“And let me guess, you’re all better now, magically healed by the redemptive power of Brock’s mighty cock.”
Claire snickered. “I knew we were kindred spirits!” She smiled at me. “No, but his cock can work wonders. To be honest, it’s who he is and how he loves me that did the real healing.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Oh Jesus, please spare me the sappy Hallmark holiday movie bullshit.”
“I am the least sappy person you’ll ever meet, Izzy. I speak the truth.” Claire stabbed a finger at me. “You just don’t want to hear it.”
I blew out a breath. “No, I really don’t.”
“Exactly,” Mara said. “Stage one—denial.”
“I have to go,” I muttered. “I think I’ve had too much wine.”
“BAX!” Claire shouted, startling all of us.
A few seconds later, Bax ambled up to the booth. “You bellowed, milady?”
“Our dear miss Isadora Styles is a little toasted and requires a walk home,” Claire said.
“I’m not toasted, and I don’t need a walk home.”
“Yes, you are—” Aerie started.
“And, yes you do,” Tate finished.
I sighed. “God, you’re all so annoying.” I looked up at Bax, who was six-feet-plus and so heavily muscled he looked like he could bend I-beams with his bare hands. “Fine. But only if you promise not to so much as mention Ramsey to me.”
Bax gave a blank stare. “Who?”
“Exactly.” I stood up, and realized I was bit woozier than I’d thought. “Whoa.” I stared down at my empty glass. “How many of those did I drink?”
Claire shrugged. “I was wondering if you realized how fast you were drinking.”
I frowned. “I remember the first glass, and the second…”
“After that, I’m not sure your glass was ever empty,” Eva said, holding up an empty bottle. “That was mostly full when you got you here.”
“Holy shit. No wonder I’m so tipsy.” I glanced over at Bax, who was watching with amusement. “I guess I’ll be glad of the escort after all.”
“Sure you’re good to walk?” Bax asked. “I could run you over in the pickup.”
I shook my head, but carefully. “No, I think the walk will do me good.”
I waved at the table. “Bye, everyone. Thank you…I think.”
They all waved, and there was a chorus of goodbyes as Bax paused to kiss Eva—very, very thoroughly.
“Remember the five stages,” Mara called out, when he finally let go of Eva and led the way toward the exit. “You’re combining stages one and two, so bargaining is next.”
I laughed and waved over my shoulder as I walked away. We passed the bar, and Bax paused.
“Yo, Bast—toss me a bottle of sober juice,” he said.
Sebastian chuckled, ducking to grab a bottle of water from a cooler under the bar, and tossed it to Bax. “Walking her home?”
Bax nodded. “Yep. Back in a few.”
Sebastian nodded, shaking a mixed drink. “Sounds good. We’ll be fine.”
Once out of the white-noise din of the bar and into the silence and cool of the night, I felt much better, even as I realized that I was far more intoxicated than I had thought. I gestured in the correct direction, and headed that way, Bax walking beside me.
I only made it a few steps before I stumbled into Bax, who caught me and set me upright.
“Whoa there, darlin’,” Bax said, laughing. “Hitting you pretty hard, huh?”
“Don’t call me darling,” I snapped, steadying myself.
He just laughed again. “Aww, don’t take it personally. I call everyone that.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
He shrugged a massive shoulder. “All right, all right. Don’t get your—”
I whirled on him, intending to give him the evil eye, but the effect was ruined when I stumbled again. When I was steady on my feet once more, I resolved to walk carefully and slowly, with no sudden movements.
“Do not patronize me, Baxter Badd,” I said, eventually.
He was unfazed. “I’m not. Just how I am.”
“Telling me not to get my panties in a bunch is patronizing.”
“Actually, I was gonna say don’t get your knickers in a twist. It’s funnier.”
I huffed. “You’re not British—you’re not allowed to say ‘knickers’.”
“I can say whatever the fuck I bloody well like,” Bax said, in a decent—and funny—arch English accent.
“You’re hysterical.”
We walked in silence for about five minutes, and then I felt him working up to asking me a question. I shot him a look.
