by Jill Shalvis
“Interesting.”
Nolan made to leave, but Harley grabbed his hand. “Nolan—”
“It’s okay, Harley. No hard feelings.”
Well maybe he didn’t have hard feelings, but she sure as hell did. This was TJ and his magic fingers’ fault. If he hadn’t given her that orgasm, she’d have been fine. Fine.
Okay, so it wasn’t TJ’s fault, but she wanted someone to blame. She supposed she should grow up and look in the mirror. “I want you to know, Nolan, that whatever you heard isn’t true.” Well, unless he heard that she’d crawled into TJ’s sleeping bag and let him—oh, God. “Most of it anyway.”
“Harley,” he said with terrifying kindness. “It’s okay to stop talking.”
Right. Miserable, she nodded. And when the door closed behind him, she turned to Skye, who lifted her hands in surrender.
“Hey, I’m just the messenger,” Skye said. “You can’t shoot the messenger.”
“Wanna bet?”
“So you and TJ…?”
“Ohmigod. Why is everyone talking about this?”
“Because Shelly was with Annie when the two of you came back together. Shelly went to work her shift at Moody’s and told someone who told someone—hell, Harl, you know how it works.” She shrugged. “This is what happens when you go out with the town’s hottie.”
“We didn’t go out!”
“No, even better, you went directly to the overnight portion of the program. Was it the romance novel I gave you? It was, wasn’t it?”
“Oh my God, this is out of control. TJ and I are…” What? “Nothing. We’re just friends.”
“Since when?” Without waiting for an answer, Skye headed straight for the refrigerator. “Jeez, we need food.”
“We?”
“Okay, me. I need food. Whadda ya got for dinner?”
Harley sighed, reached into her purse and looked in her wallet.
A ten and two ones.
She handed it over.
There was no fast food in Wishful, so their choices were limited to the café, the grocery store, or the gas station convenience store. They both knew there was only enough money for the latter.
“I’m going to take your truck,” Skye said. “I’m low on gas. Hot dogs? Taquitos? Burritos?”
Harley sighed. “All of it. No, wait.” All of it would require that she go for a run tomorrow. “Two hot dogs,” she decided.
“Chili? Cheese?”
“Sure. But make it one hot dog.” She sighed. “My jeans are tight.”
Skye laughed.
“It’s not funny. It means I need to go running.” She hated running. “Okay, skip the chili and the cheese, but add pickles. Pickles are low in calories, right?”
“Well yes, when compared to the actual hot dog itself,” Skye said, amused.
“You know what, add the cheese. I really need the cheese.”
“You’re going to hell in a handbasket, Harl.”
Harley thought of what she’d let TJ do, what she wanted to do to him, and sighed. “Don’t I know it.”
CHAPTER 17
TJ sat at his desk and looked at the mess on it. He hated paperwork. He hated filing. He hated sitting.
He hated not having fresh air in his lungs.
Huh. That was sort of fun. What else did he hate about office work? How about the fact that there were walls all around him instead of the elements? He hated walls. He hated being enclosed. He hated the electronic hum of the office equipment.
His phone rang. He hated that, too, but he answered it. Turned out to be a good call—a last-minute Alaska trip, leaving in a week. Didn’t get better than that.
Well, actually, it could get better than that. He could be back out at Desolation with Harley.
He looked at the paperwork again and decided it was time for a field trip. He headed to Cam’s office, intending to grab him for help cataloguing their inventory for month-end, and then they could go on a hard, fast, mountain bike ride.
Cam’s laptop was open on his desk. Next to it lay a cell phone and keys. Next to that, an iPod, with Radiohead blaring out of the headphones. There was also an opened soda and bag of chips.
Had there been some sort of emergency? TJ couldn’t think of another reason why his brother would leave so quickly with an unfinished bag of chips lying out, just begging to be stolen. Cam didn’t leave his food.
Just then, the cell phone rang. The screen ID’d Nick. “Yo,” TJ answered.
“TJ? Where the hell’s Cam? I’m out back waiting for him.”
