Bitterroot Queen

by Jove Belle

  “Hello?” Olly called out before she went in.

  “Olly!” Beth bounded out of the apartment and met her halfway across the lobby. She gave her a brief hug and then dropped to her knees to give Rampart loves.

  “Hi,” Sam said, leaning against the doorjamb that led to the apartment behind the lobby. She offered Olly a soft, sexy smile and sparks shot all the way to her toes. “What are you doing here?”

  Olly smiled back, hoping she looked less goofy and smitten than soft and sexy, but she wasn’t sure how it worked. “I’m on my way into town to do some errands and I thought I’d see if Beth wanted to ride along.”

  Sam’s smile faltered. “Oh, okay. Beth?”

  “I’m in. Let me get some shoes.” She ran back into the apartment, squeezing past Sam as she went.

  The sun filtered through the large picture windows and haloed her in light. Backlit as she was, her long auburn hair drawn up in a messy bun, she seemed to glow with ethereal life. She was beautiful and Olly was helpless to do anything other than go to her.

  She stopped just short of Sam, took a long, deep breath, and simply looked at her, something she generally tried to avoid. “So. Um...hi.”

  Sam met her gaze, her eyes a beautiful play of light brown with dark specks throughout. Her smile returned, and it held an edge that Olly had caught glimpses of before. This time, though, it lingered and hinted at a lot more than just a warm greeting. “Hi yourself.”

  For a moment, Olly let herself daydream about closing the distance between them and kissing her right there. Before she could do anything more than dream, Beth returned. After a prolonged moment, Olly followed Beth out with a glance over her shoulder at Sam. Something shifted in the air between them, like an intangible thread drawing her in. When the door closed between them, Olly fought the urge to go back inside.

  ∞

  Sam let the door close behind her, and collapsed against it with a sigh. She dropped her head into her hands. What the hell was she doing? Sure, Olly was charming and clever and a goddamn miracle for the Queen, but she was also young and closed off and had no intention of staying in Bitterroot. At least that’s how it seemed. The last thing Sam needed was to fall for a flight risk.

  She thought about working on the Queen’s new web-site. They were closing in on an opening date faster than she’d expected. Hopefully, by this time next week she should be ready to launch the website and wait for the reservations to come in. Assuming, of course, that they continued to make progress on the motel at the same rate.

  That was another reason pursuing a relationship with Olly was a bad idea. She needed her, more than she cared to admit, to stay focused and on task. Sam hadn’t realized how invaluable she would become, couldn’t have imagined the person she first found hanging out in her parking lot could possibly play such an important role in the success of the Bitterroot Queen. Without her, the Queen would be sunk, even with the lawsuit slowly moving along. She’d probably be old and gray before that got resolved. Besides, would Olly even stick around once the motel was open?

  And why did she care? It’s not like there was a future for her with Olly. She barely knew anything about her, after all, except that she had a tense relationship with her sister and an even worse one with her mom. And she no doubt had all kinds of wild oats to sow.

  But damn, the way Olly looked at her. And the way the air seemed to heat up between them, and the way even a light touch from her made her feel like she was on fire. Messy, she thought. Too messy.

  Website development, at least, was something Sam could do on her own. She went over to her desk—a monstrosity of a thing that she had brought from Vegas that was too large to fit in her current living space—and sat to resume her work. She shook the mouse to wake up her computer and stared at the design screen for her website. This, she understood. The bones of the work, of the structure she was trying to create, were clearly visible to her. There was no guesswork as there was with the renovations of the Queen.

  So far, she’d created the landing page, but the stock images she’d found online would have to be replaced with professional photos of the Queen at some point. The stock photos were nice and gave her a good visual representation of where she was going, but they didn’t do the job she needed them to do. The website needed to show the beauty and the charm of the Queen, and the only real way to do that was to make sure that the photos captured the pieces that made this a unique motel. Also, who wanted to stay at a property that didn’t share pictures on the company website?

