The Brazen (Calamity Montana)

“THANKS FOR COVERING FOR ME, MOM.”

“Of course. You know, if you worked at the dealership, you’d have a more flexible schedule. You wouldn’t be tied to it like you are to this gym of yours.”

I sighed, not wanting to get into this discussion. Again. “Do you have any questions? The first yoga class is at nine. Pilates at ten and barre at noon. Then the last yoga class at two. After that, it should be fairly quiet until one of the girls gets here at three thirty. They’ll get everything ready for Body Pump tonight.”

“You wrote it all down for me.” She pointed to my sticky note. “I’ll be fine.”

“The instructors can always help if there’s a problem.” They were the real treasure at The Refinery.

We didn’t have fancy treadmills or weight machines. There wasn’t much walk-in traffic besides the occasional member who’d come in early to practice before the actual class began.

But the goal of this studio wasn’t to compete with the other gym in town. They could keep their machines and circuit rooms. The Refinery was a class-based facility like the ones you’d find in a city.

People of all ages were welcome here, including a once-a-week class for pregnant moms. There were a few men, but my membership was ninety-five percent female. Soon I hoped to offer something for kids, like karate or tae kwon do.

Or at least that had been the plan a month ago. As of today, everything was up in the air.

“You’d better get going.” Mom shooed me toward the door. “Good luck and drive safe.”

“Thanks.” My luck seemed to have run out, so I wasn’t holding my breath. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” She took a seat in the chair behind the counter and pulled her Kindle from her purse. Before I was out the door, she was lost in her fictional world.

The familiar image of her, nose to book, was comforting on a day when my emotions were a tornado. How many books had Mom read over the years while working as the receptionist at Hale Motors? I could still see her there, so engrossed in a story that the only way to get her attention was to ring the bell on the front desk.

When I was younger, before the days of e-books, Mom hadn’t gone anywhere without a paperback. Now it was her Kindle.

Mom was officially retired now—the day she’d decided to stop dying the grays out of her chestnut hair was the day she’d decided to quit. Dad was still as active as ever, working as the general manager. My brother, Zach, was one of the assistant managers. My uncle ran the shop. My other uncle was their accountant, and I had more than one cousin who worked as a mechanic. If I ever needed a job, they’d find a spot for me processing finance requests and parts orders.

But that was not my dream, something my family didn’t quite seem to grasp.

Mom and Dad made sure to tell me how much easier my life would be if I took a nine-to-five at the dealership. My aunts and uncles said more of the same. The dealership had been founded by my granddad and he never missed the opportunity to remind me that the Hale family business could use another business-minded Hale.

Maybe that was my fate. As I climbed behind the wheel of my Explorer, I took a long look at my building. I rarely parked out front of the gym, not wanting to take a customer’s space, but I’d left the spot in the alley for Mom’s Cadillac.

Dad traded hers in every year, another dealership employee perk.

The building’s windows sparkled in the morning sunlight. I’d splurged on the glass because it made such a bold statement—one that had taken me months to get approved by the town planners. Eventually they’d agreed to my modern touch and the day those windows had gone in, I’d nearly cried.

Both the studio and the loft apartment on the second floor were a far cry from what they’d been. Dark. Empty. Filthy. No one had occupied this particular downtown building in years, and scrubbing it clean had taken a lifetime supply of elbow grease.

Once upon a time, this had been Calamity’s candy store. The words Candy Shoppe were barely visible in chipped white paint on the exterior brick wall.

The owners had gone bankrupt and closed the shop’s doors when I was a kid. There’d been other occupants here but nothing that lasted. Maybe the building itself was cursed. Most of my financial problems had started when I’d added it to my list of projects.

Or maybe I’d been doomed after buying Widow Ashleigh’s farmhouse.

No matter what, I was glad for the improvements I’d made. They were my small mark on this town. This building had rejoined the modern century and was no longer the sad, dilapidated eyesore on First.

Especially the windows. I’d never regret the windows or the small fortune they’d cost.

A fortune that hadn’t been mine.

A fortune that I was supposed to pay back today.

