The Brazen (Calamity Montana)

“STEVE, TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING.”

My grandfather’s lawyer shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this when we went through his will and the details about Barlowe Capital?”

“It was part of his expressed wishes that I wait six weeks after his death.”

I dragged in a calming breath. “And this is why when we had the initial reading, you said that he did not want a funeral service.”

Steve nodded. “Correct.”

My mom had been irritated by Grandpa’s last requests, to put it mildly. She’d wanted to put her father to rest, but he’d specifically said no funeral service. Instead, he’d asked to be cremated and his ashes kept in an urn that he’d bought himself. The urn was currently at Mom and Dad’s house outside the city.

I guess I’d be paying a visit to my parents this week.

“Why couldn’t he do anything normally?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Even dead, the man was still pulling strings.

“Gabriel always had his reasons.”

His fucking reasons.

Those reasons were sending me to Montana—again—to scatter his ashes at the cabin. A cabin that I’d decided to sell. It would be on the market already if not for the club’s stipulation that a property not change ownership more than once per six months. They didn’t want anyone to flip a property, not that those places were exactly fixer-uppers.

Since the cabin had just become legally mine, I was stuck with it for a while.

It had been nearly a month since my visit to Montana. Twenty-eight days to be exact.

I knew because that was how many voicemail messages and corresponding emails I’d received from the irritatingly beautiful Kerrigan Hale.

“My parents are not going to be happy about this,” I told Steve.

“I’ve already discussed it with them. You’re only taking part of the ashes. Gabriel asked that the other half be taken to his villa in Italy. While you go to Montana—”

“Mom and Dad are heading to Europe.”

Steve nodded. “Exactly.”

Christ. Why couldn’t I have gotten the Italian vacation? The last place I wanted to go was Montana.

Of course, I could simply refuse this trip. It wasn’t like Grandpa would know.

But would I? No. The bastard had me trapped. Even though I was furious with him, even after all he’d done to me, he must have known that I wouldn’t ignore his final requests.

Sentimental as it was, once upon a time, I’d loved the man.

“Is this it? Or can I expect another surprise visit with another stipulation?”

Steve closed his leather padfolio. “See you soon, Pierce.”

Shit. So there was more. “You could save yourself a trip. Tell me now.”

“That wasn’t what Gabriel wanted.”

And Gabriel always got what he wanted, didn’t he? No matter how much that meant fucking up my life.

“Thanks, Steve.” I stood from my desk and shook his hand before escorting him to the door.

Nellie emerged from her office next door, smiling at Steve as he walked to the elevators. When he disappeared around the corner, she followed me into my office. “What was that about?”

I sighed and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows of my corner office, taking in downtown Denver. “I am headed back to Montana.”

“You are? When?”

“Soon.” I gave her the quick recap of my meeting with Steve. “What’s my schedule look like this month?”

“Actually, this week isn’t bad. But the rest of the month is already packed.”

Hell. That meant if I was going to fit in this trip, I’d be going immediately. Before Kerrigan’s thirty-day notice expired.

She’d made no indication that she would be paying and though she still had two days left, I doubted it would make a difference.

“Let’s just . . . get this over with,” I said, turning to face Nellie. “Block out the rest of my week if you can. Shove whatever can’t wait to Friday.”

“All right. Would you like me to call your pilot and get the flight arranged?”

“No, I’ll drive.” I hadn’t been on my airplane since my grandfather’s had crashed, killing him and his passengers. Though it would be faster, I couldn’t bring myself to fly. I’d stick to driving for now.

“All right. Jasmine called. Again.”

She’d tried me too. Twice. “I’ll call her later.”

Nellie arched her eyebrows. “Will you?”

No.

“You’re running out of time.”

I waved it off. “I have time.”

“Pierce—”

“I need to return a few emails, then I’ll go pack.” The benefit of living in the same building where I worked was a short commute. “Would you mind making me a reservation at the Calamity motel?”

“Calamity? I thought you were going to the cabin.”

“Not yet,” I grumbled. There was a stop to make first. “Would you also call Ms. Hale and request a meeting, first thing tomorrow morning?”

