Second Chance Bride (Montana Born Brides) (12 page)

He let himself into the villa. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, still worried about
Robbo. But only until he caught sight of Scarlett in that mini and those boots again.

“Time for bed?” he said, ever hopeful, as he headed for the bathroom to
do his teeth.

“I was thinking of a swim in the plunge pool
first.”

His eyebrows shot up, his toothbrush barely in his hand, as he remembered all those mermaid pictures he’d thought of before. The plunge pool would do nicely in the interim. Very nicely.

“I’ll just grab my shorts,” he said, about to change his mind and head for the dressing room.

She appeared at the door, wearing only her scarlet hair. “What do you need
swim shorts for?”

Good question.

They made love in the pool, slow, slick love until they were too weary of trying to keep their heads above water, and then they moved to the bed, where they made love all over again.

Afterward, as she was lying in the crook of Mitch’s arm watching the lazy rotations of the ceiling fan in the shadowed light, she said, “I think I will send a postcard to Travis. And it’ll say, ‘
Having a ball in Broome. Give my love to your wife and kids’
.”

“Would you do that?”

“No, tempting though it is. In fact, I actually should thank him. I wouldn’t be here with you in Broome without that little disaster.” She held out her arms toward the ceiling, “Thank you Travis!” she said to the universe. “You asshat.”

Mitch
chuckled beside her and she dug him in the ribs. “Hey, you should thank Travis too.”

“Me?”

“Sure. You got what you wanted didn’t you? A Rottweiler to protect you from the clutches of the evil Kristelle.”

Yeah, he had. But it wasn’t Travis he owed thanks to.

Travis might have dropped her in his metaphoric lap, but it was his little sister who’d stopped him from walking away. It was Callie, who’d made him wait long enough to have coffee with Scarlett and make sure she was okay. Callie, who’d given him time to come up with this plan.

Thank you, Callie
, he said silently, as he drew Scarlett closer into the crook of his arm.

“You are one hell of a Rottweiler. And there was me thinking you were going to give
Kristelle the benefit of the doubt. You came out all guns blazing.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling against his shoulder. “So maybe I had a hunch.”

He sighed and for a moment she thought he was going to sleep, and then he said. “Now I’ve got a hunch.”

“What about?”

“I’m thinking you should talk to Sharon.”

“What about?”

“About her being an accountant.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re good with numbers. When you’re not working out restaurant bills, you’re working on those damned puzzles.”

She shrugged. “They’re just Sudoku.”

“Yeah, but they’re numbers.”

“I thought accountants were supposed to be boring.”

“Does Sharon look boring?”

“No, she looks nice. She is nice. I like her.” She thought about it for a while. “Mitch, do you think I could be an accountant?”

“I don’t know, Scarlett. Like I said, it’s just a hunch. Maybe you should talk to her.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Now go to sleep.”

Scarlett lay there a while, listening to the whisper soft whir of the fan. Accounting. It sounded
horrible. But what did she really know about accounting? She’d never met an accountant before. And now she knew two, Robbo and Sharon. But there was a CPA firm in Bozeman near the police department where Tara worked and they had a branch in Marietta. She remembered their signage,
Morison and Daume CPA
.

And she didn’t have a clue what they did inside
that office of theirs, but if it was something to do with numbers, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it was worth thinking about.

Maybe.

The next morning brought good news on the weather front when the weather forecast on the television confirmed what they saw out the windows. The cyclone off shore had blown itself out and winds were easing, the clouds already less threatening, and there was a chance of clearing skies by evening. Mitch flicked off the TV. “Looking good for Staircase to the Moon,” he said, and Scarlett would have been excited, except she’d just checked her phone.

With a sigh she put it down on the side table.

“Nothing?”

“Not a nibble.”
She turned in his arms. Sighed again. “You know, I’m beginning to think it’s better if the dress doesn’t sell. I mean, some woman in Marietta took it back because she was abandoned at the altar and then the damn thing offered me no joy either. Maybe it’s a bad luck dress. Maybe I shouldn’t even be trying to sell it because the darned gown is cursed. Why would I want to pass on a dress that’s likely to ruin some poor woman’s life?”

“It’s just a dress, Scarlett. How can it be cursed?”

“I don’t know, but it is, and it’s a sign that it’s not selling. I’m going to take the listing down. I don’t want anyone else to buy it.”

“Okay, so take the listing down.”

“Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“If I happened to have a wedding gown that was cursed and that wouldn’t sell on eBay, you mean?”

“Now you’re just poking fun at me.”

“Not at all. It’s a fair question. I just need to think about it a while, do a thorough assessment of the pros and cons. You can’t be too impulsive about these things.”