The clock on the dash nagged that I needed to get on the road, so I reversed away from the gym and headed out of town. Nellie had emailed me directions to the cabin yesterday after I’d called and told her about my non-breakfast with Pierce.

The moment I’d agreed to join him, he’d slid out of the booth and disappeared. The man made no sense. He was ice cold and any rational woman would probably have written him off thirty days ago. But that kiss . . .

The sparks from that single kiss lingered on my lips.

That kiss portrayed an entirely different man, one I was sure could be found beneath that cold exterior, the man Gabriel had talked about over and over. That Pierce was in there somewhere. Because that Pierce was the man who’d kissed me senseless.

My phone rang as I reached the outskirts of town. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Nellie said. “Are you on your way?”

“Yep.” My voice was shaky. I hoped that would stop before I faced Pierce. I didn’t want him to see me unsettled. “What can I expect today?”

“I don’t know. He’s not himself lately.”

Nellie had said the same on more than one occasion. We’d developed a fast friendship and she’d been incredibly supportive, even though Pierce was her boss. It was also because of Nellie that Pierce seemed human.

The more she told me about his company and his clients, the more impossible it was not to feel singled out. Every interaction with Pierce felt . . . personal. The calls and emails that had gone unanswered. The letter and our argument on the sidewalk. It all felt personal, like I’d done something to offend him. But what?

I didn’t have a damn clue. And neither did Nellie. I’d asked.

“Thanks for all your help, Nell.”

“Always.” There was a smile in her voice.

Nellie had been a godsend this past month. It had all started the day after the kiss, when Pierce had ordered me to deal with his assistant. I’d called her, per his instruction, to request a meeting. A sober, non-kissing meeting. We’d ended up talking for hours and since then, I’d spoken to her every day.

Nellie was the one who’d told me to just keep calling his personal line and emailing him directly.

Wear him down.

That had been her advice. And since I didn’t have a lot of other options, I was taking it.

Maybe I could hire a lawyer and fight Pierce, but lawyers cost money and right now, the expense seemed silly. It was my word against the signed contract, and without Gabriel here to back me up, I’d lose.

“Stay tough,” she said. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t forget, I’m your secret weapon.”

I laughed. “What’s Mr. Sullivan going to do when he finds out you’re a double agent?”

“Ha! Mr. Sullivan can kiss my ass. What he’s doing to you is wrong, and if he’d stop being such a stubborn mule, he’d realize it too.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble over me.”

“I won’t.”

“But—”

“Trust me,” she said. “It will be fine.”

“Okay.” I blew out a long breath. “Thanks.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. And I have to say thanks too.”

“For what?”

“For going today. I’m glad he won’t be there alone.”

My heart twisted. “Any idea why Gabriel would want Pierce and me to do this together?”

“Probably because you were both important to him. But I didn’t know Gabriel well. Mostly I knew him through Pierce, and their relationship was, um . . . strained.”

Strained? I wanted to ask but bit my tongue. Talking to Nellie already felt like prying into Pierce’s life. This was the man who’d likely crush my dreams in the next few hours.

“All right, I’m probably going to lose service soon,” I said as I sped down the highway and the mountains drew closer.

“Talk soon?” Nellie asked.

“Definitely. Bye.”

Nellie had been a wonderful surprise from this disaster. Our conversations were rarely about Pierce and we had a lot in common, like our love of wine and Netflix rom-coms, the cheesier the better. We were even into the same yoga gear and skin-care products.

Would it be awkward with her after my business with Pierce was over? Maybe. But that was tomorrow’s worry, because I had plenty on today’s plate.

Gabriel’s cabin was located by one of the most popular ski resorts in Montana. As a kid, my parents had brought us here once or twice, but as I wound up the mountain road, following Nellie’s directions, I realized much had changed since I’d visited last.

The place had boomed after a developer had come in with money and glamour. Homes and condos sprouted up where there’d once been open fields and thick forests. The only thing familiar was the ski hill itself and the swaths cut through the evergreens.

Next to a new, mammoth ski lodge was a towering hotel. There were signs for ziplining and gondola rides to the tallest peak. I doubted I could afford a lift ticket these days. Though I couldn’t afford a latte, so that wasn’t saying much.

