by Vanessa Vale
Montana Heat
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: Deposit Photos: Ivankmit; Period Images
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Montana Heat
A Small Town Romance - Book 3
Vanessa Vale
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Note From Vanessa
Want more?
Montana Wild - Excerpt
About the Author
Also by Vanessa Vale
1
I was late. The clock on the dash of my Subaru wagon read ten after. But this was Montana, and no one was in a rush in Montana. Especially after a foot of snow had fallen overnight, leaving the roads covered. Most side roads had yet to be plowed. But Main Street was getting another pass. I knew this because I was stuck behind one of those behemoth dump trucks with the big plow on the front, snow shooting off to the side of the road about fifteen feet in the air.
Pedestrians and parked cars beware. With blinking yellow lights on the roof, chained tires and sand being spread from the back bed like corn to chickens, it was best to give it plenty of room regardless of my tight schedule. Violet didn't really care, but I only had so much time over lunch. I had to get a job to the printer before the end of the day.
It hadn't warmed much; my side windows had fogged up once the heat kicked on. I was so bundled up I felt like the Abominable Snowman, but at least I wasn't cold. Holiday music piped from the car stereo, and I absently hummed along to the seasonal tunes. Outside my window it was like a winter wonderland. The vintage holiday lights, each a different color, stretched across Main from one side of the street to the other at every intersection. Santa had personally come and lit them the first Saturday of the month as part of the annual Christmas Stroll. Practically everyone in town had come out for the evening event, the road closed to cars, the shops open late for holiday gifts and hot chocolate.
The snow plows, for whatever reason, never plowed the very center of the street, leaving a three-foot-tall berm of snow like a concrete highway divider, broken only at the cross streets. There was no jaywalking in the dead of winter in Bozeman. Neither was there very good parking as the snow plows pushed the snow right into the curbside parking spots.
I carefully edged around the snow berm and took a left on Willson to pull up in front of Goldilocks, my final destination, lucky to find a spot right out front. I carefully parallel parked, my back-right wheel elevated on a patch of snow.
Dashing to the store as fast—and as carefully—as I could considering the treacherous sidewalk conditions and my large, clunky winter boots, I was relieved to feel the blast of heat against my stinging cheeks once the door closed behind me.
“MeMe Hardy. It's been too long!” Goldie called to me as I stomped my boots. She was the owner of Goldilocks, the local, and only, adult store in town. She'd opened it well before I was born, and it was practically a historic landmark, although I was sure Goldie wouldn't appreciate that description. It sold anything and everything sex related, from condoms to crotchless panties to fingertip vibrators. Even in a town of less than thirty thousand, business boomed.
I winced at the childhood nickname. When I turned eighteen and went away to college in California, I’d been able to shed that moniker and take on my given name, Emma. But there were a few die-hards in town still who remembered me when I was three and couldn't say my own name right. I'd been back in town six years and was pushing thirty, but I'd still be MeMe to some. My mother, my aunt Sissy, a silly name in its own right, and Goldie.
“Sorry I'm late,” I tell Goldie and Violet, both behind the counter, piles of what looked like lingerie spread out before them. I pulled my knit cap from my head and tucked my blonde hair behind my ears, taming the static out of it.
My friend Violet looked at me, trying not to laugh, and mouthed, “MeMe?”
I rolled my eyes at her. “I got stuck behind a snow plow.”
Goldie nodded as she took her glasses off her nose and let them dangle over her ample bosom by a sparkly, rhinestone covered chain about her neck. “That's the safest place to be on a day like this. What can I get for you today?” Goldie’s gaze scanned me head to toe as if by looking at me she could guess just what I needed for sexy times. “A new bra.”
Oh, great. She could see gravity setting in through my heavy winter coat.
She rubbed her chin. “No, you're here for a vibrator.”
I could feel my cheeks heat at her words, but I couldn't help but chuckle. “Nope,” I answered as I shook my head, leaving her hanging. Talking vibrators with Goldie, who was friendly with my mom, was just about as bad as talking about it with my mom herself. Not that the vibrator in my bedside stand couldn't use an update, or at least new batteries, but I wasn't planning on telling her that.
“No vibrator for me today, Goldie. Thanks though.” I smiled brightly.
“Well, just give me a call when you're ready, and I'll pick out a top-of-the-line model for you. You know”—she waggled her eyebrows and twirled her finger in the air—“the one that has that spinning middle.”
My mouth fell open at the thought. I wasn't sure if I should be mortified or intrigued at the very idea.
The thing about Goldie? Everyone in town knew her and knew no topic of conversation was off the table. Most people probably hid behind a display of canned corn in the supermarket to avoid her if they didn't want to get details about their love life pulled out of them like a dentist yanking a bad tooth.