Nellie opened her mouth but closed it before she spoke.

“What?”

“Nothing.” And before I could convince her to tell me otherwise, she spun on her heels, her sleek white-blond ponytail practically whipping through the air as she scurried out of my office.

I turned to the windows again, taking in the city. The sun’s rays bounced and glinted off the neighboring buildings in LoDo. Mine was one of the newest in this area of downtown. I’d wanted the best and though it wasn’t in the hub of the business district like my grandfather’s building had been, I preferred being close to the city’s well-known restaurants, art galleries and boutique shops.

My company used seven of the twenty floors of the building. The lower levels were residential apartments, all top-of-the-line and many rented by my employees, including Nellie.

The building had an on-site gym and pool. There was a parking garage for residents and employees. Security was tight and the guards stationed at the entrance were paid well to ensure that no one unwelcome was allowed entry.

It was prime real estate, especially with the Front Range in the distance. The rugged mountains cut a jagged line across the horizon. Above them, the blue sky was clear and cloudless.

Why hadn’t Grandpa wanted his ashes scattered here? A quick trip to the Front Range and I’d be done. Instead, I would make the long journey to Montana and, per Grandpa’s wishes, invite her.

I groaned and returned to my desk. Like she knew she was on my mind, her name was at the top of my unread emails. Today’s note read exactly like its predecessors.

MR. SULLIVAN,

Per my previous contact attempts, please consider a brief meeting to discuss the terms of our contract.

Sincerely,

Kerrigan Hale

DID she send the same email to annoy me? Because it was working. Every day, like clockwork, I’d receive an email requesting a conversation. The note would put a slight damper on my morning, probably because I ignored it and ignoring clients—even those I’d inherited from my grandfather—wasn’t my style. Still, I ignored her, deleted the email and went about my day.

Then, the moment I had a break in my afternoon schedule, I’d get a phone call. It was like Kerrigan had direct access to my calendar and knew when I had ten minutes free.

I hadn’t answered a single one of her calls. I’d let them ring through to voicemail. But the moment her message was saved, I’d replay it. The messages, like the emails, were always the same.

HELLO, this is Kerrigan Hale. Please call me back at this number at your earliest convenience. I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon, Mr. Sullivan.

THE WAY she tried to suppress her annoyance at my last name always made me chuckle.

Over the past twenty-eight days, hearing her voice had become a part of my routine, yet I hadn’t once entertained the idea of returning her calls.

I didn’t trust myself with Kerrigan. That was the problem.

The last time I’d seen her, I’d kissed her. And what a fucking kiss it had been. Probably the best of my life. As much as I wanted to blame it on the bourbon, the real problem was chemistry. My attraction to Kerrigan ran to the marrow, proving what I’d suspected the day we’d met.

Kerrigan Hale was a dangerous woman.

I’d suffered enough at the hands of another dangerous woman.

So I kept my distance. I ignored the calls and emails because nothing had changed.

If Kerrigan didn’t pay her loan, the assets totaling the amount due would become the newest additions to Grays Peak Investments. I’d assign them to one of the junior members of my team, push for a quick sale and do my best to recoup whatever loss I incurred.

In the past month, I’d worked diligently to bring Barlowe Capital under the Grays Peak umbrella. It had been no small feat, but we were managing. Luckily, most of the Barlowe team had been willing to come to work for me.

Besides the cabin, Grandpa’s properties and his cash accounts had gone to my mother.

Mom, being his only child, had never struggled for money. My grandmother had been wealthy in her own right. She and Grandpa hadn’t been married long, and when she’d passed, Mom had inherited her estate. Dad had never hurt for money either, which had lessened the blow that Grandpa had bequeathed me Barlowe Capital.

Mom and Dad weren’t equipped to run it anyway.

I came from a long line of successful businessmen and women who’d ensured my billionaire status would never be in jeopardy. But living off someone else’s fortune had never been my style, and I’d started Grays Peak to build my own name.

