Chapter One
Billie
This is my very favorite day of the month.
One Monday a month, I leave my bookstore in the capable hands of my two employees and drive the four hours to Big Sky, Montana, to shop. The only time this doesn’t happen is when it’s too snowy and the roads are treacherous.
But it’s summertime, which means that for the next few months, I’ll be able to come to this resort town and buy clothes on my usual schedule.
I’m a self-professed fashionista. I love clothes, especially expensive, high-end labels, but I don’t have the budget for that when it comes to buying brand new.
That’s where Big Sky comes in.
This ski town isn’t so unlike Bitterroot Valley, except it’s where the richest come to vacation and own vacation homes. Mega celebrities, billionaires, you name it, and these wealthy women send their hand-me-downs to the local thrift store.
A little secret I discovered by mistake a couple of years ago, and I’m so glad I did. I find a place to park, then walk down the block to the little boutique-style thrift shop and push inside.
“How are you, Martha?” I ask the owner, who’s hanging what looks like a red wool coat on a hanger.
This store is the cutest. It doesn’t look or smell like a thrift shop. It looks like an adorable fashion boutique, and I always feel fancy when I come in to browse through the racks and hunt for amazing finds.
“Oh, no complaints here. How’s the bookstore life treating you, Billie?”
“It’s the best. I brought that series you requested and a couple of bags of donations as well.”
Not only do I buy from this thrift store but I also donate back anything that I’ve grown tired of or just didn’t work for me.
Because although I’m a clothes horse, my little house can’t hold all the clothes I’d keep if I had the space.
“Oh, that’s great, thank you,” she says with a smile. “I held a few things back for you because I knew they’d sell fast, and I wanted you to get first dibs.”
Those magical words make my tummy flip, and I’ve already pulled two dresses and a pair of slacks from a rack to try on when Martha returns, pulling a rolling rack of clothes behind her.
“That’s not a few things. ” I quickly twist my long hair up into a knot. It needs to be out of my way so I can try on clothes.
Martha laughs and takes my finds from me so she can start me a room, and I immediately hurry over to the rack to comb through it.
“This is a Gucci blouse,” I call out to her as my adrenaline spikes. “And it’s in my size! That never happens.”
Unfortunately, not all fashion houses offer their ready-to-wear clothes in larger sizes, but every once in a while, I find something.
In fact, this whole rack is full of designer pieces in my size.
“Who donated this stuff?” I ask as Martha joins me.
“A governor’s wife,” she says with a shrug. “I swear, she must have brought me half of her closet. These are last year’s pieces.”
“Who cares?” I laugh and step back. “I’ll try it all on.”
“I figured you’d say that. Let’s get started.”
Every piece fits me like a glove. A Dior shift dress, a Louis Vuitton blouse. Chanel, Hermes, and Valentino. Some of the items still have tags on them.
“I’m going to give you everything for three hundred,” Martha says.
“There’s easily ten grand in clothes here, and that’s on the conservative side,” I reply, shaking my head. “I should pay you at least one thousand.”
“ Used clothes, and besides, you’ll bring them back to me when you’re finished with them.”
“This might be the best day of the whole year. I feel like I should buy a lottery ticket,” I inform her as I pull on the long maxi dress I wore here and follow her to the counter where we dig in, folding everything and gently placing it all in the two totes I brought.
“Billie?” Her voice sounds tentative.
I raise an eyebrow at Martha. “Yes?”
“I’m thinking about selling the shop.”
I feel my eyes go wide, and my heart stutters.
“Oh, why? It’s such a great place.”
“My parents are in Arizona, and my dad’s not doing great, health-wise. I feel like I should be there with them, you know? I have a serious case of daughter guilt.”
I bite my lip. “I get it. Mine moved to Florida a few years ago, and if my dad wasn’t well, I’d want to be closer to him, too. It’s a tough decision. Is the shop struggling?”
“No. Actually, I do well, and I love it so much,” she replies. “You’re not my only client who comes from far away to pick through rich people’s castoffs. I stay really busy. Why, do you want to buy it?”
She giggles at that, but I’m not laughing with her.
I can’t really afford to buy this shop, and it’s four hours from where I live, so I really shouldn’t entertain the idea.
But I get 90 percent of my wardrobe here. And the day trip over each month is so good for my mental health. It’s really the only day that I don’t work. I don’t stop by the shop to restock, or shoot an email, or change the display window. I listen to music or audiobooks in my car and empty my mind. Not to mention, my favorite restaurant is here in town, and I always treat myself whenever I’m here.