  She wasn’t trying to create a five-star resort in the middle of the mountains of Idaho. All she really wanted was something that made it feasible for her to stay out of the big business environment of Vegas and other such cities. She didn’t need the Queen to make her rich. She just needed it to not make her bankrupt and to keep her and Beth comfortable.

  In addition to the landing page, she’d also populated the “About Bitterroot” page, which included links to local sites and activities.

  Bitterroot was the kind of place where people could come to relax, to enjoy the scenery and to simply get away from modern-day life. There was whitewater rafting, hiking trails, biking, kayaking, camping, and skiing. Plus, every summer the town hosted a banjo festival, an apple festival, and a folk music festival. In the fall, the college hosted an independent film festival. It wasn’t Sundance, by any means, but it brought in some traffic.

  Sam had fallen in love with the place all those years ago, when she’d come to visit Karen. Beth had still been a baby, and Sam had just started her rise up the corporate ladder in Vegas. Back then, she’d seen Bitterroot as an odd, quaint place, where she could bring her daughter, see her friend, and escape work pressures.

  That trip had been her first vacation in too many years to count. She’d just been promoted to pit boss, which meant she was in charge of all the tables on the gaming floor, keeping track of the dealers, the money, and players.

  She’d funded that trip with a bonus she’d received after breaking up her very first card-counting ring. There had been many others after, and the excitement waned for her. By the time she made it to the big office and the title of property manager, she was happy to leave those kinds of details to her staff.

  The Queen, however, needed more of her attention in the minutia. The details in any business venture could make or break an operation, but she’d never felt the pressure so acutely as she did now. So, as attractive as Olly was, and as much as she had come to depend on her in some ways, she needed to put that out of her mind and focus on why she’d come to Bitterroot in the first place.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bitter Ink was closed when they arrived. Olly parked in a space across the street, between the butcher and a vacant storefront. It looked as though a new business was moving in, but it was too early to say what.

  “It doesn’t look like Ava is here yet,” she said. “Do you guys want to hang out here or wander around?”

  “I’m going to explore. I haven’t seen much of the town,” Gen announced without any actual enthusiasm for the prospect.

  Olly looked around, trying to decide what to do. Ava should arrive in a few minutes, assuming she was on schedule. Olly hadn’t spoken to her in a while, since she finished her work on the shelves in the back room. It would be nice to see her again. In the meantime, however, she’d check out the butcher. Last time she’d gone in, he’d had a decent selection of meats, including some really good pepperoni sticks, one of her guilty pleasures.

  She stepped away from the car. “Going into the butcher. You guys can come with or you can stay here. Come on, Ramp.”

  Fifteen minutes later, a bag of pepperoni sticks and a few samples of seasoned elk and deer jerky in her hand, she went to Bitter Ink. Beth was sitting on the stoop waiting for her, and Gen caught up with her just as she reached the door. The door was unlocked, and music— some smoky nightclub number—came from within.

  Clearly, Ava had arrived.

  “Why are you w
aiting out here?” Olly asked.

  “I don’t know.” Beth shrugged. “I didn’t know if I could go in without you.”

  Olly shook her head, but didn’t comment. She opened the door and held it, indicating with the tilt of her head that Beth and Gen should go in front of her. Rampart ran ahead and barked, happy to return to his beloved courtyard. Ava appeared, pushing open the saloon-style swinging doors that separated the front of the house from the back office.

  “Olly!” Ava greeted her with a happy smile. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know if I’d see you again.”

  “Hi. Good to see you.” She gave Ava a polite half-hug. “Rampart missed you.”

  “I think he’s happier to see my courtyard.”

  She grinned. “Ava, this is my sister Genevieve and my friend Beth. Guys, this is Ava, the owner of Bitter Ink.”

  “We met the other day, actually.” Ava shook Gen’s hand.

  They made polite small talk for a moment until they all turned in unison toward Olly, clearly waiting for her to take up the conversation.

