Misadventures With The Mistaken Twin (Big Sky Boyfriends #2)

Chapter 9

9

After the library, I went home and happily changed into a pair of fleece jammie pants with a blue snowflake motif, an old MSU hoodie and a thick pair of wool socks. I pulled my hair back into a sloppy ponytail. I chucked my dirty clothes in the direction of the laundry hamper. Since Violet's washer and dryer were in the scary, dark basement, I wasn't in a rush for clean clothes.

It got dark early, so I was happy to get comfortable—and warm. I nuked some leftovers my mom had given me the other day and ate them standing at the counter reading a plumbing supply catalog. After washing up, I climbed in bed, cranked the electric blanket to ten, fluffed my pillows and snuggled in with my research selection. Was it to be The Devilish Duke, Panties In A Twist, No Knickers Nick or Thigh High Noon ?

I’d just finished the fourth chapter of Thigh High Noon when all hell broke loose.

Boom!

I jumped a foot and my heart shot up into my throat at the loud noise, the library books scattering across the bed and thunking onto the floor. A car alarm went off.

Boom! Boom!

I shot out of bed and sprinted to the front door. Fumbling with keys and swearing came from the other side. I turned the deadbolt and yanked open the door, Jack practically falling into the living room.

“Get down! Some fucker is shooting at me!”

He slammed the door shut with his shoulder then pushed me down so he was sprawled on top of me. I was on my back, wedged between a cold, but very hard muscled man, and a cold and very hard floor.

Boom!

“See?”

Jack had that intense look of someone who handled panic well. Reasonably well, at least. His pupils were dilated, jaw clenched tight.

His breath was warm, his chest solid, his leg wedged between mine with his thigh brushing against me in all the right places. I was warming up quickly, especially when he shifted and he bumped against that one spot that made me feel oh, so good.

“It's Old Mr. Chalmers,” I gasped, trying to calm him, and keep from focusing on our compromising position or the very big bulge pressing into my belly.

“Who?” he asked. “Who the hell is that?”

I pushed at his chest and he rolled off me. I felt my nipples pebble, as if they craved Jack's body pressing into them. Sighing, I stood up, but Jack yanked on my wrist to pull me back down. His hand was freezing.

I looked at him, tried to reassure him we weren't under siege. “He lives across the street. It's okay. He only has bird seed in his shotgun.”

“Only bird seed,” Jack repeated. He tentatively stood up and peeked through the front window into the darkness. Boom! Jack ducked back out of sight.

“Why is he shooting at me?” He ran a hand over his face, took a deep breath. “How the hell do you stop him?”

I patted Jack's hand. “Relax, Reid. I'll go talk to him.” I was actually enjoying call him Reid. It was a blatant taunt, kind of like poking the hibernating bear, but there was more to Jack than he was sharing. Goldie had gotten a little bit of his life story out of him, but not enough. Maybe pushing his buttons would get him to open up.

“Oh no, you won't!”

Jack's protectiveness was very endearing—especially when he laid on top of me—but misplaced. I went to the door, pulled it open about a foot and yelled out. “Mr. Chalmers, it's me, Veronica!”

“Veronica?” I heard Mr. Chalmers holler back from across the street, most likely standing on his front porch in his long johns. It was too dark out to see much of anything.

“Yes, Mr. Chalmers. Everything's all right!”

“I saw a man going into the house.”

I looked at Jack and lifted an eyebrow. “See?”

Jack scratched the back of his head in a gesture I was starting to recognize as frustration. “No, I don't fucking see a thing.”

“He's crazy,” I replied as I circled my finger around by my ear.

Jack looked at me as if I was crazy. “I'm aware of that. Tell me something I don't know.”

“Hang on,” I told Jack. “Mr. Chalmers, it's just Jack Reid, Owen Reid's nephew!”

There was silence, then, “Owen Reid's nephew?”

I opened the door all the way and went out onto the porch, hugging my arms around me to stay warm. The bitter air bit into my cheeks. I pulled the sweatshirt's hood up onto my head. Coldness seeped through my wool socks. I shifted from foot to foot to keep them warm. “Mr. Chalmers, it's too cold to stand outside. Everything's all right. Thank you for watching out for me. I'll be safe with Jack Reid.”

I wasn't really so sure about that. Between having his skull bashed and being shot at, he might actually be a bit dangerous. And knowing what it felt like to be beneath him, our bodies aligning perfectly for a variety of naughty things, I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

“All right then,” Old Mr. Chalmers shouted back. “I'll check on you in the morning.”