“No, of course not.” I shake my head. “But do me a favor? Please give me a heads-up before you sell. I love it in here.”
“I’ll keep you posted. I’m not convinced that selling is the right move, but I’ve considered it. I know it would be a stretch for you to own two businesses in two very different places.”
“One is hard enough, as you know.”
Martha helps me load the totes into my car, then I hug her goodbye. I’m hungry and have a long drive ahead of me, so I walk down the block to my favorite restaurant, which happens to be inside the cutest boutique hotel I’ve ever seen. Because we’re in the mountains, you’d think it would have a rustic lodge feel, but it doesn’t. It’s classy, with beautiful sage green and burnt orange colors. The lighting is moody, and it makes a person feel … luxurious.
Not that I’ve seen many boutique hotels. It’s not like I travel the world often or anything, but this place is adorable. I wish I could afford to spend a long weekend here.
But, given that this is the playground for the ridiculously wealthy, I’m quite sure I can’t afford the nightly rate.
I can, however, afford to eat in the restaurant.
I’m shown to a table by the windows, and once I take a seat, I pull out my phone to check my messages. I have a group text thread with my Spicy Girls Book Club girls that always has some activity.
Starting that book club is one of the best things I ever did. Not only did it bring me closer to my best friend and now sister-in-law, Dani, but it also brought my other bestie, Skyla, into my life. Add in the other ladies, and I have a kick-ass group of women around me.
I never take it for granted.
Millie: Did you make it to Big Sky, Bee?
Oops, I didn’t see that earlier. Millie owns the coffee shop right next door to my bookstore, and I’ve known her all of my life. She’s the best.
Me: I did! Sorry, I didn’t see this message earlier. I’m having lunch before I get back on the road.
Skyla: Did you find some fun things this time? I want to see everything!
I grin and look up to thank my server, who just brought me some warm bread and water.
“Hello, miss. I’m Travis, and I’ll be helping you today.”
“Thanks, Travis.”
“Have you had an opportunity to look over the menu?”
I don’t need to. I know exactly what I want.
“I have,” I reply with a smile. “I’ll have the whipped feta dip because it’s absolutely addicting.”
Travis grins as he writes on his pad. “It really is. What else can I bring you?”
“I’ll have the grilled chicken Caesar salad, no anchovies.”
“I can do that. Anything to drink?”
“Just an iced tea, please. And also, for dessert, I will have the huckleberry crème br?lée.”
“You’re living your best life, my friend,” Travis says with a wide smile before he walks away to put my order in. Travis is cute. He’s tall with blond hair and one hell of a smile, complete with dimples.
Adorable.
Not nearly as sexy as Connor Gallagher. My stranger. The man who not only fucked my brains out one night late last year but has found ways to corner me and kiss the hell out of me at every opportunity since then. He’s Skyla’s brother, a detail that I didn’t know until I saw him at my niece’s dance recital several months after that night, where he dragged me out back and kissed the fuck out of me.
And ever since then, it’s been the same. Family dinner? Stolen kisses. Trip to Europe to watch Skyla dance? All the fucking kisses. He even stormed in on a book club meeting several weeks ago and dragged me into a supply closet, where he proceeded to give me an orgasm in three-point-seven seconds.
He’s everywhere. And because he’s my best friend’s brother, it’s not exactly possible to never see him, but I can be an adult when he’s around.
I can be civil.
I can keep my hands and my lips to myself.
Because as much as Connor makes it clear that he’s attracted to me sexually, he’s never indicated that there’s anything else there. I don’t even have the jerk’s phone number, for God’s sake. And I’m through with meaningless sex. When I’m with Connor, I lose myself to him, but in a good way. I feel safe. I feel … content. God, I slept the best I have in years when he took me to bed with him that night, and I haven’t slept that well since. But the last time, when he kissed the hell out of me in that closet, I told him he didn’t get to do that to me anymore because I feel used. Even if I love the way he towers over me, making me feel petite for the first time in my life. And even if I love how he treats Skyla, and I know that’s the extraordinary way he’d treat his partner.
I don’t just want sex with him. There, I admitted it. He intrigues me, and I know he’s a good man.
I want more. Just like Dani and Skyla have recently found with my brothers. I want that for myself. I deserve more.
And he won’t give me more.
If he wanted more, he’d have asked for my goddamn phone number. I’m done feeling used by that ridiculously sexy Irishman.