Page 46 of Fiona and the Fixer

A woman popped to her feet and brought me the book.

“Thanks.” The cover was western themed with a woman dressed in vintage Wild West attire with two cowboys flanking her. “Okay, um, today’s book isTheir Kidnapped Bride.I heard chapter three is what you all want, but should we start at the beginning?”

Like actual anal sex, foreplay was needed before I jumped right in.

Unlike Fiona who constantly bickered with me, not one woman disagreed.

22

FIONA

The sun was shining,the hint of fall was in the air. Tourists, even in the mud season–not summer and before the snow–were everywhere on Main Street. All the stores and restaurants were open. I meandered, trying to look like I was on vacation and didn’t have a care in the world beyond what ice cream flavor to pick at Arctic Scoops I just passed. I wore jeans and a gray sweater with leather boots. I even held a to-go cup of coffee. The only way to look more local was to borrow Scooter to tag along.

While I didn’t slow, I checked out the bookstore across the street. Looking past the fall display in the window, it looked ridiculously busy inside. It was lunchtime. I read, but usually through an app on myphone, so I didn’t know what the prime time was for paperback selling. I didn’t see Dax in there, but it was probably because he’d been mobbed by a few women.

That didn’t sit well with me, especially after the night before. Oh, and this morning. Dax was a cranky mystery, but he kept his word. Because when we got back from my little stakeout earlier, I’d ridden his dick, just as he offered. I’d done things with Dax I’d never done with any other guy. Like do what he said without kicking his ass. How the hell had he told me to drop to my knees and I just… did it?

I should’ve throat punched him. Instead, I gave him head. Then he fucked me. Then he fucked me some more. I wasn’t going to admit it to anyone–especially Dax–that I loved it.

And that was last night. This morning? I might owe the owner some damages the way the headboard rammed into the wall for an hour. And a half.

All that sex put me into an orgasm-induced coma, and I didn’t wake up until eleven.

He’d been gone.

Did I think he was out of my life? Hell, no. He was like a bad rash. A foot fungus.

A mysterious foot fungus because while I knew he had a mole on his left butt cheek, his dick was impressive and talented, I didn’t know much else about the guy.

We didn’t talk. Well, we did, but we argued. He pushed every one of my buttons.

Including my clit, so I was giving him a little slack.

What did he do for a living? Why did he carry a gun? Anyone else, I’d have had a full report pulled on him. Instead, I was going in blind. Smart or stupid, I wasn’t sure which one I was yet. My vagina didn’t care either way.

I passed a troop of Girl Scouts, with their green vests and patches, who all said hi and waved–to everyone on the street–and a couple on a tandem bike pedaled down the road.

I had to stop and stare, wondering what kind of alternate universe I’d landed in. Why would someone want to be on the back of a bike, being led to who-the-hell-knew-where while only seeing someone’s back?

Plus, Dottie seemed to have adopted me like a stray dog she put food out for. Really good food, but still. And I could’ve married Pops’ grandson, sight unseen.

Were there happy drugs in the water? Was this what zero percent crime looked like?

I was still pondering that as I dropped onto a bench and pretended to savor the extra tall coffee I picked up at the shop down the street. I took a deep breath and opened up my hearing to everything around me.

I could only imagine what I was doing was like putting in a hearing aid for the first time and setting the volume to the highest setting. Overwhelming noise that could be heard all at once.

Noise by noise, I concentrated on sifting through it all. The dang perky Girl Scouts, the cars, the chatter. Conversation by conversation, I listened, then moved on when itwasn’t right. Like swiping right on a dating app. I kept going until I found the one I wanted.

“–this shipment will need to be in Denver by Tuesday.”

“The boss expects the cash to be delivered that night.”

“This’ll bring in over two mil.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m getting sick of smelling pickle brine.”

An annoying, loud sound of a blender cut through everything else, and I winced. Turning around, I noticed the shop next to the Pickle Hole. The Juice Junction. Smoothies and fruity drinks.

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