Page 52 of Meet Me in Montreal

Santino finally withdrew to take her to the bathroom for a little clean up, sighing when she said she needed to use the commode alone. When she came out, they lounged naked and lazy on the couch for a few hours.

It was crazy how they could switch so seamlessly from high heat to watching TV and talking, laughing to jokes only the two of them would understand. Then he drew her a bath laced with oils that made the room smell like a field of hot flowers. It was big enough for two. Of course they fucked in that tub, even though she winced and accused him of making her sore, a blame he gladly accepted as long as he could stay sheathed in her heat.

After that, they were satisfied, at least for a while. They were also starving. They had lunch in the restaurant downstairs and headed out with umbrellas into the rainy late afternoon.

“Oh, I wanted to check this out,” Santino said as they stopped in front of an art gallery, rubbing her back over her cute olive-green shirt with the pink flowers stitched in.

Since their morning session, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her for longer than minutes at a time. It was a fresh torment looking at the long, silken deep mahogany legs flowing from her short denim skirt, remembering how they’d wrapped around his waist and knowing that stroking them in public was not allowed.

“Today seems like a good day for an art gallery. I kinda doubt the outdoor performances will still be on.”

The façade of the gallery had been relatively small, just one big storefront window. Inside, the space was narrow but deep, with long walls stretching to the back featuring comic-style sketches by Canadian graphic artists.

“This place is right up your alley,” Vanessa remarked, examining a series by an artist from Alberta.

“I know.” They walked the narrow path of dark hardwood flooring and painted white brick walls to check out the sketches on one side, and then the other. “I was thinking about what you said the other day, about my stuff. I think I might do that. Get somebody to help me write the story while I flesh out the panels. It’s gonna take a while but I think I’d like to.”

“Really?” Vanessa said, her eyes lit up with excitement. “I’m glad. You really are talented. People should see it. Would you still stay with FDNY?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t see why I can’t do both. It’ll be nice to have something else outside of the department. Maybe by the time I’m too old to climb up and down ladders, if I’m not the chief I can be another Stan Lee or Bill Kirby. Not that I could compare myself to them.”

He was joking about either possibility, but he experienced a deep thrill when Vanessa came closer and laid a kiss on his cheek. “I wouldn’t dare. But I agree. It’s nice to have something else to aspire to. Chief or artist, you can do anything if you decide it’s what you want.”

Santino found himself heated and reddening like a fool at her words and that kiss, simple as it was. If she kept doing that, he’d have to presume she was finally on board with them as a couple again. He stroked her cheek.

“Let’s see what’s on the second level.”

The layout upstairs was similar to the first floor, except this level had a small lounge area with big, red cushioned chairs and white cubed tables. A man was sitting on one of the seats facing the window and the rain-drenched streets outside. Reddish-gold hair. Bearded profile and a ruddy complexion. Even seated, he looked tall, thick, with brutish muscles in a long-sleeved T-shirt.

Vanessa was in the middle of speaking when her words trailed off at the sight of the man. They both stared, stock still, as he turned from the window and looked square at them. As if he’dknown all along they were there. Green eyes, sharp as knives, slid from their shocked faces to their joined hands and sliced through them. The smile he gave them was feral, and full of utter contempt.

It was Scott Malone, in the flesh.

17

COMPANY

VANESSA

This shit was getting to be habitual.

For the second time in less than a week, a ghost from her not-so-distant past had appeared before her in this city and Vanessa had no idea what the fuck to do. Her first impulse? Go the other way. So that’s what she did, turn on her heel to leave. Tugging on Santino’s hand turned out to be of no use. His body had gone from open and warm to solid, unyielding brick like the walls surrounding them.

“We should go,” she whispered to him, her eyes flicking from him to the other man, who stood up, muscles unlocking as he reached his full height.

“What the fuck for? I didn’t see his name on the sign outside. He’s the one who should leave. We’re enjoying ourselves,” Santino answered through gritted teeth.

Yeah, that sounded like he was having fun.

Santino stood his ground, implacable as stone, as Scott walked over and stopped in front of them. A blonde woman with a nametag on her blouse was standing nearby, looking at the three of them as if sensing the vibes were way off. Vanessa tried to grin at her to let her know everything was all good as the two men stared each other down, green eyes locked in a battle with blue.

“Hello, Vanessa,” Scott said, his low-pitched voice full of rock salt. “I see you made the festival after all. Enjoying yourself?”

“She’s having a great time,” Santino answered, emphasizing “great” with a humorless smirk. “You’re here alone, I see.”

Scott quirked a sardonic eyebrow and glanced around. “Looks like I am. I come to the festival every year, hang out, and visit with friends. I’m comfortable. I was going to stay home, but I figured, why not come up anyway? It would be a waste of that room I booked with that big, comfortable bed.”

Vanessa’s face couldn’t have gotten any hotter after that taunt.

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