I bypassed the turnoff for the ski area and continued on to the club. A black wrought-iron gate greeted me, and I punched in the code Nellie had sent with the directions.

Driving through the opening was like stepping beyond the veil into a world of money and opulence and power.

Every home I passed was larger than the next, though home wasn’t the right word. These were mansions. The exteriors were all variations of the same, dark-stained wood or log to blend into nature.

“Whoa,” I said as I reached the end of a private lane. “This is not a cabin.”

It was a ski lodge of its own.

There was no need to check the address. The house screamed Gabriel.

It was lavish, but rustic. The architecture was complicated with varying roof slants and a covered expanse around the front door. The natural stone and heavy beams coordinated with the surrounding trees. Enormous windows faced the magnificent view at all angles. At the moment, they were all dark.

The clock showed I was thirty minutes early, but I parked in the space in front of the garage and climbed out, breathing in the scent of dirt and moss and mountain air.

I’d opted for black slacks today and a soft gray sweater. My patent wedge heels pinched at my toes but today, I’d wanted to look nice. For Gabriel.

And, though I’d never admit it out loud, for Pierce.

His handsome face unnerved me. Pierce oozed confidence and charisma. His strong body radiated power, and the clothes he wore screamed money.

Each time he’d come to Calamity, I’d been at work, wearing leggings and yoga tops while he’d been in three-piece suits. The navy jacket he’d worn yesterday had been perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders. The fabric had looked so soft and smooth that I’d had to clasp my hands together to keep from touching the sleeve.

Everything about him elicited a physical reaction. How unfair was that? There weren’t many single men in Calamity. Why couldn’t I be attracted to one of them? Why did I have to feel this desire for the man trying to ruin me?

Today, I wasn’t going to let this chemistry or magnetism or whatever the hell it was fluster me. Today, I was here for Gabriel.

So I squared my shoulders and marched to the door, hesitating only a second before pressing the bell. Then I stood and waited, shifting from foot to foot as I clasped my hands in front of me to keep them from fidgeting.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” I muttered as the moments passed and no one came to answer. Was he even here? This was the place, right?

I was seconds away from giving up and driving home when the door whipped open.

“You’re early,” Pierce snapped.

“Uh . . .” My mouth went dry.

Pierce was not wearing his signature three-piece suit. No, he was in a towel.

Nothing but a plush, white, terry-cloth towel wrapped around his narrow waist.

There were abs. A lot of abs. And the V at his hips. His arms were roped with muscle upon muscle and a few water droplets cascaded down his sculpted chest.

“I said ten.”

I jerked, forcing my eyes up and away from all that skin. “Sorry.”

He frowned and stepped away from the door, opening it for me to come inside. He closed it behind him and stalked away without a word through the entryway and toward a hall.

The rational part of my brain told me not to stare at his back as he walked but the irrational side won out and I stood, slack-jawed and gawking at the corded contours of his back and a towel that did nothing to hide the curve of his ass.

A low throb bloomed in my center.

“Damn it,” I groaned when he disappeared around a corner. As if the mental image of him in a suit wasn’t hard enough to erase.

Needing anything else to do but stand there and drool, I took a few steps deeper into the house and poked around the living room. My heels clicked with each step across the smooth hickory floor. I skimmed my fingertips over the textured wall painted a shade of tan. The furniture was rustic, a mix of patterned upholstery and cognac leather.

I’d spent a lot of time in recent years cultivating my own style. A budgeted style. There were paintings on the walls that likely cost more than my house. The live-edge coffee table was clearly custom built, and the slate stones for the floor-to-ceiling fireplace had probably been imported from Argentina.

The cabin was a dream, and given that I’d never be able to afford a single element from the home, let alone all of them combined, I lingered in the room, appreciating it entirely.

The room smelled like Gabriel, spice and expensive cologne. I heard his hearty laugh bouncing off the beams in the vaulted ceiling. I pictured him sitting on the couch, a fire crackling and roaring in the hearth.

There was a frame on the end table but it had been turned on its face. I checked the hallway—no sign of Pierce—and picked up the photo. The picture was of Gabriel and Pierce. When they stood side by side, their similarities were uncanny.