“I have no idea.” Then he heard it. A rustle and a…moan? Both came from the closet behind the desk.
And then, a soft, husky female voice that sounded suspiciously like Katie saying, “Oh, God. Cam…” Something thunked against the closet door from the inside. And then a soft moan. “There, Cam. Right there.”
TJ went still. “Jesus.”
“What?” Nick asked.
A rough gasp came from the closet.
Fucking almost-newlyweds. TJ rubbed a hand over his face, even as he wished he was in a closet causing Harley to make those sounds. “Call it a hunch,” he said to Nick. “But I think Cam’s indisposed.”
“Ah, jeez,” Nick said with a sigh. “Again? That’s the third time this week.”
TJ shut Cam’s phone, dropped it back on the desk, and beat it to the door, but didn’t get out before hearing Cam’s low groan and roughly uttered, “Christ, Katie.”
Out in the hallway, TJ stopped to bang his head against the wall a couple times. When he straightened, Annie stood there, brow raised.
“You’ll shake something loose,” she said.
Yeah. That’s what he was hoping. Trying not to be jealous as hell that his brother was getting laid, and quite well from the sounds of it, he brushed past Annie. “I’ll be categorizing and inventorying equipment in the garage for month-end.”
He’d been at it twenty minutes, going through all the dirt bikes, helmets, and protective gear, when the door opened and quickly closed.
Stone.
Still facing the door, TJ’s brother crept backwards, farther into the shed toward him. Clearly Stone was sneaking around, and clearly he didn’t want anyone to follow him.
TJ waited until Stone had almost backed into him before he said, “What’s up?”
“Jesus-freaking-Christ.” Stone whipped around so fast he fell over one of the bikes.
TJ leaned over his prone body with a smirk. “Been walking long?”
“Shut up. And shh!” he whispered when the door opened.
Emma stood in the doorway.
From flat on the floor, and not yet visible to Emma, Stone sliced a finger across his throat in a clear gesture that meant he was not there.
“Hey, Teej,” Emma called out, holding her black medical bag. “I’m looking for Stone. He keeps postponing getting his shots for our Belize trip.”
There was only one thing in the entire world Stone was afraid of. Well, two.
Emma’s wrath.
And needles.
Still on the floor, Stone was giving him the desperate eyes, the please-save-my-ass eyes, and TJ knew that he could probably extract any price for his silence. And while there were times having his brother owe him a favor would work to his advantage, at the moment, he couldn’t think of a single one that would be more rewarding than watching Emma stalk and terrorize Stone with a needle.
Stone’s hopeful gaze narrowed as he read the intent in TJ’s mouth a beat before TJ pointed at him.
Emma gave him an Are You Kidding? look, and Stone flipped TJ off. Emma came around the bikes and found Stone, who lifted his head. “Hey, baby.”
Crouching at his side, Emma shook her head. “Seriously?”
“I was just taking a nap.”
“You’re marrying an idiot,” TJ said to Emma.
“Yes,” Emma said on a shake of her head. “And there seems to be a lot of that going around.” She sent TJ a knowing glare.
“
What? I’m not getting married.”
“You’re still an idiot.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“To be clear,” she said, “I mean because of Harley.”
“What about her?”
“See,” she muttered to herself. “Idiot.” She smiled down at Stone still sprawled on the floor, then got down on her knees as he pushed up to a sit. She tossed aside her black bag and crawled into his lap.
He grinned and put his hands on her ass.
In the next second they were kissing as if they had three minutes left to live.
TJ rolled his eyes, grabbed his motorcycle, and rolled it out of there, then nearly ran it right into Cam.
Who was looking pretty damn loose and sated. “What are you, eighteen?”
“Jealous?” Cam asked.
Maybe. Probably. Then he realized that while Cam was looking quite thoroughly tumbled, he wasn’t smiling, and his eyes were somber. “What is it?”
Cam shook his head. “The Forest Service had a break-in at station four.”
Which was the sole ranger station in Desolation. It was remote and unmanned, and only three miles from where he and Harley had been.
