Racked and Stacked

by Lorelei James

“As if.” She sniffed. “I’m just frustrated and miserable and exhausted because I can’t sleep here. Anytime I move my arm it starts throbbing.”

  “Want me to contact the doc about upping your pain meds?”

  She bristled. If she needed stronger meds, she’d call the doctor. She hated when he treated her like a twelve-year-old. “No, I hate bein’ out of it. I hate bein’ here. I know you were obligated to take me in because we’re family, but this is a jail sentence.”

  “Sucks for you, but you’re here for the duration, or until the doc tells me at your next appointment that you’ll be okay staying on your own.”

  Riss still couldn’t believe her bad luck and the bizarre accident that had landed her in the hospital.

  The pipes under her trailer had frozen. She’d gathered the necessary tools to start the thawing process—a process she was all too familiar with—and slipped on a patch of ice. In the act of falling on her ass, she attempted to right her balance and fell into the ladder leaning against the side of the house. The ladder bounced and knocked her down, directly onto her large metal toolbox. She heard the bones in her arm break as she face-planted into the snow.

  The doctor figured she’d knocked herself out since she’d come to disoriented and cold. When she tried to get up, she couldn’t move. That was when she noticed the ladder’s grooved left foot was lodged beneath the trailer’s metal skirting, pinning her down. Using her left arm, she attempted to jerk the ladder free. But she yanked too hard and the ladder skidded across the ice, catching her right hand between two rungs as the ladder unlatched and smashed into her already broken arm and the top of her head.

  Evidently that pain knocked her out again.

  Thankfully her mailman found her before she’d frozen to death. In the ambulance on the way to Casper, the paramedics called Lonnie, her emergency contact.

  When the X-rays revealed severe damage to her arm and hand, the doctor referred her to an orthopedic specialist, who scheduled her for surgery the following day.

  They kept her doped up while waiting for the surgical swelling to stabilize before the cast application. She awoke to see all three of her brothers in her hospital room, holding vigil. But as she found out a few hours later, they were worried about her reaction to her sole recovery option: living with them.

  “You’ve already zoned out on me, so I’m done with the brotherly advice,” Lonnie said, dragging her attention back to him. “I have to be up in a few hours.”

  Since the living room and kitchen were essentially one “great room”—aka her bedroom—she’d be up too.

  Instead of shuffling back to his room, Lonnie paused.

  “What now?”

  “It’s okay to clean yourself up tomorrow.”

  When Riss heard his door close, she let go of the tears she’d been holding back.

  She needed a shower . . . except she couldn’t shower with the cast on and she couldn’t shower by herself anyway.

  She needed clean clothes . . . but her brothers had yet to take her home and no way in hell was she sending them to paw through her dresser drawers.

  She needed to wash her hair . . . but the gash on her head that had required stitches would be impossible to avoid when she used her left hand. In the shower. That she couldn’t take.

  In essence, she was a mess. Dirty hair, stuck taking a whore’s bath and wearing her brother’s old clothes. No wonder she hadn’t told any of her friends what had happened.

  The last thing she needed was anyone to see her like this.

  That depressing thought was her last before she drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  The doorbell rang at nine a.m. the next morning.

  Louie answered the door. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

  Riss immediately shot upright to see who it was and winced in pain when she remembered she wasn’t supposed to do that. She secretly hoped that Carly/Charley/Marley/Harley chick had shown up to rip Lou a new one.

  But Ike Palmer stepped into view.

  Ike?

  Wow. This was some weird-ass dream.

  Wasn’t it?

  “I didn’t say you could come in, Palmer,” Louie snapped.

  “Yet here I am inside,” Ike replied.

  Whoa. Not a dream.

  Ike sauntered over with the cowboy swagger that both irritated and fascinated her.

