her at the motel? Was it simply because she’d meant something to him? Had this need for revenge really turned me into such a miserable prick? Would I really have the nerve to steal her properties in two days?

  Ruthless had been Grandpa’s strategy. While I’d play that card when necessary—my letter to her had been one directly out of his playbook—I tended to take a fair approach with my clients.

  Even before we’d met, Kerrigan had set me off-kilter. Why? She would be nothing to me. After this week, she’d be a distant memory. Did it matter what kind of relationship she’d had with Grandpa?

  Now was not the time to search for answers. I jogged up the stairs to the upper floor, going straight for my bedroom and closet. With a travel bag packed, I returned to my office to grab my laptop.

  Nellie was on the phone when I poked my head in to say goodbye, so I waved, then took the elevator to the garage.

  After loading my car, I reversed out of my private space and used my personal entrance, then headed out of the city.

  First, to stop by my parents’ place and pick up Grandpa’s ashes.

  Then, to Calamity.

  Other than the colors of the trees, Calamity hadn’t changed in the past month. Living in a booming section of Denver, I was used to seeing new construction. Window displays were constantly updated. Store signs were swapped out regularly as businesses failed and started.

  But at first glance, nothing about Calamity had changed in a month. Nothing. It was oddly comforting.

  I walked down First toward The Refinery, the street deserted except for the vehicles parked in front of the coffee shop and café. The sun peeked over the roofs from across the street and glinted off the shining windows of Kerrigan’s gym.

  The lights were on but the studio was empty. I went inside, escaping the morning chill, and stood by the reception desk, taking a moment to inspect the place. It, like the rest of Calamity, hadn’t changed in twenty-nine days either.

  Mirrors lined the longest wall on one side of the studio, making it seem twice as big. My shoes sank into the soothing gray mats beyond the tiled entryway. In the corner, a metal cage was stuffed with exercise balls. Stacked yoga mats were piled on one of the few shelves. Opposite the mirrors, a ballet bar had been mounted to the wall and it cut a honeyed-oak line against the white paint.

  The studio was open, airy, and quite similar to many of the trendy fitness locations in LoDo. It didn’t really fit in Calamity. It was too fresh. Too clean. Maybe it hadn’t been designed for the town, but for the owner herself.

  Kerrigan came rushing out of a short hallway at the back of the building and the moment she spotted me, her footsteps stuttered. “You’re twenty minutes early.”

  “Good morning.”

  She frowned. “Morning.”

  Kerrigan was in another pair of yoga pants. The gray material wrapped around her slender thighs and made her legs look a mile long. She was barefoot and her sweater draped over her shoulders, the front forming a deep V and the loose sleeves falling past her knuckles.

  “One minute.” She held up a finger, then spun around, retreating the way she’d come.

  With her hair twisted up, I had the perfect view of her top. The V cut just as low in the back as it did in the front. Beneath it was a bra with more straps than power poles had wires. They crisscrossed over her smooth skin, showing more toned muscle.

  And her ass in those leggings was . . .

  My cock jerked beneath my slacks.

  “Fucking hell,” I muttered, forcing my eyes away.

  I hadn’t been attracted to a woman in months. Why her? Why now?

  Just don’t fucking kiss her again. I sucked in a long breath, willing myself under control. Maybe that inhale would have worked, except her scent filled the air. The same scent I’d memorized when my lips had been on hers. Honeysuckle florals. Rich and sweet.

  I could not—would not—get distracted by this woman. Any woman. I’d done that once and look where that had landed me.

  “What a disaster,” I muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  I whirled around. Kerrigan was right behind me, her hands on her hips. “I said . . . what a disaster.”

  Her eyes flared and her mouth pursed into a thin line. “What, exactly, is a disaster?”

  Me. I was the disaster. But answering her question with the truth would take more time than we had today. “This trip. It’s doomed to be a disaster and before you start telling me how much you hate me, let me say that the disaster has nothing to do with you.”

  Not entirely true, but after a long drive yesterday and a fitful night of sleep at the motel, I didn’t have the energy to argue with Kerrigan.

  “Would you like to visit here or go somewhere else?” I asked.

  “I was thinking we could go to the café.”

  I gestured to the door. “Lead the way.”

  She grabbed her purse from behind the reception counter. Then she pulled on a pair of tennis shoes and walked to the door, locking it behind us.

  The walk to the café was short and silent. She crossed her arms over her chest and walked at a pace that would require anyone with a shorter inseam to jog. But the moment we stepped inside the café, her cold demeanor evaporated.

  Well, not toward me, but toward the rest of the room.

