Racked and Stacked Page 10

  The moment Ike saw her, he jumped up and skirted a pile of boxes to take her laptop bag. “Where’s your sling? You’re not supposed to—”

  “It was digging into my shoulder when I took the nap you forced on me. I need a break from it.” That was when she noticed he’d cleared off the dining room table. “Are you cooking me a fancy-schmancy dinner later?”

  “I’ll be happy if you’re just speaking to me after this.”

  “Maybe you’d better break out the beer.”

  “In a minute.”

  He settled across from her. He wasn’t wearing the cowboy armor she’d expected. His head was bare—no hat, no ball cap. His blond hair stuck up like he’d been pulling on it. He’d swapped his usual form-fitting dress shirt for a seen-better-days Denver Nuggets jersey.

  “Riss. Honest to god, I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Rip the bandage off—worst news first and we’ll go from there.”

  His eyes met hers. “Jackson Stock Contracting is failing.”

  Fuck. She knew it. “How did this happen?”

  “A combination of inexperience and unrealistic expectations. See, those few weeks we were on the road that summer? Everything went so well it just seemed like that’s what me’n Hugh oughta be doin’. Rollin’ from town to town. Basking in the praise about JSC’s excellent stock. Signing on to provide rough stock for every rodeo that’d have us.” He paused. “How do you remember it?”

  “Stressful.”

  Ike smiled. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “And boring.”

  His smile fell. “Seemed I didn’t have time to turn around, let alone time to get bored.”

  “That’s because you were busy behind the chutes or schmoozing with the rodeo people. I either had a lot of downtime to fill or was behind the wheel. So while traveling had its moments, I realized I’d romanticized life on the rodeo circuit. Short trips were okay. When you guys were talkin’ about trips to California? No, thanks. I’m not interested in the long haul—in any aspect of my life.”

  He frowned. “So why’d you agree to work with us?”

  Because I had a big ol’ girl crush on you, Ike Palmer. With your rugged looks and smooth ways, I dreamed of long hot nights between the sheets, sating our mutual hunger and kink. Afterward we’d laugh about fooling everyone with our daily snipefest, because for us, loathing was the ultimate foreplay.

  “Riss? We agreed to total honesty, remember?”

  Maybe not total honesty. “Because if I would’ve said no, I’d look petty. People would’ve thought I refused out of orneriness or to antagonize you.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the ‘I don’t give a shit what people think of me’ Riss that I know.”

  “A large part of that is just an act. Besides, Hugh vouched for me out of desperation and I’m a sucker.”

  Ike’s eyes widened.

  “He wanted to get back on the road no matter what. So when Hugh approached me, I already had the time off.”

  “You never mentioned that.”

  She shrugged. “It never came up. Anyway, I’d planned on hitting the Phillipsburg, Kansas, rodeo. When I learned that was one of the stops, I figured what the hell, and turned it into a workin’ vacation.” She swallowed a drink of beer. “So lemme ask you something. When you and Hugh pitched the proposal to take over JSC, did you know Hugh was movin’ to Cali?”

  “This is where I bring up the problem—mine mostly—of inexperience and bein’ naive. Hugh had worked in the business with Renner. So if Hugh said we could double down by running JSC outta two locations, I believed him without hesitation.”

  “And now?”

  “Now? Him movin’ out West was the worst fuckin’ decision for the company. No one knows us in Cali. Why would they hire a contracting outfit from Wyoming? We’d have the same attitude if a California contractor tried to move in on our territory.”

  “I wondered when one of you would come to that conclusion.”

  “I did early on. I don’t know that Hugh has come to that realization even now. It’s a mess. Yeah, at one time JSC had a great rep for providing top-notch stock. But with Tobin bowing out of the breeding program, we’re stuck with what we’ve got. And it ain’t like we ever had Chad Berger’s success rate for breeding rank bulls and parlaying that into a contracting business.”

  “Ah-ah.” Riss pointed with her beer bottle. “But at one time Chad Berger was an unknown bull breeder from North Dakota.”

  “Maybe Hugh’s vision of success was built on that idea. But hopin’ your vision will pan out by makin’ cold calls to rodeo committees ain’t getting it done. Hugh is the guy with the personal contacts in the Midwest. He oughta be hittin’ the blacktop up here where it might actually result in . . . results.” Ike sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve got one event lined up. One. That won’t pay the bills. And now that Harlow is pregnant—”

  “Whoa. Harlow is pregnant? No one told me.”

  “I only learned about it the day before I moved you in here.”

  “Jesus, Ike. That’s a complete game changer.”

  He threw up his hands. “Thank you, voice of reason! I told Hugh the same thing, but he’s taking the ‘wait and see’ tack. Which is what we’ve been doin’ for a year and a half. We can’t both draw a salary. Food and shelter for bulls and broncs don’t come cheap.”

  “Back up. Hugh is takin’ a salary?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you?”

  Ike squirmed.

  Riss angled across the table. “No bullshit, remember?”

  “No, I’m not getting paid.”

  “Does Hugh know that?”

  “Nope.”

