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Guilty as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 1) by Rosalind James (29)

 

 

At six-thirty, Paige was walking through the front door of the gym with Jace once more. It felt like running a gauntlet, but then, everything in this town did.

The redhead at the front desk looked friendlier tonight. She smiled when she swiped Paige’s card, at least, and said, “I heard something happened to your store last night. That’s too bad.”

Kelli-the-Bitchy-Trainer, who’d been nearby as always, like she had Jace-Radar, said, “Really? How?”

Jace said, “Somebody chucked a brick through her display window.” Jennifer, the gym owner, was a few yards away as well, talking to a man in business clothes who was probably checking out a membership, and Jace raised his voice a fraction. “That’s a coward’s move, going behind somebody’s back like that.” He put a hand on Paige’s lower back. “But I know why they did. Always a mistake to go after a woman who has friends to look after her.”

All of that was clearly going over great, from the expressions on everybody’s faces. All Paige needed was the guy from the gas station to show up and challenge Jace to some mano a mano. Dumbbells at dawn. He’d be at the meeting tomorrow, she was sure. That was shaping up to be a real fun time.

Even Brett Hunter was here, looking like Mr. Hollywood Goes to the Gym. He was more subtle, but then, Paige didn’t think he had a mode that wasn’t. He took his time, approaching her while she was doing her strength training, and looked even more amused than usual when Jace headed over there fast. Once the parties had assembled, he told her, “I heard you had some trouble last night. I’m sorry.”

Paige had already straightened. Now, she gave him her calmest and most level gaze and said, “Were you? That’s kind of you. I wonder if you also know that they invaded my property and killed my animals. The police are investigating, and I’m confident they’re making progress.”

That was a lie. The police sergeant, the same one Jace had talked to, Worthington, hadn’t been what you’d call ‘jumping out of his seat at the prospect of a major criminal investigation’ over her broken window and three dead chickens. But Hunter didn’t need to know that. She told him, “I think you should save your concern for whoever did this, because they’re going to be in a world of hurt if they try it again. The law’s pretty loose in Montana when it comes to self-defense and protecting your property.”

Sometimes it was nice not to have to be a cop. She’d let Hunter ponder the prospect of booby traps and lying in wait. What was that Jace had said? It was all about fear. Well, most of it. The other part was about surprise. If they came after her thinking she was Lily, they were going to get one hell of a surprise. There was also Jace, standing with his arms folded and looking, despite a new and more civilized haircut that her heart whispered he might have gotten for her, like a dangerous man.

Hunter put up a hand, smiled ruefully, and said, “Peace. I have an aversion to going to prison. Also to dying. That’s why I tend to offer money and leave it there. My offer’s good until midnight Saturday. Feel free to run it by your attorney or ask for a meeting to discuss it further. I’ll be here all week. Unarmed.”

He winked at them. Then he moved off, and Paige told Jace, “I thought you were going to jump him.”

“So did I. Smug bastard.”

“But not a chicken killer. He’s above all that.”

“Probably. Pity.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “Come on. Admit it. You wish he’d give you the excuse.”

“I wish somebody would, yeah.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I do have some self-restraint. Can’t hit a man for smiling at you wrong.”

 

 

After all that excitement, she ended up on the bike beside Jace again after her workout. He said, “You’re quiet tonight. Is it the general hatred? Or is your leg hurting? Hard day, with that sale on no sleep.”

“No. I’m used to not sleeping, my leg isn’t bad, and the sale was awesome. Even on a Tuesday.” Great. Neutral topic. She should have done her honesty bout before the workout, because it was too hard, waiting for it. “The glass is getting replaced tomorrow, but I’m keeping the boards up through the weekend, keeping the mystery going. You should have seen the place by five o’clock. We sold underwear, mostly, little things like that, but it got a lot of ladies into the store who hadn’t been there before, who’d been scared off. All Hailey’s idea.”

I don’t want to break up with you, she thought. And it wasn’t even that. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want to see the look on your face when I hurt you.

“Is it scary?” he asked, and then, when she probably looked confused, because she’d forgotten what they’d been talking about, added, “the store, I mean? To women?”

“Well, yeah. It’s scary to…” She broke off.

“What?”

“You’re interested.”

“Human behavior interests me. You interest me.”

What Jace had was focus. And he was looking at her like he… liked her. As much as she liked him. Her stomach twisted again, and she tried not to let his words matter. “If you admit you care,” she said, “for a woman, I mean, if you try like that, you risk looking…” She took a breath and said it. “Foolish. And imagining looking that way to a man you want more than anything… it’s tough. We compare ourselves, you see.”