  A smile broke across her face and damn it, my heart skipped. The smile lit up her face and made those pretty brown eyes dance. My dick, swelling again, thought it was beautiful too.

  “Hey, Kerrigan.” A waitress waved as she carried a pot of coffee across the room. “Sit wherever you want.”

  “Thanks.” Kerrigan waved back and led us to the only empty booth along the windows to the street.

  I slid into my side of the table, ready to launch into the reason I was here. It would be better to get this over with before we could order and delay this meeting o
ver the length of a meal.

  “The reason—”

  “Hi, Kerrigan.” An older woman appeared at the end of our booth. She bent low to give Kerrigan a hug, not sparing me a glance. “How are you, sweetie?”

  “Good, Mrs. Jones. How are you?”

  “Fine and dandy. I saw your parents at church yesterday. They look so well. I tried to convince your mom to tell me what skin cream she’s using because I swear she hasn’t aged a day in ten years.”

  Kerrigan laughed. “I’ll raid her bathroom and make a list, then sneak it to you.”

  “You do that.” Mrs. Jones laughed, then patted Kerrigan on the shoulder. “See you soon.”

  Kerrigan faced me and I opened my mouth, ready to speak, when once again, I was interrupted by a visitor. This time, it was the local sheriff if the badge and gun on his belt were anything to go by.

  “Hey, Kerrigan.”

  “Hi, Duke.”

  He glanced at me and given the scowl on his face, I’d say he knew who I was. “All good here?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Tell Lucy I’ll call her later.”

  “Will do.” He gave me one more stern look, then walked away.

  I waited this time before opening my mouth, and sure enough, the moment the sheriff was gone, another person appeared to talk to Kerrigan about a raffle happening at the daycare and wondering if Kerrigan would donate a few classes at the gym.

  Person followed person. Kerrigan was genuinely nice to each, even though it was obvious they were scoping me out. But she kept that breathtaking smile on her face for every conversation, seemingly unbothered by the intrusions.

  It would be easier to deal with her if she weren’t nice.

  After another two visitors, the waitress finally got her own window of opportunity. She arrived with two ceramic coffee mugs, filled them both to the brim and left us with our menus.

  “Popular today?” I asked when it seemed like the stream of endless guests had dried up.

  Kerrigan shrugged and took a sip from her mug. “Not so much popular as just having lived here my whole life. Small town. It’s hard not to know everyone.”

  “Ah.” I took my own drink and leaned my elbows on the table.

  The restaurant, like her gym, surprised me. From the outside, I’d expected a ghost-town-esque diner, greasy spoons included. But the interior looked to have been remodeled within the last decade. There was a chalkboard wall complete with today’s specials. The white tile floor gleamed under the lights. And the tables, as befit the restaurant’s name, were all white oak.

  The waitress returned, a pad of paper in hand. “Ready to order?”

  “I’ll have the omelet special,” Kerrigan said.

  The waitress pivoted in my direction. “And for you?”

  “Just coffee.”

  With a single nod, the waitress disappeared, leaving us alone.

  “You’re not eating?” Kerrigan asked.

  “This won’t take long.” I held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “I’m not here to discuss your contract.”

  “But Gabriel gave me an extension and—”

  “My grandfather asked to have a portion of his ashes scattered at his cabin in the mountains.”

  She blinked and drawled, “Okay.”

  “He would like you to attend.”

  “Oh.” Whatever irritation and frustration she had with me fell away. Her shoulders slumped. She swallowed hard. “I’d like that.”

  It was as clear as the Montana sky that she’d loved my grandfather. And for that reason, I needed to get the hell out of this booth.

  Her loan was due tomorrow. We’d scatter Grandpa’s ashes tomorrow.

  And then I could forget about Kerrigan Hale.

  Chapter Four

  Kerrigan

  “Thanks for covering for me, Mom.”

  “Of course. You know, if you worked at the dealership, you’d have a more flexible schedule. You wouldn’t be tied to it like you are to this gym of yours.”

  I sighed, not wanting to get into this discussion. Again. “Do you have any questions? The first yoga class is at nine. Pilates at ten and barre at noon. Then the last yoga class at two. After that, it should be fairly quiet until one of the girls gets here at three thirty. They’ll get everything ready for Body Pump tonight.”

  “You wrote it all down for me.” She pointed to my sticky note. “I’ll be fine.”

  “The instructors can always help if there’s a problem.” They were the real treasure at The Refinery.

  We didn’t have fancy treadmills or weight machines. There wasn’t much walk-in traffic besides the occasional member who’d come in early to practice before the actual class began.