She was in her early seventies, a local fixture who knew the sexual proclivities of practically everyone in town over the age of eighteen, and was a pistol. She had unapologetically big, poofy blonde hair which was currently pulled back from her face by a red velvet headband. She wore a matching bright red sweater and earrings that were dangling sleigh bells. She was definitely in the holiday spirit. The Mrs. Claus look certainly helped with that.
“No vibrator? You must have a hot date and you need some condoms. Smart girl, being safe like that.” She reached into the plastic container on the counter of singly wrapped condoms she threw in for free with every purchase.
“No hot date,” I grumbled, holding up my hand to slow her roll. “Last one was eons ago.”
“Oh.” She put the handful of foil packets she'd grabbed back, her idea of a hot date a little more adventurous than most with that many condoms, but kept one out. “Here. For your purse.”
I walked up to her and took the offering, knowing you never turned down a breath mint or a condom. “Thanks,” I said, tucking it into the zippered part of my bag.
“She's here to meet me. We're going out for lunch,” Violet said as she grabbed her coat and bag from a hook on the wall and made her way around the counter. Slim and attractive, Violet always dressed stylishly, even for such a frigid day, when y
ou just wanted to be bundled up in cozy sweats.
We'd been friends since the summer I'd come back from college. She was filling in for her identical twin sister, Veronica, a longtime employee at Goldilocks. If not for style difference in wardrobe, I wouldn't be able to tell them apart. Veronica was off in Jackson Hole with her boyfriend to ski, if I remembered correctly.
Violet had told me over the phone she wasn't too keen on taking a shift for Veronica, working in an adult store not quite her thing—she was a first-grade teacher—but she'd said she didn't have too much choice. She hadn't given me the details, but something had happened and Violet was indebted to her sister, often saying yes to tasks she would rather avoid, tasks she had avoided in the past.
Like spending tons of time with Goldie. Not that Violet didn't like Goldie, everyone liked Goldie. They had to as she could blackmail the pants off everyone in the entire town. But if the woman could pick out the fact I needed a vibrator upgrade just by looking at me, who knew what she'd discover if I worked next to her for a few hours.
“That's nice, dear. So spill, MeMe, about this hot date from eons ago.”
“Yeah, MeMe,” Violet teased.
I rolled my eyes knowing I'd never live that one down. “Here's the story in a few words: boss, business trip, hot kiss, mistake.”
Goldie's shoulders wilted. Clearly, she’d been hoping for more of a hot man story than that. As far as I knew, there wasn't a man in Violet's life. So, Goldie wasn't getting any juicy details from her. It was obviously open season on man tales, which sadly, I only had one. And it didn't have a happy ending like most romances.
“Business trip?” Goldie asked, hanging lingerie once again.
“I'm a graphic designer. We were pitching an ad campaign to a potential client.”
I hadn't done much dating recently, my promotion at work kept me too busy, or that was the excuse I told myself. In actuality, no guy had interested me in a long time. Not since Sam. Since that night in Seattle. The business trip. I sighed just thinking about him—tall, blond hair, smart, funny, sexy—and that time when we—
“You can do the covers for Violet's books!”
One thing about Goldie, she didn't linger at conversational dead ends. Violet and I stood next to each other, facing her in the middle of the store, frozen in place. Violet's mouth was open, practically hitting the floor. I had no clue what Goldie was talking about.
“Goldie,” Violet said, her voice reminding me of a whiny five-year-old. “I wrote that short story because you pestered me into it, not to get it published. I can't do that! I'm a school teacher.”
I didn't know what Violet had written, but I could see Goldie driving Violet bonkers until she gave in, just to get the woman off her back. I turned and eyed my friend.
“Romance book,” she murmured, her mouth turned down in a frown.
I nodded my head slowly and said, “Ah.” Not that I still had any clue what they were talking about.
“Romance?” Goldie fanned herself with a pair of cherry red panties. “I'm getting a hot flash just thinking about how steamy it was. Veronica wrote some, but it was sweet, not hot and sexy like Violet's. I let Veronica off the hook because she found her own romance with Jack.”
Violet sighed. “She pestered me all the way to the end because I don't have a guy.” Violet's voice turned from frustrated to humored fairly quickly. “I think she was hoping I'd meet someone in the middle of the book like my sister. Maybe the next one, right, Goldie?”
“That's the spirit, Violet.” The bells on Goldie's earrings jingled with enthusiasm. “Say you'll do her cover.”
“Um, sure.” I hadn't done a book cover design before. I'd seen many a bodice ripper paperback at the grocery store though. It would definitely be fun—and different from the ad work I did now.
“Can I read your book?” I asked Violet, curious.
“Sure,” she said and shrugged.
“Stop by for that fancy vibrator first. You're going to need it,” Goldie added.
Violet looked at me and laughed. “So that hot guy, Em. Any chance for another date with him? Because he could replace that vibrator Goldie's talking about.”
