Happy Birthday, Montana!
It’s our favorite feisty redhead’s birthday today, and in honor of that (and submitting the final manuscript of Chased!) I wanted to gift you a sneak peek of her story. Keep reading for an Indy x Montana scene…
Montana
"What are we watching, Red?" Indy asks, plopping down on the couch beside me. His arms are loaded down with snacks, and he drops them onto the coffee table. Whenever Ronin's out, Indy's become my movie buddy. This is our new routine, and I kinda love it. He's like my favorite girlfriend, except he has a penis and a male perspective if I ever need or want advice.
Sometimes he even gives his opinion without me asking, and it's times like that—even if I don't want to admit it—that I usually need to hear it most.
"Lost Boys or Karate Kid," I gesture at the screen, giving him the final choice.
"Eighties tonight? Love it. Daniel-san is going to have to wait because the grandpa in Lost Boys is my hero. That guy is a fucking legend. Cue it up."
Laughing, I start the movie and then look over his snack choices. Nothing seems particularly appealing until he pulls a package out of his pocket. He's got so much junk food spread out in front of us, I'm not sure how he managed to carry it all in one trip.
"Are those gummy worms?" I ask, leaning forward to snag the bag he just tossed on the table.
"Hell, yes, and not the ones with that sour crap all over them. These are the real deal."
I tear into the bag, and Indy reaches in and plucks one out for himself. I snatch the bag away before he can take more, fully prepared to bite his hand if he tries. These are mine, and he's going to have to fight me for them if he wants them. My mouth is watering when I finally bite the head off of a green one. The burst of lime sweetness on my tongue is everything I've ever wanted until I chew some more, and it feels like something's missing.
Frowning, I forget about the movie for a minute and study the offerings before me. I lean forward and shove away a bag of tortilla chips to find a jar of queso underneath. It's the grocery store shit, the artificial and processed trash that's way more orange than it probably should be, but something about it keeps you coming back for more.
Truthfully, I think that something is typically called alcohol or weed—you know, those nights where you go out and get drunk or smoke a joint and have the munchies? This is the perfect fake cheese for those situations.
Indy is fully invested in the movie, throwing a handful of popcorn at the screen when the mom asks for a job at the video store, but I'm focused on opening the damn jar. When the lid finally pops off, Indy notices and tosses me the chips, which I lift with my foot and kick away. "Keep your fucking chips on your side."
He raises his eyebrow and laughs. "What the hell are you planning to eat your queso with if you don't want chips?" Indy surveys the collection of snacks and then grabs a bag of pretzels and holds them up. I shake my head, and he grins. "Challenge accepted."
Then he really starts to dig, holding up everything from cookies to the bowl of popcorn propped between his legs.
"Actually, I think I'll try this." I snag a gummy worm—strawberry this time—out of the package and dunk it into the jar of cheese until the tips of my fingers touch the room-temperature surface. If I thought my mouth was watering before, now it's a damn fountain as I hungrily eye the concoction I made. Indy's watching me with an expression filled with more horror than he had when he was paying attention to the movie.
"You're not going to actually eat that shit, are you?" He looks a little green, but I don't know what the problem is. I bet it'll taste amazing, and I'm proven right when I tilt my head back and drop the entire cheese-covered worm into my mouth, letting the salty-sweet combination paint my tongue in a kaleidoscope of flavor. It's creamy and kind of spicy, too.
I moan and hurriedly reach in for another worm. Now that my snacks are sorted out, I'm happy to pay attention to the movie again, so I lean against the cushions and pull a throw blanket over my lap, careful to lift my snacks out of the way. Indy scoots closer and takes the other half of the blanket, so our shoulders are touching.
"You know that's disgusting, right?" He says, nodding toward my snacks, but I grumble and tell him to fuck off. It's not my fault he has shitty taste in sustenance, and I tell him as much.
Later, when the movie's over, and I've fallen asleep with my head leaning against Indy's shoulder, I wake up with cheese spilled in my lap, and I can't regret a single thing.
You can pre-order Chased here.