He pedaled silently for a moment, and she could almost see the wheels in his head turning as well. Finally, he said, “Do you know the sexiest thing a woman can say to a man?”

“No. But I’d sure like to.”

“‘I want you so much.’ There you are. Secret revealed. If she’s too shy to say it, but she shows it in the way she’s taken care to dress for him? That works, too.”

“Even if she’s not perfect?”

“Trust me,” he said, “she’s looking good to him. If she’s the woman you love, and she grabs that bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, walks in front of you into the bedroom with a little sway in her step, lights the candles, pulls the tie of that pretty dressing gown she only wears when you’re going to get the good stuff, and gives you that look?” He sighed. “Oh, yeah. That’s going to work.”

It was already working for her. “Market research,” she tried to say lightly, forcing herself to envision it. Not the look in Jace’s eyes when she pulled that tie. Instead, an antique table with a pretty white nightgown draped across it, spaghetti-strapped, and not a size small. Two creamy, chunky candles, a vase of red roses, a bottle of champagne, and two flutes. And a picture above it of a beautiful plus-sized model in a gorgeous nightgown. A sign, too. Thrill him tonight. “Hailey said this thing to me today, talking about when she used to come in as a customer. ‘You really believed that I got to wear sexy underwear too. It seemed like you believed that I could be sexy.’ I’ve been thinking about that all day, how she said it. Like it was amazing. Like it was… freeing.”

I want to do that for you, she didn’t say. I want to give you the good stuff. I want to make you sigh. I want to make you so glad it’s me. Really me. Paige. Wearing something I’m a little nervous to wear. Letting you see all of me, even the fear. I want to see the hunger in your eyes. I want to feel the tenderness in your hands.

“Freeing for a man,” he said. “I’ll tell you that.”

“Maybe we should advertise a husband shopping service, then. You think?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I think. I also haven’t forgotten that I didn’t get to see you last night. I can tell you that you could run through every bit of stock you’ve got in there before I got tired of looking at it. As long as you were wearing it.”

This wasn’t working. All she wanted was more of him. She needed to do it. To let him know, and to watch him go. She slid off the bike, taking care of her leg along the way this time, grabbed her towel and water bottle, and said, “I’m going on, because I need to stretch. Twenty minutes?”

“No worries,” he said, a tiny frown between his eyes. “Twenty minutes. Take your time.”

 

 

She undressed in one of the curtained-off private cubicles, as always. To hide the scars, and maybe just to hide. For a minute.

The gym was busy, but that wasn’t it. It wasn’t even her Enemies List. Jennifer the Gym Owner and her pal Raeleigh the Motel Queen were both in the locker room now, changing for the seven-thirty Restorative Yoga class. From the looks on their faces when Paige had walked in, they needed it.

That made three of them. She wrapped the towel around her waist, made sure her scars weren’t showing, picked up her shampoo and conditioner, and prepared to brave the room. And the rest of her evening.

The lights went out. The music stopped.

Silence. Blackness.

The silence lasted a split second. The blackness continued. There was some nervous laughter, some chatter, some banging around into lockers.

Her first thought was, But the storm’s over. Her second thought was, Find your phone. But the darkness was absolute. She literally couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. And her purse was still in her locker. Which was in the middle of a row, and was locked.

Wait. In a minute, somebody will pull out their phone and turn on the light, and then everybody else can find theirs and start finding their way out. She groped in front of her for the curtain to her cubicle. It was farther away than she’d thought, but she had her hand on it at last. It was pulling back too easily, with a rasp of rings, like it was motorized. And then she did see a light. Flashing straight into her eyes, blinding her.

“Hey,” she said, threw up a hand, and started to turn away.

Something hit her hard. Grazing her head, her face, falling full on her shoulder. The light went out, she thought, but she wasn’t sure, because she was stumbling back, catching the bench with her bad leg, and going down. Her back hit the bench hard, and somebody was standing over her. She could hear them breathing. She could hear the excitement in it, the satisfaction, and then the hard weight hit her on that same upflung arm and the pain blossomed like fireworks, hot and white.

She was crying out with it, but kicking with her good leg at the same time. Another heavy weight fell onto her thigh, but with no force behind it, and she grabbed for her assailant in the inky blackness, trying to pull them in, to pull them down. To catch them. To hold them. But there was nothing there, and she overbalanced, fell back, and hit the bench again.

If you hurt, you’re alive. Get out. Go.

She crawled toward voices. Toward a light. Get off the ground. Stand up and run. She staggered to her feet. The lights came on all at once, blinding her, and she ran, bounced off the door, and got it the second time.

Get out.