Real estate holdings had provided a solid foundation for my company. Grandpa had specialized in real estate and I’d learned many things from him during my time working at Barlowe Capital after college.

When I’d branched out on my own, I’d started smart, with low-risk ventures. Then as my net income had doubled year over year, I’d diversified. My latest success stories were all in the technology sector. I’d also expanded into sports and entertainment.

We were becoming a powerhouse throughout the country, and there wasn’t a state where I didn’t have at least one interest.

Except Montana.

Ironically, the one area I hadn’t established any sort of interest in was where my grandfather had filled the gap. He’d done it by giving a beautiful woman too much money.

He hadn’t done her any favors. He’d set her up for failure by handing over that money. Maybe that had been his goal all along.

If Kerrigan took a step back and evaluated her business honestly, she’d see that she was overextended. She was smart and ambitious, but she’d tried to grow too fast, and her liquidity had paid the price. By selling some properties, lightening her debt load, she’d position herself for longer-term success.

I was doing her a favor by calling in my note.

Though I doubted she’d say thank you.

Nellie’s line rang through to my phone.

“Yes?” I answered.

“Kerrigan, uh . . . Ms. Hale is on the line for you.”

She’d called Nellie? This was new.

Granted, I’d told her to contact Nellie for any questions. Had she? No. She’d kept calling my personal number, and fool that I was, I hadn’t blocked her. It was that damn kiss I couldn’t get out of my head.

“What does she want?” I asked.

“You asked for a meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Yes. For you to schedule it.”

“Whoops.”

“Nellie,” I warned.

“What?” she asked, feigning innocence.

Christ. If Nellie was calling Kerrigan by her first name, then I suspected I wasn’t the only one who got regular phone calls. Except Nellie must be taking Kerrigan’s calls. “Tell her I’m busy.”

“Then you can forget seeing her in the morning. She won’t meet with you until you speak with her.”

“Fine,” I clipped, hitting the flashing red button for the other line. “Ms. Hale.”

“Hello, Mr. Sullivan.” That sugar-sweet voice was nothing like I’d been hearing in her voicemails. It was arrogant and taunting. The scales were no longer balanced in my favor.

I needed her time, something she’d been asking of me for nearly a month. And to get what I wanted, it was going to cost me.

“Nellie said you’d be in Calamity tomorrow and wanted to meet,” she said.

For years, all my clients had referred to Nellie as Ms. Rivera. Apparently, Kerrigan and Nellie had become friends in less than a month.

“Yes, I’d like a few minutes of your time.” Or an entire afternoon.

“Say please.”

I gritted my teeth. “Please.”

“In that case, no.” God, she was loving this, wasn’t she? The smirk in her voice was as clear as the Colorado sky.

“It’s regarding my grandfather’s last wishes.”

“Oh.” She paused. “In that case, I’ll be at The Refinery by eight tomorrow morning. We can meet there.”

I ended the call without a goodbye.

The details of Kerrigan and Grandpa’s relationship were a mystery to me, though I had a vivid imagination. He’d always had a thing for strong, beautiful women, and she fit the mold.

Though at first glance, she didn’t seem the type to screw an older man for money.

The idea of them together made my head spin and stomach crawl. He’d feasted on her lips. He’d known that she was soft and sweet.

I scrubbed a hand over my beard, wishing like hell I could forget my own kiss with that woman. But twenty-eight days later and there were times when I could still taste her on my tongue.

Had Grandpa actually cared for her? Or had he just lusted for a younger, stunning body? That was another mystery I didn’t care to solve.

I shoved away from my desk, forgoing the work waiting, and left the office for my private elevator. With a swipe of my key card and a short trip up to the next floor, the doors opened to my penthouse.

Like my office, the exterior walls were mostly glass. The windows gave me the same view but even just one floor up, the city seemed quieter. Or maybe that was because here, in my home, I could breathe.

I’d spent a lot of hours staring out of my windows, pondering everything that had happened in the past seven months. The past seven years. And there’d been plenty of moments as of late that Kerrigan Hale had consumed my thoughts while I’d stood at the glass.