  She brazenly took his measure. A bright blue wool cap covered his blond head, drawing attention to his vivid blue eyes, which were studying her with equal scrutiny. He wore a light tan leather and shearling coat that added bulk to his lean frame, accentuating his broad shoulders. Dark jeans and boots completed his outfit. The man could’ve stepped out of an advertisement for rugged western wear.

  His stride stayed confident even if his plastered-on smile hinted at nervousness.

  Ike “the Charmer” Palmer nervous? Get out. She had to be seeing things.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Aw, sweet cheeks, I missed you too.” Then he was right in her face. “Seventy-eight days we’ve been together. And yes, I kept adding to the total even after that stupid postwedding fight when you demanded I give you some space. But finding out from Jade that you had a serious accident that resulted in surgery and a hospital stay? Five days after it happened? I’m so goddamned mad I can barely see straight. I may never let you out of my sight again, understand?”

  No. She didn’t understand. Not at all.

  Ike read her confusion and put his mouth on her ear. “Play along.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m bein’ spontaneous and breaking you outta this jail.”

  “Ike—”

  “You dared me to create an alternate reality the next time I got the chance, so I’m doin’ it.”

  Riss fought the urge to argue. Or laugh.

  But the look on Ike’s face when he was nearly nose-to-nose with her? Those striking blue eyes weren’t twinkling with amusement, but were seriously intense.

  Seriously hot.

  Seriously sexy.

  Ike curled his hand around the side of her face and pressed his mouth to hers. At first just a tease, a brush of his pillowy soft lips across hers. Almost . . . chaste and achingly sweet. Then his tenderness vanished and he was kissing the breath out of her in a tongue-dueling, head-shifting, hungry, openmouthed kiss that sent her head spinning, her reason fleeing and kick-started her libido from idle to full-speed-ahead, pedal-to-the-metal lust.

  She whimpered and arched closer, only to have him freeze mid-kiss.

  Then, clearly shocked by the chemistry that had ignited between them, Ike retreated, abruptly changing the tenor of the kiss to sweet and flirty.

  Holy fuck.

  She couldn’t believe Ike Palmer, her nemesis, could kiss like this. She never imagined his laid-back persona masked such extraordinary passion. Being charming was one thing, but that trait didn’t necessarily translate into sexual potency. But the self-assured way his mouth took hers—owned hers—left no doubt in Riss’s mind that the man would be a dominating force in bed.

  He rested his forehead against hers, his fast breaths fanning across her damp lips. After whispering a reminder to play along, he backed off, and then, loud enough for Louie to hear, he said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. But I’ll make it up to you.”

  Riss blinked at him. Jesus. That life-changing liplock was Ike . . . acting? That soul-stealing kiss meant nothing to him?

  “Been a while since my kisses gotcha so het up you can’t even speak, baby,” he teased.

  Baby. That mean-nothing term of endearment men used was a dash of cold reality that allowed her to regain some semblance of normality and control. “Well, one incredibly hot kiss won’t make me forget why I was pissed off at you in the first place, baby.”

  Louie stopped at th
e end of the couch, his gaze pinging between them.

  When Riss saw Louie’s expression of shock, she decided payback was in order for the sleep she’d lost due to his sexcapades. He’d look like a total dumb-ass to their brothers when he tried to convince them that she and Ike Palmer had been in a secret relationship all along . . . because that stupid kiss had nearly convinced her.

  But no way would she let Ike Palmer one-up her in the alternate reality game. No. Freaking. Way.

  “Sis, you wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Louie demanded.

  Ike reached for her good hand and kissed her knuckles. “Just tell him the truth.”

  “Does that mean we’re telling your sisters the truth about us too?” she cooed back.

  “Sweet cheeks, I’ve wanted to shout it to the world since that first time you rolled out of my bed.”

  Lord. The Charmer was laying it on thick, but Louie was totally buying it when he gasped, “You two are a couple?”

  Sucker.

  Riss smiled coyly at Ike. “Maybe the fact we’ve kept it to ourselves is why it’s working for us.”

