Racked and Stacked

by Lorelei James

  “No problem. Felt good to be outdoors.” He smirked. “Even if Streeter poked fun at my cattle call.”

  “Is that what that godawful noise was?” Streeter said. “Shoot. I thought you were rustlin’ in them bushes lookin’ for wild boar and using your mouth as a pig whistle.”

  Both Streeter and Tobin snickered.

  “My approach must’ve worked since I rounded up, what . . . nine missing heifers to the Hale brothers’ combined six?” Ike retorted.

  Silence.

  Ike said, “I thought so.”

  “Or maybe no one wants to point out how good you are at beating around the bush,” Riss said sweetly.

  “Dude. Total burn,” Tobin said, giving Riss an air fist bump.

  Streeter’s gaze moved between them. “I thought you guys were in a truce or some damn thing.”

  Riss wondered who he’d heard that from. Gossip lover Tobin? Or had Ike mentioned it during the livestock checks? “We are. This is us bein’ nice.”

  “I’d hate to see you bein’ nasty.”

  “I can deal with nasty Riss just fine.” Ike backed his horse up, but his eyes remained on Riss. “You’ll stick around while I deal with Sparky?”

  “Sure. I’d offer to help, but . . .” She waved her cast in the air. “I’ll just snowbathe in the sunshine.”

  “Be careful. Don’t venture too far. Stick to the places that are shoveled. The snow is slick in spots.”

  She gasped. “Really? Wow. Thanks for the warning. Maybe the Split Rock should put out a bulletin that ice is slippery.”

  Ike flipped her off.

  Streeter appeared taken aback by that gesture and looked to Tobin, who just shrugged.

  Jade insisted on going into the barn to help Tobin with his horse, which brought a soft smile to Streeter’s face. He seemed like a sweet guy and was genuinely nice to his sister-in-law, which earned him brownie points with Riss.

  So while they headed into the barn, Riss wandered down the path that curved behind the arena into the spare gravel parking lot.

  In her head, she understood that having dedicated indoor space to house a semitruck—aka the main engine—was a luxury, but it squeezed her heart a little to see JSC’s Peterbilt parked outside, the top of the cab and the hood covered in snow.

  Which caused her to wonder . . . when was the last time that Ike had even started it?

  Riss cautioned herself to let it go, to walk the other direction, but her feet didn’t obey. She stood next to the running board, which was surprisingly snow free.

  That had to be a sign, right?

  So she carefully used her good hand to grab onto the side mirror bracket and hoisted herself up, stepping onto the running board. From there she could peer into the cab itself, even if it did give her a momentary pang of guilt for being a Peeping Tom.

  The inside of the cab was a wreck. Filled with junk. Crumpled wrappers from fast-food joints littered the floor on the passenger’s side. A water-damaged cardboard box, overflowing with paperwork, took up the entire passenger’s seat. Her gaze moved to the thick layer of dust coating the dashboard and the gray film that nearly distorted the windshield glass. The floor mats on the driver’s side were caked with mud and straw—or possibly cowshit and straw, given this was used for hauling livestock.

  But that wasn’t an excuse. There was no excuse for the cab to be this filthy. It was sheer laziness not to clean the inside, especially if it wouldn’t be in use for a while.

  Her anger mounted.

  Despite the stinging pain inside her cast, she decided to try and open the door. She hopped down off the running board, reached up and jerked the door handle hard with her left hand.

  The door popped right open.

  Riss climbed in the driver’s side, twisting her body beneath the steering wheel, trying to see if this model had an interior hood latch. There were so damn many different makes and models of semis she couldn’t keep them all straight as to where the hood latches were located. Given the state of the interior, she felt compelled to inspect the engine to determine if it suffered from general neglect too.

  She noticed a fuel receipt beneath the seat. She pulled it out and squinted at the date.

  It was for fuel . . . over a year ago.