She sat up and snatched up a pillow. “Mitch Bannister, you are making fun of me!” and she swiped him with it as he lay on the bed.

“Hey!” he said, “don’t go hitting a
bloke when he’s down.”

“So get up and fight like a man.”

And he did, retaliating with his own pillow, and it was on. They went blow for blow on the already tousled bed until he managed to knock her pillow out of her hands and grab her flailing wrists to drop her bodily to the bed. She was panting and laughing while he pinned her there, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling with her chest, her scarlet hair like a crazy tangled crown around her head, and his lungs squeezed tight in his chest.

“You’re beautiful, Scarlett Buck,” he growled, in a voice that felt like gravel, as he gazed down upon perfection, from her crazy scarlet crown all the way past her luscious curves to her provocative red tipped toes. “So crazy beautiful.” And the green eyes that looked up at him glistened like waterholes that were so goddam deep you could drown in them, and god, he was tempted to jump right on in.

But those toes had given him an idea that might save him from saying anything even crazier before all the blood drained from his brain and headed south.

Though it might not save his sanity.

He reared back on his knees.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t help but feel something’s missing,” And he disappeared into the dressing room.

“Like what?” she called behind him.

He came out brandishing a grin and her pink sparkly boots. “These.”

“Now who’s kinky?” she said, reaching for them and pulling them on, before reclining on her side, propping up her head with her hand, the other on her hip. “So, how do I look?”

He looked at her, naked but for those outrageous boots, and with his mouth watering and his cock standing to attention, knew his sanity was a lost cause.

“Like every cowboy’s dream come true.”

She smiled, a slow, wide, knowing smile. “Then what are you doing standing all the way up there, cowboy?”

Yet another good question. He loved how this woman’s thought processes worked.

He launched himself onto the bed, collecting her in his arms and meshing his mouth with hers and tumbling her across the big wide bed until he stopped with her on top. “Hey cowgirl,” he whispered in hot, heavy breaths against her throat, “seeing as you’ve got your boots on and all...”

“Uh-huh?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to go for a ride?”

Thank god, she thought moments later as he lay sheathed and ready to guide her hips down over that long, hard length of his, some decisions didn’t need thinking about.

Some decisions came to you gift-wrapped on a dish.

They made it down to lunch eventually, surprised to find only two of the party at the table. Sharon was laughing and
Robbo was grinning and there was no mistaking the way they both sprang back in their chairs at their approach. “Kristelle’s at the spa with her mother,” Robbo explained as they sat down, “and the others took the chance to grab a helicopter to go sightseeing. They’ll be back soon.”

“How is
Kristelle today?” asked Scarlett, and couldn’t help but notice the way Sharon’s once warm smile grew tight at the mention of the bride-to-be.

Robbo
took a breath, and fiddled with a stray coaster and frowned absently out over the spectacular coastline where the turquoise sea fairly sparkled today. “Nervous. I mean she’s happy about the weather improving, and the improved chances for seeing Staircase to the Moon, and now she’s aiming for achieving Zen-like calm at the spa.”

“Excellent,” said Mitch, “maybe we should talk about the plan for the rings.”

“The rings! They’re in the safe in the villa. How about I give them to you now?”

The men wandered off while Scarlett sat back with a freshly delivered
coffee and said to Sharon, “You didn’t fancy going to the spa?”

The other woman shook her head. “To be honest, it’s nice to have a little space. This is all really weird. I’m still not even sure why I’m here.”

“Why? How long have you known Kristelle?”

“See, that’s the thing. I started at a new gym a few months ago, and the first time I went,
Kristelle asked me for coffee after. I thought it was a nice gesture. So we had coffee and a chat and it just became a regular thing. But y’know? I don’t think she actually listens to anything anyone else says, if you get my drift.”

“She knew
sooo much about your job, right?”

She laughed. “Yeah, exactly. I remember talking about it and then being envious when she said she didn’t have to work. She only did it for the—
” She rolled her eyes and raised her fingers to make quote marks in the air—“sense of purpose, apparently.”

“
And then just a couple of weeks ago, she told me she was getting married and asked me to be her bridesmaid, because it’s such short notice that nobody else she’d asked could make it. And I thought it was strange that she was asking me, but I had days off owing and it was an all-expenses-paid trip to Broome staying in Cable Beach of all places, and she was in a tough spot and I thought, why not?” She shook her head. “But then I got here and it’s like she can hardly remember anything about me. I’m like an accessory after the fact. And I know it’s bad, but I started wondering if she even has any other friends.” And then she grimaced. “I told you it was weird.”

It was weird. But then
Kristelle seemed to be one out of the box.

“Maybe she’s just stressed.”

Sharon nodded. “She’s stressed all right.”