Why had I kissed her at the motel? Was it simply because she’d meant something to him? Had this need for revenge really turned me into such a miserable prick? Would I really have the nerve to steal her properties in two days?

Ruthless had been Grandpa’s strategy. While I’d play that card when necessary—my letter to her had been one directly out of his playbook—I tended to take a fair approach with my clients.

Even before we’d met, Kerrigan had set me off-kilter. Why? She would be nothing to me. After this week, she’d be a distant memory. Did it matter what kind of relationship she’d had with Grandpa?

Now was not the time to search for answers. I jogged up the stairs to the upper floor, going straight for my bedroom and closet. With a travel bag packed, I returned to my office to grab my laptop.

Nellie was on the phone when I poked my head in to say goodbye, so I waved, then took the elevator to the garage.

After loading my car, I reversed out of my private space and used my personal entrance, then headed out of the city.

First, to stop by my parents’ place and pick up Grandpa’s ashes.

Then, to Calamity.

OTHER THAN THE colors of the trees, Calamity hadn’t changed in the past month. Living in a booming section of Denver, I was used to seeing new construction. Window displays were constantly updated. Store signs were swapped out regularly as businesses failed and started.

But at first glance, nothing about Calamity had changed in a month. Nothing. It was oddly comforting.

I walked down First toward The Refinery, the street deserted except for the vehicles parked in front of the coffee shop and café. The sun peeked over the roofs from across the street and glinted off the shining windows of Kerrigan’s gym.

The lights were on but the studio was empty. I went inside, escaping the morning chill, and stood by the reception desk, taking a moment to inspect the place. It, like the rest of Calamity, hadn’t changed in twenty-nine days either.

Mirrors lined the longest wall on one side of the studio, making it seem twice as big. My shoes sank into the soothing gray mats beyond the tiled entryway. In the corner, a metal cage was stuffed with exercise balls. Stacked yoga mats were piled on one of the few shelves. Opposite the mirrors, a ballet bar had been mounted to the wall and it cut a honeyed-oak line against the white paint.

The studio was open, airy, and quite similar to many of the trendy fitness locations in LoDo. It didn’t really fit in Calamity. It was too fresh. Too clean. Maybe it hadn’t been designed for the town, but for the owner herself.

Kerrigan came rushing out of a short hallway at the back of the building and the moment she spotted me, her footsteps stuttered. “You’re twenty minutes early.”

“Good morning.”

She frowned. “Morning.”

Kerrigan was in another pair of yoga pants. The gray material wrapped around her slender thighs and made her legs look a mile long. She was barefoot and her sweater draped over her shoulders, the front forming a deep V and the loose sleeves falling past her knuckles.

“One minute.” She held up a finger, then spun around, retreating the way she’d come.

With her hair twisted up, I had the perfect view of her top. The V cut just as low in the back as it did in the front. Beneath it was a bra with more straps than power poles had wires. They crisscrossed over her smooth skin, showing more toned muscle.

And her ass in those leggings was . . .

My cock jerked beneath my slacks.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, forcing my eyes away.

I hadn’t been attracted to a woman in months. Why her? Why now?

Just don’t fucking kiss her again. I sucked in a long breath, willing myself under control. Maybe that inhale would have worked, except her scent filled the air. The same scent I’d memorized when my lips had been on hers. Honeysuckle florals. Rich and sweet.

I could not—would not—get distracted by this woman. Any woman. I’d done that once and look where that had landed me.

“What a disaster,” I muttered.

“Excuse me?”

I whirled around. Kerrigan was right behind me, her hands on her hips. “I said . . . what a disaster.”

Her eyes flared and her mouth pursed into a thin line. “What, exactly, is a disaster?”

Me. I was the disaster. But answering her question with the truth would take more time than we had today. “This trip. It’s doomed to be a disaster and before you start telling me how much you hate me, let me say that the disaster has nothing to do with you.”

Not entirely true, but after a long drive yesterday and a fitful night of sleep at the motel, I didn’t have the energy to argue with Kerrigan.

“Would you like to visit here or go somewhere else?” I asked.

“I was thinking we could go to the café.”