  Surely this rig hadn’t been sitting here unused that long? Even if JSC hadn’t been hauling rough stock to rodeo events, Renner Jackson had to use this to transport his livestock to sale barns or feedlots or meatpacking plants.

  Now she really needed to see the maintenance logs. Too bad truck mechanics didn’t attach an oil change reminder to the windshield, like lube jockeys did for personal vehicles, that detailed the date, mileage and reminder for the next oil change. She scooted forward toward the glove box and a familiar voice boomed behind her.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

  She jumped and whacked her cast into the gear shaft.

  “Motherfuckingsonofawhore! Jesus Christ, Palmer. What the fuck is wrong with you that you’d sneak up on me like that?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you that you’re crawling around inside a truck cab with a broken damn arm when it’s ten degrees outside? If you were cold you should’ve come back into the barn.”

  Riss glared at him. “Really? I’m not an idiot who climbed into a cold cab to get warm.”

  “Then what the hell are you doin’?”

  “Lookin’ for the DVIR.” When Ike gave her a blank look, she said, “The driver-vehicle inspection report. When was the last time this rig was used?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know, that’s why.”

  “What are you tryin’ to do, Riss?”

  She cautioned herself not to assume the mess in the cab was his. But she could assume that his truck maintenance record keeping was as poor as his event record keeping. She took her time getting back into a defensive position, secretly liking that she towered over him when she stood on the running board. “I’m tryin’ to prove that I care. Did you know the cab door was unlocked?”

  “It’s standard policy for all vehicles at the Split Rock in case they need to be moved quickly.”

  “Even in the winter?”

  Ike shifted his stance. “Why?”

  “So anyone who works here has access to this vehicle?”

  “Again, Riss, what’s the point of this?”

  “I wanna know who’s been out joyridin’ in this. That’s the only explanation for it bein’ left in that condition.” She used her head to indicate the mess behind her. “Which brings up my next issue on maintenance.”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern since it ain’t like you’ll be drivin’ it anytime soon,” Ike bit off.

  Her jaw dropped. “I cannot believe you said that to me.”

  “I cannot believe you’re snooping around tryin’ to show me up, hell-bent on proving I’m doin’ everything wrong.”

  “You’re the one who asked for my help with JSC, dickface. And this goddamned semitruck is part of the company.”

  “Now we’re back to name-callin’?” he demanded.

  Riss inhaled. And exhaled. “No. Sorry. That was uncalled for.” To give herself a break, she returned to the driver’s seat, dropping to her knees before she patted under the dashboard.

  “What in the hell are you doin’ now?”

  “Lookin’ for the hood release. Sometimes they’re inside the cab.” Her gaze challenged his. “Do you even know how to get to the engine, Ike?”

  “Yes. I’m not a fuckin’ idiot,” he said crossly.

  “So? Where is it?”

  “Back to the same old Riss.” He laughed harshly. “Like I’m gonna let you poke around a greasy engine with a broken arm? No. Way. So I’ll just deal with your smug face and admit I don’t know the last time this thing was serviced
. I haven’t driven it since our last rodeo in Powell.”

  “Ike. That was last August.”

  “As I’m perfectly aware.” He looked away, toward the main barn. “There are two sets of keys that anyone who works here has access to. And you’re right that I wouldn’t have left the cab lookin’ like that if I’d been the last one to use it. So obviously someone else did.” His troubled gaze met hers. “I ain’t about to go in and ask who.”

  Riss used the steering wheel to support herself as she reseated herself.

  “I’ll also admit that I haven’t had this serviced since at least a month before Powell. So again. Go ahead and point out how goddamned careless and clueless I am. I’d just rather you didn’t bring it up in front of everyone else, okay?”

  “Ike. I wouldn’t do that to you. Ever. This is between us.”

  Ike’s face relaxed with relief. “Thank you.”

  She studied him for a moment as she debated.

  “What now?”

  “You have keys?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Let’s start ’er up and see what she runs like.”

