Page 19 of Montana's Bravest

I hook up my phone to the car stereo. “Are you up for some Taylor Swift?”

The mutt stares at me blankly.

Jesus, I’m in deep. Only weeks after I vowed to be married to the job, I’ve failed miserably. Whatever I do from now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to kill my feelings for her. The more I tell myself she’s off-limits, the bigger the swell of my emotions.

There’s one other way?—

I take out the biggest gun in my arsenal:my quest to find Jack.

The reminder snuffs out my yearning, unyielding like a winter frost claiming the last bloom. But if I want to stay the course, there will be no room for her in my life. That angel belongs in heaven, while my hell will wait for no one.

7

SAM

The bash at Chez Kelleher is tanking before it even has a chance to soar. It’s kicked off all right; the guests have piled in, but our booze stockpile is bone dry.

“What do you mean we’re out of beer?” Mark’s got this look like he’s staring down a grizzly. No beer at a Montana shindig is about as good as a rodeo without bulls, especially since our A-list guests are hankering for ale over the fancy stuff.

I pop the fridge open to a whole lot of nothing.

Mark’s giving me grief. “Any half-decent host keeps a stash for emergencies.”

“Ha-ha,” I snap back.

We planned for a small crowd, but Mark’s gone and blown up the guest list. Now it’s like we’re hosting some high-flying gala.

“So, genius, what’s the play?” He’s trying to play innocent, but I bet the puppy-eyed man ballooned the invites to dodge any close-quarters talk, especially if Ivy Forbes showed.

“Dunno,” I admit, scanning the horizon for divine intervention.

We’re way out in the sticks here. It’s not like I can dash to the store and back before the guests resort to sipping creek water.

The room erupts with new arrivals, and Charlie Travis’s boisterous laugh echoes through the house. He wanders into the kitchen, catching us deadlocked in a silent standoff with the empty fridge.

“Charlie,” I nod, playing it cool. “Ivy not with you?”

“Ah, forget Ivy. She’s a no-show,” he announces casually.

“Pity,” I sigh, glancing at Mark, who’s trying to play it off.

“Lads, if my sixth sense is right, I’d say you’re dealing with a crisis here.” Charlie nods at the fridge.

I shrug and close the fridge door.

But the Brit then pulls a rabbit out of his hat. “Fellas, in a pinch, you gotta know who to call. And in Helena, that’s Cassidy Winter.”

“Who’s Cassidy Winter?” I frown.

“Just wait,” Charlie winks, dialing her up. “Cassidy. Charlie.” He then walks into a quiet corner to continue the conversation.

I notice my partner’s fingers twisting over each other. “Hands going through the ringer, huh? Missing your other half, I take it?”

“Shut it, Sam!” Mark points his finger at me and leaves the kitchen to offer the guests wine and champagne, which I don’t think many take up.

Charlie slips back into the room. “Sorted. She’ll be here in thirty.”

“You can’t magic up drinks in thirty minutes around here,” I scoff.

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