  “So, as you know, someone bought the old motel out on the highway, and they’re remodeling. That someone is Beth’s mom, Sam. As a surprise for her mom, Beth sketched a sign that she’d like to have made for the front of the building.” Olly pulled the folded paper from her back pocket and opened it to show Ava. “It’s a suspended metal sign that uses negative space and lighting for full effect. George said that you might be able to hook us up with someone who can do metalwork, a blacksmith or something?”

  Ava took the paper and studied it. “You drew this?” she asked Beth.

  “It’s not my usual style, but this is for my mom, so I made an exception.”

  “It’s very good. What do you normally do?”

  “I sketch, just not usually something so formal. I like to do portraits, and lately I’ve really been into trash polka-style paintings.”

  “Hmm. I’d love to see some other samples of your work.” Ava raised her eyebrows.

  “Yeah, I can do that.” Beth looked at Olly, a question in her eyes. “Maybe Olly could bring me back again sometime?”

  “Sure. But for now, about that metalworker...”

  Ava laid the drawing out on her workstation and smoothed it down with her hands. “If you leave it with me, I can take it to her. She doesn’t really like to meet new people.”

  “That’ll work.” Olly smiled. This whole sign-making thing looked like it was going to work out after all. She was excited to see how Sam reacted once all was said and done. “Do you still have my number?”

  “Yup, assuming that my kids haven’t deleted you from my phone.”

  “Excellent. Let me know either way what she says.” Olly motioned for Beth and Gen to move toward the door. “Come on, Rampart.”

  He emerged from where he’d been resting in Ava’s courtyard, his nails clicking on the wooden floor. She heard him long before she saw him. “Say hello to Valentina and the girls for me.”

  “Will do. And seriously. She does want to have you over for dinner.”

  “Well, you’ve got my number.”

  Ava smiled. “Talk to you soon.”

  Olly made her exit, happy to have one less thing on her to-do list for the Queen.

  ∞

  “You okay?” Beth asked Gen as soon as they were back on the road. “You didn’t say a word.”

  Gen smiled like she couldn’t be bothered. “I was just checking the place out. No need to comment.”

  “Gen, no.” Olly placed a heavy warning in her tone. “Do not even go there.” Beth looked at her, puzzled.

  “What?” Gen said. “I’ll be good.”

  Olly stared at her sister in the rearview mirror. For some reason, she’d opted to sit in the back with Rampart, leaving the front seat to Beth. She shouldn’t have brought Gen with her today. That was a very bad idea on her part. God only knew what kind of con she had rolling through her mind at the moment.

  “I’m serious.”

  Gen met her gaze levelly in the mirror. “You always are.”

  “I don’t know what all this drama the two of you have going on is,” Beth said, “but Olly, did you hear the part where she asked me if she could see more of my art? I just about peed.”

  “Yeah, kid. That was pretty cool. I’ll take you into town again soon, okay?” As worried as she was about Gen’s intentions, she was equally excited about Beth’s chance to share her talent with someone who knew the true value of it. From what Olly had seen of Ava’s work and Beth’s paintings, the two of them were kindred spirits.

  “What else are you doing today?” Gen asked.

  “Grocery shopping. Remember?”

  “And after that?”

  Olly hesitated. As much as she wanted to talk to Gen about her life, she needed to guard the pieces very closely. Especially anything to do with Sam.

  “What’s that smile for?” Gen asked with a chuckle.

  Olly hadn’t even realized she was smiling. She schooled her features into something more neutral. Gen was a goddamn bloodhound when it came to opportunity and vulnerability.

  “Why do you ask?” she said, redirecting the conversation back to Gen’s original question about her plans.

  “I was thinking about hitting the casino again today,” Gen said.

  “I need the Scout. You’ll have to find another way to get there.”

  “Come on, Olly. All you ever do is work on that damn loft apartment. You don’t need the Scout for that.”