Goldie chuckled and pointed. “That's good thinking, Violet. I always like the real thing better than a substitute. Take that sugar stuff in those little pink packets. That's not real sugar.”
Just the thought of using Sam to temper my lust after reading an erotic novel made me hot all over. I swallowed at the picture my dirty mind had made. And it didn't include a vibrator. It had Sam doing things to me with his hands and mouth that would make Violet's story look like a children's book. Maybe use some of that real sugar, too. I cleared my throat. “He hasn't been my boss since I got promoted. In fact, he no longer works at the company. I haven't seen him since he left about two months ago.”
Another bit of lingerie went on a hanger beneath Goldie's nimble—and practiced—fingers. “That's a surprise in such a small town. I run into someone everywhere I go.”
I had no doubt about that.
“Where are you having lunch?” Goldie pulled a turquoise lace thing—it was miniscule and tangled—which could be anything from a pair of panties to an obscenely small teddy, and placed it on a hanger. I still couldn't tell what it was.
As Violet wound a very long gray scarf around her neck, fringed ends hanging down past her waist, I answered. “At that new Mexican place around the corner and then shopping for a white elephant party present for tomorrow night.” I put my hat back on as I looked down and saw the snow melting and dripping onto the carpet that was better suited in a Las Vegas casino than a small business in Montana.
“Remind me again what a white elephant party is?” Goldie asked, her forehead crinkled up.
A customer came into the store followed by a gust of frigid air and asked after glow-in-the-dark condoms. “Back wall on the left,” she told him. “Let me know if you need anything else. Oh, I love this song.” Turning around, she fiddled with the mouse on the laptop on the counter, adjusting the volume of a popular Christmas carol. She was impressively literate when it came to technology. No vintage eighties stereo system for her.
“Well?” The question was accompanied by another wave of lace, this little tidbit as black as midnight.
“What?” I asked. I'd forgotten what the question was, a little scattered since Sam had come up in conversation and my brain was thinking naked thoughts even though the only thing we’d done was kiss in the hotel elevator. And not a high school peck either, but an up-against-the-wall, NC-17 rated surveillance video kind of kiss.
“White elephant party?” Goldie repeated.
Violet placed a hat with ear flaps and a big pom-pom on top over her straight, dark hair and answered for me. “Everyone brings a wrapped gift to the party and they're put in a big pile. Everyone draws numbers. Whoever gets number one picks a present and opens it. Number two picks a present, opens it and decides to keep that present or take number one's present instead. Then number three does the same, but can choose from the three presents already opened. It goes around until everyone has a chance to open a gift and debate keeping it or trading it in.”
Goldie put down the latest piece of lingerie she was putting on a hanger. “That sounds like fun. So, you never know what you'll end up with since someone can take your gift.”
I nodded my head. “Exactly. The good gifts usually get swapped frequently.”
“Are you bringing a date?” she wondered. Like a dog with a bone, she wouldn't give it up. Maybe I should invent a guy so that she'd stop, although that could quickly backfire on me. Besides, inventing a date would mean my love life had stooped to an all-time low and I didn't consider myself there. Yet.
I was particular. I had standards, wants. Needs. Oh, boy did I have needs. Needs that involved a little kinky, a little rough and very steamy. And the only guy who'd been able to even kick start those needs had been Sam, and he was out of the picture.
“Nope, like I said, no hot d
ate,” I told her, all of a sudden a little depressed.
“What are you going to get for your gift?” Goldie asked.
I adjusted my purse on my shoulder. “I'm not sure. A tree ornament maybe, so we're going to check out that craft store down the street.”
Goldie brightened and I swear I saw a light bulb go off over her head. “Why don't you get something here?”
I bit my lip as I contemplated the idea, considering the implications behind getting a gift from a sex store. It wasn't like me to give such personal and inspiring gifts. It could be embarrassing if people found out it came from me, but the gifts were unsigned. It was anonymous gift giving. Who would know? How would someone know? It could work. Anything was better than a silly ornament. I glanced at Violet for her opinion and she shrugged her shoulders.
“Are kids going to be there?” she asked.
“I'm not sure,” I replied. “I know Cindy McKade, my friend who's hosting, has a son. So, he might be included.”
“Violet, you're not going?” Goldie wondered.
My friend shook her head. “Can't. It's the same night as my faculty holiday party.”
“Of course. So many fun parties this time of year. In fact, Paul and I are going to a hospital ball tomorrow night as well, but it's down at Big Sky and we're going to stay the night.” Goldie thought for a moment. “Why don't you two go have a nice lunch and some hot chocolate and come back. I'll come up with something that's appropriate and get it all wrapped up and ready to go.”
She'd cornered me. I knew it. She knew it. And she knew I knew it. There was nothing for me to do but smile and nod my head. “Okay, but to make the presents fair, Cindy set the spending limit to ten dollars.”