“Out with it,” I said.
“Did my girls get you sorted out?”
“They got me drunk, is what they got me.” I eyed him. “And…they’re all your girls?”
He nodded. “Yep. I mean, Eva is my girl, as in, like, my lady love or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, but the others are my girls too, in the sense that I feel a familial and protective sort of affection and love for them.”
I snorted a laugh. “Your lady love?”
He nodded unselfconsciously. “Yep. I mean, we’re not married or engaged, but we’re together for life so she’s a hell of a lot more than my girlfriend. Is there a word for that? Partner makes it sound like we’re gay together or something, so that’s out.”
I hummed in thought. “No, you’re right. I don’t think there’s a common colloquial term for long-term, unmarried, romantic life partners.”
“So…did they…get you sorted out?”
I groaned. “Bax, come on. Is this gonna turn into some kind of Dr. Phil moment for you, too? Why is everyone so interested in my life all of a sudden?”
“No reason,” Baxter said, a little too easily and quickly.
“Well, now there’s definitely a reason.”
He shrugged. “You won’t want to hear it.”
“Try me.”
“No, remember? You forbade me from talking about a certain someone as your condition for me walking you home.”
“Oh.” I sighed. “Ramsey.”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Why is everyone so interested in him and me getting together?”
Bax rolled his eyes at me. “Isn’t it kind of obvious?”
“No.”
“You’re single, he’s single, and something clearly happened with you and him a while back—at least, according to the family grapevine. But more than that, if you and Ram get together, it would, like, complete the family.” He watched me carefully as he said this. “And remember, you asked.”
“Wait, the family grapevine?” I asked.
“Well…yeah.”
“What’s that?”
“Kitty is the general manager of Badd Kitty Saloon, owned by Rome, Rem, and Ram, our cousins, and partially owned and managed by Bast, our oldest brother. Kitty is romantically engaged with Roman, the owner and manager of Badd Kitty—and Kitty is your best friend. Kitty is also good friends with pretty much all the ladies on my side of things—everyone you met today plus Low and Joss. She’s at Badd’s pretty much all the time, and the ladies are at Badd’s whenever they’re not at home or working, so they’re always chatting. Basically, whatever happens to anyone is circulated among the ladies, right? You’re a chick; you’ve got to know how that works. And then of course, the ladies will share the juiciest gossip with their respective dude, and then when us guys get together to drink, or get tats, or work out, or whatever, we talk about it.”
“Guys gossip?”
Bax laughed, nodding. “Ohhh, yeah, we do. Just as bad as chicks. We just do it while pushing plates, and we act like we don’t really care when you ladies talk about it.”
“Pushing plates?”
“Pumping iron,” Bax clarified. “Lifting. Working out.”
“Oh.” We reached my apartment building, and I fished my keys out of my purse, found the right key for the front door with only
a minor amount of difficulty, and then paused as I entered the building, holding the door open with my foot. “I’m good now, thanks.”
Bax shook his head. “Job’s not done until you’re actually in your apartment,” he said. “A significant percentage of assaults happen in stairwells and elevators in your own building, or a building you’re familiar with.”
I blinked at him. “Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.” I thought about how many times I’d trotted up the stairs to our unit, alone, late at night, sometimes half in the bag. I thought about the sort of creepy older guy who lived alone two floors up, whom I sometimes passed on those same stairs. “Yeah, that’s a good point.”
He accompanied me into the building and pushed past me to head up the stairs first, and I didn’t miss the fact that he went up the stairs sort of twisted, so he could see ahead up the next flight. I did feel infinitely safer going up these stairs with a man like Baxter accompanying me. We reached my apartment, and I unlocked the door.
“You want to come in for a second?” I asked, out of habitual politeness.
He shook his head. “Nah. I gotta get back.” He jutted his chin at the apartment behind me. “Why don’t I take a look through your unit real quick, though?”
I hid a smile of amusement and amazement. “Ummm, not necessary, but thanks.”