“Nothing was damaged,” Cam said, “But it looks like several people camped out there.”
“Wonder if that’s who I saw.”
“Gets worse. Two more coyotes were found shot.”
Ah, hell.
“Is Harley going back up there for any reason?” Cam asked.
“I don’t know. Probably, when she hears this. She’ll want to take a head count on her groups.” Goddammit. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“You going to tell her?”
“Yeah. She needs to take one of us with her if she goes.”
Cam arched a brow. “One of us? As in me or Stone?”
“Guess again.”
“Nick?” Cam was looking amused. “Or Nolan. Yeah, I bet Nolan would love to go with her and camp all night, alone in the wilderness.”
“You’re an asshole.”
Cam laughed as TJ straddled his bike. “And you are so screwed.”
Very true.
“You’re not really going to go to Harley’s and tell her that she can’t go back out there alone.”
“What?”
“It’s Harley, TJ.”
“Yeah. So?”
Cam shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’ll give you a minute to catch up to me. Go ahead and take your time.”
“Okay, so she hates to be told what to do.”
“Very good.”
TJ started the bike and revved the engine. “I’ll figure it out when I see her.”
“Good luck with that.”
Between Wilder Adventures and Wishful there was nothing but 75,000 acres of wilderness that TJ knew like the back of his hand. With the dirt bike roaring beneath him, he ignored the well-traveled road toward town and took off through the woods, making his own trail.
Back when he was a kid, he and his brothers would ride out there as often as they could, to avoid school, work, or their father’s fists. They’d ride until they ran out of gas, then push the bikes back. Sometimes Annie would be with them. Sometimes Harley, who’d been in the same grade as Cam.
Harley.
With the wind at his back and the sun on his face, he thought of her. She was probably working, either the internship or at the garage, or hell, maybe she was out with Nolan.
None of his business.
Except…except she felt like his business.
When he finally came into town, he idled at the end of Main and let out a breath. Wishful had been one of the original Old West mining towns, and its sidewalks were lined with nineteenth-century false-front buildings that had—back in the day—been wild saloons and lawless whorehouses. Mining was no longer productive, but the town lived on thanks to its proximity to Lake Tahoe and the endless stream of tourists looking for an outdoor adventure.
He’d made a lot of money off those people doing what he loved, and he still felt restless.
So fucking restless.
He supposed he’d go by Nolan’s garage first and if Harley’s truck wasn’t there, he’d check out her place, but before he hit the gas, a jogger came around the corner.
The sun was behind her, highlighting her sweet curves. She wore a tank top and running shorts, and though the sun cast her entire form in shadow, he knew exactly who he was looking at, knew the choppy layered hair falling to just above her shoulders, knew the even stride.
He’d like to say he could remember what that body felt like beneath his, but much as he racked his brain about that long-ago summer night, he couldn’t…quite…get his fingers on the memory. He had flashes of smooth, white skin, images of an intense connection that had seemed out of place at the time, and feelings of being warmed heart and soul in a way that had felt alien to him.
Nothing more.
He knew the exact moment Harley saw him straddling the bike in front of her because she nearly tripped. Her steps slowed. She shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head and put her hands on her hips, her breath coming in short pants. She hated running, hated exercise of any kind, and the sight of her doing it made him smile.
“It’s not funny,” she said. “My jeans are getting tight.”
He liked the way she looked in jeans. It was part of his problem. He liked the way she looked in damn near everything, but he’d especially liked the way she looked in her bra and panties, running like a bat out of hell around the campfire toward him.
“Stop that,” she said shakily, pointing at him.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“Got me there,” he said on a smile.
She blew out a breath. Her skin was covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, making her glow. Still huffing and puffing, she bent at the waist and sucked in more air. Her top rode up in the back. Her shorts were low-riding, revealing a strip of smooth skin, and twin dimples right above what was a perfect heart-shaped ass.
“You have a way of seeing me at my worst,” she muttered, straightening.
Was she kidding? He wanted to put his tongue to those dimples
