Montana Ice by Vanessa Vale

Author:Vanessa Vale [Vale, Vanessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vanessa Vale

I survived a restless night's sleep with my muse beside me. I'd rebuilt the pillow blockade. My stacking skills must have been better than Jack's as the wall stood the whole night. I woke up on my side, Jack woke on his. I debated if that was a good or bad thing. It had felt really, really good waking up sprawled across him. Having a foot of pillows between us wasn't the same at all.

I'd stayed up late working on my ridiculous story and slept fitfully, dreaming about a romance hero ravishing a buxom beauty in the cabin of a steamship. The dream, the hot man in the bed with me, regardless of the pillow wall, and his plan to break down my sexual defenses, left me hot and bothered and tired. And longing for a spanking, a little nipple clamp action and a few man-induced orgasms.

While I finished up the work at his uncle’s house, Jack spent the morning with the electrician or on the phone yelling at someone, most likely in Miami. He stormed off saying he was going to pick out light fixtures and counter material at the local hardware store before he lost his mind. Being out of his line of fire was fine by me.

Based on his phone call, he would be flying out the next day. I tried to protect my heart from that moment. I'd enjoyed his company these past few days, glad we cleared the air about the whole Violet incident. But I would miss him. Okay, understatement of the year. I’d adjust. Hell, I’d been missing him for a decade and gotten along just fine.

Pushing any feelings for Jack aside, I got busy. I had a successful morning with the inspector, receiving the certificate for the plumbing work. All I had left was to come back and attach all of the fixtures Jack purchased once the kitchen was complete. I wrote up my final invoice and left it tacked to the door where Jack would find it.

Hoping to catch a quick nap before working at Goldilocks all night, I headed back to Violet's house. The sun was shining, painfully bright off the white snow. Parking the van out front, I was stopped by Old Mr. Chalmers. He wore a red and black plaid wool coat from the sixties, a black watch cap, his overalls and heavy black boots. He held his shotgun in his hands. That wasn't a good sign. I shut the van door behind me and smiled at Violet's neighbor.

“Hi, Mr. Chalmers. How's it going today?”

“I thought you said you had a man staying there.” He pointed the tip of the gun toward the house.

“That's right. Jack Reid.” I stood about ten feet from him, giving him plenty of room. I kept one eye on the barrel of the gun to make sure it didn't swivel my way.

“Then what was a woman doing in there?”

I looked at the house. I saw nothing remarkable. It was a squat miner's shack from the 1800s.

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