  “But he has access to the bank statements and payroll records?”

  “Of course. I don’t know that he’s bothered to look at the books beyond the bottom line.”

  “Well, that’s just stupid. He should be questioning you on all expenses, including lack of them.” She pointed at him. “Not that I’m letting you off the hook. You let this go on too long. Partners mean equals. If Hugh is getting a check, so should you.”

  “Don’t know that it’d make that much difference since I’m close to broke.”

  This was way worse than she’d thought.

  “Go ahead and give me some of that Riss Thorpe tough-love speech, because I obviously need it.”

  “You think I’d do that, Ike? Kick you when you’re down?”

  His head shot up. “I’m serious. I need someone to light a fire under my ass because it’s pretty damn obvious I’m not a self-starter.”

  Riss bit back the question, do you even want to be a self-starter? Not everyone did.

  Not everyone was capable of it either. She’d have to tread lightly while she figured out where Ike fit. She’d save the brutally honest talk for then.

  She got up from the table. “Since you’re bein’ completely unreasonable in my recovery, not allowing me to move furniture, would you scoot my chair closer to yours so we can put our heads together and figure something out?”

  “Sure.” Ike stood. Rather than grabbing the chair, he gently wrapped his arms around her, tugging her against his body, her back to his chest.

  Her heart beat double time with Ike’s strong arm banded across her waist. His warm, hard body cradling hers immediately turned her thoughts toward how easy it’d be to tilt her head to the side, offering him her neck, the most vulnerable place on her body, as he spoke of his own vulnerabilities. But Riss understood arousal wasn’t Ike’s intent . . . even when his breath stirring her hair caused her skin to tingle, sending her mind straight to images of mouths sucking and hands stroking, of body heat and slick skin sliding together, the physical need twisting them both up until they were lost in each other.

  His voice, when he finally spoke, was a
low-pitched rumble. “I’ve been scared shitless to talk to you about this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m admitting that I’m a failure, Riss. I’ve never failed at anything in my life.” He groaned and the vibration sent gooseflesh rippling across her skin.

  A wave of heat spread outward from her center, reminding her of how much she loved that initial rush of lust. How long it’d been since she’d felt it. How it didn’t seem wrong that she was feeling it with Ike.

  “That sounded cocky . . . until I confess I haven’t failed because I haven’t taken any risks. I’m a rule follower. Hell, maybe I’m just a follower, period. Tell me what to do and I’ll get it done. But when I’m in unfamiliar territory, I freeze. When I can’t figure out what to do, well, I do nothin’. That’s been my life of late. Doin’ a whole lotta nothin’ as the business I thought I’d be capable of runnin’ spirals into nothin’.”

  Ike finally being this open with her, taking her into his home and his confidence while his life seemed to be in shambles, brought a new dimension to their relationship. They weren’t merely playing house for a few weeks and then they’d go their separate ways with fond memories. “Thanks for telling me the truth, Ike.”

  “Thanks for not hightailin’ it out the door.” He chuckled. “Although the day’s still young.”

  “I’m built of sterner stuff than that.”

  “Don’t I know it.” He released her and reached around to drag the chair closer.

  Riss was rattled by these revelations, but equally determined not to show it. She pushed the notebook in front of him. “I can’t write so you’re gonna take notes.”

  “For what?”

  “For me. I’m a list maker. And by the time I’m done with you? You’ll be makin’ lists too.”

  He scowled.

  “Think of it this way: A list is a map. To get to your end destination you gotta make stops and turns. You’ll pass familiar points along the way. But if you get lost, you return to the map—the list—see where you went wrong and reroute. A list forces focus on one thing at a time. In order. A focused person is an organized person. An organized person is more likely to be a self-starter.”

  Ike wore an expression she hadn’t seen before.

  “What?”

  “Smart Riss is sexy as shit.” He flashed that roguish grin. “I’m a little turned on hearin’ you talk about the power of lists.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Pen in hand, perv. Now while I grab us another beer, you write down three things you need to accomplish before you go to bed tonight.”

  “Just three?”

  “Start small. A twenty-item list is daunting. That results in panic, and panic results in forced disinterest, which results in plopping in front of the TV to binge watch Netflix and forget the list entirely.”

  “Jesus, you’re a hot-talkin’ mama. Do you have a pair of them smart-girl glasses? Because I’d be all over that role-playin’. Hot librarian takes the class troublemaker to task.”

  Although her thoughts raced with all the delicious ways she could take him in hand, Riss played it cool. “You wanna convince me to play dirty games with you, cowboy?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  She hadn’t expected such vehemence. Or such heat in his eyes. “Here’s the deal: if you accomplish today’s list, I’ll consider letting you pencil it in for tomorrow’s list.”

  “Tomorrow? Not later tonight?”

  “Sugar pie, Lola the Librarian is a hard-ass taskmaster. You wanna play in her world? You gotta do things exactly by the book.”

  His sexy groan of frustration caused her pulse to spike.

  As she walked into the kitchen, Ike said, “Can you have Lola wear one of them skintight skirts?”