  Olly pulled into the parking lot of the Red Barn Market and came to a stop toward the back of the lot. She turned off the vehicle, put the keys in her pocket, and gave Rampart the command for him to stay put. As she opened the door, she said, “No, Gen. I’m not going to change my mind. If you want to go there so badly, you’ll have to find another way.”

  Beth hopped out her side of the vehicle. “While you two are arguing, I’m going to go see Rachel. That’s her car, so she must be working.”

  “You sure?” Olly said.

  “Yeah. It’s cool.”

  As Beth headed into the store, Olly closed her own door and said to Gen, “Maybe you should just stay home tonight.”

  Gen didn’t respond, and Olly hurried to catch up with Beth.

  “Hold on a minute.” Gen hopped out of the car and ran to beat Olly to the door. She stopped Olly from entering. “What’s going on with you? Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

  “Gen, it’s my car. You don’t get to just take it whenever you want to. I have work to do and things I have to take care of. I need my car. So if you want to drive, then get your own damn car. Now, get out of my way. I need to go inside.”

  Gen glared at her, but stepped aside.

  Rachel was working the main register, and Beth was standing next to the postcard rack, occasionally giving her a shy smile.

  “Hi, Olly,” Rachel said. She looked at Gen, a question in her eyes.

  “This is my sister, Gen. Watch out for her.” She was only half-kidding. She grabbed a handheld basket from the stack by the door and set about her shopping without waiting for the introduction to play out between them. That Gen had invited herself along and then turned it into a platform for making demands pissed her off. It was better if she didn’t talk to anyone at the moment.

  She selected a few staple items for her and Rampart, such as cheese, deli meat, and an assortment of fresh veggies and fruit, but gave up after that. She couldn’t focus enough to remember what she and George had discussed for meals in the upcoming week. She’d have to make another trip, and that pissed her off further.

  Halfway through checking out, a bolt of realization struck her. Unlike her usual patterns, she didn’t feel compelled to leave a difficult situation like the one Gen was creating for her. She wanted to stay. Gen, on the other hand, needed to go.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Beth opted to hang out at the market until Rachel got off work. After she assured Olly she would call
Sam and let her know, Olly drove back to Randolf Farms with Gen, who pushed about needing the Scout at the beginning of the ride. Olly bit out an angry reply that stymied any further comment. The rest of the ride was made in tense, yet welcome, silence.

  She handed the bag of groceries to Gen with directions to put them away in the loft and then drove away. She didn’t care what Gen did, as long as it was on her own time and didn’t involve Olly. Now, Olly sat in front of the Queen. She’d driven here entirely without meaning to. Somewhere along the line, this had become her safe space, and she hadn’t even realized it until now.

  She stared at the building, wondering what Sam was doing and if she would welcome Olly showing up. She could go in and pretend she forgot something earlier. Once inside, she could walk right up to Sam and kiss her the way she’d wanted to earlier.

  Except she couldn’t. Not yet. And besides, Sam had Karen in the background. For all she knew, Sam enjoyed all the flirting but didn’t want anything more.

  And so far, she had managed to keep Sam off of Gen’s radar. How, she didn’t know, but she didn’t want to push her luck and act impulsively, no matter how sweet it would be in the moment, generally led to disaster in her experience. She liked to measure her steps and move with purpose. Sam made her want to abandon all of her reservations and self-control, and that was dangerous. Doubly so with her sister lurking behind her, looking for whatever con she could get away with.

  Rampart barked softly and jumped over the seat from back to front. With a sigh, he leaned against her with his head on her shoulder. She pushed her fingers through his fur.

  “I know, Ramp. I like it here, too.”

  He dropped his head and nuzzled closer.

  “Sam is...” she couldn’t finish the sentence, even with just Rampart to listen. She switched gears. “Beth loves you. And George, he just gets us. It’s weird, isn’t it, to feel more at home in a barn than in any house I’ve ever lived in. But that’s how I feel, and he understands.”