I gestured to the door. “Lead the way.”

She grabbed her purse from behind the reception counter. Then she pulled on a pair of tennis shoes and walked to the door, locking it behind us.

The walk to the café was short and silent. She crossed her arms over her chest and walked at a pace that would require anyone with a shorter inseam to jog. But the moment we stepped inside the café, her cold demeanor evaporated.

Well, not toward me, but toward the rest of the room.

A smile broke across her face and damn it, my heart skipped. The smile lit up her face and made those pretty brown eyes dance. My dick, swelling again, thought it was beautiful too.

“Hey, Kerrigan.” A waitress waved as she carried a pot of coffee across the room. “Sit wherever you want.”

“Thanks.” Kerrigan waved back and led us to the only empty booth along the windows to the street.

I slid into my side of the table, ready to launch into the reason I was here. It would be better to get this over with before we could order and delay this meeting over the length of a meal.

“The reason—”

“Hi, Kerrigan.” An older woman appeared at the end of our booth. She bent low to give Kerrigan a hug, not sparing me a glance. “How are you, sweetie?”

“Good, Mrs. Jones. How are you?”

“Fine and dandy. I saw your parents at church yesterday. They look so well. I tried to convince your mom to tell me what skin cream she’s using because I swear she hasn’t aged a day in ten years.”

Kerrigan laughed. “I’ll raid her bathroom and make a list, then sneak it to you.”

“You do that.” Mrs. Jones laughed, then patted Kerrigan on the shoulder. “See you soon.”

Kerrigan faced me and I opened my mouth, ready to speak, when once again, I was interrupted by a visitor. This time, it was the local sheriff if the badge and gun on his belt were anything to go by.

“Hey, Kerrigan.”

“Hi, Duke.”

He glanced at me and given the scowl on his face, I’d say he knew who I was. “All good here?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Tell Lucy I’ll call her later.”

“Will do.” He gave me one more stern look, then walked away.

I waited this time before opening my mouth, and sure enough, the moment the sheriff was gone, another person appeared to talk to Kerrigan about a raffle happening at the daycare and wondering if Kerrigan would donate a few classes at the gym.

Person followed person. Kerrigan was genuinely nice to each, even though it was obvious they were scoping me out. But she kept that breathtaking smile on her face for every conversation, seemingly unbothered by the intrusions.

It would be easier to deal with her if she weren’t nice.

After another two visitors, the waitress finally got her own window of opportunity. She arrived with two ceramic coffee mugs, filled them both to the brim and left us with our menus.

“Popular today?” I asked when it seemed like the stream of endless guests had dried up.

Kerrigan shrugged and took a sip from her mug. “Not so much popular as just having lived here my whole life. Small town. It’s hard not to know everyone.”

“Ah.” I took my own drink and leaned my elbows on the table.

The restaurant, like her gym, surprised me. From the outside, I’d expected a ghost-town-esque diner, greasy spoons included. But the interior looked to have been remodeled within the last decade. There was a chalkboard wall complete with today’s specials. The white tile floor gleamed under the lights. And the tables, as befit the restaurant’s name, were all white oak.

The waitress returned, a pad of paper in hand. “Ready to order?”

“I’ll have the omelet special,” Kerrigan said.

The waitress pivoted in my direction. “And for you?”

“Just coffee.”

With a single nod, the waitress disappeared, leaving us alone.

“You’re not eating?” Kerrigan asked.

“This won’t take long.” I held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “I’m not here to discuss your contract.”

“But Gabriel gave me an extension and—”

“My grandfather asked to have a portion of his ashes scattered at his cabin in the mountains.”

She blinked and drawled, “Okay.”

“He would like you to attend.”

“Oh.” Whatever irritation and frustration she had with me fell away. Her shoulders slumped. She swallowed hard. “I’d like that.”

It was as clear as the Montana sky that she’d loved my grandfather. And for that reason, I needed to get the hell out of this booth.

Her loan was due tomorrow. We’d scatter Grandpa’s ashes tomorrow.

And then I could forget about Kerrigan Hale.