  Pressing her hand against his cheek, Ike said, “Come home with me. I’ll take good care of you.”

  “Promise?” she said on a breathy whisper.

  He crossed her fingers over his heart and kissed them. “Promise.”

  Good thing she was immune to his sweet bullshit, because it’d be easy to buy into his act. “Then take me.”

  That startled Ike for a brief moment before he flashed that cocky grin and stood. “Where’s your suitcase?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Fine. Got a garbage bag to put your stuff in?”

  “My brothers didn’t bring anything from my trailer, so there’s no stuff.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’ve got nothin’ here?”

  “Nothin’? She’s got us,” Louie said with a huff.

  Ike scowled at Louie, then said gently to Riss, “Darlin’, you don’t have any clothes or toiletries?”

  Riss blushed. “They bought me a new pack of underwear and a toothbrush when they filled my prescriptions at the drugstore. For clothes . . . I’ve been wearin’ theirs.”

  The anger in Ike’s eyes wasn’t feigned. “How is that takin’ care of you? Is one of them helping you shower?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t showered since I left the hospital.”

  Ike walked to the coatrack and snagged her Carhartt. “Which ones are your boots?”

  “The Hi-Tecs with the blue soles.”

  He brought her outerwear over and set it next to her.

  Riss had the ridiculous urge to giggle when Ike pulled a Prince Charming, dropping to his knee so he could put her boots on.

  “Where are all your meds and medical instructions?” he asked tersely.

  “In that plastic bag on the table with the ‘RX’ on the outside.”

  Ike stood to grab it and Louie immediately confronted him.

  “Hey, ass-wipe! What part of ‘you ain’t takin’ her anywhere’ is confusing to you?”

  “What part of ‘you suck as her caretaker and I’m getting her the hell out of here right now’ is confusing to you?”

  Nose-to-nose, Louie and Ike were the same height. They had similar attitudes, which meant there’d be a lot of pushing and shoving before one of them took the first swing.

  Ike couldn’t have timed her escape any better, showing up when he did. Lou would bitch the entire time she prepared to leave, but he would let her go. Lloyd and Lonnie would not. They’d gleefully take turns tossing Ike off the porch.

  “She ain’t getting what she needs to recover here. Christ, she’s sleeping in the living room, wearing men’s cast-off clothing, eating whatever crap you fix her”—he tipped his head toward a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos—“not to mention you three guys are completely unaware of a woman’s . . . hygienic needs.”

  She winced out of pride, but Ike had a point.

  “And you’re an expert on a woman’s ‘needs’ because of all the notches in your belt?” Lou said with a sneer.

  “I’m an expert because I raised three younger sisters. I’m willing to help Riss in ways—the most basic human hygienic ways—that you as her brothers are obviously avoiding.” He paused to let that sink in. “We done now?”

  Lou threw up his hands. “Yeah, man. Fine. Whatever. But expect to be hearin’ from Lonnie and Lloyd about this.”

  “Good. I got plenty to say to them too.” He offered his hand to Riss. “Let’s go, sweet cheeks. You’re all mine now.”

  Chapter Six

  On the drive to Riss’s trailer the dingy gray clouds reinforced the ugliness of January in Wyoming.

  It matched Ike’s dark and gloomy mood.

  He felt sorry for Riss—not that he’d tell her that. No wonder she was a tomboy; her brothers treated her like another brother.

  No wonder the Thorpe boys were still bachelors if they were that clueless about women.

  You’re still a bachelor, a little voice in his head prompted, which he ignored.

  One of her brothers should’ve given up his room so Riss had a quiet, private place to recover. But no, instead they dumped her on the couch.

  One of her brothers should’ve realized that Riss needed her own things, not just to wear but to give her a feeling of familiarity in a situation where she had zero control.

  One of her brothers should’ve figured out a way to wrap her cast so she could shower. They should’ve also called their aunt Bernice, who owned Bernice’s Beauty Barn in Muddy Gap, about pitching in.