  His eyes turned shrewd. “Two things are gonna happen first. One: I’m helpin’ you outta the driver’s side because I’ll be the one to ‘start ’er up,’ not you. Two: I’m helpin’ you into the passenger’s side because there will be no climbing over the seats for you, monkey girl.”

  “Fine. But I expect you’ll put that box in your pickup right now, because I think it contains service records. We need to go over them tonight.”

  “Deal.”

  A minute later he pointed at her from the passenger’s doorway with the box tucked under one arm. “Stay put while I do this. If I come back and find you’ve moved even one mean red curl? I will paddle your luscious ass, Riss. I ain’t jokin’.” Then he slammed the cab door.

  She snickered. “He thinks my ass is luscious, huh? In that case, I might be persuaded to disobey and let him try the paddling thing . . . one time.”

  When Ike returned and opened the driver’s-side door, Riss said, “Catch!” as if she intended to launch herself at him.

  The man dove for her like a world-class outfielder.

  “Awesome reflexes, cowboy.”

  “That paddling threat still holds true, sweet cheeks.”

  Thankfully he didn’t get pissy about her fake-out. Ike granted her the you’re-in-for-it-now grin and stepped up on the running board. Hooking his arm around her waist, he said, “Hold on.”

  And he literally meant “hold on”—the man didn’t let her feet touch the ground when he carried her around the front end to the other side.

  Not that she complained, since those big strong hands were firmly clamped on her ass cheeks . . . until the sadistic jerk buried his icy cold face in her warm neck and laughed when she shrieked.

  “Not fair!”

  “You deserved that. Now up you go.”

  Once they were both situated, Ike shoved the key in the ignition and moved the shifter to neutral. Then he pumped the gas a couple of times, tapped the roof twice and cranked the key.

  Nothing.

  The engine turned over after the third attempt and they both whooped.

  Ike turned the heater off so Riss could listen to the clicking and ticking as he revved the motor.

  “How’s it sound?”

  “Okay.” She pointed at the gauges. “How’s the oil pressure?”

  “Seems a bit low at idle.”

  That was what she was afraid of. “Ike, buddy. There’s no way around the fact that this engine needs to be serviced. Especially if it’s gonna be sitting outside for the foreseeable future.”

  He scowled at her. “I can’t afford to put the money into it now. And please don’t lecture me about the importance of maintaining equipment.”

  They were at a standstill.

  Or were they?

  Riss dug her phone out of her pocket and dialed.

  “I’m serious. Don’t set up a service appointment I can’t keep,” Ike warned.

  She held up her finger to keep him from talking as her brother came on the line and she put him on speakerphone. “Hey, Lonnie.”

  “What’s the occasion that I’m getting a real call from you and not a text?”

  “Business.”

  He sighed loud enough that she knew Ike heard it. “What business?”

  “Palmer is doin’ you a solid by lookin’ after me, so I need you to repay the favor by takin’ a look at his rig. It’s been out at the Split Rock, someone drove it, we don’t know where or what they were hauling. It’s running now, it sounds good to me, but I’d like for you or Lloyd to check it out in your spare time.” She paused. “No rush.”

  “You know I ain’t gonna say no. But we don’t have a lick of space for an extra vehicle to sit around outside the garage. Especially one that’s not a rush job.”

  “I can drive it—I mean Ike can drive it—wherever is easiest for you.”

  “Lemme think . . .” She heard him cover the receiver with his hand after he shouted to Lloyd. A minute later he was back on the line. “Drive it to your place. If it’s nothin’ major, we can fix it there. If it needs more work, I’ll call and let you decide the next step.”

  “Thank you, Lonnie. I appreciate it.”

  He grunted, “Gotta go,” and hung up.

  Riss dropped her phone back in her pocket before she looked at Ike.

  The muscle in his jaw flexed. “You didn’t have to do that . . . but I’m glad you did. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. If you wanna head over to my trailer now, we can ditch this and return to your place in my car. I’d bet Tobin would be happy to drop your pickup off at your house since it’s not out of the way for him and Jade.”

