Kiss My Sass (Primrose, Minnesota Book 5)

Kiss My Sass

Primrose, Minnesota, Book 5

By

Mia Dymond

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Mia Dymond

Published on Smashwords

Cover photo: Daleen Loest|Dreamstime.com

Cover by Dara England

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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CHAPTER ONE

I am in so much trouble.

Marnie Carpenter swallowed hard and closed the distance from the front door of Hannigan’s to the corner booth where she just might meet her doom. It didn’t take sixth grade math to figure out what the other four women of DRAMA had in their arsenal this particular evening. Each one sat crammed in their usual booth, legs crossed, all but one with fingers wrapped around a wine glass, and sly smirks painted on glossed lips.

Trouble doesn’t begin to describe it.

Alex beat you, Dara drawled.

She chalked up the petite brunette’s sarcasm to her flair for writing best-selling romance novels and gave her an eyeroll. Dara Hamilton could spin a story that would make you sweat bullets and if she even attempted to explain the reason behind her tardiness, the novelist would once again take New York by storm.

Better to evade. Yeah well, my ride was late.

Your ride?

Another wave of uneasiness rolled over her. She hadn’t really counted on Liberty Prescott’s question. Although the woman was a brilliant psychiatrist, normally she didn’t intrude on her friends’ warped psyches. Marnie sighed. Obviously, pregnancy had strengthened Liberty’s sixth sense.

Ryker. Her third friend answered and then took a sip of wine. And I highly doubt he was late.

Marnie fought the urge to groan out load. Leave it to Alex Jennings, Attorney at Law, to poke holes right through her excuse.

I need wine, she mumbled.

Dara filled an empty glass with wine and then handed it to her. Must’ve been an interesting ride.

To say the least. She swallowed the contents of the glass in three gulps, set it on the table, and then gestured with one hand for Dara to refill it.

Why did you ride with him, anyway?

He’s holding my car for ransom. She swallowed a couple more times, draining only half the glass this time. "He absolutely insisted he and all the rest of his men check it for explosives."

Explosives?

Yep. She wasn’t surprised by Dara’s widened eyes. "After all the excitement we’ve had, he wouldn’t take no for an answer."

Like he ever would. Yet in some sort of odd coincidence, she agreed with him. In the last few weeks, she’d played cat-burglar with Dara and dodged a crazed female stalker with Alex. She welcomed the extra security, Ryker just took safety to the extreme.

The remaining liquid disappeared down her throat. Thus the resulting twenty-minute argument. The man is such an over-achiever.

Amen.

Marnie grinned at the woman who completed her circle of friends. Dr. Sabrina Miller, although psychologist by trade, possessed a unique talent for entertainment, to say the least. Only Bri would use a pole dance to crack a sex slavery ring. Her friend raised her glass in a salute and then downed the wine inside. Nope, never a dull moment around the mischievous redhead.

Alex reached across her and grabbed a menu. I think we should order.

Nope. She snatched the wine bottle and poured.

Don’t you have to go to school this afternoon?

Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Since Bri decided to elope to a tropical island, I have to get my classroom ready early.

Alex scooted back the wine glass. All the more reason to eat.

Whatever. She sighed. Just order me a BLT.

Alex signaled for the waitress and within several minutes not only had lunch been ordered, a fresh bottle of wine stood in the center of the table. Marnie fought the urge to stuff it in her purse.

At least I can stay soused on St. Thomas.

Bri giggled. You’ll have a waiter to bring you rum on the beach.

I dunno, Bri. Dara smirked. Ryker may scare him away.

She snorted. Ryker better mind his own business.

Although she released the ultimatum with conviction, she knew better. None of the men of Recovery Specialists, Inc. would even consider minding their own business. Ryker Adams had assembled an expert team to save the world from evil, per se, and unfortunately each of her friends had landed right in the middle of evil. Once Jake Rawlings, Mace Turner, and Jackson Stewart were amped up on hero juice, there was no escape. None. Nada.