  At the very least, one of her brothers should’ve asked Riss what she needed.

  It bothered him that the always-feisty Riss had just accepted what little they’d offered her.

  Ike knew he’d done the right thing by intervening. Even if that spontaneous kiss—what the fuck had he been thinking?—blew his ever-loving mind.

  “So, seriously. How did you find out I was stuck at Chez Thorpe? Jade called you? Or Tobin told you?”

  “I was over at their place yesterday when Lonnie called.”

  “That fucker. I’d say I can’t believe he went behind my back, but I know why he did.”

  “Why didn’t you want anyone to know about the accident?”

  Riss didn’t answer.

  “You scrambled your egg good if you believed your friends would judge you for havin’ an accident, Riss.”

  “They can judge me for dragging them into my miserable world, which I tried to avoid. Injured, homeless, helpless and broke is not a good way to start the New Year.” She stared out the window, huddled in the blanket wrapped around her since her coat hadn’t covered the cast.

  She looked so damn small and he hated that. This woman defined “larger than life.”

  He turned into her driveway and parked. Off to the right side of her trailer was a stand-alone metal carport. Her rigs were lined up by size: a horse trailer, a box truck, a flatbed, a stepdeck, a semitrailer and a bull hauler.

  Wait a second. Another vehicle was parked sideways behind the flatbed. He started to ask why she needed a dump truck, but she spoke first.

  “Why?”

  “Why what? Why am I helping you?” Or why did I kiss you?

  She nodded.

  “Because it sucked when my youngest sister broke her arm. She was such a brat. She couldn’t do nothin’. Hell, the first week she couldn’t even wipe her own ass.”

  When Riss didn’t retort no way are you ever wiping my ass, Ike knew she wasn’t herself.

  “Plus, Jade worried you’d do more damage to yourself attempting to escape from your brothers.”

  Riss made a growling noise. “That’s why you’re helping me? Because of your experience playing Florence Nightingale to a bratty girl? How hard did Jade have to beg you
to volunteer to take me in?”

  “Careful, darlin’, that bratty side of yours is showing.” He ignored her harrumph. “I volunteered out of the goodness of my heart.”

  Her skeptical look didn’t waver one whit.

  “Fine. There is something else I could use your help with. A work thing.”

  “A work thing,” she repeated.

  “Look, I don’t gotta tell you Jackson Stock Contracting is havin’ some issues getting rolling. Everyone says you’re great at figuring out unique solutions to various problems.”

  “Everyone says that? Like who?”

  “Well, Jade says that. Anyway, all the JSC paperwork is at my house, so once you’re feelin’ up to it, I could use your help and advice.”

  The longer she stared at him the more he sweated out her response.

  “What?” he said irritably.

  “You wanna explain that kiss?”

  Ike considered lying and just outright ignoring the question. But he opted for the truth. “I have no fucking idea. I was in the moment. And, darlin’, I can see where it’d be easy to get carried away when playin’ a part in an alternate reality. But you don’t have to worry that it’ll happen again.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Fuck no. “Yep. It’d be the ultimate dick move for me to take advantage of the situation when you’re homeless, popping pain meds and relying on me . . . to wipe your ass.” He smirked. “You can’t even take a decent swing at me with a broken wing, so really, where’s the challenge?”

  That brought a wan smile. “I’m sorry for making you defend yourself for bein’ nice to me, Ike.”

  “We seem to jump to the worst conclusion first when it comes to each other, don’t we?”

  “Yeah. But you were the last person I expected to waltz in this morning and give me a glimmer of hope.”

  He chuckled. “That’s me, darlin’, a stealthy bright beam of hope, shining over the rainbow of happiness, ridin’ to the rescue on my sparkly unicorn when you least expect it.”

  “I’d punch you for that smart-ass comment . . . except . . .” She jerked her chin at her arm.

  “See? You’re already getting back to normal. You’ll be yelling at me before you know it.”