  “I’ll add it to the list.”

  “Now you’re just bein’ mean.”

  Without thinking, she used her right hand to jerk open the refrigerator door.

  Immediately pain exploded in her fingers and shot up her arm in a searing bolt of fire that knocked her to her knees.

  Somehow, even in the flash of agony, she clapped her left hand over her mouth to cover her gasp. She closed her eyes against the wooziness and the urge to vomit.

  She remained that way, left hand over her mouth and her forehead resting on the cool metal of the fridge door, praying that Ike was so engrossed in completing his list that he hadn’t noticed.

  Then she heard, “Riss? You okay?”

  Guiltily, she scrambled to her feet, taking care not to knock her arm into the fridge door. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just giving you time to work on your list.”

  “Is that so?” he said directly behind her. “You were on your knees prayin’ to the god of refrigeration, thanking it for the cold beer?”

  Shit. “How did you know?”

  “Jesus, woman, I can see into the kitchen. One moment you were standing there, the next, on your knees.” He paused. “I waited for you to ask me for help.”

  Riss forced herself to look at him.

  “But you didn’t.”

  “What could you have done besides cluck around me like an angry mother hen, showing annoyance at my moment of forgetfulness?” she snapped. “Been there, done that with my brothers, Ike. I don’t need it from you.”

  Both eyebrows rose. “Cluck around you? You should know that insulting me won’t stop me from giving you the what-for you deserve. You only rely on me to help you when it suits you. Here we are on day four, havin’ the same issue we had on day one.”

  “Trust.”

  “No. Your issue is that you need independence above all else. Regardless of the situation, your biggest concern is that you’ll have to depend on someone. Well, guess what? We’re past that. You are dependent on me for as long as you’re here.”

  She didn’t cry from that shock of pain, she certainly wasn’t gonna bawl when Ike pointed out a major character flaw that she was fully aware of.

  But a whimper escaped anyway.

  “Riss.”

  She shook her head.

  Ike moved in and cupped her jaw, tilting her head back to look into her eyes. “How bad does it hurt?”

  No words pushed past the lump in her throat, just a sharp gasp.

  “C’mere.” Ike just took over.

  And she let him.

  He insisted she take a pain pill. Then he practically carried her to the couch. He pulled her into his lap, cradling her to his chest, nestling her face in the curve of his neck as he propped her cast on a pillow.

  “You don’t have to coddle me.”

  “I’m not. I’m cuddling you, sweetheart. Big difference. Just think of this as a really long hug, since I haven’t gotten my damn hug from you today.”

  Crazy man and his insistence on hugs. “I don’t want this cuddling to keep you from doin’ other things.”

  He sighed. “Here I thought you were paying attention when I told you I sit around doin’ nothin’ ninety percent of my day. Which is why I volunteered to be your caretaker; I got nothin’ else to take care of.”

  “Lucky me.” When he tensed, she said, “I wasn’t bein’ sarcastic. I do feel lucky that you’re looking out for me. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Now take a few deep breaths and relax. Let the pain pill do its job.”

  “I’m still expecting you to finish your list.”

  “Lola is a taskmaster,” he murmured against the top of her head.

  Someone needs to be, with you.

  “I say the same thing to my sisters all the time.”

  Whoa. She hadn’t said that out loud, had she?

  “Quit fidgeting.”

  With his warm lips on her temple and his soothing caress on her skin, Riss could easily become addicted to this feeling of contentment.

  The meds kicked in, the pain
faded and she drifted into sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Once again, Riss jolted awake, disoriented.

  Very disoriented, since she couldn’t remember the last time she’d awoken with her face nestled into a warm neck and male scruff tickling her cheek.

  “Do you ever wake up slowly,” Ike murmured next to her ear, “or do you prefer to scare yourself awake?”

  “It’s those pain pills. Drops me like I’ve been KO’d and I wake up the same way, lookin’ around in a panic for who knocked me out.” She struggled to free herself from the temptation of burrowing deeper into him.

  His arms fell away. “Guess I should consider myself lucky that you didn’t wake up swinging.”

  “That’d be hard to do since you’ve got me locked down.” She inhaled a deep breath and let it out. “I do feel better.”

  “I told you that you needed that pain pill.”

  Riss shifted to look at him.

  “What?”

  “You sound like my brothers with the ‘neener neener, I told you so’ response.”

  “And you were acting like my baby sister with the ‘you’re not the boss of me’ attitude,” he retorted.

  “Baby sister,” she scoffed. “How old is she?”

  “Lea is twenty-nine.”

  She smirked. “I hit the big 3-0 last year.”

  Ike smirked back. “I will hit the big 4-0 this year.”

  “Just think . . . if you got married this year, you and the little wifey would be together for twenty-five years when you retired.”

  “Jesus, Riss. I don’t know what scares me more. The thought of bein’ with a woman that long or retiring from a business that ain’t even got off the ground yet.”

  “How long were you a cattle broker?”

  “I worked for the same company for twenty years.” Ike pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Does that seem pathetic I was always a company man, loyal to the very end?”