He brushed past me anyway, striding into the hallway, poking his head into the bedrooms and bathroom, and then exited into the hallway again. “You’re clear.”
This time I didn’t hide my smile. “Thank you for the escort home, Baxter.”
He nods. “You’re in the circle, Izz. Means you get the Badd protection treatment.”
“Even if I don’t end up with your cousin?”
“Even if you don’t end up with my cousin.” He smirked at me. “The Dr. Phil in me says you will, though. You just don’t realize it yet.”
I sighed. “God, not you too.”
He shrugged. “Ram is a good dude, Izz. He hides it behind acting like a total douchebag most of the time, but deep down, he’s a good dude.”
I only just barely suppressed a snarl of irritation. “Good for him. I’m not interested in whether he’s a good dude or not. I’m not in the market for any dude, good or otherwise.”
“Not being in the market for a dude is usually when the dude finds you,” Bax said.
I did snarl, then, and it wasn’t a pleasant or ladylike sound. “Baxter.” I glared at him. “Enough.”
He held his hands out to placate me. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t say anything else.”
I rolled my eyes as he turned away. “Everyone has an opinion,” I grumbled.
“Yeah, well, opinions are like assholes…” he started.
“Everyone has one,” I finish. “I know. Thanks again.”
“You got it,” he said, pausing to shoot me a wink and a finger gun.
I grinned at his cheesiness. “And Bax?”
He paused again. “Yo.”
“You’re a good dude, too. I wasn’t sure I’d feel comfortable walking home with another woman’s boyfriend.”
“Well, I’m a thousand percent committed to Eva, and I look at all ya’ll as sisters, basically. So, as fine as you are, Izz, you can’t pull my attention away from my lady.”
I laughed. “Your lady. You’re so old-fashioned.”
“You know it!” He ambled for the stairwell, then, tossed a wave over his shoulder. “See ya ’round, Izz! And lock the door!”
I did as he said, locking the door as he walked away. I contemplated whether I wanted food, a bath, or Netflix, but in the end, I was just too tired and drunk for any of it.
I collapsed fully clothed in my bed, only barely managing to wiggle out of my bra and toe off my shoes.
I fell asleep wondering why everyone was so sure I’d end up with Ramsey, why they all thought it was so fucking inevitable. I didn’t even like the man. He was obnoxious, arrogant, and totally ridiculous, and just because I was crazily physically attracted to his stupid ass didn’t mean I was going to, like, suddenly fall head over heels in love with him.
You had to spend time with someone for that to happen, for one thing, and I had zero plans of letting that happen.
3
Ramsey
My gear was spread out all over my floor, my bed, my desk, and my dresser. With my checklist in my hand, I ticked off each item as I counted it;
“…extra socks, check—I’ve got…let’s see, one, two, three, four, six pair. That’s good.” I had a habit of talking to myself out loud as I went over my gear list for a trip like this. “What’s next? Hatchet—check. Bowie knife? Check, plus a spare. Pistol? Check. Ammo? Check. Could use more, but it’ll be enough. Clothes?”
I went through my clothes again, making sure I had clean underwear, thermal underwear in case it got unexpectedly cold, plenty of T-shirts, a thick sweater, a pair of jeans, plus a fleece shell jacket, a wool beanie, and thin but warm gloves. It was summer, but you never knew what could happen out there, and I believed in being prepared. I could carry the extra weight easily, and the warm gear only took up a tiny corner of my backpack.
“Check,” I said, when I was sure I had enough clothing. “Food?” I very carefully went through my food supply, making sure I had enough food for the three days I planned to be gone, plus two day’s extra rations in case of emergency. “Check. Canteens? Check. Flares and flare gun? Check. Portable cooktop and fuel? Check. Toilet paper? Check. Matches, lighter, and flint and steel? Check. Fishing line? Check. Hooks? Check. Fishing pole? Check. GPS unit? Check. Paper map? Check. Compass? Check, plus a spare. Tent?” I examined the tent, making sure it was intact and that I had the rain shell and all the stakes and poles, and then checked it off my list.