  “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “I try.”

  “Okay. Just . . . give me a second.” Ike sent her a sharp look. “You need help getting buckled up?”

  “Nope.”

  “Sit tight. Gonna do a final check before we take off.” Then he hopped out.

  Riss went through the same mental checklist he probably did before hitting the road. And she could admit that she missed the smell of diesel. The vibration of the rig as it idled. She glanced longingly around the cab and clenched her right hand, promising herself she’d be back in action soon.

  Ike clambered back in. “Everything looks good.”

  “Then let’s hit it.”

  He readjusted his hat. Then his side mirror. Then hers. Next was his seat.

  “Christ. Let’s go already.”

  “If I hear you mutter if you can’t find it, grind it even one time, I will gag you. Understand?”

  “Now who’s actin’ violent with the spanking and gagging threats? Got a Fifty Shades fetish, Mr. Grey?”

  “Only if I can use rope.”

  Yowza.

  “Stop distracting me, Riss.”

  “Nervous about drivin’ with me ridin’ shotgun?”

  “Are you serious? I’m fuckin’ terrified.”

  His honesty floored her. “Why?”

  “Jesus, woman. You’re a pro; this is your damn life, your livelihood and what you live for. You have thousands more driving hours than I do. I’ve worked events with you, watched as you backed a fifty-three-foot trailer between a couple of chutes like it ain’t no big deal. You do it time and time again and think nothin’ of it. You’re a goddamned expert at your job, Riss, the best driver I’ve ever seen. So I’d be a fool if I wasn’t intimidated havin’ you sitting next to me, judging every shift, every turn and . . . well, every damn move I make.”

  Silence hung between them like a rusty chain.

  Riss swallowed hard before she spoke. “That’s the first time you’ve ever praised my professional abil
ities, Ike. Thank you.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry it’s taken me that long. Don’t make it any less true.” He turned and his gaze hooked hers. “I hate that the injury is keeping you from doin’ what you love. It’s gotta be killing you, watching me sitting where you should be.”

  “Maybe a little. I’m thinkin’ we could even things up between us by swinging by the fairgrounds. You could let me broker a deal for next year’s ranch rodeo.”

  Ike laughed. “No fucking way, because if anyone could pull it off, it’d be you. You outdoing me on one skill is enough for today, thanks.”

  “So let’s hit the road. Wow me with your driving skills, Palmer.”

  And surprisingly . . . he did.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, a bleary-eyed Ike was shuffling through the kitchen to start coffee, when he heard, “You’d better have more than one insulated coffee mug, Palmer, or I’m goin’ back to bed.”

  He jumped and spun around. “Motherfuckingsonofacocksuckingwhore! Jesus Christ, Thorpe. Why would you sneak up on me like that?”

  Riss smiled. “Payback, baby cakes, for you doing that to me yesterday.”

  “Whatever.” Ike snagged the glass carafe, rinsed it and filled the coffeemaker’s tank with water. After adding fresh grounds and hitting BREW, he faced her again. “Why’re you up at the crack of nothin’ anyway?”

  She shoved her left hand in her back pocket and shrugged. “I thought maybe you could use company when you checked stock. I think it sucks you hafta do it by yourself all the time.”

  Thrown off by her sweetness, Ike didn’t respond. He just blinked at her.

  “Or not. I guess with a busted arm I’d be pretty worthless as a gate opener, huh?”

  “Luckily for you, there are only two gates. So I’d be happy to have you ride shotgun.”

  Riss’s shoulders relaxed. “Cool. But I wasn’t kidding about the mug. I needs me coffee.”

  “As I’m well aware after livin’ with you for a week. I gotcha covered on the mug front, sweet cheeks.”

  She smiled.

  He smiled back.

  When Ike realized they’d been staring at each other with goofy grins for longer than the norm, he also realized that things had changed between them yesterday. When she broke eye contact first, he pushed back from the counter. “Let’s get you bundled up. Coffee oughta be done by then.”