I waved into the darkness then went inside and closed the door, grateful for the heat.

Jack still stood where I left him, shaking his head, most likely in disbelief. “Got anything to drink?”

“Beer in the fridge.” I slipped the hood off and rubbed my hands together. Beer might be good at a time like this, but I was cold. And that called for hot chocolate. I joined Jack in the kitchen.

Jack leaned a hip against the counter and took a big swig of beer from the bottle. He was wearing a heavy jacket and winter boots. Someone must have gone shopping.

“Explain,” he said.

I poured milk into a mug and put it into the microwave to heat. “You don't remember Old Mr. Chalmers?” I thought for a moment. “No, you wouldn't. You didn't live downtown.”

Jack had lived with his parents a few miles south of town until he was fourteen when they'd pretty much dumped him on his uncle. They'd gone off to Europe or some foreign destination and never came back. At least I'd never seen them and my mother would have told me if they had.

“He's a Vietnam vet who didn't come back the same. He thinks Violet and I are his long-lost daughters.”

Jack eyed me over his beer.

“He doesn't really have a daughter, but since we look the same, he thinks he has two. Odd, but it makes sense to him.”

The microwave dinged and I carefully put the mug on the counter. “Violet and I watch out for him, make sure he gets his mail and newspaper. Just stop by and talk with him. Another neighbor helps him with the snow blower and, in the summer, the yard work. He's the same one who loads his shotgun with bird seed. The Colonel takes him to the American Legion activities.”

I opened the pack of cocoa, poured it into the hot milk and stirred.

“It's a small town so we all help him out. He's really a sweet man,” I added, hoping Jack might think so, too.

“When he's not shooting at you,” Jack grumbled.

I picked up the mug and warmed my fingers. “Right, when he's not shooting at you.”

“I'll come in through the back yard from now on. Recycling?” He waved the empty bottle in the air. I pointed to the plastic tub on the side of the fridge. “I'm going to bed.”

Oh, right. Bed. “Um, there's only one bed.”

“Couch?”

I shook my head. “The living room's too small for a big one.”

Jack smiled. “Miller, it looks like we're taking the term roommates to a whole new level.”

I paused for a moment to calm the butterflies in my stomach. “Um, what?”

He pushed off the counter leaving me standing there with a steaming cup of cocoa and a kick-started libido. “Do you sleep on the right or the left?” he called from the bedroom.

I didn't need the drink for warmth anymore. I had a little bit of lust and a whole lot of anger taking care of that. Violet's bedroom was small, the double-sized bed taking up most of the space. It was ample enough for one person, but two....

Putting the mug on the counter, I stalked into the bedroom. “What are you talking about? You're not sleeping in my bed.”

Jack tossed the extra pillows I'd been leaning against onto the floor. He looked at me across the bed. “It's not yours, is it?”

My mouth dropped open. “Um, no.” I wouldn't be caught dead with a man in my bedroom with a bright fuchsia comforter, turquoise flannel sheets and throw pillows in a weird Muppet-type fur.

“We'll think of it as a hotel. There's no way I'm sleeping in a chair. It's too cold, and I'm too sober to sleep on the floor,” he said dryly.

“You expect me to sleep in a chair?” I asked. No way, no how.

“No. I expect you to control yourself and keep your hands off me.” He winked at me.

My eyebrows went up to my hairline and I put my hands on my hips. “Control myself?” I sputtered.

“Fine. We'll make a pillow wall between us.” He bent down to pick up the pillows he'd just tossed on the floor and built a pseudo wall down the middle of the bed. Jack eyed his handiwork, then clearly satisfied, grabbed his bag and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

I just stood there like a complete idiot. Frozen in place at the horror. I was going to sleep in a bed with Jack Reid. I was going to sleep in a bed with Jack Reid. Holy shit! My heart fluttered wildly at the thought. It had been a dream of mine and now it was going to happen. Right now!

Then I sobered as if I was doused in cold water. There was a pillow berm in the middle of the bed. That wasn't in my fantasy. I realized my lusty thoughts weren't sleep in a bed with Jack Reid, it was sleep with Jack Reid. The difference between reality and my fantasy was that we were actually going to sleep. And the only time I was going to find myself beneath Jack's rock-hard body was if someone was shooting at him.