And three of her friends had found that out firsthand. The whole reason for the trip to St. Thomas was to witness Jake and Bri’s wedding. Dara had claimed Mace as her own personal romance hero, and Alex, well, Jackson managed to put a ring on her finger without much argument.

Thank goodness she hadn’t found herself in the same situation.

Alex cleared her throat, bringing her out of reflective mode. Guess now would be a good time to tell you we bet on you this time.

Me? Her eyes widened to the extent tears gathered in the corners. The bet. The dreaded bet. No one escaped the wrath of the bet. Giving it a try, she attempted to redirect the curse to the other two members of DRAMA, not in attendance. Served them right. Why not Reagan or Annie?

They’re both too busy for men right now. Besides, they didn’t hustle Macho Man at a game of pool.

All of you were in on it.

You would’ve done it anyway.

She shook her head in denial. Alex would not coerce her into an admission. You’re all gonna lose your necks.

We’ll see. Alex smirked as the waitress set lunch on the table. Soak up some of that wine.

Liberty’s eyes sparkled as she patted her protruding belly. Since I’m not going to St. Thomas, I’ll volunteer to hold the money.

Done. Bri reached into her purse and then slapped a twenty dollar bill on the table. Sixty more dollars followed.

Marnie reluctantly added to the pile. Fine. I can use this stash for my classroom anyway.

You might actually enjoy having Ryker around, Alex said between bites of her lunch.

This she had to hear. How so?

You may need someone to buy your alcohol.

Ha, ha. You’re not much bigger than me.

Alex shrugged. You barely look twenty-one years old. No one would ever guess you’re really twenty-eight.

The drinking age is actually eighteen on the island. Dara grinned. Ryker better hope she looks legal. Especially since he’s so much older.

Oh for Pete’s sake, he’s only forty-three, she grumbled. Enough already. There’s nothing remotely romantic between Ryker and me nor will there be.

Really? Bri cocked her head to one side. Why?

For half a heartbeat, she almost second-guessed her denial. The man had sex appeal in spades, all sexy and domineering. No doubt his big, muscled body was built to satisfy a woman and even though her reasoning sounded forced even to herself, she would stick to her guns.

Really, and because I refuse to allow a man to question my independence.

Bri twisted her lips. There are ways around that, you know.

Probably. Again, she opted for redirection. Are you sure we don’t need to reserve a condo?

Positive. Ryker says there’s plenty of room in his house.

Marnie shook her head. Ryker Adams, man of mystery. Did you even know Ryker owned a home in the Virgin Islands?

Jake did. Bri’s blue eyes sparkled. And a romantic beach wedding sounded perfect. Besides, we all need a vacation.

The Caribbean is beautiful. Liberty glanced at her with a smirk. They say the tropical sun has a way of making you do things you wouldn’t normally do.

Her stomach turned over twice. Her friends were not going to give up.

Doesn’t matter. She finished her sandwich then polished off her wine. I’ve gotta run. I got special permission to work on my room today. She stood from the booth and then realized she had yet another dilemma. Anyone want to drive me?

I will. Alex tipped her glass and finished the beverage. I’ll question your position on the way.

Fifteen minutes and several hundred nerve-wracking questions later, Marnie stomped down the hallway as best she could after four glasses of wine until she plopped down into the chair behind her desk. She released a deep sigh while she checked her watch. Great. Fifty nine minutes and counting until Sgt. Tell-Me-What-To-Do invaded her space.

Desperate to keep the invasion to a minimum, she pushed herself from her chair and worked at a furious pace. With several swings of her stapler, the bulletin board shouted classroom rules, the white board broadcast homework activities in colorful numbers, and a new, bright orange math book garnished each desktop.

With fifteen minutes to spare, she scribbled the first week’s lesson plan and then stood to gaze out the windows that lined one side of her classroom.

The sun shone brightly through each pane in the still afternoon, the playground just beyond empty of children and its usual bustling activity. In the grassy field near the fenced perimeter, a group of boys congregated with football in hand.

She watched as the group divided into two teams and then lined up