  But the goal of this studio wasn’t to compete with the other gym in town. They could keep their machines and circuit rooms. The Refinery was a class-based facility like the ones you’d find in a city.

  People of all ages were welcome here, including a once-a-week class for pregnant moms. There were a few men, but my membership was ninety-five percent female. Soon I hoped to offer something for kids, like karate or tae kwon do.

  Or at least that had been the plan a month ago. As of today, everything was up in the air.

  “You’d better get going.” Mom shooed me toward the door. “Good luck and drive safe.”

  “Thanks.” My luck seemed to have run out, so I wasn’t holding my breath. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will.” She took a seat in the chair behind the counter and pulled her Kindle from her purse. Before I was out the door, she was lost in her fictional world.

  The familiar image of her, nose to book, was comforting on a day when my emotions were a tornado. How many books had Mom read over the years while working as the receptionist at Hale Motors? I could still see her there, so engrossed in a story that the only way to get her attention was to ring the bell on the front desk.

  When I was younger, before the days of e-books, Mom hadn’t gone anywhere without a paperback. Now it was her Kindle.

  Mom was officially retired now—the day she’d decided to stop dying the grays out of her chestnut hair was the day she’d decided to quit. Dad was still as active as ever, working as the general manager. My brother, Zach, was one of the assistant managers. My uncle ran the shop. My other uncle was their accountant, and I had more than one cousin who worked as a mechanic. If I ever needed a job, they’d find a spot for me processing finance requests and parts orders.

  But that was not my dream, something my family didn’t quite seem to grasp.

  Mom and Dad made sure to tell me how much easier my life would be if I took a nine-to-five at the dealership. My aunts and uncles said more of the same. The dealership had been founded by my granddad and he never missed the opportunity to remind me that the Hale family business could use another business-minded Hale.

  Maybe that was my fate. As I climbed behind the wheel of my Explorer, I took a long look at my building. I rarely parked out front of the gym, not wanting to take a customer’s space, but I’d left the spot in the alley for Mom’s Cadillac.

  Dad traded hers in every year, another dealership employee perk.

  The building’s windows sparkled in the morning sunlight. I’d splurged on the glass because it made such a bold statement—one that had taken me months to get approved by the town planners. Eventually they’d agreed to my modern touch and the day those windows had gone in, I’d nearly cried.

  Both the studio and the loft apartment on the second floor were a far cry from what they’d been. Dark. Empty. Filthy. No one had occupied this particular downtown building in years, and scrubbing it clean had taken a lifetime supply of elbow grease.

  Once upon a time, this had been Calamity’s candy store. The words Candy Shoppe were barely visible in chipped white paint on the exterior brick wall.

  The owners had gone bankrupt and closed the shop’s doors when I was a kid. There’d been other occupants here but nothing that lasted. Maybe the buildi
ng itself was cursed. Most of my financial problems had started when I’d added it to my list of projects.

  Or maybe I’d been doomed after buying Widow Ashleigh’s farmhouse.

  No matter what, I was glad for the improvements I’d made. They were my small mark on this town. This building had rejoined the modern century and was no longer the sad, dilapidated eyesore on First.

  Especially the windows. I’d never regret the windows or the small fortune they’d cost.

  A fortune that hadn’t been mine.

  A fortune that I was supposed to pay back today.

  The clock on the dash nagged that I needed to get on the road, so I reversed away from the gym and headed out of town. Nellie had emailed me directions to the cabin yesterday after I’d called and told her about my non-breakfast with Pierce.

  The moment I’d agreed to join him, he’d slid out of the booth and disappeared. The man made no sense. He was ice cold and any rational woman would probably have written him off thirty days ago. But that kiss . . .

  The sparks from that single kiss lingered on my lips.

  That kiss portrayed an entirely different man, one I was sure could be found beneath that cold exterior, the man Gabriel had talked about over and over. That Pierce was in there somewhere. Because that Pierce was the man who’d kissed me senseless.

  My phone rang as I reached the outskirts of town. “Hello.”

  “Hey,” Nellie said. “Are you on your way?”

  “Yep.” My voice was shaky. I hoped that would stop before I faced Pierce. I didn’t want him to see me unsettled. “What can I expect today?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not himself lately.”

  Nellie had said the same on more than one occasion. We’d developed a fast friendship and she’d been incredibly supportive, even though Pierce was her boss. It was also because of Nellie that Pierce seemed human.

  The more she told me about his company and his clients, the more impossible it was not to feel singled out. Every interaction with Pierce felt . . . personal. The calls and emails that had gone unanswered. The letter and our argument on the sidewalk. It all felt personal, like I’d done something to offend him. But what?