Fool's Gold Collection Part 2. Susan Mallery

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      Montana raised her eyebrows. “Good looking and responsible. Is there a wife?”

      “Not that I know of.”

      Montana grinned. “Better and better.”

      Jo waved at her and pointed to a table that had opened up in the corner. Unlike regular bars, Jo’s was more crowded midweek when it was easier for women to get away. Come weekends, the place went more “date night,” and that wasn’t as appealing to the regulars.

      Dakota grabbed her drink and followed her sister to the empty table. Montana had been letting her hair grow out. It came more than halfway down her back, a cascade of different shades of blond. Last year it had been brown—the blond looked better.

      All three sisters had their mother’s coloring with blond hair and dark brown eyes. Denise said it was the result of her surfing childhood—a humorous claim considering she’d been born and raised in Fool’s Gold and the town was over two hundred miles from the nearest ocean.

      Dakota settled across from Montana. “How’s it going?” she asked.

      “Good. Max is keeping me busy. Some guy from the government came by earlier in the week. I’m not sure which agency he works with, mostly because he didn’t tell us. He’d heard about the work Max does and wanted to test some of our dogs for their ability to differentiate scent.”

      Last fall Montana had left her position at the library and gone to work for a man who trained therapy dogs. She’d attended several seminars, had learned to train the dogs and seemed to be loving everything about her new job.

      Dakota sipped her lemondrop as a Madonna song played in the background. “Why?”

      Montana leaned toward her and lowered her voice. “I think they would be trained to sniff out explosives. The guy wasn’t very clear. He knew Max from before, which makes me curious about his past. Not that I’m asking. I know Max likes me and all but I swear sometimes when he looks at me, he’s wondering if I even have half a brain.”

      Dakota laughed. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      Nevada walked up to the table. Although she was the same height and weight as her sisters, she managed to look completely different. Maybe it was the short hair or the jeans and long-sleeved shirts she favored. While Montana had always been on the girly end of the spectrum, Nevada preferred the tomboy look.

      “Hi,” she said as she sat down across from Dakota. “How’s it going?”

      “You should have been here earlier,” Montana said with a grin. “Dakota was with a guy.”

      Nevada had raised her arm to wave at Jo. She froze in place and turned her brown eyes toward her sister. “Seriously? Anyone interesting?”

      “I’m not sure if he’s interesting, but he’s yummy,” Montana said.

      Dakota knew there was no point in fighting the inevitable. Even so, she tried. “It’s not what you think.”

      Nevada dropped her arm and grinned. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

      “I can guess.” Dakota sighed. “His name is Finn and his brothers are here to appear on the reality show.” She briefly outlined the problem—at least the one from Finn’s point of view.

      “You should offer to comfort him in his hour of need,” Montana told her. “A hug that lingers. A soft kiss with a whisper of need. Soul-stirring touches that…” She looked at her sisters. “What?”

      Nevada glanced at Dakota. “I think she’s slipped over the edge.”

      “I think she needs a man,” Dakota told her, then looked at Montana. “Soul-stirring touches? Seriously?”

      Montana dropped her head to her hands. “I need to spend some quality time with a naked man. It’s been too long.” She straightened, then smiled. “Or I could get drunk.”

      “Whatever works,” Nevada muttered, accepting the tall vodka tonic Jo handed her. “Montana’s slipping over the edge.”

      “It happens to the best of us,” Jo said cheerfully, passing Montana a rum and Diet Coke.

      As Jo left, the front door opened and Charity and Liz walked in. Charity was the city planner, married to cyclist Josh Golden, while Liz had married the triplet’s brother, Ethan. Both women saw the sisters and headed over.

      “How are things?” Charity asked as they approached.

      “Good,” Dakota said, eyeing her friend. “You look amazing. Fiona is what—three months old? You’d never know you just had a baby.”

      “Thanks. I’ve been walking a lot. Fiona is sleeping longer, so that helps.”

      Liz shook her head. “I remember those baby nights. Thank goodness mine are older.”

      “Wait until they start wanting to drive,” Nevada told her.

      “I refuse to think about that.”

      “Want to join us?” Montana asked.

      Liz hesitated. “Charity’s been reading my work-in-progress and wants to discuss a couple of things. Next time?”

      “Sure,” Dakota told them.

      Liz wrote a successful detective series that had, until recently, featured victims who looked surprisingly like their brother Ethan. Now that he and Liz were together, Dakota had a feeling the next dead body would be completely different.

      The two women walked to another table.

      “How’s work?” Nevada asked Montana.

      “Good. I’m training a couple of new puppies. I talked to Max about the reading program I’ve been researching. I have an appointment with a couple of school board members to talk about a trial program.”

      Montana had discovered several studies that explained that kids who were bad readers improved more quickly when they read to dogs instead of people. Something about dogs being all support and no judgment, Dakota thought. When her sister had approached her about the studies, Dakota had done a little research and found even more supportive literature.

      “I love the idea of going into schools and helping kids,” Montana said wistfully. “Max says we’re going to have to expect to do it for free in the beginning. Once we show results, the schools will hire us.” She wrinkled her nose. “Honestly, most of what we do is for free. I can’t figure out where he gets his money. Someone is paying my salary and to take care of the dogs. Even if he owns the land and the kennel is paid for, there’s still upkeep.”

      “He hasn’t said where the support comes from?” Nevada asked.

      Montana shook her head.

      “You could ask him,” Dakota told her.

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