Montana Double Riders 5


Chapter One




Enclave Inn, Montana



“How much did you say?” Jessica Hoyt wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend three times the expected rate for a motel room tonight, but the bridal suite was the only available room left, according to the teenaged clerk at the Enclave Inn, and she was utterly exhausted.

The young man repeated the same price, and cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable. She understood. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been in the same exact situation herself a hundred times before.

She’d worked in hotel management for nearly ten years. Her most recent credentials listed her unofficially as the go-to right hand for the owner of the prestigious Barrington House hotel chain.

“It’s because of it being the bridal suite and all.” The young man hooked a finger over his collar, pulling at the fabric right where his clip-on tie rested, knocking it slightly askew.

Jessica nodded. “Right. I get it.”

Ironic that she’d be staying in the bridal suite since tonight would have been her wedding night. She pushed that sudden twinge of pain to the back of her mind for now. It kept her from bursting into tears, further consoling herself with the fact that the Enclave Inn, located in nowhere Montana, wasn’t the tropical beachside honeymoon destination she’d pictured when she put down that ill-fated non-refundable deposit.

But, of course, she was also all alone for tonight. Something else she hadn’t pictured.

The last few humiliating months of her life flashed through her memory, and prompted her next question. “Is there a minibar in the room, by chance?”

He brightened. “Yes ma’am, there is.”

“I don’t suppose the bridal suite comes complete with a trustworthy husband, does it?”

The clerk, Ryan T., according to his name tag, turned bright red from his chin to his hairline. “Uh…no, ma’am. Not that I’m aware of.”

“Just kidding, Ryan. It’s fine. I’ll take it.” The only thing she hated more than spending too much on a motel room was being called ma’am repeatedly.

She was only twenty-eight. And a half. Not over the hill quite yet. Unless a person happened to be speaking to her douchebag ex-fiancé, who’d recently referred to her publically as a frigid, withered, old hag pushing thirty.

Luckily, he didn’t count. Not anymore. He’d lost that right when he started an inappropriate clandestine affair with her boss’s nineteen-year-old daughter at the annual Christmas party.

Ryan T. asked for her identification and promptly ran her credit card, distracting her from the disaster that was her most recent life.

“Here is your key card,” Ryan T. said, handing it to her with a flourish. “Do you need more than one?”

“No. One is plenty.” One is also the loneliest number. She’d heard a sad song right before pulling into the motel parking lot. Breathing hard to tamp down her volatile emotions, Jessica had spent a few minutes composing herself to even go inside and get a room for the night. The uncontrolled tear fest made her more angry than sad. She was truly grateful to have narrowly missed marrying a greedy, shithead, total loser of a lothario.

At least her attitude was improving day by day. This morning was the first day she hadn’t broken down and cried the moment her eyes opened. She called that progress.

Ryan T. handed back her credit card. “You’re all set. The bridal suite is at the far end of the building. Number thirty-six. Nice and quiet and very private.”

“Great.” Now if she could find a pseudo groom for a night in the bridal suite to fulfill her long neglected sexual needs. Like a palette cleanser to erase the past several weeks of shit sandwich she’d been forced to chew on without warning.

Jessica drove down to the other end of the building and her nice quiet room. She got a small overnight bag from her car and put it in the very tastefully decorated space. The decor wasn’t cheesy, outrageous, or overdone like she’d expected.

Instead she found a generously sized room, likely triple the size of a regular hotel room, but well divided. The bedroom area sported an oversized king bed. The living room area was complete with flat screen, sofa, and loveseat. And finally there was a to-die-for bathroom area with a huge jetted tub big enough for four, a standalone shower that could fit six, and lots of strategically placed mirrors for erotically minded newlyweds.

Jessica sighed. She dearly wished she was an erotically minded newlywed staying here tonight. Apparently, fate had different plans for her. She just wished she knew what those plans were.

How depressing was it to spend her almost honeymoon night in a place like this equipped only with her battery-operated boyfriend? She pushed out another long sigh. Fairly pathetic. But that was her only option unless she found a “date” tonight. For that unlikely endeavor she’d need booze, and lots of it.