Item by item, I made sure I had everything I’d need to survive on my own in the wilderness. And then, once I had double and triple-checked that I had everything, I began packing it all into my backpack, which was a long, laborious process, and one I took as seriously as the checklist itself, if not more so—the even distribution of weight was essential to being comfortable on long hikes.
Finally, I was ready. I had my lighter, flint and steel, Bowie knife, pistol, ammo, compass, and hatchet all on my person, either in pockets or on my belt. The rest of the supplies I might need while on the move, such as canteens, GPS, and maps were within easy reach without taking off the backpack. I’d made sure every item was secured in such a way that nothing would jangle, shift, flop, or sway, and I made sure the items I would need at a moment’s notice were easily accessible and easy to put back, and that the items secured to my person wouldn’t rub or jostle against the backpack.
All that was left now was to actually head out. I shouldered the backpack, adjusted my well-worn, sweat-stained, frayed-brim California Department of Fish and Game ball cap on my head, settled my Oakleys on my face, and headed out of the apartment to my battered old pickup truck.
When the three of us brothers first moved to Ketchikan, we’d all shared the one ancient, rattling, deathtrap pickup we’d driven up here from Oklahoma but, in time, each of us had acquired a used truck for personal use. Mine was a blue Silverado, only eight years younger than I was, with over a hundred and fifty thousand miles on it; the owner had replaced pretty much all the major parts over the years, though, so it ran like a top, and I’d gotten a great deal on it. It had a three-inch lift on the suspension and thirty-inch Toyo off-road tires, an exhaust kit to pump up the horsepower output a bit, and a fairly new A/V head unit receiver. Basically, my truck had everything I’d want in a customized truck, but I didn’t have to do any of the work myself, which was why I’d paid the guy his asking price.
I tossed my backpack in the bed and strapped it down, and then drove over to the saloon to give my brothers the heads-up that I was leaving.
I arrived to find Juneau, Remington, Kitty, and Roman all having breakfast together, and Izzy was fifth-wheeling it.
Roman and Remington eyed me as I approached the table, takin
g in my high-end hiking boots, the military surplus web belt kitted out with a pistol, knife, bear spray, and compass.
“Taking off?” Rome asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. Thought I’d just swing by and let you know.”
Rome dipped a sweet potato French fry in ranch dressing. “How long you gonna be gone?”
I shrugged. “Planning on three days or so.”
Izzy was eyeing me curiously. “Road trip?” she asked.
I laughed. “Not exactly.”
Roman chuckled. “Ram doesn’t do road trips, Izz. He just about went batshit on the drive up here from Oklahoma.”
“Being trapped in a car is the only hell worse than getting trapped in a city,” I said.
She frowned in confusion, eyeing the gear I was strapped down with. “But you said you’re going to be gone three days.”
I nodded. “Yeah…on foot.”
She blinked at me as if my words weren’t registering as intelligible English. “Three days? On foot?” She shook her head. “Why?”
I frowned, tilting my head. “It’s called hiking, Isadora.”
She shot me a glare. “You don’t have to be a dick about it, Ramsey.” She shook her head again. “I just…I guess I can’t fathom why anyone would want to walk anywhere for three days.”
I spun a chair around to straddle it, reached out, and stole one of her sweet potato fries. “Backpacking is the only time I’m ever really…I dunno. Free, I guess. Getting out there, alone, just me and my gear and the trail? That’s fuckin’ heaven, to me.”
She was still staring at me as if trying to understand. “And you just…start walking? Just like that?”
I shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah. I’ve got my backpack in the truck that has all my gear in it. Once I get to the trailhead, I’ll park my truck and get going.”
“Ohhh. So you don’t just walk out there like that?” She gestured at me with a finger.
I laughed, hard. “You really are a clueless city girl, ain’tcha? Yes, Izzy, I have gear. Tent, food, clothes…” I leaned toward her as if telling her a secret. “I even have a Kindle so I can read at night, because yes, I can and do actually read.”
Badd Medicine Page 4