Both were tall, with Pierce standing slightly straighter than Gabriel. They had the same dark hair, though Pierce’s lacked the streaks of gray. Gabriel had always been clean-shaven and Pierce’s beard set them apart. But they had the same umber eyes and wide white smiles.

“Huh.”

“Find something interesting?”

I jerked and looked up.

Pierce came striding my way, buttoning a cuff of his green button-down shirt. He was wearing jeans. His feet were bare. Add in the sexy beard and this was yet another version of the man I could not pin down.

“You’re smiling in this picture,” I said. There was no use pretending I hadn’t been snooping.

“And?”

“And it makes you look like him.” Handsome. Kind.

Pierce’s gaze hardened. His jaw clenched.

Being compared to Gabriel Barlowe, of all the men in the world, should have been a compliment but clearly I was missing something.

Pierce stalked over as I returned the photo to the end table. I placed it up but the moment he was close enough, he turned it down.

Yeah, definitely missing something.

“Shall we?” Pierce motioned to the door.

I nodded and walked that way, weaving through the furniture and waiting in the entryway.

He came over and pulled on a pair of loafers. Then he picked up a plain white box from the console table, tucking it under his arm before stepping outside and marching across the patio.

I followed, rushing to keep up with his long strides. We rounded the house, and I realized my mistake. So busy appreciating the furnishings inside, I hadn’t taken in the view beyond the windows.

The house sat on top of a hill, and forest disappeared down the slope for miles and miles. Peaks. Valleys. The ranges in the distance started green and faded to blue as they inched closer to the horizon.

“This is beautiful.”

Pierce glanced over his shoulder as we passed by a large pool set into a concrete slab. The water was steaming. A hot tub, then, built beneath another roof overhang.

The scent of chlorine hit my nose and I drew it in, the smell always reminding me of summers playing with friends at the Calamity public pool.

Pierce stepped off the patio and onto a stone path that interrupted a manicured lawn. We followed it past a firepit surrounded by benches and chairs to the edge of the property, where the taller, native grasses swayed in the slight breeze.

Without a word, Pierce tore into the box and pulled out the plastic bag inside. Before I could even contemplate what was happening, he ripped open the sack, turned it upside down and then . . .

The wind caught Gabriel’s ashes and carried them away.

My mouth fell open and I stood stunned, watching as the ashes floated away.

As Gabriel floated away.

Thrown out like trash.

Pierce abruptly turned, like he was done with this, but I shot out a hand and caught him by the elbow.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he rumbled.

“Don’t you want to say anything?”

He glanced at my hand, still firm on his arm. “No.”

This was not the man Gabriel had loved. This was not the man Nellie defended. This was not the man who’d kissed me. Pierce was being, well . . . an asshole.

I blinked. “Who are you?”

My question seemed to make him tired. The irritation on his face vanished and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Maybe I do.”

He sighed but turned back to face the view.

Gabriel’s ashes had disappeared.

“Well?” Pierce prompted, standing with his shoulder beside mine.

“I’ve never met anyone like your grandpa before. He had this personality that drew you in.” I wasn’t sure where I was going with this, but the words came from my heart and if that was all I could give Gabriel today, then it was better than silence.

Pierce remained quiet. He kept his eyes trained forward, only giving me his handsome profile as I spoke.

“I will miss his belly laugh, the one I didn’t hear often enough. I’ll miss hearing him cuss under his breath whenever he ran a yellow light. I’ll miss how he called me Kerri. No one really shortens my name.”

Pierce stood so still, I wondered if hearing this hurt. “Sounds like you knew him well.”

I shrugged. “Well enough. I cared for him a great deal.”

“When did you meet?”

“I met him three weeks after I graduated from college. I was in Bozeman, working for this realtor as her bookkeeper-slash-receptionist-slash-general-lackey. She’d actually hired me before graduation as an unpaid intern and she gave me a job once I finished my degree. I was studying for my realtor license exam and sitting at the front desk in her office the first time I met Gabriel.”

