Too Hot to Handle. Victoria Dahl

you like a beer?” she squeaked, jumping up and dropping the iPad to the couch where it slid down the slope of the cushion before getting caught in the corner.

      She didn’t hear his answer; her heart was pounding too hard as she rushed to the sink and turned on the hot water. She tried to imagine how she’d feel if she went to a near stranger’s house and found out he’d just been masturbating to dirty thoughts of her. Shuddering, Merry scrubbed her hands and regretted even considering getting her groove back.

      This was the last straw. It was going to be the nunnery for her. Maybe she could find one in commuting distance.

      * * *

      SHANE KNEW THAT Merry was acting strangely. She was up to something, maybe something underhanded concerning Providence. He knew that, but he kept getting distracted by her breasts.

      She’d always had breasts, obviously, but this time she wasn’t wearing a bra under her T-shirt, and unfettered breasts were an entirely different distraction.

      They looked fucking perfect. So perfect he had the urge to blurt it out to her, just because it needed to be said. Her yellow T-shirt was so pale he thought he could see the faint darkness of her nipples beneath the fabric, but he was left wondering because the picture of a weird telephone booth on it interfered with the play of shadow and light. It teased him with the possibility. He kept watching in hopes of being more sure.

      When she brought a bottle of beer he downed half of it quickly and told himself to stop being a creep. Not that that was possible. After all, he’d come over here with the sole intent of gathering information about the ghost town. That ridiculous ghost town. He felt bad that she was so damn enthusiastic about it, but what business was it of hers? She’d come here from Texas. The town was a lark for her. For him, it was a bad memory and now a serious nuisance. His grandfather had left him the burden of the Bishop land and none of the damned money. How was he supposed to pay tens of thousands of dollars of property tax every year? Shit, he could charge grazing fees to neighboring ranches, but the federal land higher up was a hell of a deal compared to what he’d need to charge.

      All he really wanted to do was build a house on the land that had been passed to him. And he wanted to preserve that land. Not in a way that brought tourists to it, but in a way that kept them out.

      Jesus, his ancestors hadn’t founded Providence to attract strangers. They’d built a town in the middle of nowhere because they’d wanted it to be their own.

      Not that he gave a damn about that. It was just another reminder that the men of his family ran. First, they’d run to Wyoming Territory, leaving behind whatever complications they hadn’t wanted to deal with in Missouri. Then, after a little trouble with water, they’d left Providence behind, too, and moved on to greener pastures.

      The habit hadn’t died with the early twentieth century. His grandfather had been married three times. And Shane’s father had taken running to a new level. One day, when Shane had been ten, his dad had kissed his wife goodbye, bought a trailer and disappeared with his girlfriend. Neither of them had ever been seen again, though the rumor was that they’d gone to Mexico to live on a beach. Shane suspected his dad had probably started a cattle ranch. He couldn’t picture his dad on the beach, and ranch land had been cheap in those days.

      Shane’s younger brother had followed the pattern on the day he’d turned eighteen. He hadn’t gone to Mexico, though. He’d gone east somewhere, though he hadn’t been specific about his destination. He’d just…disappeared. After that betrayal, Shane had never bothered looking for him. If Alex wanted to be gone, he could stay gone.

      Shane had stayed, but it had felt like a fragile truce with his life, even before all this.

      When Merry said, “Okay,” under her breath, he looked over to see that she’d drained half her beer, too. Her shoulders rose on a deep breath, and then she smiled at him and grabbed the iPad. “The brochure! You have to be honest, all right?”

      “I’ll be happy to be honest, but I don’t know anything about this kind of stuff.”

      The front of the brochure appeared on the screen, the background a black-and-white shot of the long street, buildings marching down on either side of it. The Town of Providence, the title read. Established 1884. Abandoned 1901.

      Even to him, the words were powerful, promising angst and drama, but it was nothing romantic to him.

      Still, it was nicely done, and he told her so.

      The next page was titled The History of Providence. He skimmed it, not needing to know more than he already did. On the third page was a picture of the saloon.

      “Obviously I’ll take a new picture when you’re done with the work. It’s going to be amazing, Shane. That building is so perfect. People love a saloon! Look how popular the Crooked R is.”

      “To be fair, that saloon still serves liquor.”

      “I know, but it’s the possibility. The strangers that came through. The adventurers and outlaws.”

      Shane smiled, remembering his own childhood imaginings.

      “And people are fascinated that their great-great-great-grandparents hung out in bars. They drank beer and whiskey. Maybe there were even prostitutes!”

      He looked at the small, inset photograph of the saloon that was taken at the turn of the century. A man in an apron stood on the porch, a towel clutched in his hand. “I don’t think my… I don’t think the women of Providence were the prostitute type.”

      “I don’t know.” She stared at the far wall. “I’d bet there might have been a lonely widow or two who got tired of sleeping alone. Women have needs, too. And there were all those lonely cowboys.”

      “We still talking about Providence, Merry?” he asked.

      She choked on laughter and smacked his arm. He tried not to look at the bounce of her breasts under the T-shirt. She wasn’t that kind of girl. She was goofy friend Merry Kade, who didn’t even realize that the press of her hard nipples against cotton could drive a man to distraction or she’d go put on a damn sweater.

      “So you started this job when I wasn’t in Jackson. When did they bring you in?”

      “I’d been watching job listings for the area. I’ve missed being near Grace and it’s so beautiful here. It just felt right when I visited, you know?”

      He’d heard so many compliments about Jackson Hole over the years that he just nodded absently. It was beautiful, yes, but beneath the surface, it was no different than any other place, as far as he could tell.

      “When I found this ad, I thought it was perfect. I had a little experience, and I thought I could really make a difference. I thought…”

      “You thought what?”

      Her brow tightened. “I thought I’d truly be needed.”

      “But you are, aren’t you?”

      “I don’t know, Shane. I mean, I feel like I’m needed. But it turns out…”

      Shane leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her face, even though she didn’t look at him. “What is it?”

      “I don’t want to tell you.”

      “Come on. What is it?”

      She finished her beer and set it so carefully on the table next to her that it didn’t make even the tiniest clink against the stone coaster. “Apparently there’s some sort of probate fight. Something to do with Gideon Bishop’s heir. I think they only brought me in as a symbol. Something to help fight the case. They don’t actually want me doing the work.”

      Shane didn’t say a word. He didn’t even dare to breathe. On one hand, this was crucial information. Important news he could take to his attorney. Merry was only being used to weaken Shane’s case.

      On the other hand, she looked devastated, and he wasn’t a monster.