He’d told me over dinner once that it had been my name that had drawn him in. He’d had a college girlfriend—in the dark ages, as he’d teased—named Kerrigan. He’d called her Kerri too.

“I don’t even know how it happened. My boss was running late so I sat and talked with him as he waited. We just . . . hit it off. He didn’t buy a place from her that trip or the next, but each time he’d come into the office and chat with me.”

For nearly two years, we’d have conversations in the lobby of that real estate office.

“He never did buy anything from her. My old boss.” I smiled. “It irritated her to no end that Gabriel would come to talk with me before she’d show him properties. And when he bought this place—”

“He bought it straight from the club,” Pierce said.

“Yeah.” By that point, he’d stopped coming into the real estate office. Whenever he came to town, he’d call and invite me to dinner. “He believed in me. He believed in my dreams. I wish I could tell him thank you.”

Thank you. I sent that silent whisper into the wind.

“There were times when I wavered,” I said past the lump in my throat. “It was him who’d remind me of the end goal.”

“Which is?”

“To live in Calamity. Raise a family here if I ever have one. Support myself and the community. A lot of small towns in Montana die off. There aren’t enough businesses to compete with the larger towns like Bozeman or Missoula or Billings. Not a lot of people our age want to move to a town twenty years behind the times. It needs fresh ideas. It needs energy.”

“And you’re that energy?”

“No. I’m just one person. But there’s potential in Calamity. For me and maybe others too.”

Pierce didn’t respond as he stared toward the mountains illuminated by the morning sun.

“Gabriel made my dreams possible. I think he did that for a lot of people with his company.”

“My grandfather was ruthless.”

“Maybe so. But I’ll always be grateful that I had the chance to know him. I loved him. And I will miss him. Terribly.”

Pierce faced me. “Are we done?”

“Why are there only two of us here?” I blurted, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to my question. “Because he was ruthless?”

“No.” He shook his head. “He didn’t want a funeral. My parents have the other portion of his ashes and are taking them to Italy.”

“Ah.” I nodded, nearly crumbling with relief that Gabriel hadn’t been so awful that no one would come to his funeral. “And you got stuck here. With me.”

“Now are we done?”

“Not yet.” Whether Pierce liked it or not, he could stand here and he could listen to me say a few nice things about Gabriel. “He was kind to me. He taught me a lot. He took me under his wing and gave me courage. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as you, but the man I knew was a good friend. And I’m glad I can be here today to say goodbye. If no one else will talk about loving him, then I will.”

Pierce stiffened beside me, his eyes cast to the distance.

“Thank you for inviting me today. I realize you didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

He gave me a single nod.

“I’ll get out of your hair.”

But before I could walk away, it was his turn to stop me. “Ms. Hale.”

Ms. Hale. I didn’t hide my eye roll. “Mr. Sullivan.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Your contract is due today.”

“I’m aware. And I have no money for you.”

I’d put the farmhouse on the market. I’d done the bare minimum with my duplex and listed it as well. I’d hoped either or both would sell, but duplexes weren’t as popular as single-family homes and a woman had been murdered in that farmhouse. No local was going to buy it since everyone in the county knew the story. And the chance of an outsider moving to Calamity this time of year was slim.

“You’re overextended,” Pierce said.

“Yep. And broke.” Brutal honesty had always been Gabriel’s style. It normally worked for me too.

“Bankruptcy saves a lot of businesses,” he said, and it might as well have been a knife to my heart.

“You won’t get your money if I declare bankruptcy. And I would never do that to Gabriel.”

“Gabriel is dead.”

“Not in here.” I pressed a hand to my heart. “I’ll pay you back. Whatever it takes. You can either trust in that, like he did, or you can take what you have to take.”

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there and stared.

So I decided to take my leave.

“Kerrigan.”

I froze at my name in that rugged, deep voice. “Yes?”

“Sixty days. Sell something. Consolidate. Get some renters. If you want to run your business, then run it smart. My grandfather would have told you the same thing.”

Yes, he would have. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” He nodded to the mountains. “Thank him.”

“No, I’m thanking you.”

His dark eyes softened. His gaze flicked to my mouth. Then he was gone, striding toward the house. “Good luck, Ms. Hale.”